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diff --git a/old/13721-0.txt b/old/13721-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..680addf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13721-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13489 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, by Herman Melville + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Mardi: and A Voyage Thither + Vol. II (of II) + +Author: Herman Melville + +Release Date: October 12, 2004 [eBook #13721] +[Most recently updated: June 15, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Geoff Palmer + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER *** + + + + +MARDI: +AND A VOYAGE THITHER + +By Herman Melville + +In Two Volumes + +Vol. II. + +1864 + + + + +CONTENTS + + MARDI + CHAPTER I. — Maramma + CHAPTER II. — They land + CHAPTER III. — They pass through the Woods + CHAPTER IV. — Hivohitee MDCCCXLVIII + CHAPTER V. — They visit the great Morai + CHAPTER VI. — They discourse of the Gods of Mardi, and Braid-Beard tells of one Foni + CHAPTER VII. — They visit the Lake of Yammo + CHAPTER VIII. — They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro + CHAPTER IX. — They discourse of Alma + CHAPTER X. — Mohi tells of one Ravoo, and they land to visit Hevaneva, a flourishing Artisan + CHAPTER XI. — A Nursery-tale of Babbalanja’s + CHAPTER XII. — Landing to visit Hivohitee the Pontiff, they encounter an extraordinary old Hermit; with whom Yoomy has a confidential Interview, but learns little + CHAPTER XIII. — Babbalanja endeavors to explain the Mystery + CHAPTER XIV. — Taji receives Tidings and Omens + CHAPTER XV. — Dreams + CHAPTER XVI. — Media and Babbalanja discourse + CHAPTER XVII. — They regale themselves with their Pipes + CHAPTER XVIII. — They visit an extraordinary old Antiquary + CHAPTER XIX. — They go down into the Catacombs + CHAPTER XX. — Babbalanja quotes from an antique Pagan; and earnestly presses it upon the Company, that what he recites is not his but another’s + CHAPTER XXI. — They visit a wealthy old Pauper + CHAPTER XXII. — Yoomy sings some odd Verses, and Babbalanja quotes from the old Authors right and left + CHAPTER XXIII. — What manner of Men the Tapparians were + CHAPTER XXIV. — Their adventures upon landing at Pimminee + CHAPTER XXV. — A, I, and O + CHAPTER XXVI. — A Reception-day at Pimminee + CHAPTER XXVII. — Babbalanja falleth upon Pimminee Tooth and Nail + CHAPTER XXVIII. — Babbalanja regales the Company with some Sandwiches + CHAPTER XXIX. — They still remain upon the Rock + CHAPTER XXX. — Behind and Before + CHAPTER XXXI. — Babbalanja discourses in the Dark + CHAPTER XXXII. — My Lord Media summons Mohi to the Stand + CHAPTER XXXIII. — Wherein Babbalanja and Yoomy embrace + CHAPTER XXXIV. — Of the Isle of Diranda + CHAPTER XXXV. — They visit the Lords Piko and Hello + CHAPTER XXXVI. — They attend the Games + CHAPTER XXXVII. — Taji still hunted, and beckoned + CHAPTER XXXVIII. — They embark from Diranda + CHAPTER XXXIX. — Wherein Babbalanja discourses of himself + CHAPTER XL. — Of the Sorcerers in the Isle of Minda + CHAPTER XLI. — Chiefly of Sing Bello + CHAPTER XLII. — Dominora and Vivenza + CHAPTER XLIII. — They land at Dominora + CHAPTER XLIV. — Through Dominora, they wander after Yillah + CHAPTER XLV. — They behold King Bello’s State Canoe + CHAPTER XLVI. — Wherein Babbalanja bows thrice + CHAPTER XLVII. — Babbalanja philosophizes, and my Lord Media passes round the Calabashes + CHAPTER XLVIII. — They sail round an Island without landing; and talk round a Subject without getting at it + CHAPTER XLIX. — They draw nigh to Porpheero; where they behold a terrific Eruption + CHAPTER L. — Wherein King Media celebrates the Glories of Autumn, the Minstrel, the Promise of Spring + CHAPTER LI. — In which Azzageddi seems to use Babbalanja for a Mouth-Piece + CHAPTER LII. — The charming Yoomy sings + CHAPTER LIII. — They draw nigh unto Land + CHAPTER LIV. — They visit the great central Temple of Vivenza + CHAPTER LV. — Wherein Babbalanja comments upon the Speech of Alanno + CHAPTER LVI. — A Scene in the Land of Warwicks, or King-Makers + CHAPTER LVII. — They hearken unto a Voice from the Gods + CHAPTER LVIII. — They visit the extreme South of Vivenza + CHAPTER LIX. — They converse of the Mollusca, Kings, Toad-Stools and other Matters + CHAPTER LX. — Wherein, that gallant Gentleman and Demi-God, King Media, Scepter in Hand, throws himself into the Breach + CHAPTER LXI. — They round the stormy Cape of Capes + CHAPTER LXII. — They encounter Gold-Hunters + CHAPTER LXIII. — They seek through the Isles of Palms; and pass the Isles of Myrrh + CHAPTER LXIV. — Concentric, inward, with Mardi’s Reef, they leave their Wake around the World + CHAPTER LXV. — Sailing on + CHAPTER LXVI. — A flight of Nightingales from Yoomy’s Mouth + CHAPTER LXVII. — They visit one Doxodox + CHAPTER LXVIII. — King Media dreams + CHAPTER LXIX. — After a long Interval, by Night they are becalmed + CHAPTER LXX. — They land at Hooloomooloo + CHAPTER LXXI. — A Book from the “Ponderings of old Bardianna” + CHAPTER LXXII. — Babbalanja starts to his Feet + CHAPTER LXXIII. — At last, the last Mention is made of old Bardianna; and His last Will and Testament is recited at Length + CHAPTER LXXIV. — A Death-cloud sweeps by them, as they sail + CHAPTER LXXV. — They visit the palmy King Abrazza + CHAPTER LXXVI. — Some pleasant, shady Talk in the Groves, between my Lords Abrazza and Media, Babbalanja, Mohi, and Yoomy + CHAPTER LXXVII. — They sup + CHAPTER LXXVIII. — They embark + CHAPTER LXXIX. — Babbalanja at the Full of the Moon + CHAPTER LXXX. — Morning + CHAPTER LXXXI. — L’ultima sera + CHAPTER LXXXII. — They sail from Night to Day + CHAPTER LXXXIII. — They land + CHAPTER LXXXIV. — Babbalanja relates to them a Vision + CHAPTER LXXXV. — They depart from Serenia + CHAPTER LXXXVI. — They meet the Phantoms + CHAPTER LXXXVII. — They draw nigh to Flozella + CHAPTER LXXXVIII. — They land + CHAPTER LXXXIX. — They enter the Bower of Hautia + CHAPTER XC. — Taji with Hautia + CHAPTER XCI. — Mardi behind: an Ocean before + + + + +MARDI + + + + +CHAPTER I. +Maramma + + +We were now voyaging straight for Maramma; where lived and reigned, in +mystery, the High Pontiff of the adjoining isles: prince, priest, and +god, in his own proper person: great lord paramount over many kings in +Mardi; his hands full of scepters and crosiers. + +Soon, rounding a lofty and insulated shore, the great central peak of +the island came in sight; domineering over the neighboring hills; the +same aspiring pinnacle, descried in drawing near the archipelago in the +Chamois. + +“Tall Peak of Ofo!” cried Babbalanja, “how comes it that thy shadow so +broods over Mardi; flinging new shades upon spots already shaded by the +hill-sides; shade upon shade!” + +“Yet, so it is,” said Yoomy, sadly, “that where that shadow falls, gay +flowers refuse to spring; and men long dwelling therein become shady of +face and of soul. ‘Hast thou come from out the shadows of Ofo?’ +inquires the stranger, of one with a clouded brow.” + +“It was by this same peak,” said Mohi, “that the nimble god Roo, a +great sinner above, came down from the skies, a very long time ago. +Three skips and a jump, and he landed on the plain. But alas, poor Roo! +though easy the descent, there was no climbing back.” + +“No wonder, then,” said Babbalanja, “that the peak is inaccessible to +man. Though, with a strange infatuation, many still make pilgrimages +thereto; and wearily climb and climb, till slipping from the rocks, +they fall headlong backward, and oftentimes perish at its base.” + +“Ay,” said Mohi, “in vain, on all sides of the Peak, various paths are +tried; in vain new ones are cut through the cliffs and the brambles:— +Ofo yet remains inaccessible.” + +“Nevertheless,” said Babbalanja, “by some it is believed, that those, +who by dint of hard struggling climb so high as to become invisible +from the plain; that these have attained the summit; though others much +doubt, whether their becoming invisible is not because of their having +fallen, and perished by the way.” + +“And wherefore,” said Media, “do you mortals undertake the ascent at +all? why not be content on the plain? and even if attainable, what +would you do upon that lofty, clouded summit? Or how can you hope to +breathe that rarefied air, unfitted for your human lungs?” + +“True, my lord,” said Babbalanja; “and Bardianna asserts that the plain +alone was intended for man; who should be content to dwell under the +shade of its groves, though the roots thereof descend into the darkness +of the earth. But, my lord, you well know, that there are those in +Mardi, who secretly regard all stories connected with this peak, as +inventions of the people of Maramma. They deny that any thing is to be +gained by making a pilgrimage thereto. And for warranty, they appeal to +the sayings of the great prophet Alma.” + +Cried Mohi, “But Alma is also quoted by others, in vindication of the +pilgrimages to Ofo. They declare that the prophet himself was the first +pilgrim that thitherward journeyed: that from thence he departed to the +skies.” + +Now, excepting this same peak, Maramma is all rolling hill and dale, +like the sea after a storm; which then seems not to roll, but to stand +still, poising its mountains. Yet the landscape of Maramma has not the +merriness of meadows; partly because of the shadow of Ofo, and partly +because of the solemn groves in which the Morais and temples are +buried. + +According to Mohi, not one solitary tree bearing fruit, not one +esculent root, grows in all the isle; the population wholly depending +upon the large tribute remitted from the neighboring shores. + +“It is not that the soil is unproductive,” said Mohi, “that these +things are so. It is extremely fertile; but the inhabitants say that it +would be wrong to make a Bread-fruit orchard of the holy island.” + +“And hence, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “while others are charged with +the business of their temporal welfare, these Islanders take no thought +of the morrow; and broad Maramma lies one fertile waste in the lagoon.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. +They Land + + +Coming close to the island, the pennons and trappings of our canoes +were removed; and Vee-Vee was commanded to descend from the shark’s +mouth; and for a time to lay aside his conch. In token of reverence, +our paddlers also stripped to the waist; an example which even Media +followed; though, as a king, the same homage he rendered, was at times +rendered himself. + +At every place, hitherto visited, joyous crowds stood ready to hail our +arrival; but the shores of Maramma were silent, and forlorn. + +Said Babbalanja, “It looks not as if the lost one were here.” + +At length we landed in a little cove nigh a valley, which Mohi called +Uma; and here in silence we beached our canoes. + +But presently, there came to us an old man, with a beard white as the +mane of the pale horse. He was clad in a midnight robe. He fanned +himself with a fan of faded leaves. A child led him by the hand, for he +was blind, wearing a green plantain leaf over his plaited brow. + +Him, Media accosted, making mention who we were, and on what errand we +came: to seek out Yillah, and behold the isle. + +Whereupon Pani, for such was his name, gave us a courteous reception; +and lavishly promised to discover sweet Yillah; declaring that in +Maramma, if any where, the long-lost maiden must be found. He assured +us, that throughout the whole land he would lead us; leaving no place, +desirable to be searched, unexplored. + +And so saying, he conducted us to his dwelling, for refreshment and +repose. + +It was large and lofty. Near by, however, were many miserable hovels, +with squalid inmates. But the old man’s retreat was exceedingly +comfortable; especially abounding in mats for lounging; his rafters +were bowed down by calabashes of good cheer. + +During the repast which ensued, blind Pani, freely partaking, enlarged +upon the merit of abstinence; declaring that a thatch overhead, and a +cocoanut tree, comprised all that was necessary for the temporal +welfare of a Mardian. More than this, he assured us was sinful. + +He now made known, that he officiated as guide in this quarter of the +country; and that as he had renounced all other pursuits to devote +himself to showing strangers the island; and more particularly the best +way to ascend lofty Ofo; he was necessitated to seek remuneration for +his toil. + +“My lord,” then whispered Mohi to Media “the great prophet Alma always +declared, that, without charge, this island was free to all.” + +“What recompense do you desire, old man?” said Media to Pani. + +“What I seek is but little:—twenty rolls of fine tappa; two score mats +of best upland grass; one canoe-load of bread-fruit and yams; ten +gourds of wine; and forty strings of teeth;—you are a large company, +but my requisitions are small.” + +“Very small,” said Mohi. + +“You are extortionate, good Pani,” said Media. “And what wants an aged +mortal like you with all these things?” + +“I thought superfluities were worthless; nay, sinful,” said Babbalanja. + +“Is not this your habitation already more than abundantly supplied with +all desirable furnishings?” asked Yoomy. + +“I am but a lowly laborer,” said the old man, meekly crossing his arms, +“but does not the lowliest laborer ask and receive his reward? and +shall I miss mine?—But I beg charity of none. What I ask, I demand; and +in the dread name of great Alma, who appointed me a guide.” And to and +fro he strode, groping as he went. + +Marking his blindness, whispered Babbalanja to Media, “My lord, +methinks this Pani must be a poor guide. In his journeys inland, his +little child leads him; why not, then, take the guide’s guide?” + +But Pani would not part with the child. + +Then said Mohi in a low voice, “My lord Media, though I am no appointed +guide; yet, will I undertake to lead you aright over all this island; +for I am an old man, and have been here oft by myself; though I can not +undertake to conduct you up the peak of Ofo, and to the more secret +temples.” + +Then Pani said: “and what mortal may this be, who pretends to thread +the labyrinthine wilds of Maramma? Beware!” + +“He is one with eyes that see,” made answer Babbalanja. + +“Follow him not,” said Pani, “for he will lead thee astray; no Yillah +will he find; and having no warrant as a guide, the curses of Alma will +accompany him.” + +Now, this was not altogether without effect; for Pani and his fathers +before him had always filled the office of guide. + +Nevertheless, Media at last decided, that, this time, Mohi should +conduct us; which being communicated to Pani, he desired us to remove +from his roof. So withdrawing to the skirt of a neighboring grove, we +lingered awhile, to refresh ourselves for the journey in prospect. + +As we here reclined, there came up from the sea-side a party of +pilgrims, but newly arrived. + +Apprised of their coming, Pani and his child went out to meet them; and +standing in the path he cried, “I am the appointed guide; in the name +of Alma I conduct all pilgrims to the temples.” + +“This must be the worthy Pani,” said one of the strangers, turning upon +the rest. + +“Let us take him, then, for our guide,” cried they; and all drew near. + +But upon accosting him; they were told, that he guided none without +recompense. + +And now, being informed, that the foremost of the pilgrims was one +Divino, a wealthy chief of a distant island, Pani demanded of him his +requital. + +But the other demurred; and by many soft speeches at length abated the +recompense to three promissory cocoanuts, which he covenanted to send +Pani at some future day. + +The next pilgrim accosted, was a sad-eyed maiden, in decent but scanty +raiment; who without seeking to diminish Pani’s demands promptly placed +in his hands a small hoard of the money of Mardi. + +“Take it, holy guide,” she said, “it is all I have.” + +But the third pilgrim, one Fanna, a hale matron, in handsome apparel, +needed no asking to bestow her goods. Calling upon her attendants to +advance with their burdens, she quickly unrolled them; and wound round +and round Pani, fold after fold of the costliest tappas; and filled +both his hands with teeth; and his mouth with some savory marmalade; +and poured oil upon his head; and knelt and besought of him a blessing. + +“From the bottom of my heart I bless thee,” said Pani; and still +holding her hands exclaimed, “Take example from this woman, oh Divino; +and do ye likewise, ye pilgrims all.” + +“Not to-day,” said Divino. + +“We are not rich, like unto Fauna,” said the rest. + +Now, the next pilgrim was a very old and miserable man; stone-blind, +covered with rags; and supporting his steps with a staff. + +“My recompense,” said Pani. + +“Alas! I have naught to give. Behold my poverty.” + +“I can not see,” replied Pani; but feeling of his garments, he said, +“Thou wouldst deceive me; hast thou not this robe, and this staff?” + +“Oh! Merciful Pani, take not my all!” wailed the pilgrim. But his +worthless gaberdine was thrust into the dwelling of the guide. + +Meanwhile, the matron was still enveloping Pani in her interminable +tappas. + +But the sad-eyed maiden, removing her upper mantle, threw it over the +naked form of the beggar. + +The fifth pilgrim was a youth of an open, ingenuous aspect; and with an +eye, full of eyes; his step was light. + +“Who art thou?” cried Pani, as the stripling touched him in passing. + +“I go to ascend the Peak,” said the boy. + +“Then take me for guide.” + +“No, I am strong and lithesome. Alone must I go.” + +“But how knowest thou the way?” + +“There are many ways: the right one I must seek for myself.” + +“Ah, poor deluded one,” sighed Pani; “but thus is it ever with youth; +and rejecting the monitions of wisdom, suffer they must. Go on, and +perish!” + +Turning, the boy exclaimed—“Though I act counter to thy counsels, oh +Pani, I but follow the divine instinct in me.” + +“Poor youth!” murmured Babbalanja. “How earnestly he struggles in his +bonds. But though rejecting a guide, still he clings to that legend of +the Peak.” + +The rest of the pilgrims now tarried with the guide, preparing for +their journey inland. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +They Pass Through The Woods + + +Refreshed by our stay in the grove, we rose, and placed ourselves under +the guidance of Mohi; who went on in advance. + +Winding our way among jungles, we came to a deep hollow, planted with +one gigantic palm-shaft, belted round by saplings, springing from its +roots. But, Laocoon-like, sire and sons stood locked in the serpent +folds of gnarled, distorted banians; and the banian-bark, eating into +their vital wood, corrupted their veins of sap, till all those +palm-nuts were poisoned chalices. + +Near by stood clean-limbed, comely manchineels, with lustrous leaves +and golden fruit. You would have deemed them Trees of Life; but +underneath their branches grew no blade of grass, no herb, nor moss; +the bare earth was scorched by heaven’s own dews, filtrated through +that fatal foliage. + +Farther on, there frowned a grove of blended banian boughs, +thick-ranked manchineels, and many a upas; their summits gilded by the +sun; but below, deep shadows, darkening night-shade ferns, and +mandrakes. Buried in their midst, and dimly seen among large leaves, +all halberd-shaped, were piles of stone, supporting falling temples of +bamboo. Thereon frogs leaped in dampness, trailing round their slime. +Thick hung the rafters with lines of pendant sloths; the upas trees +dropped darkness round; so dense the shade, nocturnal birds found there +perpetual night; and, throve on poisoned air. Owls hooted from dead +boughs; or, one by one, sailed by on silent pinions; cranes stalked +abroad, or brooded, in the marshes; adders hissed; bats smote the +darkness; ravens croaked; and vampires, fixed on slumbering lizards, +fanned the sultry air. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +Hivohitee MDCCCXLVIII + + +Now, those doleful woodlands passed, straightway converse was renewed, +and much discourse took place, concerning Hivohitee, Pontiff of the +isle. + +For, during our first friendly conversation with Pani, Media had +inquired for Hivohitee, and sought to know in what part of the island +he abode. + +Whereto Pani had replied, that the Pontiff would be invisible for +several days to come; being engaged with particular company. + +And upon further inquiry, as to who were the personages monopolizing +his hospitalities, Media was dumb when informed, that they were no +other than certain incorporeal deities from above, passing the +Capricorn Solstice at Maramma. + +As on we journeyed, much curiosity being expressed to know more of the +Pontiff and his guests, old Mohi, familiar with these things, was +commanded to enlighten the company. He complied; and his recital was +not a little significant, of the occasional credulity of chroniclers. + +According to his statement, the deities entertained by Hivohitee +belonged to the third class of immortals. These, however, were far +elevated above the corporeal demi-gods of Mardi. Indeed, in Hivohitee’s +eyes, the greatest demi-gods were as gourds. Little wonder, then, that +their superiors were accounted the most genteel characters on his +visiting list. + +These immortals were wonderfully fastidious and dainty as to the +atmosphere they breathed; inhaling no sublunary air, but that of the +elevated interior; where the Pontiff had a rural lodge, for the special +accommodation of impalpable guests; who were entertained at very small +cost; dinners being unnecessary, and dormitories superfluous. + +But Hivohitee permitted not the presence of these celestial grandees, +to interfere with his own solid comfort. Passing his mornings in highly +intensified chat, he thrice reclined at his ease; partaking of a fine +plantain-pudding, and pouring out from a calabash of celestial old +wine; meanwhile, carrying on the flow of soul with his guests. And +truly, the sight of their entertainer thus enjoying himself in the +flesh, while they themselves starved on the ether, must have been +exceedingly provoking to these aristocratic and aerial strangers. + +It was reported, furthermore, that Hivohitee, one of the haughtiest of +Pontiffs, purposely treated his angelical guests thus cavalierly; in +order to convince them, that though a denizen of earth; a sublunarian; +and in respect of heaven, a mere provincial; he (Hivohitee) accounted +himself full as good as seraphim from the capital; and that too at the +Capricorn Solstice, or any other time of the year. Strongly bent was +Hivohitee upon humbling their supercilious pretensions. + +Besides, was he not accounted a great god in the land? supreme? having +power of life and death? essaying the deposition of kings? and dwelling +in moody state, all by himself, in the goodliest island of Mardi? +Though here, be it said, that his assumptions of temporal supremacy +were but seldom made good by express interference with the secular +concerns of the neighboring monarchs; who, by force of arms, were too +apt to argue against his claims to authority; however, in theory, they +bowed to it. And now, for the genealogy of Hivohitee; for eighteen +hundred and forty-seven Hivohitees were alleged to have gone before +him. He came in a right line from the divine Hivohitee I.: the original +grantee of the empire of men’s souls and the first swayer of a crosier. +The present Pontiff’s descent was unquestionable; his dignity having +been transmitted through none but heirs male; the whole procession of +High Priests being the fruit of successive marriages between uterine +brother and sister. A conjunction deemed incestuous in some lands; but, +here, held the only fit channel for the pure transmission of elevated +rank. + +Added to the hereditary appellation, Hivohitee, which simply denoted +the sacerdotal station of the Pontiffs, and was but seldom employed in +current discourse, they were individualized by a distinctive name, +bestowed upon them at birth. And the degree of consideration in which +they were held, may be inferred from the fact, that during the lifetime +of a Pontiff, the leading sound in his name was banned to ordinary +uses. Whence, at every new accession to the archiepiscopal throne, it +came to pass, that multitudes of words and phrases were either +essentially modified, or wholly dropped. Wherefore, the language of +Maramma was incessantly fluctuating; and had become so full of +jargonings, that the birds in the groves were greatly puzzled; not +knowing where lay the virtue of sounds, so incoherent. + +And, in a good measure, this held true of all tongues spoken throughout +the Archipelago; the birds marveling at mankind, and mankind at the +birds; wondering how they could continually sing; when, for all man +knew to the contrary, it was impossible they could be holding +intelligent discourse. And thus, though for thousands of years, men and +birds had been dwelling together in Mardi, they remained wholly +ignorant of each other’s secrets; the Islander regarding the fowl as a +senseless songster, forever in the clouds; and the fowl him, as a +screeching crane, destitute of pinions and lofty aspirations. + +Over and above numerous other miraculous powers imputed to the Pontiffs +as spiritual potentates, there was ascribed to them one special +privilege of a secular nature: that of healing with a touch the bites +of the ravenous sharks, swarming throughout the lagoon. With these they +were supposed to be upon the most friendly terms; according to popular +accounts, sociably bathing with them in the sea; permitting them to rub +their noses against their priestly thighs; playfully mouthing their +hands, with all their tiers of teeth. + +At the ordination of a Pontiff, the ceremony was not deemed complete, +until embarking in his barge, he was saluted High Priest by three +sharks drawing near; with teeth turned up, swimming beside his canoe. + +These monsters were deified in Maramma; had altars there; it was deemed +worse than homicide to kill one. “And what if they destroy human life?” +say the Islanders, “are they not sacred?” + +Now many more wonderful things were related touching Hivohitee; and +though one could not but doubt the validity of many prerogatives +ascribed to him, it was nevertheless hard to do otherwise, than +entertain for the Pontiff that sort of profound consideration, which +all render to those who indisputably possess the power of quenching +human life with a wish. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +They Visit The Great Morai + + +As garrulous guide to the party, Braid-Beard soon brought us nigh the +great Morai of Maramma, the burial-place of the Pontiffs, and a rural +promenade, for certain idols there inhabiting. + +Our way now led through the bed of a shallow water-course; Mohi +observing, as we went, that our feet were being washed at every step; +whereas, to tread the dusty earth would be to desecrate the holy Morai, +by transferring thereto, the base soil of less sacred ground. + +Here and there, thatched arbors were thrown over the stream, for the +accommodation of devotees; who, in these consecrated waters, issuing +from a spring in the Morai, bathed their garments, that long life might +ensue. Yet, as Braid-Beard assured us, sometimes it happened, that +divers feeble old men zealously donning their raiment immediately after +immersion became afflicted with rheumatics; and instances were related +of their falling down dead, in this their pursuit of longevity. + +Coming to the Morai, we found it inclosed by a wall; and while the rest +were surmounting it, Mohi was busily engaged in the apparently childish +occupation of collecting pebbles. Of these, however, to our no small +surprise, he presently made use, by irreverently throwing them at all +objects to which he was desirous of directing attention. In this +manner, was pointed out a black boar’s head, suspended from a bough. +Full twenty of these sentries were on post in the neighboring trees. + +Proceeding, we came to a hillock of bone-dry sand, resting upon the +otherwise loamy soil. Possessing a secret, preservative virtue, this +sand had, ages ago, been brought from a distant land, to furnish a +sepulcher for the Pontiffs; who here, side by side, and sire by son, +slumbered all peacefully in the fellowship of the grave. Mohi declared, +that were the sepulcher to be opened, it would be the resurrection of +the whole line of High Priests. “But a resurrection of bones, after +all,” said Babbalanja, ever osseous in his allusions to the departed. + +Passing on, we came to a number of Runic-looking stones, all over +hieroglyphical inscriptions, and placed round an elliptical aperture; +where welled up the sacred spring of the Morai, clear as crystal, and +showing through its waters, two tiers of sharp, tusk-like stones; the +mouth of Oro, so called; and it was held, that if any secular hand +should be immersed in the spring, straight upon it those stony jaws +would close. + +We next came to a large image of a dark-hued stone, representing a +burly man, with an overgrown head, and abdomen hollowed out, and open +for inspection; therein, were relics of bones. Before this image we +paused. And whether or no it was Mohi’s purpose to make us tourists +quake with his recitals, his revelations were far from agreeable. At +certain seasons, human beings were offered to the idol, which being an +epicure in the matter of sacrifices, would accept of no ordinary fare. +To insure his digestion, all indirect routes to the interior were +avoided; the sacrifices being packed in the ventricle itself. + +Near to this image of Doleema, so called, a solitary forest-tree was +pointed out; leafless and dead to the core. But from its boughs hang +numerous baskets, brimming over with melons, grapes, and guavas. And +daily these baskets were replenished. + +As we here stood, there passed a hungry figure, in ragged raiment: +hollow cheeks, and hollow eyes. Wistfully he eyed the offerings; but +retreated; knowing it was sacrilege to touch them. There, they must +decay, in honor of the god Ananna; for so this dead tree was +denominated by Mohi. + +Now, as we were thus strolling about the Morai, the old chronicler +elucidating its mysteries, we suddenly spied Pani and the pilgrims +approaching the image of Doleema; his child leading the guide. + +“This,” began Pani, pointing to the idol of stone, “is the holy god +Ananna who lives in the sap of this green and flourishing tree.” + +“Thou meanest not, surely, this stone image we behold?” said Divino. + +“I mean the tree,” said the guide. “It is no stone image.” + +“Strange,” muttered the chief; “were it not a guide that spoke, I would +deny it. As it is, I hold my peace.” + +“Mystery of mysteries!” cried the blind old pilgrim; “is it, then, a +stone image that Pani calls a tree? Oh, Oro, that I had eyes to see, +that I might verily behold it, and then believe it to be what it is +not; that so I might prove the largeness of my faith; and so merit the +blessing of Alma.” + +“Thrice sacred Ananna,” murmured the sad-eyed maiden, falling upon her +knees before Doleema, “receive my adoration. Of thee, I know nothing, +but what the guide has spoken. I am but a poor, weak-minded maiden, +judging not for myself, but leaning upon others that are wiser. These +things are above me. I am afraid to think. In Alma’s name, receive my +homage.” + +And she flung flowers before the god. + +But Fauna, the hale matron, turning upon Pani, exclaimed, “Receive more +gifts, oh guide.” And again she showered them upon him. + +Upon this, the willful boy who would not have Pani for his guide, +entered the Morai; and perceiving the group before the image, walked +rapidly to where they were. And beholding the idol, he regarded it +attentively, and said:—“This must be the image of Doleema; but I am not +sure.” + +“Nay,” cried the blind pilgrim, “it is the holy tree Ananna, thou +wayward boy.” + +“A tree? whatever it may be, it is not that; thou art blind, old man.” + +“But though blind, I have that which thou lackest.” + +Then said Pani, turning upon the boy, “Depart from the holy Morai, and +corrupt not the hearts of these pilgrims. Depart, I say; and, in the +sacred name of Alma, perish in thy endeavors to climb the Peak.” + +“I may perish there in truth,” said the boy, with sadness; “but it +shall be in the path revealed to me in my dream. And think not, oh +guide, that I perfectly rely upon gaining that lofty summit. I will +climb high Ofo with hope, not faith; Oh, mighty Oro, help me!” + +“Be not impious,” said Pani; “pronounce not Oro’s sacred name too +lightly.” + +“Oro is but a sound,” said the boy. “They call the supreme god, Ati, in +my native isle; it is the soundless thought of him, oh guide, that is +in me.” + +“Hark to his rhapsodies! Hark, how he prates of mysteries, that not +even Hivohitee can fathom.” + +“Nor he, nor thou, nor I, nor any; Oro, to all, is Oro the unknown.” + +“Why claim to know Oro, then, better than others?” + +“I am not so vain; and I have little to substitute for what I can not +receive. I but feel Oro in me, yet can not declare the thought.” + +“Proud boy! thy humility is a pretense; at heart, thou deemest thyself +wiser than Mardi.” + +“Not near so wise. To believe is a haughty thing; my very doubts +humiliate me. I weep and doubt; all Mardi may be light; and I too +simple to discern.” + +“He is mad,” said the chief Divino; “never before heard I such words.” + +“They are thoughts,” muttered the guide. + +“Poor fool!” cried Fauna. + +“Lost youth!” sighed the maiden. + +“He is but a child,” said the beggar. These whims will soon depart; +once I was like him; but, praise be to Alma, in the hour of sickness I +repented, feeble old man that I am!” + +“It is because I am young and in health,” said the boy, “that I more +nourish the thoughts, that are born of my youth and my health. I am +fresh from my Maker, soul and body unwrinkled. On thy sick couch, old +man, they took thee at advantage.” + +“Turn from the blasphemer,” cried Pani. “Hence! thou evil one, to the +perdition in store.” + +“I will go my ways,” said the boy, “but Oro will shape the end.” + +And he quitted the Morai. + +After conducting the party round the sacred inclosure, assisting his +way with his staff, for his child had left him, Pani seated himself on +a low, mossy stone, grimly surrounded by idols; and directed the +pilgrims to return to his habitation; where, ere long he would rejoin +them. + +The pilgrims departed, he remained in profound meditation; while, +backward and forward, an invisible ploughshare turned up the long +furrows on his brow. + +Long he was silent; then muttered to himself, “That boy, that wild, +wise boy, has stabbed me to the heart. His thoughts are my suspicions. +But he is honest. Yet I harm none. Multitudes must have unspoken +meditations as well as I. Do we then mutually deceive? Off masks, +mankind, that I may know what warranty of fellowship with others, my +own thoughts possess. Why, upon this one theme, oh Oro! must all +dissemble? Our thoughts are not our own. Whate’er it be, an honest +thought must have some germ of truth. But we must set, as flows the +general stream; I blindly follow, where I seem to lead; the crowd of +pilgrims is so great, they see not there is none to guide.—It hinges +upon this: Have we angelic spirits? But in vain, in vain, oh Oro! I +essay to live out of this poor, blind body, fit dwelling for my +sightless soul. Death, death:—blind, am I dead? for blindness seems a +consciousness of death. Will my grave be more dark, than all is now?— +From dark to dark!—What is this subtle something that is in me, and +eludes me? Will it have no end? When, then, did it begin? All, all is +chaos! What is this shining light in heaven, this sun they tell me of? +Or, do they lie? Methinks, it might blaze convictions; but I brood and +grope in blackness; I am dumb with doubt; yet, ’tis not doubt, but +worse: I doubt my doubt. Oh, ye all-wise spirits in the air, how can ye +witness all this woe, and give no sign? Would, would that mine were a +settled doubt, like that wild boy’s, who without faith, seems full of +it. The undoubting doubter believes the most. Oh! that I were he. +Methinks that daring boy hath Alma in him, struggling to be free. But +those pilgrims: that trusting girl.—What, if they saw me as I am? +Peace, peace, my soul; on, mask, again.” + +And he staggered from the Morai. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +They Discourse Of The Gods Of Mardi, And Braid-Beard Tells Of One Foni + + +Walking from the sacred inclosure, Mohi discoursed of the plurality of +gods in the land, a subject suggested by the multitudinous idols we had +just been beholding. + +Said Mohi, “These gods of wood and of stone are nothing in number to +the gods in the air. You breathe not a breath without inhaling, you +touch not a leaf without ruffling a spirit. There are gods of heaven, +and gods of earth; gods of sea and of land; gods of peace and of war; +gods of rook and of fell; gods of ghosts and of thieves; of singers and +dancers; of lean men and of house-thatchers. Gods glance in the eyes of +birds, and sparkle in the crests of the waves; gods merrily swing in +the boughs of the trees, and merrily sing in the brook. Gods are here, +and there, and every where; you are never alone for them.” + +“If this be so, Braid-Beard,” said Babbalanja, “our inmost thoughts are +overheard; but not by eaves-droppers. However, my lord, these gods to +whom he alludes, merely belong to the semi-intelligibles, the divided +unities in unity, thin side of the First Adyta.” + +“Indeed?” said Media. + +“Semi-intelligible, say you, philosopher?” cried Mohi. “Then, prithee, +make it appear so; for what you say, seems gibberish to me.” + +“Babbalanja,” said Media, “no more of your abstrusities; what know you +mortals of us gods and demi-gods? But tell me, Mohi, how many of your +deities of rock and fen think you there are? Have you no statistical +table?” + +“My lord, at the lowest computation, there must be at least three +billion trillion of quintillions.” + +“A mere unit!” said Babbalanja. “Old man, would you express an infinite +number? Then take the sum of the follies of Mardi for your +multiplicand; and for your multiplier, the totality of sublunarians, +that never have been heard of since they became no more; and the +product shall exceed your quintillions, even though all their units +were nonillions.” + +“Have done, Babbalanja!” cried Media; “you are showing the sinister +vein in your marble. Have done. Take a warm bath, and make tepid your +cold blood. But come, Mohi, tell us of the ways of this Maramma; +something of the Morai and its idols, if you please.” + +And straightway Braid-Beard proceeded with a narration, in substance as +follows:— + +It seems, there was a particular family upon the island, whose members, +for many generations, had been set apart as sacrifices for the deity +called Doleema. They were marked by a sad and melancholy aspect, and a +certain involuntary shrinking, when passing the Morai. And, though, +when it came to the last, some of these unfortunates went joyfully to +their doom, declaring that they gloried to die in the service of holy +Doleema; still, were there others, who audaciously endeavored to shun +their fate; upon the approach of a festival, fleeing to the innermost +wilderness of the island. But little availed their flight. For swift on +their track sped the hereditary butler of the insulted god, one Xiki, +whose duty it was to provide the sacrifices. And when crouching in some +covert, the fugitive spied Xiki’s approach, so fearful did he become of +the vengeance of the deity he sought to evade, that renouncing all hope +of escape, he would burst from his lair, exclaiming, “Come on, and +kill!” baring his breast for the javelin that slew him. + +The chronicles of Maramma were full of horrors. + +In the wild heart of the island, was said still to lurk the remnant of +a band of warriors, who, in the days of the sire of the present +pontiff, had risen in arms to dethrone him, headed by Foni, an upstart +prophet, a personage distinguished for the uncommon beauty of his +person. With terrible carnage, these warriors had been defeated; and +the survivors, fleeing into the interior, for thirty days were pursued +by the victors. But though many were overtaken and speared, a number +survived; who, at last, wandering forlorn and in despair, like +demoniacs, ran wild in the woods. And the islanders, who at times +penetrated into the wilderness, for the purpose of procuring rare +herbs, often scared from their path some specter, glaring through the +foliage. Thrice had these demoniacs been discovered prowling about the +inhabited portions of the isle; and at day-break, an attendant of the +holy Morai once came upon a frightful figure, doubled with age, helping +itself to the offerings in the image of Doleema. The demoniac was +slain; and from his ineffaceable tatooing, it was proved that this was +no other than Foni, the false prophet; the splendid form he had carried +into the rebel fight, now squalid with age and misery. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +They Visit The Lake Of Yammo + + +From the Morai, we bent our steps toward an unoccupied arbor; and here, +refreshing ourselves with the viands presented by Borabolla, we passed +the night. And next morning proceeded to voyage round to the opposite +quarter of the island; where, in the sacred lake of Yammo, stood the +famous temple of Oro, also the great gallery of the inferior deities. + +The lake was but a portion of the smooth lagoon, made separate by an +arm of wooded reef, extending from the high western shore of the +island, and curving round toward a promontory, leaving a narrow channel +to the sea, almost invisible, however, from the land-locked interior. + +In this lake were many islets, all green with groves. Its main-shore +was a steep acclivity, with jutting points, each crowned with mossy old +altars of stone, or ruinous temples, darkly reflected in the green, +glassy water; while, from its long line of stately trees, the low +reef-side of the lake looked one verdant bluff. + +Gliding in upon Yammo, its many islets greeted us like a little Mardi; +but ever and anon we started at long lines of phantoms in the water, +reflections of the long line of images on the shore. + +Toward the islet of Dolzono we first directed our way; and there we +beheld the great gallery of the gods; a mighty temple, resting on one +hundred tall pillars of palm, each based, below the surface, on the +buried body of a man; its nave one vista of idols; names carved on +their foreheads: Ogre, Tripoo, Indrimarvoki, Parzillo, Vivivi, +Jojijojorora, Jorkraki, and innumerable others. + +Crowds of attendants were new-grouping the images. + +“My lord, you behold one of their principal occupations,” said Mohi. + +Said Media: “I have heard much of the famed image of Mujo, the Nursing +Mother;—can you point it out, Braid-Beard?” + +“My lord, when last here, I saw Mujo at the head of this file; but they +must have removed it; I see it not now.” + +“Do these attendants, then,” said Babbalanja, “so continually +new-marshal the idols, that visiting the gallery to-day, you are at a +loss to-morrow?” + +“Even so,” said Braid-Beard. “But behold, my lord, this image is Mujo.” + +We stood before an obelisk-idol, so towering, that gazing at it, we +were fain to throw back our heads. According to Mohi, winding stairs +led up through its legs; its abdomen a cellar, thick-stored with gourds +of old wine; its head, a hollow dome; in rude alto-relievo, its scores +of hillock-breasts were carved over with legions of baby deities, +frog-like sprawling; while, within, were secreted whole litters of +infant idols, there placed, to imbibe divinity from the knots of the +wood. + +As we stood, a strange subterranean sound was heard, mingled with a +gurgling as of wine being poured. Looking up, we beheld, through +arrow-slits and port-holes, three masks, cross-legged seated in the +abdomen, and holding stout wassail. But instantly upon descrying us, +they vanished deeper into the interior; and presently was heard a +sepulchral chant, and many groans and grievous tribulations. + +Passing on, we came to an image, with a long anaconda-like posterior +development, wound round and round its own neck. + +“This must be Oloo, the god of Suicides,” said Babbalanja. + +“Yes,” said Mohi, “you perceive, my lord, how he lays violent tail upon +himself.” + +At length, the attendants having, in due order, new-deposed the long +lines of sphinxes and griffins, and many limbed images, a band of them, +in long flowing robes, began their morning chant. + +“Awake Rarni! awake Foloona! +Awake unnumbered deities!” + + +With many similar invocations, to which the images made not the +slightest rejoinder. Not discouraged, however, the attendants now +separately proceeded to offer up petitions on behalf of various tribes, +retaining them for that purpose. + +One prayed for abundance of rain, that the yams of Valapee might not +wilt in the ground; another for dry sunshine, as most favorable for the +present state of the Bread-fruit crop in Mondoldo. + +Hearing all this, Babbalanja thus spoke:—“Doubtless, my lord Media, +besides these petitions we hear, there are ten thousand contradictory +prayers ascending to these idols. But methinks the gods will not jar +the eternal progression of things, by any hints from below; even were +it possible to satisfy conflicting desires.” + +Said Yoomy, “But I would pray, nevertheless, Babbalanja; for prayer +draws us near to our own souls, and purifies our thoughts. Nor will I +grant that our supplications are altogether in vain.” + +Still wandering among the images, Mohi had much to say, concerning +their respective claims to the reverence of the devout. + +For though, in one way or other, all Mardians bowed to the supremacy of +Oro, they were not so unanimous concerning the inferior deities; those +supposed to be intermediately concerned in sublunary things. Some +nations sacrificed to one god; some to another; each maintaining, that +their own god was the most potential. + +Observing that all the images were more or less defaced, Babbalanja +sought the reason. + +To which, Braid-Beard made answer, that they had been thus defaced by +hostile devotees; who quarreling in the great gallery of the gods, and +getting beside themselves with rage, often sought to pull down, and +demolish each other’s favorite idols. + +“But behold,” cried Babbalanja, “there seems not a single image +unmutilated. How is this, old man?” + +“It is thus. While one faction defaces the images of its adversaries, +its own images are in like manner assailed; whence it comes that no +idol escapes.” + +“No more, no more, Braid-Beard,” said Media. “Let us depart, and visit +the islet, where the god of all these gods is enshrined.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro + + +Deep, deep, in deep groves, we found the great temple of Oro, +Spreader-of-the-Sky, and deity supreme. + +While here we silently stood eyeing this Mardi-renowned image, there +entered the fane a great multitude of its attendants, holding pearl- +shells on their heads, filled with a burning incense. And ranging +themselves in a crowd round Oro, they began a long-rolling chant, a sea +of sounds; and the thick smoke of their incense went up to the roof. + +And now approached Pani and the pilgrims; followed, at a distance, by +the willful boy. + +“Behold great Oro,” said the guide. + +“We see naught but a cloud,” said the chief Divino. + +“My ears are stunned by the chanting,” said the blind pilgrim. + +“Receive more gifts, oh guide!” cried Fanna the matron. “Oh Oro! +invisible Oro! I kneel,” slow murmured the sad-eyed maid. + +But now, a current of air swept aside the eddying incense; and the +willful boy, all eagerness to behold the image, went hither and +thither; but the gathering of attendants was great; and at last he +exclaimed, “Oh Oro! I can not see thee, for the crowd that stands +between thee and me.” + +“Who is this babbler?” cried they with the censers, one and all turning +upon the pilgrims; “let him speak no more; but bow down, and grind the +dust where he stands; and declare himself the vilest creature that +crawls. So Oro and Alma command.” + +“I feel nothing in me so utterly vile,” said the boy, “and I cringe to +none. But I would as lief _adore_ your image, as that in my heart, for +both mean the same; but more, how can I? I love great Oro, though I +comprehend him not. I marvel at his works, and feel as nothing in his +sight; but because he is thus omnipotent, and I a mortal, it follows +not that I am vile. Nor so doth he regard me. We do ourselves degrade +ourselves, not Oro us. Hath not Oro made me? And therefore am I not +worthy to stand erect before him? Oro is almighty, but no despot. I +wonder; I hope; I love; I weep; I have in me a feeling nigh to fear, +that is not fear; but wholly vile I am not; nor can we love and cringe. +But Oro knows my heart, which I can not speak.” + +“Impious boy,” cried they with the censers, “we will offer thee up, +before the very image thou contemnest. In the name of Alma, seize him.” + +And they bore him away unresisting. + +“Thus perish the ungodly,” said Pani to the shuddering pilgrims. + +And they quitted the temple, to journey toward the Peak of Ofo. + +“My soul bursts!” cried Yoomy. “My lord, my lord, let us save the boy.” + +“Speak not,” said Media. “His fate is fixed. Let Mardi stand.” + +“Then let us away from hence, my lord; and join the pilgrims; for, in +these inland vales, the lost one may be found, perhaps at the very base +of Ofo.” + +“Not there; not there;” cried Babbalanja, “Yillah may have touched +these shores; but long since she must have fled.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +They Discourse Of Alma + + +Sailing to and fro in the lake, to view its scenery, much discourse +took place concerning the things we had seen; and far removed from the +censer-bearers, the sad fate that awaited the boy was now the theme of +all. + +A good deal was then said of Alma, to whom the guide, the pilgrims, and +the censer-bearers had frequently alluded, as to some paramount +authority. + +Called upon to reveal what his chronicles said on this theme, +Braid-Beard complied; at great length narrating, what now follows +condensed. + +Alma, it seems, was an illustrious prophet, and teacher divine; who, +ages ago, at long intervals, and in various islands, had appeared to +the Mardians under the different titles of Brami, Manko, and Alma. Many +thousands of moons had elasped since his last and most memorable +avatar, as Alma on the isle of Maramma. Each of his advents had taken +place in a comparatively dark and benighted age. Hence, it was devoutly +believed, that he came to redeem the Mardians from their heathenish +thrall; to instruct them in the ways of truth, virtue, and happiness; +to allure them to good by promises of beatitude hereafter; and to +restrain them from evil by denunciations of woe. Separated from the +impurities and corruptions, which in a long series of centuries had +become attached to every thing originally uttered by the prophet, the +maxims, which as Brami he had taught, seemed similar to those +inculcated by Manko. But as Alma, adapting his lessons to the improved +condition of humanity, the divine prophet had more completely unfolded +his scheme; as Alma, he had made his last revelation. + +This narration concluded, Babbalanja mildly observed, “Mohi: without +seeking to accuse you of uttering falsehoods; since what you relate +rests not upon testimony of your own; permit me, to question the +fidelity of your account of Alma. The prophet came to dissipate errors, +you say; but superadded to many that have survived the past, ten +thousand others have originated in various constructions of the +principles of Alma himself. The prophet came to do away all gods but +one; but since the days of Alma, the idols of Maramma have more than +quadrupled. The prophet came to make us Mardians more virtuous and +happy; but along with all previous good, the same wars, crimes, and +miseries, which existed in Alma’s day, under various modifications are +yet extant. Nay: take from your chronicles, Mohi, the history of those +horrors, one way or other, resulting from the doings of Alma’s nominal +followers, and your chronicles would not so frequently make mention of +blood. The prophet came to guarantee our eternal felicity; but +according to what is held in Maramma, that felicity rests on so hard a +proviso, that to a thinking mind, but very few of our sinful race may +secure it. For one, then, I wholly reject your Alma; not so much, +because of all that is hard to be understood in his histories; as +because of obvious and undeniable things all round us; which, to me, +seem at war with an unreserved faith in his doctrines as promulgated +here in Maramma. Besides; every thing in this isle strengthens my +incredulity; I never was so thorough a disbeliever as now.” + +“Let the winds be laid,” cried Mohi, “while your rash confession is +being made in this sacred lake.” + +Said Media, “Philosopher; remember the boy, and they that seized him.” + +“Ah! I do indeed remember him. Poor youth! in his agony, how my heart +yearned toward his. But that very prudence which you deny me, my lord, +prevented me from saying aught in his behalf. Have you not observed, +that until now, when we are completely by ourselves, I have refrained +from freely discoursing of what we have seen in this island? Trust me, +my lord, there is no man, that bears more in mind the necessity of +being either a believer or a hypocrite in Maramma, and the imminent +peril of being honest here, than I, Babbalanja. And have I not reason +to be wary, when in my boyhood, my own sire was burnt for his temerity; +and in this very isle? Just Oro! it was done in the name of Alma,—what +wonder then, that, at times, I almost hate that sound. And from those +flames, they devoutly swore he went to others,—horrible fable!” + +Said Mohi: “Do you deny, then, the everlasting torments?” + +“’Tis not worth a denial. Nor by formally denying it, will I run the +risk of shaking the faith of, thousands, who in that pious belief find +infinite consolation for all they suffer in Mardi.” + +“How?” said Media; “are there those who soothe themselves with the +thought of everlasting flames?” + +“One would think so, my lord, since they defend that dogma more +resolutely than any other. Sooner will they yield you the isles of +Paradise, than it. And in truth, as liege followers of Alma, they would +seem but right in clinging to it as they do; for, according to all one +hears in Maramma, the great end of the prophet’s mission seems to have +been the revealing to us Mardians the existence of horrors, most hard +to escape. But better we were all annihilated, than that one man should +be damned.” + +Rejoined Media: “But think you not, that possibly, Alma may have been +misconceived? Are you certain that doctrine is his?” + +“I know nothing more than that such is the belief in this land. And in +these matters, I know not where else to go for information. But, my +lord, had I been living in those days when certain men are said to have +been actually possessed by spirits from hell, I had not let slip the +opportunity—as our forefathers did—to cross-question them concerning +the place they came from.” + +“Well, well,” said Media, “your Alma’s faith concerns not me: I am a +king, and a demi-god; and leave vulgar torments to the commonality.” + +“But it concerns me,” muttered Mohi; “yet I know not what to think.” + +“For me,” said Yoomy, “I reject it. Could I, I would not believe it. It +is at variance with the dictates of my heart instinctively my heart +turns from it, as a thirsty man from gall.” + +“Hush; say no more,” said Mohi; “again we approach the shore.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. +Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo, And They Land To Visit Hevaneva, A Flourishing +Artisan + + +Having seen all worth viewing in Yammo, we departed, to complete the +circumnavigation of the island, by returning to Uma without reversing +our prows. As we glided along, we passed many objects of interest, +concerning which, Mohi, as usual, was very diffuse. + +Among other things pointed out, were certain little altars, like mile- +stones, planted here and there upon bright bluffs, running out into the +lagoon. Dedicated respectively to the guardian spirits of Maramma, +these altars formed a chain of spiritual defenses; and here were +presumed to stand post the most vigilant of warders; dread Hivohitee, +all by himself, garrisoning the impregnable interior. + +But these sentries were only subalterns, subject to the beck of the +Pontiff; who frequently sent word to them, concerning the duties of +their watch. His mandates were intrusted to one Ravoo, the hereditary +pontifical messenger; a long-limbed varlet, so swift of foot, that he +was said to travel like a javelin. “Art thou Ravoo, that thou so pliest +thy legs?” say these islanders, to one encountered in a hurry. + +Hivohitee’s postman held no oral communication with the sentries. +Dispatched round the island with divers bits of tappa, hieroglyphically +stamped, he merely deposited one upon each altar; superadding a stone, +to keep the missive in its place; and so went his rounds. + +Now, his route lay over hill and over dale, and over many a coral rock; +and to preserve his feet from bruises, he was fain to wear a sort of +buskin, or boot, fabricated of a durable tappa, made from the thickest +and toughest of fibers. As he never wore his buskins except when he +carried the mail, Ravoo sorely fretted with his Hessians; though it +would have been highly imprudent to travel without them. To make the +thing more endurable, therefore, and, at intervals, to cool his heated +pedals, he established a series of stopping-places, or stages; at each +of which a fresh pair of buskins, hanging from a tree, were taken down +and vaulted into by the ingenious traveler. Those relays of boots were +exceedingly convenient; next, indeed, to being lifted upon a fresh pair +of legs. + +“Now, to what purpose that anecdote?” demanded Babbalanja of Mohi, who +in substance related it. + +“Marry! ’tis but the simple recital of a fact; and I tell it to +entertain the company.” + +“But has it any meaning you know of?” + +“Thou art wise, find out,” retorted Braid-Beard. “But what comes of +it?” persisted Babbalanja. + +“Beshrew me, this senseless catechising of thine,” replied Mohi; +“naught else, it seems, save a grin or two.” + +“And pray, what may you be driving at, philosopher?” interrupted Media. + +“I am intent upon the essence of things; the mystery that lieth beyond; +the elements of the tear which much laughter provoketh; that which is +beneath the seeming; the precious pearl within the shaggy oyster. I +probe the circle’s center; I seek to evolve the inscrutable.” + +“Seek on; and when aught is found, cry out, that we may run to see.” + +“My lord the king is merry upon me. To him my more subtle cogitations +seem foolishness. But believe me, my lord, there is more to be thought +of than to be seen. There is a world of wonders insphered within the +spontaneous consciousness; or, as old Bardianna hath it, a mystery +within the obvious, yet an obviousness within the mystery.” + +“And did I ever deny that?” said Media. + +“As plain as my hand in the dark,” said Mohi. + +“I dreamed a dream,” said Yoomy. + +“They banter me; but enough; I am to blame for discoursing upon the +deep world wherein I live. I am wrong in seeking to invest sublunary +sounds with celestial sense. Much that is in me is incommunicable by +this ether we breathe. But I blame ye not.” And wrapping round him his +mantle, Babbalanja retired into its most private folds. + +Ere coming in sight of Uma, we put into a little bay, to pay our +respects to Hevaneva, a famous character there dwelling; who, assisted +by many journeymen, carried on the lucrative business of making idols +for the surrounding isles. + +Know ye, that all idols not made in Maramma, and consecrated by +Hivohitee; and, what is more, in strings of teeth paid down for to +Hevaneva; are of no more account, than logs, stocks, or stones. Yet +does not the cunning artificer monopolize the profits of his vocation; +for Hevaneva being but the vassal of the Pontiff, the latter lays claim +to King Leo’s share of the spoils, and secures it. + +The place was very prettily lapped in a pleasant dell, nigh to the +margin of the water; and here, were several spacious arbors; wherein, +prostrate upon their sacred faces, were all manner of idols, in every +imaginable stage of statuary development. + +With wonderful industry the journeymen were plying their tools;—some +chiseling noses; some trenching for mouths; and others, with heated +flints, boring for ears: a hole drilled straight through the occiput, +representing the auricular organs. + +“How easily they are seen through,” said Babbalanja, taking a sight +through one of the heads. + +The last finish is given to their godships, by rubbing them all over +with dried slips of consecrated shark-skin, rough as sand paper, tacked +over bits of wood. + +In one of the farther arbors, Hevaneva pointed out a goodly array of +idols, all complete and ready for the market. They were of every +variety of pattern; and of every size; from that of a giant, to the +little images worn in the ears of the ultra devout. + +“Of late,” said the artist, “there has been a lively demand for the +image of Arbino the god of fishing; the present being the principal +season for that business. For Nadams (Nadam presides over love and +wine), there has also been urgent call; it being the time of the grape; +and the maidens growing frolicsome withal, and devotional.” + +Seeing that Hevaneva handled his wares with much familiarity, not to +say irreverence, Babbalanja was minded to learn from him, what he +thought of his trade; whether the images he made were genuine or +spurious; in a word, whether he believed in his gods. + +His reply was curious. But still more so, the marginal gestures +wherewith he helped out the text. + +“When I cut down the trees for my idols,” said he, “they are nothing +but logs; when upon those logs, I chalk out the figures of, my images, +they yet remain logs; when the chisel is applied, logs they are still; +and when all complete, I at last stand them up in my studio, even then +they are logs. Nevertheless, when I handle the pay, they are as prime +gods, as ever were turned out in Maramma.” + +“You must make a very great variety,” said Babbalanja. + +“All sorts, all sorts.” + +“And from the same material, I presume.” + +“Ay, ay, one grove supplies them all. And, on an average, each tree +stands us in full fifty idols. Then, we often take second-hand images +in part pay for new ones. These we work over again into new patterns; +touching up their eyes and ears; resetting their noses; and more +especially new-footing their legs, where they always decay first.” + +Under sanction of the Pontiff, Hevaneva, in addition to his large +commerce in idols, also carried on the highly lucrative business of +canoe-building; the profits whereof, undivided, he dropped into his +private exchequer. But Mohi averred, that the Pontiff often charged him +with neglecting his images, for his canoes. Be that as it may, Hevaneva +drove a thriving trade at both avocations. And in demonstration of the +fact, he directed our attention to three long rows of canoes, upheld by +wooden supports. They were in perfect order; at a moment’s notice, +ready for launching; being furnished with paddles, out-riggers, masts, +sails, and a human skull, with a short handle thrust through one of its +eyes, the ordinary bailer of Maramma; besides other appurtenances, +including on the prow a duodecimo idol to match. + +Owing to a superstitious preference bestowed upon the wood and work of +the sacred island, Hevaneva’s canoes were in as high repute as his +idols; and sold equally well. + +In truth, in several ways one trade helped the other. The larger images +being dug out of the hollow part of the canoes; and all knotty odds and +ends reserved for the idol ear-rings. + +“But after all,” said the artificer, “I find a readier sale for my +images, than for my canoes.” + +“And so it will ever be,” said Babbalanja.—“Stick to thy idols, man! a +trade, more reliable than the baker’s.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +A Nursery-Tale Of Babbalanja’s + + +Having taken to our canoes once again, we were silently sailing along, +when Media observed, “Babbalanja; though I seldom trouble myself with +such thoughts, I have just been thinking, how difficult it must be, for +the more ignorant sort of people, to decide upon what particular image +to worship as a guardian deity, when in Maramma, it seems, there exists +such a multitude of idols, and a thousand more are to be heard of.” + +“Not at all, your highness. The more ignorant the better. The multitude +of images distracts them not. But I am in no mood for serious +discourse; let me tell you a story.” + +“A story! hear him: the solemn philosopher is desirous of regaling us +with a tale! But pray, begin.” + +“Once upon a time, then,” said Babbalanja, indifferently adjusting his +girdle, “nine blind men, with uncommonly long noses, set out on their +travels to see the great island on which they were born.” + +“A precious beginning,” muttered Mohi. “Nine blind men setting out to +see sights.” + +Continued Babbalanja, “Staff in hand, they traveled; one in advance of +the other; each man with his palm upon the shoulder next him; and he +with the longest nose took the lead of the file. Journeying on in this +manner, they came to a valley, in which reigned a king called Tammaro. +Now, in a certain inclosure toward the head of the valley, there stood +an immense wild banian tree; all over moss, and many centuries old, and +forming quite a wood in itself: its thousand boughs striking into the +earth, and fixing there as many gigantic trunks. With Tammaro, it had +long been a question, which of those many trunks was the original and +true one; a matter that had puzzled the wisest heads among his +subjects; and in vain had a reward been offered for the solution of the +perplexity. But the tree was so vast, and its fabric so complex; and +its rooted branches so similar in appearance; and so numerous, from the +circumstance that every year had added to them, that it was quite +impossible to determine the point. Nevertheless, no sooner did the nine +blind men hear that there was a reward offered for discovering the +trunk of a tree, standing all by itself, than, one and all, they +assured Tammaro, that they would quickly settle that little difficulty +of his; and loudly inveighed against the stupidity of his sages, who +had been so easily posed. So, being conducted into the inclosure, and +assured that the tree was somewhere within, they separated their +forces, so as at wide intervals to surround it at a distance; when +feeling their way, with their staves and their noses, they advanced to +the search, crying out—‘Pshaw! make room there; let us wise men feel of +the mystery.’ Presently, striking with his nose one of the rooted +branches, the foremost blind man quickly knelt down; and feeling that +it struck into the earth, gleefully shouted: Here it is! here it is!’ +But almost in the same breath, his companions, also, each striking a +branch with his staff or his nose, cried out in like manner, ‘Here it +is! here it is!’ Whereupon they were all confounded: but directly, the +man who first cried out, thus addressed the rest: Good friends, surely +you’re mistaken. There is but one tree in the place, and here it is.’ +‘Very true,’ said the others, ‘all together; there is only _one_ tree; +but _here_ it is.’ ‘Nay,’ said the others, ‘it is _here!_’ and so +saying, each blind man triumphantly felt of the branch, where it +penetrated into the earth. Then again said the first speaker: Good +friends, if you will not believe what I say, come hither, and feel for +yourselves.’ ‘Nay, nay,’ replied they, why seek further? _here_ it is; +and nowhere else can it be.’ ‘You blind fools, you, you contradict +yourselves,’ continued the first speaker, waxing wroth; ‘how can you +each have hold of a separate trunk, when there is but one in the +place?’ Whereupon, they redoubled their cries, calling each other all +manner of opprobrious names, and presently they fell to beating each +other with their staves, and charging upon each other with their noses. +But soon after, being loudly called upon by Tammaro and his people; who +all this while had been looking on; being loudly called upon, I say, to +clap their hands on the trunk, they again rushed for their respective +branches; and it so happened, that, one and all, they changed places; +but still cried out, ‘_Here_ it is; _here_ it is!’ ‘Peace! peace! ye +silly blind men,’ said Tammaro. ‘Will ye without eyes presume to see +more sharply than those who have them? The tree is too much for us all. +Hence! depart from the valley.’” + +“An admirable story,” cried Media. “I had no idea that a mere mortal, +least of all a philosopher, could acquit himself so well. By my +scepter, but it is well done! Ha, ha! blind men round a banian! Why, +Babbalanja, no demi-god could surpass it. Taji, could you?” + +“But, Babbalanja, what under the sun, mean you by your blind story!” +cried Mohi. “Obverse, or reverse, I can make nothing out of it.” + +“Others may,” said Babbalanja. “It is a polysensuum, old man.” + +“A pollywog!” said Mohi. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +Landing To Visit Hivohitee The Pontiff, They Encounter An Extraordinary +Old Hermit; With Whom Yoomy Has A Confidential Interview, But Learns +Little + + +Gliding on, suddenly we spied a solitary Islander putting out in his +canoe from a neighboring cove. + +Drawing near, the stranger informed us, that he was just from the face +of the great Pontiff, Hivohitee, who, having dismissed his celestial +guests, had retired to his private sanctuary. Upon this, Media resolved +to land forthwith, and under the guidance of Mohi, proceed inland, and +pay a visit to his Holiness. + +Quitting the beach, our path penetrated into the solitudes of the +groves. Skirting the way were tall Casaurinas, a species of cypress, +standing motionless in the shadows, as files of mutes at a funeral. But +here and there, they were overrun with the adventurous vines of the +Convolvulus, the Morning-glory of the Tropics, whose tendrils, bruised +by the twigs, dropped milk upon the dragon-like scales of the trees. + +This vine is of many varieties. Lying perdu, and shunning the garish +sun through the day, one species rises at night with the stars; +bursting forth in dazzling constellations of blossoms, which close at +dawn. Others, slumbering through the darkness, are up and abroad with +their petals, by peep of morn; and after inhaling its breath, again +drop their lids in repose. While a third species, more capricious, +refuse to expand at all, unless in the most brilliant sunshine, and +upon the very tops of the loftiest trees. Ambitious flowers! that will +not blow, unless in high places, with the bright day looking on and +admiring. + +Here and there, we passed open glades in the woods, delicious with the +incense of violets. Balsamic ferns, stirred by the breeze, fanned all +the air with aromas. These glades were delightful. + +Journeying on, we at length came to a dark glen so deftly hidden by the +surrounding copses, that were it not for the miasma thence wafted, an +ignorant wayfarer might pass and repass it, time and again, never +dreaming of its vicinity. + +Down into the gloom of this glen we descended. Its sides were mantled +with noxious shrubs, whose exhalations, half way down, unpleasantly +blended with the piny breeze from the uplands. Through its bed ran a +brook, whose incrusted margin had a strange metallic luster, from the +polluted waters here flowing; their source a sulphur spring, of vile +flavor and odor, where many invalid pilgrims resorted. + +The woods all round were haunted by the dismal cawings of crows; tap, +tap, the black hawk whetted his bill on the boughs; each trunk stalked +a ghost; and from those trunks, Hevaneva procured the wood for his +idols. + +Rapidly crossing this place, Yoomy’s hands to his ears, old Mohi’s to +his nostrils, and Babbalanja vainly trying to walk with closed eyes, we +toiled among steep, flinty rocks, along a wild, zigzag pathway; like a +mule-track in the Andes, not so much onward as upward; Yoomy above +Babbalanja, my lord Media above him, and Braid-Beard, our guide, in the +air, above all. + +Strown over with cinders, the vitreous marl seemed tumbled together, as +if belched from a volcano’s throat. + +Presently, we came to a tall, slender structure, hidden among the +scenic projections of the cliffs, like a monument in the dark, vaulted +ways of an abbey. Surrounding it, were five extinct craters. The air +was sultry and still, as if full of spent thunderbolts. + +Like a Hindoo pagoda, this bamboo edifice rose story above story; its +many angles and points decorated with pearl-shells suspended by cords. +But the uppermost story, some ten toises in the air, was closely +thatched from apex to floor; which summit was gained by a series of +ascents. + +What eremite dwelleth here, like St. Stylites at the top of his +column?—a question which Mohi seemed all eagerness to have answered. + +Dropping upon his knees, he gave a peculiar low call: no response. +Another: all was silent. Marching up to the pagoda, and again dropping +upon his knees, he shook the bamboos till the edifice rocked, and its +pearl-shells jingled, as if a troop of Andalusian mules, with bells +round their necks, were galloping along the defile. + +At length the thatch aloft was thrown open, and a head was thrust +forth. It was that of an old, old man; with steel-gray eyes, hair and +beard, and a horrible necklace of jaw-bones. + +Now, issuing from the pagoda, Mohi turned about to gain a view of the +ghost he had raised; and no sooner did he behold it, than with King +Media and the rest, he made a marked salutation. + +Presently, the eremite pointed to where Yoomy was standing; and waved +his hand upward; when Mohi informed the minstrel, that it was St. +Stylites’ pleasure, that he should pay him a visit. + +Wondering what was to come, Yoomy proceeded to mount; and at last +arriving toward the top of the pagoda, was met by an opening, from +which an encouraging arm assisted him to gain the ultimate landing. + +Here, all was murky enough; for the aperture from which the head of the +apparition had been thrust, was now closed; and what little twilight +there was, came up through the opening in the floor. + +In this dismal seclusion, silently the hermit confronted the minstrel; +his gray hair, eyes, and beard all gleaming, as if streaked with +phosphorus; while his ghastly gorget grinned hideously, with all its +jaws. + +Mutely Yoomy waited to be addressed; but hearing no sound, and becoming +alive to the strangeness of his situation, he meditated whether it +would not be well to subside out of sight, even as he had come—through +the floor. An intention which the eremite must have anticipated; for of +a sudden, something was slid over the opening; and the apparition +seating itself thereupon, the twain were in darkness complete. + +Shut up thus, with an inscrutable stranger posted at the only aperture +of escape, poor Yoomy fell into something like a panic; hardly knowing +what step to take next. As for endeavoring to force his way out, it was +alarming to think of; for aught he knew, the eremite, availing himself +of the gloom, might be bristling all over with javelin points. + +At last, the silence was broken. + +“What see you, mortal?” + +“Chiefly darkness,” said Yoomy, wondering at the audacity of the +question. + +“I dwell in it. But what else see you, mortal?” + +“The dim gleaming of thy gorget.” + +“But that is not me. What else dost thou see?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Then thou hast found me out, and seen all! Descend.” + +And with that, the passage-way opened, and groping through the +twilight, Yoomy obeyed the mandate, and retreated; full of vexation at +his enigmatical reception. + +On his alighting, Mohi inquired whether the hermit was not a wonderful +personage. + +But thinking some sage waggery lurked in the question; and at present +too indignant to enter into details, the minstrel made some impatient +reply; and winding through a defile, the party resumed its journey. + +Straggling behind, to survey the strange plants and flowers in his +path, Yoomy became so absorbed, as almost to forget the scene in the +pagoda; yet every moment expected to be nearing the stately abode of +the Pontiff. + +But suddenly, the scene around grew familiar; the path seemed that +which had been followed just after leaving the canoes; and at length, +the place of debarkation was in sight. + +Surprised that the object of our visit should have been thus abandoned, +the minstrel ran forward, and sought an explanation. + +Whereupon, Mohi lifted his hands in amazement; exclaiming at the +blindness of the eyes, which had beheld the supreme Pontiff of Maramma, +without knowing it. + +The old hermit was no other than the dread Hivohitee; the pagoda, the +inmost oracle of the isle. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +Babbalanja Endeavors To Explain The Mystery + + +This Great Mogul of a personage, then; this woundy Aliasuerus; this man +of men; this same Hivohitee, whose name rumbled among the mountains +like a peal of thunder, had been seen face to face, and taken for +naught, but a bearded old hermit, or at best, some equivocal conjuror. + +So great was his wonderment at the time, that Yoomy could not avoid +expressing it in words. + +Whereupon thus discoursed Babbalanja: + +“Gentle Yoomy, be not astounded, that Hivohitee is so far behind your +previous conceptions. The shadows of things are greater than +themselves; and the more exaggerated the shadow, the more unlike to the +substance.” + +“But knowing now, what manner of person Hivohitee is,” said Yoomy, +“much do I long to behold him again.” + +But Mohi assured him it was out of the question; that the Pontiff +always acted toward strangers as toward him (Yoomy); and that but one +dim blink at the eremite was all that mortal could obtain. + +Debarred thus from a second and more satisfactory interview with one, +concerning whom his curiosity had been violently aroused, the minstrel +again turned to Mohi for enlightenment; especially touching that +magnate’s Egyptian reception of him in his aerial den. + +Whereto, the chronicler made answer, that the Pontiff affected darkness +because he liked it: that he was a ruler of few words, but many deeds; +and that, had Yoomy been permitted to tarry longer with him in the +pagoda, he would have been privy to many strange attestations of the +divinity imputed to him. Voices would have been heard in the air, +gossiping with Hivohitee; noises inexplicable proceeding from him; in +brief, light would have flashed out of his darkness. + +“But who has seen these things, Mohi?” said Babbalanja, “have you?” + +“Nay.” + +“Who then?—Media?—Any one you know?” + +“Nay: but the whole Archipelago has.” + +“Thus,” exclaimed Babbalanja, “does Mardi, blind though it be in many +things, collectively behold the marvels, which one pair of eyes sees +not.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +Taji Receives Tidings And Omens + + +Slowly sailing on, we were overtaken by a shallop; whose inmates +grappling to the side of Media’s, said they came from Borabolla. + +Dismal tidings!—My faithful follower’s death. + +Absent over night, that morning early, he had been discovered lifeless +in the woods, three arrows in his heart. And the three pale strangers +were nowhere to be found. But a fleet canoe was missing from the beach. + +Slain for me! my soul sobbed out. Nor yet appeased Aleema’s manes; nor +yet seemed sated the avengers’ malice; who, doubtless, were on my +track. + +But I turned; and instantly the three canoes had been reversed; and +full soon, Jarl’s dead hand in mine, had not Media interposed. + +“To death, your presence will not bring life back.” + +“And we must on,” said Babbalanja. “We seek the living, not the dead.” + +Thus they overruled me; and Borabolla’s messengers departed. + +Soon evening came, and in its shades, three shadows,—Hautia’s heralds. + +Their shallop glided near. + +A leaf tri-foiled was first presented; then another, arrow-shaped. + +Said Yoomy, “Still I swiftly follow, behind revenge.” + +Then were showered faded, pallid daffodils. + +Said Yoomy, “Thy hopes are blighted all.” + +“Not dead, but living with the life of life. Sirens! I heed ye not.” + +They would have showered more flowers; but crowding sail we left them. + +Much converse followed. Then, beneath the canopy all sought repose. And +ere long slouched sleep drew nigh, tending dreams innumerable; silent +dotting all the downs a shepherd with his flock. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +Dreams + + +Dreams! dreams! golden dreams: endless, and golden, as the flowery +prairies, that stretch away from the Rio Sacramento, in whose waters +Danae’s shower was woven;—prairies like rounded eternities: jonquil +leaves beaten out; and my dreams herd like buffaloes, browsing on to +the horizon, and browsing on round the world; and among them, I dash +with my lance, to spear one, ere they all flee. + +Dreams! dreams! passing and repassing, like Oriental empires in +history; and scepters wave thick, as Bruce’s pikes at Bannockburn; and +crowns are plenty as marigolds in June. And far in the background, hazy +and blue, their steeps let down from the sky, loom Andes on Andes, +rooted on Alps; and all round me, long rushing oceans, roll Amazons and +Oronocos; waves, mounted Parthians; and, to and fro, toss the wide +woodlands: all the world an elk, and the forests its antlers. + +But far to the South, past my Sicily suns and my vineyards, stretches +the Antarctic barrier of ice: a China wall, built up from the sea, and +nodding its frosted towers in the dun, clouded sky. Do Tartary and +Siberia lie beyond? Deathful, desolate dominions those; bleak and wild +the ocean, beating at that barrier’s base, hovering ’twixt freezing and +foaming; and freighted with navies of ice-bergs,—warring worlds +crossing orbits; their long icicles, projecting like spears to the +charge. Wide away stream the floes of drift ice, frozen cemeteries of +skeletons and bones. White bears howl as they drift from their cubs; +and the grinding islands crush the skulls of the peering seals. + +But beneath me, at the Equator, the earth pulses and beats like a +warrior’s heart; till I know not, whether it be not myself. And my soul +sinks down to the depths, and soars to the skies; and comet-like reels +on through such boundless expanses, that methinks all the worlds are my +kin, and I invoke them to stay in their course. Yet, like a mighty +three-decker, towing argosies by scores, I tremble, gasp, and strain in +my flight, and fain would cast off the cables that hamper. + +And like a frigate, I am full with a thousand souls; and as on, on, on, +I scud before the wind, many mariners rush up from the orlop below, +like miners from caves; running shouting across my decks; opposite +braces are pulled; and this way and that, the great yards swing round +on their axes; and boisterous speaking-trumpets are heard; and +contending orders, to save the good ship from the shoals. Shoals, like +nebulous vapors, shoreing the white reef of the Milky Way, against +which the wrecked worlds are dashed; strewing all the strand, with +their Himmaleh keels and ribs. + +Ay: many, many souls are in me. In my tropical calms, when my ship lies +tranced on Eternity’s main, speaking one at a time, then all with one +voice: an orchestra of many French bugles and horns, rising, and +falling, and swaying, in golden calls and responses. + +Sometimes, when these Atlantics and Pacifics thus undulate round me, I +lie stretched out in their midst: a land-locked Mediterranean, knowing +no ebb, nor flow. Then again, I am dashed in the spray of these sounds: +an eagle at the world’s end, tossed skyward, on the horns of the +tempest. + +Yet, again, I descend, and list to the concert. + +Like a grand, ground swell, Homer’s old organ rolls its vast volumes +under the light frothy wave-crests of Anacreon and Hafiz; and high over +my ocean, sweet Shakespeare soars, like all the larks of the spring. +Throned on my seaside, like Canute, bearded Ossian smites his hoar +harp, wreathed with wild-flowers, in which warble my Wallers; blind +Milton sings bass to my Petrarchs and Priors, and laureate crown me +with bays. + +In me, many worthies recline, and converse. I list to St. Paul who +argues the doubts of Montaigne; Julian the Apostate cross-questions +Augustine; and Thomas-a-Kempis unrolls his old black letters for all to +decipher. Zeno murmurs maxims beneath the hoarse shout of Democritus; +and though Democritus laugh loud and long, and the sneer of Pyrrho be +seen; yet, divine Plato, and Proclus, and, Verulam are of my counsel; +and Zoroaster whispered me before I was born. I walk a world that is +mine; and enter many nations, as Mingo Park rested in African cots; I +am served like Bajazet: Bacchus my butler, Virgil my minstrel, Philip +Sidney my page. My memory is a life beyond birth; my memory, my library +of the Vatican, its alcoves all endless perspectives, eve-tinted by +cross-lights from Middle-Age oriels. + +And as the great Mississippi musters his watery nations: Ohio, with all +his leagued streams; Missouri, bringing down in torrents the clans from +the highlands; Arkansas, his Tartar rivers from the plain;—so, with all +the past and present pouring in me, I roll down my billow from afar. + +Yet not I, but another: God is my Lord; and though many satellites +revolve around me, I and all mine revolve round the great central +Truth, sun-like, fixed and luminous forever in the foundationless +firmament. + +Fire flames on my tongue; and though of old the Bactrian prophets were +stoned, yet the stoners in oblivion sleep. But whoso stones me, shall +be as Erostratus, who put torch to the temple; though Genghis Khan with +Cambyses combine to obliterate him, his name shall be extant in the +mouth of the last man that lives. And if so be, down unto death, whence +I came, will I go, like Xenophon retreating on Greece, all Persia +brandishing her spears in his rear. + +My cheek blanches white while I write; I start at the scratch of my +pen; my own mad brood of eagles devours me; fain would I unsay this +audacity; but an iron-mailed hand clenches mine in a vice, and prints +down every letter in my spite. Fain would I hurl off this Dionysius +that rides me; my thoughts crush me down till I groan; in far fields I +hear the song of the reaper, while I slave and faint in this cell. The +fever runs through me like lava; my hot brain burns like a coal; and +like many a monarch, I am less to be envied, than the veriest hind in +the land. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +Media And Babbalanja Discourse + + +Our visiting the Pontiff at a time previously unforeseen, somewhat +altered our plans. All search in Maramma for the lost one proving +fruitless, and nothing of note remaining to be seen, we returned not to +Uma; but proceeded with the tour of the lagoon. + +When day came, reclining beneath the canopy, Babbalanja would fain have +seriously discussed those things we had lately been seeing, which, for +all the occasional levity he had recently evinced, seemed very near his +heart. + +But my lord Media forbade; saying that they necessarily included a +topic which all gay, sensible Mardians, who desired to live and be +merry, invariably banished from social discourse. + +“Meditate as much as you will, Babbalanja, but say little aloud, unless +in a merry and mythical way. Lay down the great maxims of things, but +let inferences take care of themselves. Never be special; never, a +partisan. In safety, afar off, you may batter down a fortress; but at +your peril you essay to carry a single turret by escalade. And if +doubts distract you, in vain will you seek sympathy from your fellow +men. For upon this one theme, not a few of you free-minded mortals, +even the otherwise honest and intelligent, are the least frank and +friendly. Discourse with them, and it is mostly formulas, or +prevarications, or hollow assumption of philosophical indifference, or +urbane hypocrisies, or a cool, civil deference to the dominant belief; +or still worse, but less common, a brutality of indiscriminate +skepticism. Furthermore, Babbalanja, on this head, final, last thoughts +you mortals have none; nor can have; and, at bottom, your own fleeting +fancies are too often secrets to yourselves; and sooner may you get +another’s secret, than your own. Thus with the wisest of you all; you +are ever unfixed. Do you show a tropical calm without? then, be sure a +thousand contrary currents whirl and eddy within. The free, airy robe +of your philosophy is but a dream, which seems true while it lasts; but +waking again into the orthodox world, straightway you resume the old +habit. And though in your dreams you may hie to the uttermost Orient, +yet all the while you abide where you are. Babbalanja, you mortals +dwell in Mardi, and it is impossible to get elsewhere.” + +Said Babbalanja, “My lord, you school me. But though I dissent from +some of your positions, I am willing to confess, that this is not the +first time a philosopher has been instructed by a man.” + +“A demi-god, sir; and therefore I the more readily discharge my mind of +all seriousness, touching the subject, with which you mortals so vex +and torment yourselves.” + +Silence ensued. And seated apart, on both sides of the barge, solemnly +swaying, in fixed meditation, to the roll of the waves, Babbalanja, +Mohi, and Yoomy, drooped lower and lower, like funeral plumes; and our +gloomy canoe seemed a hearse. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +They Regale Themselves With Their Pipes + + +“Ho! mortals! mortals!” cried Media. “Go we to bury our dead? Awake, +sons of men! Cheer up, heirs of immortality! Ho, Vee-Vee! bring forth +our pipes: we’ll smoke off this cloud.” + +Nothing so beguiling as the fumes of tobacco, whether inhaled through +hookah, narghil, chibouque, Dutch porcelain, pure Principe, or Regalia. +And a great oversight had it been in King Media, to have omitted pipes +among the appliances of this voyage that we went. Tobacco in rouleaus +we had none; cigar nor cigarret; which little the company esteemed. +Pipes were preferred; and pipes we often smoked; testify, oh! Vee-Vee, +to that. But not of the vile clay, of which mankind and Etruscan vases +were made, were these jolly fine pipes of ours. But all in good time. + +Now, the leaf called tobacco is of divers species and sorts. Not to +dwell upon vile Shag, Pig-tail, Plug, Nail-rod, Negro-head, Cavendish, +and misnamed Lady’s-twist, there are the following varieties:—Gold- +leaf, Oronoco, Cimaroza, Smyrna, Bird’s-eye, James-river, +Sweet-scented, Honey-dew, Kentucky, Cnaster, Scarfalati, and famed +Shiraz, or Persian. Of all of which, perhaps the last is the best. + +But smoked by itself, to a fastidious wight, even Shiraz is not gentle +enough. It needs mitigation. And the cunning craft of so mitigating +even the mildest tobacco was well understood in the dominions of Media. +There, in plantations ever covered with a brooding, blue haze, they +raised its fine leaf in the utmost luxuriance; almost as broad as the +broad fans of the broad-bladed banana. The stalks of the leaf +withdrawn, the remainder they cut up, and mixed with soft willow-bark, +and the aromatic leaves of the Betel. + +“Ho! Vee-Vee, bring forth the pipes,” cried Media. And forth they came, +followed by a quaint, carved cocoa-nut, agate-lidded, containing +ammunition sufficient for many stout charges and primings. + +Soon we were all smoking so hard, that the canopied howdah, under which +we reclined, sent up purple wreaths like a Michigan wigwam. There we +sat in a ring, all smoking in council—every pipe a halcyon pipe of +peace. + +And among those calumets, my lord Media’s showed like the turbaned +Grand Turk among his Bashaws. It was an extraordinary pipe, be sure; of +right royal dimensions. Its mouth-piece an eagle’s beak; its long stem, +a bright, red-barked cherry-tree branch, partly covered with a close +network of purple dyed porcupine quills; and toward the upper end, +streaming with pennons, like a Versailles flag-staff of a coronation +day. These pennons were managed by halyards; and after lighting his +prince’s pipe, it was little Vee-Vee’s part to run them up toward the +mast-head, or mouthpiece, in token that his lord was fairly under +weigh. + +But Babbalanja’s was of a different sort; an immense, black, serpentine +stem of ebony, coiling this way and that, in endless convolutions, like +an anaconda round a traveler in Brazil. Smoking this hydra, Babbalanja +looked as if playing upon the trombone. + +Next, gentle Yoomy’s. Its stem, a slender golden reed, like musical +Pan’s; its bowl very merry with tassels. + +Lastly, old Mohi the chronicler’s. Its Death’s-head bowl forming its +latter end, continually reminding him of his own. Its shank was an +ostrich’s leg, some feathers still waving nigh the mouth-piece. + +“Here, Vee-Vee! fill me up again,” cried Media, through the blue vapors +sweeping round his great gonfalon, like plumed Marshal Ney, waving his +baton in the smoke of Waterloo; or thrice gallant Anglesea, crossing +his wooden leg mid the reek and rack of the Apsley House banquet. + +Vee-Vee obeyed; and quickly, like a howitzer, the pipe-owl was reloaded +to the muzzle, and King Media smoked on. + +“Ah! this is pleasant indeed,” he cried. “Look, it’s a calm on the +waters, and a calm in our hearts, as we inhale these sedative odors.” + +“So calm,” said Babbalanja; “the very gods must be smoking now.” + +“And thus,” said Media, “we demi-gods hereafter shall cross-legged sit, +and smoke out our eternities. Ah, what a glorious puff! Mortals, +methinks these pipe-bowls of ours must be petrifactions of roses, so +scented they seem. But, old Mohi, you have smoked this many a long +year; doubtless, you know something about their material—the +Froth-of-the-Sea they call it, I think—ere my handicraft subjects +obtain it, to work into bowls. Tell us the tale.” + +“Delighted to do so, my lord,” replied Mohi, slowly disentangling his +mouth-piece from the braids of his beard. “I have devoted much time and +attention to the study of pipe-bowls, and groped among many learned +authorities, to reconcile the clashing opinions concerning the origin +of the so-called Farnoo, or Froth-of-the-Sea.” + +“Well, then, my old centenarian, give us the result of your +investigations. But smoke away: a word and a puff go on.” + +“May it please you, then, my right worshipful lord, this Farnoo is an +unctuous, argillaceous substance; in its natural state, soft, +malleable, and easily worked as the cornelian-red clay from the famous +pipe-quarries of the wild tribes to the North. But though mostly found +buried in terra-firma, especially in the isles toward the East, this +Farnoo, my lord, is sometimes thrown up by the ocean; in seasons of +high sea, being plentifully found on the reefs. But, my lord, like +amber, the precise nature and origin of this Farnoo are points widely +mooted.” + +“Stop there!” cried Media; “our mouth-pieces are of amber; so, not a +word more of the Froth-of-the-Sea, until something be said to clear up +the mystery of amber. What is amber, old man?” + +“A still more obscure thing to trace than the other, my worshipful +lord. Ancient Plinnee maintained, that originally it must be a juice, +exuding from balsam firs and pines; Borhavo, that, like camphor, it is +the crystalized oil of aromatic ferns; Berzilli, that it is the +concreted scum of the lake Cephioris; and Vondendo, against scores of +antagonists, stoutly held it a sort of bituminous gold, trickling from +antediluvian smugglers’ caves, nigh the sea.” + +“Why, old Braid-Beard,” cried Media, placing his pipe in rest, “you are +almost as erudite as our philosopher here.” + +“Much more so, my lord,” said Babbalanja; “for Mohi has somehow picked +up all my worthless forgettings, which are more than my valuable +rememberings.” + +“What say you, wise one?” cried Mohi, shaking his braids, like an +enraged elephant with many trunks. + +Said Yoomy: “My lord, I have heard that amber is nothing less than the +congealed tears of broken-hearted mermaids.” + +“Absurd, minstrel,” cried Mohi. “Hark ye; I know what it is. All other +authorities to the contrary, amber is nothing more than gold-fishes’ +brains, made waxy, then firm, by the action of the sea.” + +“Nonsense!” cried Yoomy. + +“My lord,” said Braid-Beard, waving his pipe, this thing is just as I +say. Imbedded in amber, do we not find little fishes’ fins, +porpoise-teeth, sea-gulls’ beaks and claws; nay, butterflies’ wings, +and sometimes a topaz? And how could that be, unless the substance was +first soft? Amber is gold-fishes’ brains, I say.” + +“For one,” said Babbalanja, “I’ll not believe that, till you prove to +me, Braid-Beard, that ideas themselves are found imbedded therein.” + +“Another of your crazy conceits, philosopher,” replied Mohi, +disdainfully; “yet, sometimes plenty of strange black-letter characters +have been discovered in amber.” And throwing back his hoary old head, +he jetted forth his vapors like a whale. + +“Indeed?” cried Babbalanja. “Then, my lord Media, it may be earnestly +inquired, whether the gentle laws of the tribes before the flood, were +not sought to be embalmed and perpetuated between transparent and sweet +scented tablets of amber.” + +“That, now, is not so unlikely,” said Mohi; “for old King Rondo the +Round once set about getting him a coffin-lid of amber; much desiring a +famous mass of it owned by the ancestors of Donjalolo of Juam. But no +navies could buy it. So Rondo had himself urned in a crystal.” + +“And that immortalized Rondo, no doubt,” said Babbalanja. “Ha! ha! pity +he fared not like the fat porpoise frozen and tombed in an iceberg; its +icy shroud drifting south, soon melted away, and down, out of sight, +sunk the dead.” + +“Well, so much for amber,” cried Media. “Now, Mohi, go on about +Farnoo.” + +“Know, then, my lord, that Farnoo is more like ambergris than amber.” + +“Is it? then, pray, tell us something on that head. You know all about +ambergris, too, I suppose.” + +“Every thing about all things, my lord. Ambergris is found both on land +and at sea. But especially, are lumps of it picked up on the spicy +coasts of Jovanna; indeed, all over the atolls and reefs in the eastern +quarter of Mardi.” + +“But what is this ambergris? Braid-Beard,” said Babbalanja. + +“Aquovi, the chymist, pronounced it the fragments of mushrooms growing +at the bottom of the sea; Voluto held, that like naptha, it springs +from fountains down there. But it is neither.” + +“I have heard,” said Yoomy, “that it is the honey-comb of bees, fallen +from flowery cliffs into the brine.” + +“Nothing of the kind,” said Mohi. “Do I not know all about it, +minstrel? Ambergris is the petrified gall-stones of crocodiles.” + +“What!” cried Babbalanja, “comes sweet scented ambergris from those +musky and chain-plated river cavalry? No wonder, then, their flesh is +so fragrant; their upper jaws as the visors of vinaigrettes.” + +“Nay, you are all wrong,” cried King Media. + +Then, laughing to himself:—“It’s pleasant to sit by, a demi-god, and +hear the surmisings of mortals, upon things they know nothing about; +theology, or amber, or ambergris, it’s all the same. But then, did I +always out with every thing I know, there would be no conversing with +these comical creatures. + +“Listen, old Mohi; ambergris is a morbid secretion of the Spermaceti +whale; for like you mortals, the whale is at times a sort of +hypochondriac and dyspeptic. You must know, subjects, that in +antediluvian times, the Spermaceti whale was much hunted by sportsmen, +that being accounted better pastime, than pursuing the Behemoths on +shore. Besides, it was a lucrative diversion. Now, sometimes upon +striking the monster, it would start off in a dastardly fright, leaving +certain fragments in its wake. These fragments the hunters picked up, +giving over the chase for a while. For in those days, as now, a +quarter-quintal of ambergris was more valuable than a whole ton of +spermaceti.” + +“Nor, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “would it have been wise to kill the +fish that dropped such treasures: no more than to murder the noddy that +laid the golden eggs.” + +“Beshrew me! a noddy it must have been,” gurgled Mohi through his +pipe-stem, “to lay golden eggs for others to hatch.” + +“Come, no more of that now,” cried Media. “Mohi, how long think you, +may one of these pipe-bowls last?” + +“My lord, like one’s cranium, it will endure till broken. I have smoked +this one of mine more than half a century.” + +“But unlike our craniums, stocked full of concretions,” said +Babbalanja, our pipe-bowls never need clearing out.” + +“True,” said Mohi, “they absorb the oil of the smoke, instead of +allowing it offensively to incrust.” + +“Ay, the older the better,” said Media, “and the more delicious the +flavor imparted to the fumes inhaled.” + +“Farnoos forever! my lord,” cried Yoomy. “By much smoking, the bowl +waxes russet and mellow, like the berry-brown cheek of a sunburnt +brunette.” + +“And as like smoked hams,” cried Braid-Beard, “we veteran old smokers +grow browner and browner; hugely do we admire to see our jolly noses +and pipe-bowls mellowing together.” + +“Well said, old man,” cried Babbalanja; “for, like a good wife, a pipe +is a friend and companion for life. And whoso weds with a pipe, is no +longer a bachelor. After many vexations, he may go home to that +faithful counselor, and ever find it full of kind consolations and +suggestions. But not thus with cigars or cigarrets: the acquaintances +of a moment, chatted with in by-places, whenever they come handy; their +existence so fugitive, uncertain, unsatisfactory. Once ignited, nothing +like longevity pertains to them. They never grow old. Why, my lord, the +stump of a cigarret is an abomination; and two of them crossed are more +of a _memento-mori_, than a brace of thigh-bones at right angles.” + +“So they are, so they are,” cried King Media. “Then, mortals, puff we +away at our pipes. Puff, puff, I say. Ah! how we puff! But thus we +demi-gods ever puff at our ease.” + +“Puff; puff, how we puff,” cried Babbalanja. “but life itself is a puff +and a wheeze. Our lungs are two pipes which we constantly smoke.” + +“Puff, puff! how we puff,” cried old Mohi. “All thought is a puff.” + +“Ay,” said Babbalanja, “not more smoke in that skull-bowl of yours than +in the skull on your shoulders: both ends alike.” + +“Puff! puff! how we puff,” cried Yoomy. “But in every puff, there hangs +a wreath. In every puff, off flies a care.” + +“Ay, there they go,” cried Mohi, “there goes another—and, there, and +there;—this is the way to get rid of them my worshipful lord; puff them +aside.” + +“Yoomy,” said Media, “give us that pipe song of thine. Sing it, my +sweet and pleasant poet. We’ll keep time with the flageolets of ours.” + +“So with pipes and puffs for a chorus, thus Yoomy sang:— + +Care is all stuff:— + Puff! Puff: +To puff is enough:— + Puff! Puff! +More musky than snuff, +And warm is a puff:— + Puff! Puff! +Here we sit mid our puffs, +Like old lords in their ruffs, +Snug as bears in their muffs:— + Puff! Puff! +Then puff, puff, puff; +For care is all stuff, +Puffed off in a puff:— + Puff! Puff! + + +“Ay, puff away,” cried Babbalanja, “puff; puff, so we are born, and so +die. Puff, puff, my volcanos: the great sun itself will yet go out in a +snuff, and all Mardi smoke out its last wick.” + +“Puffs enough,” said King Media, “Vee-Vee! haul down my flag. There, +lie down before me, oh Gonfalon! and, subjects, hear,—when I die, lay +this spear on my right, and this pipe on my left, its colors at half +mast; so shall I be ambidexter, and sleep between eloquent symbols.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +They Visit An Extraordinary Old Antiquary + + +“About prows there, ye paddlers,” cried Media. “In this fog we’ve been +raising, we have sailed by Padulla, our destination.” + +Now Padulla, was but a little island, tributary to a neighboring king; +its population embracing some hundreds of thousands of leaves, and +flowers, and butterflies, yet only two solitary mortals; one, famous as +a venerable antiquarian: a collector of objects of Mardian vertu; a +cognoscenti, and dilettante in things old and marvelous; and for that +reason, very choice of himself. + +He went by the exclamatory cognomen of “Oh-Oh;” a name bestowed upon +him, by reason of the delighted interjections, with which he welcomed +all accessions to his museum. + +Now, it was to obtain a glimpse of this very museum, that Media was +anxious to touch at Padulla. + +Landing, and passing through a grove, we were accosted by Oh-Oh +himself; who, having heard the shouts of our paddlers, had sallied +forth, staff in hand. + +The old man was a sight to see; especially his nose; a remarkable one. +And all Mardi over, a remarkable nose is a prominent feature: an ever +obvious passport to distinction. For, after all, this gaining a name, +is but the individualizing of a man; as well achieved by an +extraordinary nose, as by an extraordinary epic. Far better, indeed; +for you may pass poets without knowing them. Even a hero, is no hero +without his sword; nor Beelzebub himself a lion, minus that lasso-tail +of his, wherewith he catches his prey. Whereas, he who is famous +through his nose, it is impossible to overlook. He is a celebrity +without toiling for a name. Snugly ensconced behind his proboscis, he +revels in its shadow, receiving tributes of attention wherever he goes. + +Not to enter at large upon the topography of Oh-Oh’s nasal organ, all +must be content with this; that it was of a singular magnitude, and +boldly aspiring at the end; an exclamation point in the face of the +wearer, forever wondering at the visible universe. The eyes of Oh-Oh +were like the creature’s that the Jew abhors: placed slanting in his +head, and converging their rays toward the mouth; which was no Mouth, +but a gash. + +I mean not to be harsh, or unpleasant upon thee, Oh-Oh; but I must +paint thee as thou wert. + +The rest of his person was crooked, and dwarfed, and surmounted by a +hump, that sat on his back like a burden. And a weary load is a hump, +Heaven knows, only to be cast off in the grave. + +Thus old, and antiquated, and gable-ended, was the tabernacle of +Oh-Oh’s soul. But his person was housed in as curious a structure. +Built of old boughs of trees blown down in the groves, and covered over +with unruly thatching, it seemed, without, some ostrich nest. But +within, so intricate, and grotesque, its brown alleys and cells, that +the interior of no walnut was more labyrinthine. + +And here, strewn about, all dusty and disordered, were the precious +antiques, and curios, and obsoletes, which to Oh-Oh were dear as the +apple of his eye, or the memory of departed days. + +The old man was exceedingly importunate, in directing attention to his +relics; concerning each of which, he had an endless story to tell. Time +would fail; nay, patience, to repeat his legends. So, in order, here +follow the most prominent of his rarities:— + + +The identical Canoe, in which, ages back, the god Unja came from the +bottom of the sea. (Very ponderous; of lignum-vitae wood). + +A stone Flower-pot, containing in the original soil, Unja’s last +footprints, when he embarked from Mardi for parts unknown. (One +foot-print unaccountably reversed). + +The Jaw-bones of Tooroorooloo, a great orator in the days of Unja. +(Somewhat twisted). + +A quaint little Fish-hook. (Made from the finger-bones of Kravi the +Cunning). + +The mystic Gourd; carved all over with cabalistic triangles, and +hypogrifs; by study of which a reputed prophet, was said to have +obtained his inspiration. (Slightly redolent of vineyards). + +The complete Skeleton of an immense Tiger-shark; the bones of a +Pearl-shell-diver’s leg inside. (Picked off the reef at low tide). + +An inscrutable, shapeless block of a mottled-hued, smoke-dried wood. +(Three unaccountable holes drilled through the middle). + +A sort of ecclesiastical Fasces, being the bony blades of nine sword- +fish, basket-hilted with shark’s jaws, braided round and tasseled with +cords of human hair. (Now obsolete). + +The mystic Fan with which Unja fanned himself when in trouble. (Woven +from the leaves of the Water-Lily). + +A Tripod of a Stork’s Leg, supporting a nautilus shell, containing the +fragments of a bird’s egg; into which, was said to have been magically +decanted the soul of a deceased chief. (Unfortunately crushed in by +atmospheric pressure). + +Two clasped Right Hands, embalmed; being those of twin warriors, who +thus died on a battle-field. (Impossible to sunder). + +A curious Pouch, or Purse, formed from the skin of an Albatross’ foot, +and decorated with three sharp claws, naturally pertaining to it. +(Originally the property of a notorious old Tooth-per-Tooth). + +A long tangled lock of Mermaid’s Hair, much resembling the curling +silky fibres of the finer sea-weed. (Preserved between fins of the +dolphin). + +A Mermaid’s Comb for the toilet. The stiff serrated crest of a Cook +Storm-petrel (Oh-Oh was particularly curious concerning Mermaids). + +Files, Rasps, and Pincers, all bone, the implements of an eminent +Chiropedist, who flourished his tools before the flood. (Owing to the +excessive unevenness of the surface in those times, the diluvians were +peculiarly liable to pedal afflictions). + +The back Tooth, that Zozo the Enthusiast, in token of grief, recklessly +knocked out at the decease of a friend. (Worn to a stump and quite +useless). + + +These wonders inspected, Oh-Oh conducted us to an arbor, to show us the +famous telescope, by help of which, he said he had discovered an +ant-hill in the moon. It rested in the crotch of a Bread-fruit tree; +and was a prodigiously long and hollow trunk of a Palm; a scale from a +sea-kraken its lens. + +Then returning to his cabinet, he pointed to a bamboo microscope, which +had wonderfully assisted him in his entomological pursuits. + +“By this instrument, my masters,” said he, “I have satisfied myself, +that in the eye of a dragon-fly there are precisely twelve thousand +five hundred and forty-one triangular lenses; and in the leg of a flea, +scores on scores of distinct muscles. Now, my masters, how far think +you a flea may leap at one spring? Why, two hundred times its own +length; I have often measured their leaps, with a small measure I use +for scientific purposes.” + +“Truly, Oh-Oh,” said Babbalanja, “your discoveries must ere long result +in something grand; since you furnish such invaluable data for +theorists. Pray, attend, my lord Media. If, at one spring, a flea leaps +two hundred times its own length, then, with the like proportion of +muscles in his calves, a bandit might pounce upon the unwary traveler +from a quarter of a mile off. Is it not so, Oh-Oh?” + +“Indeed, but it is, my masters. And one of the greatest consolations I +draw from these studies, is the ever-strengthening conviction of the +beneficent wisdom that framed our Mardi. For did men possess thighs in +proportion to fleas, verily, the wicked would grievously leap about, +and curvet in the isles.” + +“But Oh-Oh,” said Babbalanja, “what other discoveries have you made? +Hast yet put a usurer under your lens, to find his conscience? or a +libertine, to find his heart? Hast yet brought your microscope to bear +upon a downy peach, or a rosy cheek?” + +“I have,” said Oh-Oh, mournfully; “and from the moment I so did, I have +had no heart to eat a peach, or salute a cheek.” + +“Then dash your lens!” cried Media. + +“Well said, my lord. For all the eyes we get beyond our own, but +minister to infelicity. The microscope disgusts us with our Mardi; and +the telescope sets us longing for some other world.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +They Go Down Into The Catacombs + + +With a dull flambeau, we now descended some narrow stone steps, to view +Oh-Oh’s collection of ancient and curious manuscripts, preserved in a +vault. + +“This way, this way, my masters,” cried Oh-Oh, aloft, swinging his dim +torch. “Keep your hands before you; it’s a dark road to travel.” + +“So it seems,” said Babbalanja, wide-groping, as he descended lower and +lower. “My lord this is like going down to posterity.” + +Upon gaining the vault, forth flew a score or two of bats, +extinguishing the flambeau, and leaving us in darkness, like Belzoni +deserted by his Arabs in the heart of a pyramid. The torch at last +relumed, we entered a tomb-like excavation, at every step raising +clouds of dust; and at last stood before long rows of musty, mummyish +parcels, so dingy-red, and so rolled upon sticks, that they looked like +stiff sausages of Bologna; but smelt like some fine old Stilton or +Cheshire. + +Most ancient of all, was a hieroglyphical Elegy on the Dumps, +consisting of one thousand and one lines; the characters,—herons, +weeping-willows, and ravens, supposed to have been traced by a quill +from the sea-noddy. + +Then there were plenty of rare old ballads:— + +“King Kroko, and the Fisher Girl.” +“The Fight at the Ford of Spears.” +“The Song of the Skulls.” + + +And brave old chronicles, that made Mohi’s mouth water:— + +“The Rise and Setting of the Dynasty of Foofoo.” +“The Heroic History of the Noble Prince Dragoni; showing how he killed +ten Pinioned Prisoners with his Own Hand.” +“The whole Pedigree of the King of Kandidee, with that of his famous +horse, Znorto.” + + +And Tarantula books:— + +“Sour Milk for the Young, by a Dairyman.” +“The Devil adrift, by a Corsair.” +“Grunts and Groans, by a Mad Boar.” +“Stings, by a Scorpion.” + + +And poetical productions:— + +“Suffusions of a Lily in a Shower.” +“Sonnet on the last Breath of an Ephemera.” +“The Gad-fly, and Other Poems.” + + +And metaphysical treatises:— + +“Necessitarian not Predestinarian.” +“Philosophical Necessity and Predestination One Thing and The Same.” +“Whatever is not, is.” +“Whatever is, is not.” + + +And scarce old memoirs:— + +“The One Hundred Books of the Biography of the Great and Good King +Grandissimo.” +“The Life of old Philo, the Philanthropist, in one Chapter.” + + +And popular literature:— + +“A most Sweet, Pleasant, and Unctuous Account of the Manner in which +Five-and-Forty Robbers were torn asunder by Swiftly-Going Canoes.” + + +And books by chiefs and nobles:— + +“The Art of Making a Noise in Mardi.” +“On the Proper Manner of Saluting a Bosom Friend.” +“Letters from a Father to a Son, inculcating the Virtue of Vice.” +“Pastorals by a Younger Son.” +“A Catalogue of Chieftains who have been Authors, by a Chieftain, who +disdains to be deemed an Author.” +“A Canto on a Cough caught by my Consort.” +“The Philosophy of Honesty, by a late Lord, who died in disgrace.” + + +And theological works:— + +“Pepper for the Perverse.” +“Pudding for the Pious.” +“Pleas for Pardon.” +“Pickles for the Persecuted.” + + +And long and tedious romances with short and easy titles:— + +“The Buck.” +“The Belle.” +“The King and the Cook, or the Cook and the King.” + + +And books of voyages:— + +“A Sojourn among the Anthropophagi, by One whose Hand was eaten off at +Tiffin among the Savages.” +“Franko: its King, Court, and Tadpoles.” +“Three Hours in Vivenza, containing a Full and Impartial Account of +that Whole Country: by a Subject of King Bello.” + + +And works of nautical poets:— + +“Sky-Sail-Pole Lyrics.” + + +And divers brief books, with panic-striking titles:— + +“Are you safe?” +“A Voice from Below.” +“Hope for none.” +“Fire for all.” + + +And pamphlets by retired warriors:— + +“On the Best Gravy for Wild Boar’s Meat.” +“Three Receipts for Bottling New Arrack.” +“To Brown Bread Fruit without Burning.” +“Advice to the Dyspeptic.” +“On Starch for Tappa.” + + +All these MSS. were highly prized by Oh-Oh. He averred, that they spoke +of the mighty past, which he reverenced more than the paltry present, +the dross and sediment of what had been. + +Peering into a dark crypt, Babbalanja drew forth a few crumbling, +illegible, black-letter sheets of his favorite old essayist, brave +Bardianna. They seemed to have formed parts of a work, whose title only +remained—“Thoughts, by a Thinker.” + +Silently Babbalanja pressed them to his heart. Then at arm’s length +held them, and said, “And is all this wisdom lost? Can not the divine +cunning in thee, Bardianna, transmute to brightness these sullied +pages? Here, perhaps, thou didst dive into the deeps of things, +treating of the normal forms of matter and of mind; how the particles +of solids were first molded in the interstices of fluids; how the +thoughts of men are each a soul, as the lung-cells are each a lung; how +that death is but a mode of life; while mid-most is the Pharzi.— But +all is faded. Yea, here the Thinker’s thoughts lie cheek by jowl with +phrasemen’s words. Oh Bardianna! these pages were offspring of thee, +thought of thy thought, soul of thy soul. Instinct with mind, they once +spoke out like living voices; now, they’re dust; and would not prick a +fool to action. Whence then is this? If the fogs of some few years can +make soul linked to matter naught; how can the unhoused spirit hope to +live when mildewed with the damps of death.” + +Piously he folded the shreds of manuscript together, kissed them, and +laid them down. + +Then approaching Oh-Oh, he besought him for one leaf, one shred of +those most precious pages, in memory of Bardianna, and for the love of +him. + +But learning who he was, one of that old Ponderer’s commentators, Oh-Oh +tottered toward the manuscripts; with trembling fingers told them over, +one by one, and said—“Thank Oro! all are here.—Philosopher, ask me for +my limbs, my life, my heart, but ask me not for these. Steeped in wax, +these shall be my cerements.” + +All in vain; Oh-Oh was an antiquary. + +Turning in despair, Babbalanja spied a heap of worm-eaten parchment +covers, and many clippings and parings. And whereas the rolls of +manuscripts did smell like unto old cheese; so these relics did +marvelously resemble the rinds of the same. + +Turning over this pile, Babbalanja lighted upon something that restored +his good humor. Long he looked it over delighted; but bethinking him, +that he must have dragged to day some lost work of the collection, and +much desirous of possessing it, he made bold again to ply Oh-Oh; +offering a tempting price for his discovery. + +Glancing at the title—“A Happy Life”—the old man cried—“Oh, rubbish! +rubbish! take it for nothing.” And Babbalanja placed it in his +vestment. + +The catacombs surveyed, and day-light gained, we inquired the way to +Ji-Ji’s, also a collector, but of another sort; one miserly in the +matter of teeth, the money of Mardi. + +At the mention of his name, Oh-Oh flew out into scornful philippics +upon the insanity of that old dotard, who hoarded up teeth, as if teeth +were of any use, but to purchase rarities. Nevertheless, he pointed out +our path; following which, we crossed a meadow. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +Babbalanja Quotes From An Antique Pagan; And Earnestly Presses It Upon +The Company, That What He Recites Is Not His But Another’s + + +Journeying on, we stopped by a gurgling spring, in a beautiful grove; +and here, we stretched out on the grass, and our attendants unpacked +their hampers, to provide us a lunch. + +But as for that Babbalanja of ours, he must needs go and lunch by +himself, and, like a cannibal, feed upon an author; though in other +respects he was not so partial to bones. + +Bringing forth the treasure he had buried in his bosom, he was soon +buried in it; and motionless on his back, looked as if laid out, to +keep an appointment with his undertaker. + +“What, ho! Babbalanja!” cried Media from under a tree, “don’t be a +duck, there, with your bill in the air; drop your metaphysics, man, and +fall to on the solids. Do you hear?” + +“Come, philosopher,” said Mohi, handling a banana, “you will weigh more +after you have eaten.” + +“Come, list, Babbalanja,” cried Yoomy, “I am going to sing.” + +“Up! up! I say,” shouted Media again. “But go, old man, and wake him: +rap on his head, and see whether he be in.” + +Mohi, obeying, found him at home; and Babbalanja started up. + +“In Oro’s name, what ails you, philosopher? See you Paradise, that you +look so wildly?” + +“A Happy Life! a Happy Life!” cried Babbalanja, in an ecstasy. “My +lord, I am lost in the dream of it, as here recorded. Marvelous book! +its goodness transports me. Let me read:—‘I would bear the same mind, +whether I be rich or poor, whether I get or lose in the world. I will +reckon benefits well placed as the fairest part of my possession, not +valuing them by number or weight, but by the profit and esteem of the +receiver; accounting myself never the poorer for any thing I give. What +I do shall be done for conscience, not ostentation. I will eat and +drink, not to gratify my palate, but to satisfy nature. I will be +cheerful to my friends, mild and placable to my enemies. I will prevent +an honest request, if I can foresee it; and I will grant it, without +asking. I will look upon the whole world as my country; and upon Oro, +both as the witness and the judge of my words and my deeds. I will live +and die with this testimony: that I loved a good conscience; that I +never invaded another man’s liberty; and that I preserved my own. I +will govern my life and my thoughts, as if the whole world were to see +the one, and to read the other; for what does it signify, to make any +thing a secret to my neighbor, when to Oro all our privacies are +open.’” + +“Very fine,” said Media. + +“The very spirit of the first followers of Alma, as recorded in the +legends,” said Mohi. + +“Inimitable,” said Yoomy. + +Said Babbalanja, “Listen again:—‘Righteousness is sociable and gentle; +free, steady, and fearless; full of inexhaustible delights.’ And here +again, and here, and here:—The true felicity of life is to understand +our duty to Oro.’—‘True joy is a serene and sober motion.’ And here, +and here,—my lord, ’tis hard quoting from this book;—but listen—‘A +peaceful conscience, honest thoughts, and righteous actions are +blessings without end, satiety, or measure. The poor man wants many +things; the covetous man, all. It is not enough to know Oro, unless we +obey him.’” + +“Alma all over,” cried Mohi; “sure, you read from his sayings?” + +“I read but odd sentences from one, who though he lived ages ago, never +saw, scarcely heard of Alma. And mark me, my lord, this time I +improvise nothing. What I have recited, Is here. Mohi, this book is +more marvelous than the prophecies. My lord, that a mere man, and a +heathen, in that most heathenish time, should give utterance to such +heavenly wisdom, seems more wonderful than that an inspired prophet +should reveal it. And is it not more divine in this philosopher, to +love righteousness for its own sake, and in view of annihilation, than +for pious sages to extol it as the means of everlasting felicity?” + +“Alas,” sighed Yoomy, “and does he not promise us any good thing, when +we are dead?” + +“He speaks not by authority. He but woos us to goodness and happiness +here.” + +“Then, Babbalanja,” said Media, “keep your treasure to yourself. +Without authority, and a full right hand, Righteousness better be +silent. Mardi’s religion must seem to come direct from Oro, and the +mass of you mortals endeavor it not, except for a consideration, +present or to come.” + +“And call you that righteousness, my lord, which is but the price paid +down for something else?” + +“I called it not righteousness; it is religion so called. But let us +prate no more of these things; with which I, a demi-god, have but +little in common. It ever impairs my digestion. No more, Babbalanja.” + +“My lord! my lord! out of itself, Religion has nothing to bestow. Nor +will she save us from aught, but from the evil in ourselves. Her one +grand end is to make us wise; her only manifestations are reverence to +Oro and love to man; her only, but ample reward, herself. He who has +this, has all. He who has this, whether he kneel to an image of wood, +calling it Oro; or to an image of air, calling it the same; whether he +fasts or feasts; laughs or weeps;—that man can be no richer. And this +religion, faith, virtue, righteousness, good, whate’er you will, I find +in this book I hold. No written page can teach me more.” + +“Have you that, then, of which you speak, Babbalanja? Are you content, +there where you stand?” + +“My lord, you drive me home. I am not content. The mystery of mysteries +is still a mystery. How this author came to be so wise, perplexes me. +How he led the life he did, confounds me. Oh, my lord, I am in +darkness, and no broad blaze comes down to flood me. The rays that come +to me are but faint cross lights, mazing the obscurity wherein I live. +And after all, excellent as it is, I can be no gainer by this book. For +the more we learn, the more we unlearn; we accumulate not, but +substitute; and take away, more than we add. We dwindle while we grow; +we sally out for wisdom, and retreat beyond the point whence we +started; we essay the Fondiza, and get but the Phe. Of all simpletons, +the simplest! Oh! that I were another sort of fool than I am, that I +might restore my good opinion of myself. Continually I stand in the +pillory, am broken on the wheel, and dragged asunder by wild horses. +Yes, yes, Bardianna, all is in a nut, as thou sayest; but all my back +teeth can not crack it; I but crack my own jaws. All round me, my +fellow men are new-grafting their vines, and dwelling in flourishing +arbors; while I am forever pruning mine, till it is become but a stump. +Yet in this pruning will I persist; I will not add, I will diminish; I +will train myself down to the standard of what is unchangeably true. +Day by day I drop off my redundancies; ere long I shall have stripped +my ribs; when I die, they will but bury my spine. Ah! where, where, +where, my lord, is the everlasting Tekana? Tell me, Mohi, where the +Ephina? I may have come to the Penultimate, but where, sweet Yoomy, is +the Ultimate? Ah, companions! I faint, I am wordless:- -something, +nothing, riddles,—does Mardi hold her?” + +“He swoons!” cried Yoomy. + +“Water! water!” cried Media. + +“Away:” said Babbalanja serenely, “I revive.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +They Visit A Wealthy Old Pauper + + +Continuing our route to Jiji’s, we presently came to a miserable hovel. +Half projecting from the low, open entrance, was a bald overgrown head, +intent upon an upright row of dark-colored bags:— pelican +pouches—prepared by dropping a stone within, and suspending them, when +moist. + +Ever and anon, the great head shook with a tremulous motion, as one by +one, to a clicking sound from the old man’s mouth, the strings of teeth +were slowly drawn forth, and let fall, again and again, with a rattle. + +But perceiving our approach, the old miser suddenly swooped his pouches +out of sight; and, like a turtle into its shell, retreated into his +den. But soon he decrepitly emerged upon his knees, asking what brought +us thither?—to steal the teeth, which lying rumor averred he possessed +in abundance? And opening his mouth, he averred he had none; not even a +sentry in his head. + +But Babbalanja declared, that long since he must have drawn his own +dentals, and bagged them with the rest. + +Now this miserable old miser must have been idiotic; for soon +forgetting what he had but just told us of his utter toothlessness, he +was so smitten with the pearly mouth of Hohora, one of our attendants +(the same for whose pearls, little King Peepi had taken such a fancy), +that he made the following overture to purchase its contents: namely: +one tooth of the buyer’s, for every three of the seller’s. A +proposition promptly rejected, as involving a mercantile absurdity. + +“Why?” said Babbalanja. “Doubtless, because that proposed to be given, +is less than that proposed to be received. Yet, says a philosopher, +this is the very principle which regulates all barterings. For where +the sense of a simple exchange of quantities, alike in value?” + +“Where, indeed?” said Hohora with open eyes, “though I never heard it +before, that’s a staggering question. I beseech you, who was the sage +that asked it?” + +“Vivo, the Sophist,” said Babbalanja, turning aside. + +In the hearing of Jiji, allusion was made to Oh-Oh, as a neighbor of +his. Whereupon he vented much slavering opprobrium upon that miserable +old hump-back; who accumulated useless monstrosities; throwing away the +precious teeth, which otherwise might have sensibly rattled in his own +pelican pouches. + +When we quitted the hovel, Jiji, marking little Vee-Vee, from whose +shoulder hung a calabash of edibles, seized the hem of his garment and +besought him for one mouthful of food; for nothing had he tasted that +day. + +The boy tossed him a yam. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +Yoomy Sings Some Odd Verses, And Babbalanja Quotes From The Old Authors +Right And Left + + +Sailing from Padulla, after many pleasant things had been said +concerning the sights there beheld; Babbalanja thus addressed Yoomy— +“Warbler, the last song you sung was about moonlight, and paradise, and +fabulous pleasures evermore: now, have you any hymns about earthly +felicity?” + +“If so, minstrel,” said Media, “jet it forth, my fountain, forthwith.” + +“Just now, my lord,” replied Yoomy, “I was singing to myself, as I +often do, and by your leave, I will continue aloud.” + +“Better begin at the beginning, I should think,” said the chronicler, +both hands to his chin, beginning at the top to new braid his beard. + +“No: like the roots of your beard, old Mohi, all beginnings are stiff,” +cried Babbalanja. “We are lucky in living midway in eternity. So sing +away, Yoomy, where you left off,” and thus saying he unloosed his +girdle for the song, as Apicius would for a banquet. + +“Shall I continue aloud, then, my lord?” + +My lord nodded, and Yoomy sang:— + +“Full round, full soft, her dewy arms,— +Sweet shelter from all Mardi’s harms!” + + +“Whose arms?” cried Mohi. + +Sang Yoomy:— + +Diving deep in the sea, + She takes sunshine along: +Down flames in the sea, + As of dolphins a throng. + + +“What mermaid is this?” cried Mohi. + +Sang Yoomy:— + +Her foot, a falling sound, +That all day long might bound. + Over the beach, + The soft sand beach, + And none would find + A trace behind. + + +“And why not?” demanded Media, “why could no trace be found?” + +Said Braid-Beard, “Perhaps owing, my lord, to the flatness of the +mermaid’s foot. But no; that can not be; for mermaids are all vertebrae +below the waist.” + +“Your fragment is pretty good, I dare say, Yoomy,” observed Media, “but +as Braid-Beard hints, rather flat.” + +“Flat as the foot of a man with his mind made up,” cried Braid-Beard. +“Yoomy, did you sup on flounders last night?” + +But Yoomy vouchsafed no reply, he was ten thousand leagues off in a +reverie: somewhere in the Hyades perhaps. + +Conversation proceeding, Braid-Beard happened to make allusion to one +Rotato, a portly personage, who, though a sagacious philosopher, and +very ambitious to be celebrated as such, was only famous in Mardi as +the fattest man of his tribe. + +Said Media, “Then, Mohi, Rotato could not pick a quarrel with Fame, +since she did not belie him. Fat he was, and fat she published him.” + +“Right, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “for Fame is not always so honest. +Not seldom to be famous, is to be widely known for what you are not, +says Alla-Malolla. Whence it comes, as old Bardianna has it, that for +years a man may move unnoticed among his fellows; but all at once, by +some chance attitude, foreign to his habit, become a trumpet-full for +fools; though, in himself, the same as ever. Nor has he shown himself +yet; for the entire merit of a man can never be made known; nor the sum +of his demerits, if he have them. We are only known by our names; as +letters sealed up, we but read each other’s superscriptions. + +“So with the commonalty of us Mardians. How then with those beings who +every way are but too apt to be riddles. In many points the works of +our great poet Vavona, now dead a thousand moons, still remain a +mystery. Some call him a mystic; but wherein he seems obscure, it is, +perhaps, we that are in fault; not by premeditation spoke he those +archangel thoughts, which made many declare, that Vavona, after all, +was but a crack-pated god, not a mortal of sound mind. But had he been +less, my lord, he had seemed more. Saith Fulvi, ‘Of the highest order +of genius, it may be truly asserted, that to gain the reputation of +superior power, it must partially disguise itself; it must come down, +and then it will be applauded for soaring.’ And furthermore, that there +are those who falter in the common tongue, because they think in +another; and these are accounted stutterers and stammerers.’” + +“Ah! how true!” cried the Warbler. + +“And what says the archangel Vavona, Yoomy, in that wonderful drama of +his, ‘The Souls of the Sages?’—‘Beyond most barren hills, there are +landscapes ravishing; with but one eye to behold; which no pencil can +portray.’ What wonder then, my lord, that Mardi itself is so blind. +‘Mardi is a monster,’ says old Bardianna, ‘whose eyes are fixed in its +head, like a whale’s; it can see but two ways, and those comprising but +a small arc of a perfect vision. Poets, heroes, and men of might, are +all around this monster Mardi. But stand before me on stilts, or I will +behold you not, says the monster; brush back your hair; inhale the wind +largely; lucky are all men with dome-like foreheads; luckless those +with pippin-heads; loud lungs are a blessing; a lion is no lion that +can not roar.’ Says Aldina, ‘There are those looking on, who know +themselves to be swifter of foot than the racers, but are confounded +with the simpletons that stare.’” + +“The mere carping of a disappointed cripple,” cried Mold. His +biographer states, that Aldina had only one leg.” + +“Braid-Beard, you are witty,” said Babbbalanja, adjusting his robe. “My +lord, there are heroes without armies, who hear martial music in their +souls.” + +“Why not blow their trumpets louder, then,” cried Media, that all Mardi +may hear?” + +“My lord Media, too, is witty, Babbalanja,” said Mohi. + +Breathed Yoomy, “There are birds of divinest plumage, and most glorious +song, yet singing their lyrics to themselves.” + +Said Media, “The lark soars high, cares for no auditor, yet its sweet +notes are heard here below. It sings, too, in company with myriads of +mates. Your soliloquists, Yoomy, are mostly herons and owls.” + +Said Babbalanja, “Very clever, my lord; but think you not, there are +men eloquent, who never babble in the marketplace?” + +“Ay, and arrant babblers at home. In few words, Babbalanja, you espouse +a bad cause. Most of you mortals are peacocks; some having tails, and +some not; those who have them will be sure to thrust their plumes in +your face; for the rest, they will display their bald cruppers, and +still screech for admiration. But when a great genius is born into +Mardi, he nods, and is known.” + +“More wit, but, with deference, perhaps less truth, my lord. Say what +you will, Fame is an accident; merit a thing absolute. But what matter? +Of what available value reputation, unless wedded to power, dentals, or +place? To those who render him applause, a poet’s may seem a thing +tangible; but to the recipient, ’tis a fantasy; the poet never so +stretches his imagination, as when striving to comprehend what it is; +often, he is famous without knowing it.” + +“At the sacred games of Lazella,” said Yoomy, “slyly crowned from +behind with a laurel fillet, for many hours, the minstrel Jarmi +wandered about ignorant of the honors he bore. But enlightened at last, +he doffed the wreath; then, holding it at arm’s length, sighed +forth—Oh, ye laurels! to be visible to me, ye must be removed from my +brow!” + +“And what said Botargo,” cried Babbalanja, “hearing that his poems had +been translated into the language of the remote island of Bertranda?— +‘It stirs me little; already, in merry fancies, have I dreamed of their +being trilled by the blessed houris in paradise; I can only imagine the +same of the damsels of Bertranda.’ Says Boldo, the +Materialist,—‘Substances alone are satisfactory.’” + +“And so thought the mercenary poet, Zenzi,” said Yoomy. “Upon receiving +fourteen ripe yams for a sonnet, one for every line, he said to me, +Yoomy, I shall make a better meal upon these, than upon so many +compliments.” + +“Ay,” cried Babbalanja, “‘Bravos,’ saith old Bardianna, but induce +flatulency.’” + +Said Media, “And do you famous mortals, then, take no pleasure in +hearing your bravos?” + +“Much, my good lord; at least such famous mortals, so enamored of a +clamorous notoriety, as to bravo for themselves, when none else will +huzza; whose whole existence is an unintermitting consciousness of +self; whose very persons stand erect and self-sufficient as their +infallible index, the capital letter I; who relish and comprehend no +reputation but what attaches to the carcass; who would as lief be +renowned for a splendid mustache, as for a splendid drama: who know not +how it was that a personage, to posterity so universally celebrated as +the poet Vavona, ever passed through the crowd unobserved; who deride +the very thunder for making such a noise in Mardi, and yet disdain to +manifest itself to the eye.” + +“Wax not so warm, Babbalanja; but tell us, if to his contemporaries +Vavona’s person was almost unknown, what satisfaction did he derive +from his genius?” + +“Had he not its consciousness?—an empire boundless as the West. What to +him were huzzas? Why, my lord, from his privacy, the great and good +Logodora sent liniment to the hoarse throats without. But what said +Bardianna, when they dunned him for autographs?—‘Who keeps the register +of great men? who decides upon noble actions? and how long may ink +last? Alas! Fame has dropped more rolls than she displays; and there +are more lost chronicles, than the perished books of the historian +Livella.’ But what is lost forever, my lord, is nothing to what is now +unseen. There are more treasures in the bowels of the earth, than on +its surface.” + +“Ah! no gold,” cried Yoomy, “but that comes from dark mines.” + +Said Babbalanja, “Bear witness, ye gods! cries fervent old Bardianna, +that besides disclosures of good and evil undreamed of now, there will +be other, and more astounding revelations hereafter, of what has passed +in Mardi unbeheld.” + +“A truce to your everlasting pratings of old Bardianna,” said King +Media; why not speak your own thoughts, Babbalanja? then would your +discourse possess more completeness; whereas, its warp and woof are of +all sorts,—Bardianna, Alla-Malolla, Vavona, and all the writers that +ever have written. Speak for yourself, mortal!” + +“May you not possibly mistake, my lord? for I do not so much quote +Bardianna, as Bardianna quoted me, though he flourished before me; and +no vanity, but honesty to say so. The catalogue of true thoughts is but +small; they are ubiquitous; no man’s property; and unspoken, or +bruited, are the same. When we hear them, why seem they so natural, +receiving our spontaneous approval? why do we think we have heard them +before? Because they but reiterate ourselves; they were in us, before +we were born. The truest poets are but mouth-pieces; and some men are +duplicates of each other; I see myself in Bardianna.” + +“And there, for Oro’s sake, let it rest, Babbalanja; Bardianna in you, +and you in Bardianna forever!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +What Manner Of Men The Tapparians Were + + +The canoes sailed on. But we leave them awhile. For our visit to Jiji, +the last visit we made, suggests some further revelations concerning +the dental money of Mardi. + +Ere this, it should have been mentioned, that throughout the +Archipelago, there was a restriction concerning incisors and molars, as +ornaments for the person; none but great chiefs, brave warriors, and +men distinguished by rare intellectual endowments, orators, romancers, +philosophers, and poets, being permitted to sport them as jewels. +Though, as it happened, among the poets there were many who had never a +tooth, save those employed at their repasts; which, coming but seldom, +their teeth almost corroded in their mouths. Hence, in commerce, poets’ +teeth were at a discount. + +For these reasons, then, many mortals blent with the promiscuous mob of +Mardians, who, by any means, accumulated teeth, were fain to assert +their dental claims to distinction, by clumsily carrying their +treasures in pelican pouches slung over their shoulders; which pouches +were a huge burden to carry about, and defend. Though, in good truth, +from any of these porters, it was harder to wrench his pouches, than +his limbs. It was also a curious circumstance that at the slightest +casual touch, these bags seemed to convey a simultaneous thrill to the +owners. + +Besides these porters, there were others, who exchanged their teeth for +richly stained calabashes, elaborately carved canoes, and more +especially, for costly robes, and turbans; in which last, many outshone +the noblest-born nobles. Nevertheless, this answered not the end they +had in view; some of the crowd only admiring what they wore, and not +them; breaking out into laudation of the inimitable handiwork of the +artisans of Mardi. + +And strange to relate, these artisans themselves often came to be men +of teeth and turbans, sporting their bravery with the best. A +circumstance, which accounted for the fact, that many of the class +above alluded to, were considered capital judges of tappa and +tailoring. + +Hence, as a general designation, the whole tribe went by the name of +Tapparians; otherwise, Men of Tappa. + +Now, many moons ago, according to Braid-Beard, the Tapparians of a +certain cluster of islands, seeing themselves hopelessly confounded +with the plebeian race of mortals; such as artificers, honest men, +bread-fruit bakers, and the like; seeing, in short, that nature had +denied them every inborn mark of distinction; and furthermore, that +their external assumptions were derided by so many in Mardi, these +selfsame Tapparians, poor devils, resolved to secede from the rabble; +form themselves into a community of their own; and conventionally pay +that homage to each other, which universal Mardi could not be prevailed +upon to render to them. + +Jointly, they purchased an island, called Pimminee, toward the extreme +west of the lagoon; and thither they went; and framing a code of laws- +-amazingly arbitrary, considering they themselves were the framers— +solemnly took the oath of allegiance to the commonwealth thus +established. Regarded section by section, this code of laws seemed +exceedingly trivial; but taken together, made a somewhat imposing +aggregation of particles. + +By this code, the minutest things in life were all ordered after a +specific fashion. More especially one’s dress was legislated upon, to +the last warp and woof. All girdles must be so many inches in length, +and with such a number of tassels in front. For a violation of this +ordinance, before the face of all Mardi, the most dutiful of sons would +cut the most affectionate of fathers. + +Now, though like all Mardi, kings and slaves included, the people of +Pimminee had dead dust for grandsires, they seldom reverted to that +fact; for, like all founders of families, they had no family vaults. +Nor were they much encumbered by living connections; connections, some +of them appeared to have none. Like poor Logan the last of his tribe, +they seemed to have monopolized the blood of their race, having never a +cousin to own. + +Wherefore it was, that many ignorant Mardians, who had not pushed their +investigations into the science of physiology, sagely divined, that the +Tapparians must have podded into life like peas, instead of being +otherwise indebted for their existence. Certain it is, they had a +comical way of backing up their social pretensions. When the +respectability of his clan was mooted, Paivai, one of their bucks, +disdained all reference to the Dooms-day Book, and the ancients. More +reliable evidence was had. He referred the anxious world to a witness, +still alive and hearty,—his contemporary tailor; the varlet who cut out +his tappa doublets, and rejoiced his soul with good fits. + +“Ah!” sighed Babbalanja, “how it quenches in one the thought of +immortality, to think that these Tapparians too, will hereafter claim +each a niche!” + +But we rove. Our visit to Pimminee itself, will best make known the +ways of its denizens. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +Their Adventures Upon Landing At Pimminee + + +A long sail over, the island of Pimminee came in sight; one dead fiat, +wreathed in a thin, insipid vapor. + +“My lord, why land?” said Babbalanja; “no Yillah is here.” + +“’Tis my humor, Babbalanja.” + +Said Yoomy, “Taji would leave no isle unexplored.” + +As we neared the beach, the atmosphere became still closer and more +languid. Much did we miss the refreshing balm which breathed in the +fine breezy air of the open lagoon. Of a slender and sickly growth +seemed the trees; in the meadows, the grass grew small and mincing. + +Said Media, “Taji, from the accounts which Braid-Beard gives, there +must be much to amuse, in the ways of these Tapparians.” + +“Yes,” said Babbalanja, “their lives are a continual farce, +gratuitously performed for the diversion of Mardi. My lord, perhaps we +had best doff our dignity, and land among them as persons of lowly +condition; for then, we shall receive more diversion, though less +hospitality.” + +“A good proposition,” said Media. + +And so saying, he put off his robe for one less pretentious. + +All followed suit; Yoomy doffing turban and sash; and, at last, +completely metamorphosed, we looked like Hungarian gipsies. + +Voyaging on, we entered a bay, where numbers of menials were standing +in the water, engaged in washing the carved work of certain fantastic +canoes, belonging to the Tapparians, their masters. + +Landing at some distance, we followed a path that soon conducted us to +a betwisted dwelling of bamboos, where, gently, we knocked for +admittance. So doing, we were accosted by a servitor, his portliness +all in his calves. Marking our appearance, he monopolized the +threshold, and gruffly demanded what was wanted. + +“Strangers, kind sir, fatigued with travel, and in need of refreshment +and repose.” + +“Then hence with ye, vagabonds!” and with an emphasis, he closed the +portal in our face. + +Said Babbalanja, turning, “You perceive, my lord Media, that these +varlets take after their masters; who feed none but the well-fed, and +house none but the well-housed.” + +“Faith! but they furnish most rare entertainment, nevertheless,” cried +Media. “Ha! ha! Taji, we had missed much, had we missed Pimminee.” + +As this was said, we observed, at a distance, three menials running +from seaward, as if conveying important intelligence. + +Halting here and there, vainly seeking admittance at other habitations, +and receiving nothing but taunts for our pains, we still wandered on; +and at last came upon a village, toward which, those from the sea-side +had been running. + +And now, to our surprise, we were accosted by an eager and servile +throng. + +“Obsequious varlets,” said Media, “where tarry your masters?” + +“Right royal, and thrice worshipful Lord of Odo, do you take us for our +domestics? We are Tapparians, may it please your illustrious Highness; +your most humble and obedient servants. We beseech you, supereminent +Sir, condescend to visit our habitations, and partake of our cheer.” + +Then turning upon their attendants, “Away with ye, hounds! and set our +dwellings in order.” + +“How know ye me to be king?” asked Media. + +“Is it not in your serene Highness’s regal port, and eye?” + +“’Twas their menials,” muttered Mohi, “who from the paddlers in charge +of our canoes must have learned who my lord was, and published the +tidings.” + +After some further speech, Media made a social surrender of himself to +the foremost of the Tapparians, one Nimni; who, conducting us to his +abode, with much deference introduced us to a portly old Begum, and +three slender damsels; his wife and daughters. + +Soon, refreshments appeared:—green and yellow compounds, and divers +enigmatical dainties; besides vegetable liqueurs of a strange and +alarming flavor served in fragile little leaves, folded into cups, and +very troublesome to handle. + +Excessively thirsty, Babbalanja made bold to inquire for water; which +called forth a burst of horror from the old Begum, and minor shrieks +from her daughters; who declared, that the beverage to which remote +reference had been made, was far too widely diffused in Mardi, to be at +all esteemed in Pimminee. + +“But though we seldom imbibe it,” said the old Begum, ceremoniously +adjusting her necklace of cowrie-shells, “we occasionally employ it for +medicinal purposes.” + +“Ah, indeed?” said Babbalanja. + +“But oh! believe me; even then, we imbibe not the ordinary fluid of the +springs and streams; but that which in afternoon showers softly drains +from our palm-trees into the little hollow or miniature reservoir +beneath its compacted roots.” + +A goblet of this beverage was now handed Babbalanja; but having a +curious, gummy flavor, it proved any thing but palatable. + +Presently, in came a company of young men, relatives of Nimni. They +were slender as sky-sail-poles; standing in a row, resembled a +picket-fence; and were surmounted by enormous heads of hair, combed out +all round, variously dyed, and evened by being singed with a lighted +wisp of straw. Like milliners’ parcels, they were very neatly done up; +wearing redolent robes. + +“How like the woodlands they smell,” whispered Yoomy. “Ay, marvelously +like sap,” said Mohi. + +One part of their garniture consisted of numerous tasseled cords, like +those of an aigulette, depending from the neck, and attached here and +there about the person. A separate one, at a distance, united their +ankles. These served to measure and graduate their movements; keeping +their gestures, paces, and attitudes, within the prescribed standard of +Tapparian gentility. When they went abroad, they were preceded by +certain footmen; who placed before them small, carved boards, whereon +their masters stepped; thus avoiding contact with the earth. The simple +device of a shoe, as a fixture for the foot, was unknown in Pimminee. + +Being told, that Taji was lately from the sun, they manifested not the +slightest surprise; one of them incidentally observing, however, that +the eclipses there, must be a sad bore to endure. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. +A, I, AND O + + +The old Begum went by the euphonious appellation of +Ohiro-Moldona-Fivona; a name, from its length, deemed highly genteel; +though scandal averred, that it was nothing more than her real name +transposed; the appellation by which she had been formerly known, +signifying a “Getterup-of-Fine-Tappa.” But as this would have let out +an ancient secret, it was thought wise to disguise it. + +Her daughters respectively reveled in the pretty diminutives of A, I, +and O; which, from their brevity, comical to tell, were considered +equally genteel with the dame’s. + +The habiliments of the three Vowels must not be omitted. Each damsel +garrisoned an ample, circular farthingale of canes, serving as the +frame-work, whereon to display a gayly dyed robe. Perhaps their charms +intrenched themselves in these impregnable petticoats, as feeble armies +fly to fortresses, to hide their weakness, and better resist an onset. + +But polite and politic it is, to propitiate your hostess. So seating +himself by the Begum, Taji led off with earnest inquiries after her +welfare. But the Begum was one of those, who relieve the diffident from +the embarrassment of talking; all by themselves carrying on +conversation for two. Hence, no wonder that my Lady was esteemed +invaluable at all assemblies in the groves of Pimminee; contributing so +largely to that incessant din, which is held the best test of the +enjoyment of the company, as making them deaf to the general nonsense, +otherwise audible. + +Learning that Taji had been making the tour of certain islands in +Mardi, the Begum was surprised that he could have thus hazarded his +life among the barbarians of the East. She desired to know whether his +constitution was not impaired by inhaling the unrefined atmosphere of +those remote and barbarous regions. For her part, the mere thought of +it made her faint in her innermost citadel; nor went she ever abroad +with the wind at East, dreading the contagion which might lurk in the +air. + +Upon accosting the three damsels, Taji very soon discovered that the +tongue which had languished in the presence of the Begum, was now +called into active requisition, to entertain the Polysyllables, her +daughters. So assiduously were they occupied in silent endeavors to +look sentimental and pretty, that it proved no easy task to sustain +with them an ordinary chat. In this dilemma, Taji diffused not his +remarks among all three; but discreetly centered them upon O. Thinking +she might be curious concerning the sun, he made some remote allusion +to that luminary as the place of his nativity. Upon which, O inquired +where that country was, of which mention was made. + +“Some distance from here; in the air above; the sun that gives light to +Pimminee, and Mardi at large.” + +She replied, that if that were the case, she had never beheld it; for +such was the construction of her farthingale, that her head could not +be thrown back, without impairing its set. Wherefore, she had always +abstained from astronomical investigations. + +Hereupon, rude Mohi laughed out. And that lucky laugh happily relieved +Taji from all further necessity of entertaining the Vowels. For at so +vulgar, and in Pimminee, so unwonted a sound, as a genuine laugh, the +three startled nymphs fainted away in a row, their round farthingales +falling over upon each other, like a file of empty tierces. But they +presently revived. + +Meanwhile, without stirring from their mats, the polite young bucks in +the aigulettes did nothing but hold semi-transparent leaves to their +eyes, by the stems; which leaves they directed downward, toward the +disordered hems of the farthingales; in wait, perhaps, for the +revelation of an ankle, and its accompaniments. What the precise use of +these leaves could have been, it would be hard to say, especially as +the observers invariably peeped over and under them. + +The calamity of the Vowels was soon followed by the breaking up of the +party; when, evening coming on, and feeling much wearied with the labor +of seeing company in Pimminee, we retired to our mats; there finding +that repose which ever awaits the fatigued. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. +A Reception-Day At Pimminee + + +Next morning, Nimni apprized us, that throughout the day he proposed +keeping open house, for the purpose of enabling us to behold whatever +of beauty, rank, and fashion, Pimminee could boast; including certain +strangers of note from various quarters of the lagoon, who doubtless +would honor themselves with a call. + +As inmates of the mansion, we unexpectedly had a rare opportunity of +witnessing the final toilets of the Begum and her daughters, +preparatory to receiving their guests. + +Their four farthingales were placed standing in the middle of the +dwelling; when their future inmates, arrayed in rudimental vestments, +went round and round them, attaching various articles of finery, dyed +scarfs, ivory trinkets, and other decorations. Upon the propriety of +this or that adornment, the three Vowels now and then pondered apart, +or together consulted. They talked and they laughed; they were silent +and sad; now merry at their bravery; now pensive at the thought of the +charms to be hidden. + +It was O who presently suggested the expediency of an artful fold in +their draperies, by the merest accident in Mardi, to reveal a +tantalizing glimpse of their ankles, which were thought to be pretty. + +But the old Begum was more active than any; by far the most +disinterested in the matter of advice. Her great object seemed to be to +pile on the finery at all hazards; and she pointed out many as yet +vacant and unappropriated spaces, highly susceptible of adornment. + +At last, all was in readiness; when, taking a valedictory glance, at +their intrenchments, the Begum and damsels simultaneously dipped their +heads, directly after emerging from the summit, all ready for +execution. + +And now to describe the general reception that followed. In came the +Roes, the Fees, the Lol-Lols, the Hummee-Hums, the Bidi-Bidies, and the +Dedidums; the Peenees, the Yamoyamees, the Karkies, the Fanfums, the +Diddledees, and the Fiddlefies; in a word, all the aristocracy of +Pimminee; people with exceedingly short names; and some all name, and +nothing else. It was an imposing array of sounds; a circulation of +ciphers; a marshaling of tappas; a getting together of grimaces and +furbelows; a masquerade of vapidities. + +Among the crowd was a bustling somebody, one Gaddi, arrayed in much +apparel to little purpose; who, singling out Babbalanja, for some time +adhered to his side, and with excessive complaisance, enlightened him +as to the people assembled. + +“_That_ is rich Marmonora, accounted a mighty man in Pimminee; his bags +of teeth included, he is said to weigh upwards of fourteen stone; and +is much sought after by tailors for his measure, being but slender in +the region of the heart. His riches are great. And that old vrow is the +widow Roo; very rich; plenty of teeth; but has none in her head. And +_this_ is Finfi; said to be not very rich, and a maid. Who would +suppose she had ever beat tappa for a living?” + +And so saying, Gaddi sauntered off; his place by Babbalanja’s side +being immediately supplied by the damsel Finfi. That vivacious and +amiable nymph at once proceeded to point out the company, where Gaddi +had left off; beginning with Gaddi himself, who, she insinuated, was a +mere parvenu, a terrible infliction upon society, and not near so rich +as he was imagined to be. + +Soon we were accosted by one Nonno, a sour, saturnine personage. “I +know nobody here; not a soul have I seen before; I wonder who they all +are.” And just then he was familiarly nodded to by nine worthies +abreast. Whereupon Nonno vanished. But after going the rounds of the +company, and paying court to many, he again sauntered by Babbalanja, +saying, “Nobody, nobody; nobody but nobodies; I see nobody I know.” + +Advancing, Nimni now introduced many strangers of distinction, parading +their titles after a fashion, plainly signifying that he was bent upon +convincing us, that there were people present at this little affair of +his, who were men of vast reputation; and that we erred, if we deemed +him unaccustomed to the society of the illustrious. + +But not a few of his magnates seemed shy of Media and their laurels. +Especially a tall robustuous fellow, with a terrible javelin in his +hand, much notched and splintered, as if it had dealt many a thrust. +His left arm was gallanted in a sling, and there was a patch upon his +sinister eye. Him Nimni made known as a famous captain, from King +Piko’s island (of which anon) who had been all but mortally wounded +somewhere, in a late desperate though nameless encounter. + +“Ah,” said Media as this redoubtable withdrew, Fofi is a cunning knave; +a braggart, driven forth, by King Piko for his cowardice. He has blent +his tattooing into one mass of blue, and thus disguised, must have +palmed himself off here in Pimminee, for the man he is not. But I see +many more like him.” + +“Oh ye Tapparians,” said Babbalanja, “none so easily humbugged as +humbugs. Taji: to behold this folly makes one wise. Look, look; it is +all round us. Oh Pimminee, Pimminee!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. +Babbalanja Falleth Upon Pimminee Tooth And Nail + + +The levee over, waiving further civilities, we took courteus leave of +the Begum and Nimni, and proceeding to the beach, very soon were +embarked. + +When all were pleasantly seated beneath the canopy, pipes in full +blast, calabashes revolving, and the paddlers quietly urging us along, +Media proposed that, for the benefit of the company, some one present, +in a pithy, whiffy sentence or two, should sum up the character of the +Tapparians; and ended by nominating Babbalanja to that office. + +“Come, philosopher: let us see in how few syllables you can put the +brand on those Tapparians.” + +“Pardon me, my lord, but you must permit me to ponder awhile; nothing +requires more time, than to be brief. An example: they say that in +conversation old Bardianna dealt in nothing but trisyllabic sentences. +His talk was thunder peals: sounding reports, but long intervals.” + +“The devil take old Bardianna. And would that the grave-digger had +buried his Ponderings, along with his other remains. Can none be in +your company, Babbalanja, but you must perforce make them hob-a-nob +with that old prater? A brand for the Tapparians! that is what we +seek.” + +“You shall have it, my lord. Full to the brim of themselves, for that +reason, the Tapparians are the emptiest of mortals.” + +“A good blow and well planted, Babbalanja.” + +“In sooth, a most excellent saying; it should be carved upon his +tombstone,” said Mohi, slowly withdrawing his pipe. + +“What! would you have my epitaph read thus:—‘Here lies the emptiest of +mortals, who was full of himself?’ At best, your words are exceedingly +ambiguous, Mohi.” + +“Now have I the philosopher,” cried Yoomy, with glee. “What did some +one say to me, not long since, Babbalanja, when in the matter of that +sleepy song of mine, Braid-Beard bestowed upon me an equivocal +compliment? Was I not told to wrest commendation from it, though I +tortured it to the quick?” + +“Take thy own pills, philosopher,” said Mohi. + +“Then would he be a great original,” said Media. + +“Tell me, Yoomy,” said Babbalanja, “are you not in fault? Because I +sometimes speak wisely, you must not imagine that I should always act +so.” + +“I never imagined that,” said Yoomy, “and, if I did, the truth would +belie me. It is you who are in fault, Babbalanja; not I, craving your +pardon.” + +“The minstrel’s sides are all edges to-day,” said Media. + +“This, then, thrice gentle Yoomy, is what I would say;” resumed +Babbalanja, “that since we philosophers bestow so much wisdom upon +others, it is not to be wondered at, if now and then we find what is +left in us too small for our necessities. It is from our very abundance +that we want.” + +“And from the fool’s poverty,” said Media, “that he is opulent; for his +very simplicity, is sometimes of more account than the wisdom of the +sage. But we were discoursing of the Tapparians. Babbalanja: +sententiously you have acquitted yourself to admiration; now amplify, +and tell us more of the people of Pimminee.” + +“My lord, I might amplify forever.” + +“Then, my worshipful lord, let him not begin,” interposed Braid-Beard. + +“I mean,” said Babbalanja, “that all subjects are inexhaustible, +however trivial; as the mathematical point, put in motion, is capable +of being produced into an infinite line.” + +“But forever extending into nothing,” said Media. “A very bad example +to follow. Do you, Babbalanja, come to the point, and not travel off +with it, which is too much your wont.” + +“Since my lord insists upon it then, thus much for the Tapparians, +though but a thought or two of many in reserve. They ignore the rest of +Mardi, while they themselves are but a rumor in the isles of the East; +where the business of living and dying goes on with the same +uniformity, as if there were no Tapparians in existence. They think +themselves Mardi in full; whereas, by the mass, they are stared at as +prodigies; exceptions to the law, ordaining that no Mardian shall +undertake to live, unless he set out with at least the average quantity +of brains. For these Tapparians have no brains. In lieu, they carry in +one corner of their craniums, a drop or two of attar of roses; charily +used, the supply being small. They are the victims of two incurable +maladies: stone in the heart, and ossification of the head. They are +full of fripperies, fopperies, and finesses; knowing not, that nature +should be the model of art. Yet, they might appear less silly than they +do, were they content to be the plain idiots which at bottom they are. +For there be grains of sense in a simpleton, so long as he be natural. +But what can be expected from them? They are irreclaimable Tapparians; +not so much fools by contrivance of their own, as by an express, though +inscrutable decree of Oro’s. For one, my lord, I can not abide them.” + +Nor could Taji. + +In Pimminee were no hilarious running and shouting: none of the royal +good cheer of old Borabolla; none of the mysteries of Maramma; none of +the sentiment and romance of Donjalolo; no rehearsing of old legends: +no singing of old songs; no life; no jolly commotion: in short, no men +and women; nothing but their integuments; stiff trains and +farthingales. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. +Babbalanja Regales The Company With Some Sandwiches + + +It was night. But the moon was brilliant, far and near illuminating the +lagoon. + +Over silvery billows we glided. + +“Come Yoomy,” said Media, “moonlight and music for aye—a song! a song! +my bird of paradise.” + +And folding his arms, and watching the sparkling waters, thus Yoomy +sang:— + +A ray of the moon on the dancing waves + Is the step, light step of that beautiful maid: +Mardi, with music, her footfall paves, + And her voice, no voice, but a song in the glade. + + +“Hold!” cried Media, “yonder is a curious rock. It looks black as a +whale’s hump in blue water, when the sun shines.” + +“That must be the Isle of Fossils,” said Mohi. “Ay, my lord, it is.” + +“Let us land, then,” said Babbalanja. + +And none dissenting, the canoes were put about, and presently we +debarked. + +It was a dome-like surface, here and there fringed with ferns, +sprouting from clefts. But at every tide the thin soil seemed gradually +washing into the lagoon. + +Like antique tablets, the smoother parts were molded in strange +devices:—Luxor marks, Tadmor ciphers, Palenque inscriptions. In long +lines, as on Denderah’s architraves, were bas-reliefs of beetles, +turtles, ant-eaters, armadilloes, guanos, serpents, tongueless +crocodiles:—a long procession, frosted and crystalized in stone, and +silvered by the moon. + +“Strange sight!” cried Media. “Speak, antiquarian Mohi.” + +But the chronicler was twitching his antiquarian beard, nonplussed by +these wondrous records. The cowled old father, Piaggi, bending over his +calcined Herculanean manuscripts, looked not more at fault than he. + +Said Media, “Expound you, then, sage Babbalanja.” Muffling his face in +his mantle, and his voice in sepulchral tones, Babbalanja thus:— + +“These are the leaves of the book of Oro. Here we read how worlds are +made; here read the rise and fall of Nature’s kingdoms. From where this +old man’s furthest histories start, these unbeginning records end. +These are the secret memoirs of times past; whose evidence, at last +divulged, gives the grim lie to Mohi’s gossipings, and makes a rattling +among the dry-bone relics of old Maramma.” + +Braid-Beard’s old eyes flashed fire. With bristling beard, he cried, +“Take back the lie you send!” + +“Peace! everlasting foes,” cried Media, interposing, with both arms +outstretched. “Philosopher, probe not too deep. All you say is very +fine, but very dark. I would know something more precise. But, prithee, +ghost, unmuffle! chatter no more! wait till you’re buried for that.” + +“Ay, death’s cold ague will set us all shivering, my lord. We’ll swear +our teeth are icicles.” + +“Will you quit driving your sleet upon us? have done expound these +rocks.” + +“My lord, if you desire, I’ll turn over these stone tablets till +they’re dog-eared.” + +“Heaven and Mardi!—Go on, Babbalanja.” + +“’Twas thus. These were tombs burst open by volcanic throes; and hither +hurled from the lowermost vaults of the lagoon. All Mardi’s rocks are +one wide resurrection. But look. Here, now, a pretty story’s told. Ah, +little thought these grand old lords, that lived and roared before the +flood, that they would come to this. Here, King Media, look and learn.” + +He looked; and saw a picture petrified, and plain as any on the +pediments of Petra. + +It seemed a stately banquet of the dead, where lords in skeletons were +ranged around a board heaped up with fossil fruits, and flanked with +vitreous vases, grinning like empty skulls. There they sat, exchanging +rigid courtesies. One’s hand was on his stony heart; his other pledged +a lord who held a hollow beaker. Another sat, with earnest face beneath +a mitred brow. He seemed to whisper in the ear of one who listened +trustingly. But on the chest of him who wore the miter, an adder lay, +close-coiled in flint. + +At the further end, was raised a throne, its canopy surmounted by a +crown, in which now rested the likeness of a raven on an egg. + +The throne was void. But half-concealed by drapery, behind the +goodliest lord, sideway leaned a figure diademed, a lifted poniard in +its hand:—a monarch fossilized in very act of murdering his guest. + +“Most high and sacred majesty!” cried Babbalanja, bowing to his feet. + +While all stood gazing on this sight, there came two servitors of +Media’s, who besought of Babbalanja to settle a dispute, concerning +certain tracings upon the islet’s other side. + +Thither we followed them. + +Upon a long layer of the slaty stone were marks of ripplings of some +now waveless sea; mid which were tri-toed footprints of some huge +heron, or wading fowl. + +Pointing to one of which, the foremost disputant thus spoke:—“I +maintain that these are three toes.” + +“And I, that it is one foot,” said the other. + +“And now decide between us,” joined the twain. + +Said Babbalanja, starting, “Is not this the very question concerning +which they made such dire contention in Maramma, whose tertiary rocks +are chisseled all over with these marks? Yes; this it is, concerning +which they once shed blood. This it is, concerning which they still +divide.” + +“Which of us is right?” again demanded the impatient twain. + +“Unite, and both are right; divide, and both are wrong. Every unit is +made up of parts, as well as every plurality. Nine is three threes; a +unit is as many thirds; or, if you please, a thousand thousandths; no +special need to stop at thirds.” + +“Away, ye foolish disputants!” cried Media. “Full before you is the +thing disputed.” + +Strolling on, many marvels did we mark; and Media said:—“Babbalanja, +you love all mysteries; here’s a fitting theme. You have given us the +history of the rock; can your sapience tell the origin of all the +isles? how Mardi came to be?” + +“Ah, that once mooted point is settled. Though hard at first, it proved +a bagatelle. Start not my lord; there are those who have measured Mardi +by perch and pole, and with their wonted lead sounded its utmost +depths. Listen: it is a pleasant story. The coral wall which +circumscribes the isles but continues upward the deep buried crater of +the primal chaos. In the first times this crucible was charged with +vapors nebulous, boiling over fires volcanic. Age by age, the fluid +thickened; dropping, at long intervals, heavy sediment to the bottom; +which layer on layer concreted, and at length, in crusts, rose toward +the surface. Then, the vast volcano burst; rent the whole mass; upthrew +the ancient rocks; which now in divers mountain tops tell tales of what +existed ere Mardi was completely fashioned. Hence many fossils on the +hills, whose kith and kin still lurk beneath the vales. Thus Nature +works, at random warring, chaos a crater, and this world a shell.” + +Mohi stroked his beard. + +Yoomy yawned. + +Media cried, “Preposterous!” + +“My lord, then take another theory—which you will—the celebrated +sandwich System. Nature’s first condition was a soup, wherein the +agglomerating solids formed granitic dumplings, which, wearing down, +deposited the primal stratum made up of series, sandwiching strange +shapes of mollusks, and zoophytes; then snails, and periwinkles:— +marmalade to sip, and nuts to crack, ere the substantials came. + +“And next, my lord, we have the fine old time of the Old Red Sandstone +sandwich, clapped on the underlying layer, and among other dainties, +imbedding the first course of fish,—all quite in rule,—sturgeon- forms, +cephalaspis, glyptolepis, pterichthys; and other finny things, of +flavor rare, but hard to mouth for bones. Served up with these, were +sundry greens,—lichens, mosses, ferns, and fungi. + +“Now comes the New Red Sandstone sandwich: marly and magnesious, spread +over with old patriarchs of crocodiles and alligators,—hard carving +these,—and prodigious lizards, spine-skewered, tails tied in bows, and +swimming in saffron saucers.” + +“What next?” cried Media. + +“The Ool, or Oily sandwich:—rare gormandizing then; for oily it was +called, because of fat old joints, and hams, and rounds, and barons of +sea-beeves and walrusses, which then crowned the stratum-board. All +piled together, glorious profusion!—fillets and briskets, rumps, and +saddles, and haunches; shoulder to shoulder, loin ’gainst sirloin, ribs +rapping knuckles, and quarter to none. And all these sandwiched right +over all that went before. Course after course, and course on course, +my lord; no time to clear the wreck; no stop nor let; lay on and slash; +cut, thrust, and come. + +“Next the Chalk, or Coral sandwich; but no dry fare for that; made up +of rich side-courses,—eocene, miocene, and pliocene. The first was wild +game for the delicate,—bantam larks, curlews, quails, and flying +weazels; with a slight sprinkling of pilaus,—capons, pullets, plovers, +and garnished with petrels’ eggs. Very savory, that, my lord. The +second side-course—miocene—was out of course, flesh after fowl: marine +mammalia,—seals, grampuses, and whales, served up with sea-weed on +their flanks, hearts and kidneys deviled, and fins and flippers +friccasied. All very thee, my lord. The third side-course, the +pliocene, was goodliest of all:—whole-roasted elephants, rhinoceroses, +and hippopotamuses, stuffed with boiled ostriches, condors, +cassowaries, turkeys. Also barbacued mastodons and megatheriums, +gallantly served up with fir-trees in their mouths, and tails +cock-billed. + +“Thus fared the old diluvians: arrant gormandizers and beef-bolters. We +Mardians famish on the superficial strata of deposits; cracking our +jaws on walnuts, filberts, cocoa-nuts, and clams. My lord, I’ve done.” + +“And bravely done it is. Mohi tells us, that Mardi was made in six +days; but you, Babbalanja, have built it up from the bottom in less +than six minutes.” + +“Nothing for us geologists, my lord. At a word we turn you out whole +systems, suns, satellites, and asteroids included. Why, my good lord, +my friend Annonimo is laying out a new Milky Way, to intersect with the +old one, and facilitate cross-cuts among the comets.” + +And so saying, Babbalanja turned aside. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. +They Still Remain Upon The Rock + + +“Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum,” so hummed to himself +Babbalanja, slowly pacing over the fossils. “Is he crazy again?” +whispered Yoomy. + +“Are you crazy, Babbalanja?” asked Media. + +“From my very birth have I been so, my lord; am I not possessed by a +devil?” + +“Then I’ll e’en interrogate him,” cried Media. “—Hark ye, sirrah;— why +rave you thus in this poor mortal?” + +“’Tis he, not I. I am the mildest devil that ever entered man; in +propria persona, no antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at +last your Mardian lions lose their caudal horns.” + +“A very sing-song devil this. But, prithee, who are you, sirrah?” + +“The mildest devil that ever entered man; in propria persona, no +antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at last your Mardian +lions lose their caudal horns.” + +“A very iterating devil this. Sirrah! mock me not. Know you aught yet +unrevealed by Babbalanja?” + +“Many things I know, not good to tell; whence they call me Azzageddi.” + +“A very confidential devil, this; that tells no secrets. Azzageddi, can +I drive thee out?” + +“Only with this mortal’s ghost:—together we came in, together we +depart.” + +“A very terse, and ready devil, this. Whence come you, Azzageddi?” + +“Whither my catechist must go—a torrid clime, cut by a hot equator.” + +“A very keen, and witty devil, this. Azzageddi, whom have you there?” + +“A right down merry, jolly set, that at a roaring furnace sit and toast +their hoofs for aye; so used to flames, they poke the fire with their +horns, and light their tails for torches.” + +“A very funny devil, this. Azzageddi, is not Mardi a place far +pleasanter, than that from whence you came?” + +“Ah, home! sweet, sweet, home! would, would that I were home again!” + +“A very sentimental devil, this. Azzageddi, would you had a hand, I’d +shake it.” + +“Not so with us; who, rear to rear, shake each other’s tails, and +courteously inquire, ‘Pray, worthy sir, how now stands the great +thermometer?’” + +“The very prince of devils, this.” + +“How mad our Babbalanja is,” cried Mohi. My lord, take heed; he’ll +bite.” + +“Alas! alas!” sighed Yoomy. + +“Hark ye, Babbalanja,” cried Media, “enough of this: doff your devil, +and be a man.” + +“My lord, I can not doff him; but I’ll down him for a time: Azzageddi! +down, imp; down, down, down! so: now, my lord, I’m only Babbalanja.” + +“Shall I test his sanity, my lord?” cried Mohi. + +“Do, old man.” + +“Philosopher, our great reef is surrounded by an ocean; what think you +lies beyond?” + +“Alas!” sighed Yoomy, “the very subject to renew his madness.” + +“Peace, minstrel!” said Media. “Answer, Babbalanja.” + +“I will, my lord. Fear not, sweet Yoomy; you see how calm I am. Braid- +Beard, those strangers, that came to Mondoldo prove isles afar, as a +philosopher of old surmised, but was hooted at for his surmisings. Nor +is it at all impossible, Braid-Beard, that beyond their land may exist +other regions, of which those strangers know not; peopled with races +something like us Mardians; but perhaps with more exalted faculties, +and organs that we lack. They may have some better seeing sense than +ours; perhaps, have fins or wings for arms.” + +“This seems not like sanity,” muttered Mohi. + +“A most crazy hypothesis, truly,” said Media. + +“And are all inductions vain?” cried Babbalanja. “Have we mortals +naught to rest on, but what we see with eyes? Is no faith to be reposed +in that inner microcosm, wherein we see the charted universe in little, +as the whole horizon is mirrored in the iris of a gnat? Alas! alas! my +lord, is there no blest Odonphi? no Astrazzi?” + +“His devil’s uppermost again, my lord,” cried Braid-Beard. + +“He’s stark, stark mad!” sighed Yoomy. + +“Ay, the moon’s at full,” said Media. “Ho, paddlers! we depart.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. +Behind And Before + + +It was yet moonlight when we pushed from the islet. But soon, the sky +grew dun; the moon went into a cavern among the clouds; and by that +secret sympathy between our hearts and the elements, the thoughts of +all but Media became overcast. + +Again discourse was had of that dark intelligence from Mondoldo,—the +fell murder of Taji’s follower. + +Said Mohi, “Those specter sons of Aleema must have been the assassins.” + +“They harbored deadly malice,” said Babbalanja. + +“Which poor Jarl’s death must now have sated,” sighed Yoomy. + +“Then all the happier for Taji,” said Media. “But away with gloom! +because the sky is clouded, why cloud your brows? Babbalanja, I grieve +the moon is gone. Yet start some paradox, that we may laugh. Say a +woman is a man, or you yourself a stork.” + +At this they smiled. When hurtling came an arrow, which struck our +stern, and quivered. Another! and another! Grazing the canopy, they +darted by, and hissing, dived like red-hot bars beneath the waves. + +Starting, we beheld a corruscating wake, tracking the course of a low +canoe, far flying for a neighboring mountain. The next moment it was +lost within the mountain’s shadow and pursuit was useless. + +“Let us fly!” cried Yoomy + +“Peace! What murderers these?” said Media, calmly; “whom can they +seek?—you, Taji?” + +“The three avengers fly three bolts,” said Babbalanja. “See if the +arrow yet remain astern,” cried Media. + +They brought it to him. + +“By Oro! Taji on the barb!” + +“Then it missed its aim. But I will not mine. And whatever arrows +follow, still will I hunt on. Nor does the ghost, that these pale +specters would avenge, at all disquiet me. The priest I slew, but to +gain her, now lost; and I would slay again, to bring her back. Ah, +Yillah! Yillah.” + +All started. + +Then said Babbalanja, “Aleema’s sons raved not; ’tis true, then, Taji, +that an evil deed gained you your Yillah: no wonder she is lost.” + +Said Media, unconcernedly, “Perhaps better, Taji, to have kept your +secret; but tell no more; I care not to be your foe.” + +“Ah, Taji! I had shrank from you,” cried Yoomy, “but for the mark upon +your brow. That undoes the tenor of your words. But look, the stars +come forth, and who are these? A waving Iris! ay, again they come:— +Hautia’s heralds!” + +They brought a black thorn, buried in withered rose-balm blossoms, red +and blue. + +Said Yoomy, “For that which stings, there is no cure,” + +“Who, who is Hautia, that she stabs me thus?” + +“And this wild sardony mocks your misery.” + +“Away! ye fiends.” + +“Again a Venus car; and lo! a wreath of strawberries!—Yet fly to me, +and be garlanded with joys.” + +“Let the wild witch laugh. She moves me not. Neither hurtling arrows +nor Circe flowers appall.” + +Said Yoomy, “They wait reply.” + +“Tell your Hautia, that I know her not; nor care to know. I defy her +incantations; she lures in vain. Yillah! Yillah! still I hope!” + +Slowly they departed; heeding not my cries no more to follow. + +Silence, and darkness fell. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. +My Lord Media Summons Mohi To The Stand + + +While slowly the night wore on, and the now scudding clouds flown past, +revealed again the hosts in heaven, few words were uttered save by +Media; who, when all others were most sad and silent, seemed but little +moved, or not stirred a jot. + +But that night, he filled his flagon fuller than his wont, and drank, +and drank, and pledged the stars. + +“Here’s to thee, old Arcturus! To thee, old Aldebaran! who ever poise +your wine-red, fiery spheres on high. A health to _thee_, my regal +friend, Alphacca, in the constellation of the Crown: Lo! crown to +crown, I pledge thee! I drink to _ye_, too, Alphard! Markab! Denebola! +Capella!—to _ye_, too, sailing Cygnus! Aquila soaring!—All round, a +health to all your diadems! May they never fade! nor mine!” + +At last, in the shadowy east, the Dawn, like a gray, distant sail +before the wind, was descried; drawing nearer and nearer, till her +gilded prow was perceived. + +And as in tropic gales, the winds blow fierce, and more fierce, with +the advent of the sun; so with King Media; whose mirth now breezed up +afresh. But, as at sunrise, the sea-storm only blows harder, to settle +down at last into a steady wind; even so, in good time, my lord Media +came to be more decorous of mood. And Babbalanja abated his reveries. + +For who might withstand such a morn! + +As on the night-banks of the far-rolling Ganges, the royal bridegroom +sets forth for his bride, preceded by nymphs, now this side, now that, +lighting up all the flowery flambeaux held on high as they pass; so +came the Sun, to his nuptials with Mardi:—the Hours going on before, +touching all the peaks, till they glowed rosy-red. + +By reflex, the lagoon, here and there, seemed on fire; each curling +wave-crest a flame. + +Noon came as we sailed. + +And now, citrons and bananas, cups and calabashes, calumets and +tobacco, were passed round; and we were all very merry and mellow +indeed. Smacking our lips, chatting, smoking, and sipping. Now a +mouthful of citron to season a repartee; now a swallow of wine to wash +down a precept; now a fragrant whiff to puff away care. Many things did +beguile. From side to side, we turned and grazed, like Juno’s white +oxen in clover meads. + +Soon, we drew nigh to a charming cliff, overrun with woodbines, on high +suspended from flowering Tamarisk and Tamarind-trees. The blossoms of +the Tamarisks, in spikes of small, red bells; the Tamarinds, +wide-spreading their golden petals, red-streaked as with streaks of the +dawn. Down sweeping to the water, the vines trailed over to the crisp, +curling waves,—little pages, all eager to hold up their trains. + +Within, was a bower; going behind it, like standing inside the sheet of +the falls of the Genesee. + +In this arbor we anchored. And with their shaded prows thrust in among +the flowers, our three canoes seemed baiting by the way, like wearied +steeds in a hawthorn lane. + +High midsummer noon is more silent than night. Most sweet a siesta +then. And noon dreams are day-dreams indeed; born under the meridian +sun. Pale Cynthia begets pale specter shapes; and her frigid rays best +illuminate white nuns, marble monuments, icy glaciers, and cold tombs. + +The sun rolled on. And starting to his feet, arms clasped, and wildly +staring, Yoomy exclaimed—“Nay, nay, thou shalt not depart, thou +maid!—here, here I fold thee for aye!—Flown?—A dream! Then siestas +henceforth while I live. And at noon, every day will I meet thee, sweet +maid! And, oh Sun! set not; and poppies bend over us, when next we +embrace!” + +“What ails that somnambulist?” cried Media, rising. “Yoomy, I say! what +ails thee?” + +“He must have indulged over freely in those citrons,” said Mohi, +sympathetically rubbing his fruitery. “Ho, Yoomy! a swallow of brine +will help thee.” + +“Alas,” cried Babbalanja, “do the fairies then wait on repletion? Do +our dreams come from below, and not from the skies? Are we angels, or +dogs? Oh, Man, Man, Man! thou art harder to solve, than the Integral +Calculus—yet plain as a primer; harder to find than the +philosopher’s-stone—yet ever at hand; a more cunning compound, than an +alchemist’s—yet a hundred weight of flesh, to a penny weight of spirit; +soul and body glued together, firm as atom to atom, seamless as the +vestment without joint, warp or woof—yet divided as by a river, spirit +from flesh; growing both ways, like a tree, and dropping thy topmost +branches to earth, like thy beard or a banian!—I give thee up, oh Man! +thou art twain—yet indivisible; all things—yet a poor unit at best.” + +“Philosopher you seem puzzled to account for the riddles of your race,” +cried Media, sideways reclining at his ease. “Now, do thou, old Mohi, +stand up before a demi-god, and answer for all.—Draw nigh, so I can eye +thee. What art thou, mortal?” + +“My worshipful lord, a man.” + +“And what are men?” + +“My lord, before thee is a specimen.” + +“I fear me, my lord will get nothing out of that witness,” said +Babbalanja. “Pray you, King Media, let another inquisitor cross- +question.” + +“Proceed; take the divan.” + +“A pace or two farther off, there, Mohi; so I can garner thee all in at +a glance.—Attention! Rememberest thou, fellow-being, when thou wast +born?” + +“Not I. Old Braid-Beard had no memory then.” + +“When, then, wast thou first conscious of being?” + +“What time I was teething: my first sensation was an ache.” + +“What dost thou, fellow-being, here in Mardi?” + +“What doth Mardi here, fellow-being, under me?” + +“Philosopher, thou gainest but little by thy questions,” cried Yoomy +advancing. “Let a poet endeavor.” + +“I abdicate in your favor, then, gentle Yoomy; let me smooth the divan +for you;—there: be seated.” + +“Now, Mohi, who art thou?” said Yoomy, nodding his bird-of-paradise +plume. + +“The sole witness, it seems, in this case.” + +“Try again minstrel,” cried Babbalanja. + +“Then, what art thou, Mohi?” + +“Even what thou art, Yoomy.” + +“He is too sharp or too blunt for us all,” cried King Media. “His devil +is even more subtle than yours, Babbalanja. Let him go.” + +“Shall I adjourn the court then, my lord?” said Babbalanja. + +“Ay.” + +“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All mortals having business at this court, know ye, +that it is adjourned till sundown of the day, which hath no to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. +Wherein Babbalanja And Yoomy Embrace + + +“How the isles grow and multiply around us!” cried Babbalanja, as +turning the bold promontory of an uninhabited shore, many distant lands +bluely loomed into view. “Surely, our brief voyage, may not embrace all +Mardi like its reef?” + +“No,” said Media, “much must be left unseen. Nor every where can Yillah +be sought, noble Taji.” + +Said Yoomy, “We are as birds, with pinions clipped, that in +unfathomable and endless woods, but flit from twig to twig of one poor +tree.” + +“More isles! more isles!” cried Babbalanja, erect, and gazing abroad. +“And lo! round all is heaving that infinite ocean. Ah! gods! what +regions lie beyond?” + +“But whither now?” he cried, as in obedience to Media, the paddlers +suddenly altered our course. + +“To the bold shores of Diranda,” said Media. + +“Ay; the land of clubs and javelins, where the lord seigniors Hello and +Piko celebrate their famous games,” cried Mohi. + +“Your clubs and javelins,” said Media, “remind me of the great battle- +chant of Narvi—Yoomy!”—turning to the minstrel, gazing abstractedly +into the water;—“awake, Yoomy, and give us the lines.” + +“My lord Media, ’tis but a rude, clanging thing; dissonant as if the +north wind blew through it. Methinks the company will not fancy lines +so inharmonious. Better sing you, perhaps, one of my sonnets.” + +“Better sit and sob in our ears, silly Yoomy that thou art!—no! no! +none of your sentiment now; my soul is martially inclined; I want +clarion peals, not lute warblings. So throw out your chest, Yoomy: lift +high your voice; and blow me the old battle-blast.—Begin, sir +minstrel.” + +And warning all, that he himself had not composed the odious chant, +Yoomy thus:— + +Our clubs! our clubs! +The thousand clubs of Narvi! +Of the living trunk of the Palm-tree made; +Skull breakers! Brain spatterers! +Wielded right, and wielded left; +Life quenchers! Death dealers! +Causing live bodies to run headless! + +Our bows! our bows! +The thousand bows of Narvi! +Ribs of Tara, god of War! +Fashioned from the light Tola their arrows; +Swift messengers! Heart piercers! +Barbed with sharp pearl shells; +Winged with white tail-plumes; +To wild death-chants, strung with the hair of wild maidens! + +Our spears! our spears! +The thousand spears of Narvi! +Of the thunder-riven Moo-tree made +Tall tree, couched on the long mountain Lana! +No staves for gray-beards! no rods for fishermen! +Tempered by fierce sea-winds, +Splintered into lances by lightnings, +Long arrows! Heart seekers! +Toughened by fire their sharp black points! + +Our slings! our slings! +The thousand slings of Narvi! +All tasseled, and braided, and gayly bedecked. +In peace, our girdles; in war, our war-nets; +Wherewith catch we heads as fish from the deep! +The pebbles they hurl, have been hurled before,— +Hurled up on the beach by the stormy sea! +Pebbles, buried erewhile in the head of the shark: +To be buried erelong in the heads of our foes! +Home of hard blows, our pouches! +Nest of death-eggs! How quickly they hatch! + +Uplift, and couch we our spears, men! +Ring hollow on the rocks our war clubs! +Bend we our bows, feel the points of our arrows: +Aloft, whirl in eddies our sling-nets; +To the fight, men of Narvi! +Sons of battle! Hunters of men! +Raise high your war-wood! +Shout Narvi! her groves in the storm! + + +“By Oro!” cried Media, “but Yoomy has well nigh stirred up all +Babbalanja’s devils in me. Were I a mortal, I could fight now on a +pretense. And did any man say me nay, I would charge upon him like a +spear-point. Ah, Yoomy, thou and thy tribe have much to answer for; ye +stir up all Mardi with your lays. Your war chants make men fight; your +drinking songs, drunkards; your love ditties, fools. Yet there thou +sittest, Yoomy, gentle as a dove.—What art thou, minstrel, that thy +soft, singing soul should so master all mortals? Yoomy, like me, you +sway a scepter.” + +“Thou honorest my calling overmuch,” said Yoomy, we minstrels but sing +our lays carelessly, my lord Media.” + +“Ay: and the more mischief they make.” + +“But sometimes we poets are didactic.” + +“Didactic and dull; many of ye are but too apt to be prosy unless +mischievous.” + +“Yet in our verses, my lord Media, but few of us purpose harm.” + +“But when all harmless to yourselves, ye may be otherwise to Mardi.” + +“And are not foul streams often traced to pure fountains, my lord?” +said Babbalanja. “The essence of all good and all evil is in us, not +out of us. Neither poison nor honey lodgeth in the flowers on which, +side by side, bees and wasps oft alight. My lord, nature is an +immaculate virgin, forever standing unrobed before us. True poets but +paint the charms which all eyes behold. The vicious would be vicious +without them.” + +“My lord Media,” impetuously resumed Yoomy, “I am sensible of a +thousand sweet, merry fancies, limpid with innocence; yet my enemies +account them all lewd conceits.” + +“There be those in Mardi,” said Babbalanja, “who would never ascribe +evil to others, did they not find it in their own hearts; believing +none can be different from themselves.” + +“My lord, my lord!” cried Yoomy. “The air that breathes my music from +me is a mountain air! Purer than others am I; for though not a woman, I +feel in me a woman’s soul.” + +“Ah, have done, silly Yoomy,” said Media. “Thou art becoming flighty, +even as Babbalanja, when Azzageddi is uppermost.” + +“Thus ever: ever thus!” sighed Yoomy. “They comprehend us not.” + +“Nor me,” said Babbalanja. “Yoomy: poets both, we differ but in +seeming; thy airiest conceits are as the shadows of my deepest +ponderings; though Yoomy soars, and Babbalanja dives, both meet at +last. Not a song you sing, but I have thought its thought; and where +dull Mardi sees but your rose, I unfold its petals, and disclose a +pearl. Poets are we, Yoomy, in that we dwell without us; we live in +grottoes, palms, and brooks; we ride the sea, we ride the sky; poets +are omnipresent.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. +Of The Isle Of Diranda + + +In good time the shores of Diranda were in sight. And, introductory to +landing, Braid-Beard proceeded to give us some little account of the +island, and its rulers. + +As previously hinted, those very magnificent and illustrious lord +seigniors, the lord seigniors Hello and Piko, who between them divided +Diranda, delighted in all manner of public games, especially warlike +ones; which last were celebrated so frequently, and were so fatal in +their results, that, not-withstanding the multiplicity of nuptials +taking place in the isle, its population remained in equilibrio. But, +strange to relate, this was the very object which the lord seigniors +had in view; the very object they sought to compass, by instituting +their games. Though, for the most part, they wisely kept the secret +locked up. + +But to tell how the lord seigniors Hello and Piko came to join hands in +this matter. + +Diranda had been amicably divided between them ever since the day they +were crowned; one reigning king in the East, the other in the West. But +King Piko had been long harassed with the thought, that the +unobstructed and indefinite increase of his browsing subjects might +eventually denude of herbage his portion of the island. Posterity, +thought he, is marshaling her generations in squadrons, brigades, and +battalions, and ere long will be down upon my devoted empire. Lo! her +locust cavalry darken the skies; her light-troop pismires cover the +earth. Alas! my son and successor, thou wilt inhale choke-damp for air, +and have not a private corner to say thy prayers. + +By a sort of arithmetical progression, the probability, nay, the +certainty of these results, if not in some way averted, was proved to +King Piko; and he was furthermore admonished, that war—war to the haft +with King Hello—was the only cure for so menacing an evil. + +But so it was, that King Piko, at peace with King Hello, and well +content with, the tranquillity of the times, little relished the idea +of picking a quarrel with his neighbor, and running its risks, in order +to phlebotomize his redundant population. + +“Patience, most illustrious seignior,” said another of his sagacious +Ahithophels, “and haply a pestilence may decimate the people.” + +But no pestilence came. And in every direction the young men and +maidens were recklessly rushing into wedlock; and so salubrious the +climate, that the old men stuck to the outside of the turf, and refused +to go under. + +At last some Machiavel of a philosopher suggested, that peradventure +the object of war might be answered without going to war; that +peradventure King Hello might be brought to acquiesce in an +arrangement, whereby the men of Diranda might be induced to kill off +one another voluntarily, in a peaceable manner, without troubling their +rulers. And to this end, the games before mentioned were proposed. + +“Egad! my wise ones, you have hit it,” cried Piko; “but will Hello say +ay?” + +“Try him, most illustrious seignior,” said Machiavel. + +So to Hello went embassadors ordinary and extraordinary, and ministers +plenipotentiary and peculiar; and anxiously King Piko awaited their +return. + +The mission was crowned with success. + +Said King Hello to the ministers, in confidence:—“The very thing, Dons, +the very thing I have wanted. My people are increasing too fast. They +keep up the succession too well. Tell your illustrious master it’s a +bargain. The games! the games! by all means.” + +So, throughout the island, by proclamation, they were forthwith +established; succeeding to a charm. + +And the lord seigniors, Hello and Piko, finding their interests the +same, came together like bride and bridegroom; lived in the same +palace; dined off the same cloth; cut from the same bread-fruit; drank +from the same calabash; wore each other’s crowns; and often locking +arms with a charming frankness, paced up and down in their dominions, +discussing the prospect of the next harvest of heads. + +In his old-fashioned way, having related all this, with many other +particulars, Mohi was interrupted by Babbalanja, who inquired how the +people of Diranda relished the games, and how they fancied being coolly +thinned out in that manner. + +To which in substance the chronicler replied, that of the true object +of the games, they had not the faintest conception; but hammered away +at each other, and fought and died together, like jolly good fellows. + +“Right again, immortal old Bardianna!” cried Babbalanja. + +“And what has the sage to the point this time?” asked Media. + +“Why, my lord, in his chapter on “Cracked Crowns,” Bardianna, after +many profound ponderings, thus concludes: In this cracked sphere we +live in, then, cracked skulls would seem the inevitable allotments of +many. Nor will the splintering thereof cease, till this pugnacious +animal we treat of be deprived of his natural maces: videlicet, his +arms. And right well doth man love to bruise and batter all occiputs in +his vicinity.” + +“Seems to me, our old friend must have been on his stilts that time,” +interrupted Mohi. + +“No, Braid-Beard. But by way of apologizing for the unusual rigidity of +his style in that chapter, he says in a note, that it was written upon +a straight-backed settle, when he was ill of a lumbago, and a crick in +the neck.” + +“That incorrigible Azzageddi again,” said Media, “Proceed with your +quotation, Babbalanja.” + +“Where was I, Braid-Beard?” + +“Battering occiputs at the last accounts,” said Mohi. + +“Ah, yes. And right well doth man love to bruise and batter all +occiputs in his vicinity; he but follows his instincts; he is but one +member of a fighting world. Spiders, vixens, and tigers all war with a +relish; and on every side is heard the howls of hyenas, the throttlings +of mastiffs, the din of belligerant beetles, the buzzing warfare of the +insect battalions: and the shrill cries of lady Tartars rending their +lords. And all this existeth of necessity. To war it is, and other +depopulators, that we are beholden for elbow-room in Mardi and for all +our parks an gardens, wherein we are wont to expatiate. Come on, then, +plague, war, famine and viragos! Come on, I say, for who shall stay ye? +Come on, and healthfulize the census! And more especially, oh War! do +thou march forth with thy bludgeon! Cracked are, our crowns by nature, +and henceforth forever, cracked shall they be by hard raps.” + +“And hopelessly cracked the skull, that hatched such a tirade of +nonsense,” said Mohi. + +“And think you not, old Bardianna knew that?” asked Babbalanja. “He +wrote an excellent chapter on that very subject.” + +“What, on the cracks in his own pate?” + +“Precisely. And expressly asserts, that to those identical cracks, was +he indebted for what little light he had in his brain.” + +“I yield, Babbalanja; your old Ponderer is older than I.” + +“Ay, ay, Braid-Beard; his crest was a tortoise; and this was the +motto:—‘I bite, but am not to be bitten.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. +They Visit The Lords Piko And Hello + + +In good time, we landed at Diranda. And that landing was like landing +at Greenwich among the Waterloo pensioners. The people were docked +right and left; some without arms; some without legs; not one with a +tail; but to a man, all had heads, though rather the worse for wear; +covered with lumps and contusions. + +Now, those very magnificent and illustrious lord seigniors, the lord +seigniors Hello and Piko, lived in a palace, round which was a fence of +the cane called Malacca, each picket helmed with a skull, of which +there were fifty, one to each cane. Over the door was the blended arms +of the high and mighty houses of Hello and Piko: a Clavicle crossed +over an Ulna. + +Escorted to the sign of the Skull-and-Cross-Bones, we received the very +best entertainment which that royal inn could afford. We found our +hosts Hello and Piko seated together on a dais or throne, and now and +then drinking some claret-red wine from an ivory bowl, too large to +have been wrought from an elephant’s tusk. They were in glorious good +spirits, shaking ivory coins in a skull. + +“What says your majesty?” said Piko. “Heads or tails?” + +“Oh, heads, your majesty,” said Hello. + +“And heads say I,” said Piko. + +And heads it was. But it was heads on both sides, so both were sure to +win. + +And thus they were used to play merrily all day long; beheading the +gourds of claret by one slicing blow with their sickle-shaped scepters. +Wide round them lay empty calabashes, all feathered, red dyed, and +betasseled, trickling red wine from their necks, like the decapitated +pullets in the old baronial barn yard at Kenilworth, the night before +Queen Bess dined with my lord Leicester. + +The first compliments over; and Media and Taji having met with a +reception suitable to their rank, the kings inquired, whether there +were any good javelin-flingers among us: for if that were the case, +they could furnish them plenty of sport. Informed, however, that none +of the party were professional warriors, their majesties looked rather +glum, and by way of chasing away the blues, called for some good old +stuff, that was red. + +It seems, this soliciting guests, to keep their spears from decaying, +by cut and thrust play with their subjects, was a very common thing +with their illustrious majesties. + +But if their visitors could not be prevailed upon to spear a subject or +so, our hospitable hosts resolved to have a few speared, and otherwise +served up for our special entertainment. In a word, our arrival +furnished a fine pretext for renewing their games; though, we learned, +that only ten days previous, upward of fifty combatants had been slain +at one of these festivals. + +Be that as it might, their joint majesties determined upon another one; +and also upon our tarrying to behold it. We objected, saying we must +depart. + +But we were kindly assured, that our canoes had been dragged out of the +water, and buried in a wood; there to remain till the games were over. + +The day fixed upon, was the third subsequent to our arrival; the +interval being devoted to preparations; summoning from their villages +and valleys the warriors of the land; and publishing the royal +proclamations, whereby the unbounded hospitality of the kings’ +household was freely offered to all heroes whatsoever, who for the love +of arms, and the honor of broken heads, desired to cross battle-clubs, +hurl spears, or die game in the royal valley of Deddo. + +Meantime, the whole island was in a state of uproarious commotion, and +strangers were daily arriving. + +The spot set apart for the festival, was a spacious down, mantled with +white asters; which, waving in windrows, lay upon the land, like the +cream-surf surging the milk of young heifers. But that whiteness, here +and there, was spotted with strawberries; tracking the plain, as if +wounded creatures had been dragging themselves bleeding from some +deadly encounter. All round the down, waved scarlet thickets of sumach, +moaning in the wind, like the gory ghosts environing Pharsalia the +night after the battle; scaring away the peasants, who with +bushel-baskets came to the jewel-harvest of the rings of Pompey’s +knights. + +Beneath the heaped turf of this down, lay thousands of glorious corpses +of anonymous heroes, who here had died glorious deaths. + +Whence, in the florid language of Diranda, they called this field “The +Field of Glory.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. +They Attend The Games + + +At last the third day dawned; and facing us upon entering the plain, +was a throne of red log-wood, canopied by the foliage of a red-dyed +Pandannus. Upon this throne, purple-robed, reclined those very +magnificent and illustrious lords seigniors, the lord seigniors Hello +and Piko. Before them, were many gourds of wine; and crosswise, staked +in the sod, their own royal spears. + +In the middle of the down, as if by a furrow, a long, oval space was +margined of about which, a crowd of spectators were seated. Opposite +the throne, was reserved a clear passage to the arena, defined by +air-lines, indefinitely produced from the leveled points of two spears, +so poised by a brace of warriors. + +Drawing near, our party was courteously received, and assigned a +commodious lounge. + +The first encounter was a club-fight between two warriors. Nor casque +of steel, nor skull of Congo could have resisted their blows, had they +fallen upon the mark; for they seemed bent upon driving each other, as +stakes, into the earth. Presently, one of them faltered; but his +adversary rushing in to cleave him down, slipped against a guavarind; +when the falterer, with one lucky blow, high into the air sent the +stumbler’s club, which descended upon the crown of a spectator, who was +borne from the plain. + +“All one,” muttered Pike. + +“As good dead as another,” muttered Hello. + +The second encounter was a hugging-match; wherein two warriors, masked +in Grisly-bear skins, hugged each other to death. + +The third encounter was a bumping-match between a fat warrior and a +dwarf. Standing erect, his paunch like a bass-drum before a drummer, +the fat man was run at, head-a-tilt by the dwarf, and sent spinning +round on his axis. + +The fourth encounter was a tussle between two-score warriors, who all +in a mass, writhed like the limbs in Sebastioni’s painting of Hades. +After obscuring themselves in a cloud of dust, these combatants, +uninjured, but hugely blowing, drew off; and separately going among the +spectators, rehearsed their experience of the fray. + +“Braggarts!” mumbled Piko. + +“Poltroons!” growled Hello. + +While the crowd were applauding, a sober-sided observer, trying to rub +the dust out of his eyes, inquired of an enthusiastic neighbor, “Pray, +what was all that about?” + +“Fool! saw you not the dust?” + +“That I did,” said Sober-Sides, again rubbing his eyes, “But I can +raise a dust myself.” + +The fifth encounter was a fight of single sticks between one hundred +warriors, fifty on a side. + +In a line, the first fifty emerged from the sumachs, their weapons +interlocked in a sort of wicker-work. In advance marched a priest, +bearing an idol with a cracked cocoanut for a head,—Krako, the god of +Trepans. Preceded by damsels flinging flowers, now came on the second +fifty, gayly appareled, weapons poised, and their feet nimbly moving in +a martial measure. + +Midway meeting, both parties touched poles, then retreated. Very +courteous, this; but tantamount to bowing each other out of Mardi; for +upon Pike’s tossing a javelin, they rushed in, and each striking his +man, all fell to the ground. + +“Well done!” cried Piko. + +“Brave fellows!” cried Hello. + +“But up and at it again, my heroes!” joined both. “Lo! we kings look +on, and there stand the bards!” + +These bards were a row of lean, sallow, old men, in thread-bare robes, +and chaplets of dead leaves. + +“Strike up!” cried Piko. + +“A stave!” cried Hello. + +Whereupon, the old croakers, each with a quinsy, sang thus in cracked +strains:— + +Quack! Quack! Quack! +With a toorooloo whack; +Hack away, merry men, hack away. +Who would not die brave, +His ear smote by a stave? +Thwack away, merry men, thwack away! +’Tis glory that calls, +To each hero that falls, +Hack away, merry men, hack away! +Quack! Quack! Quack! +Quack! Quack! +Quack! + + +Thus it tapered away. + +“Ha, ha!” cried Piko, “how they prick their ears at that!” + +“Hark ye, my invincibles!” cried Hello. “That pean is for the slain. So +all ye who have lives left, spring to it! Die and be glorified! Now’s +the time!—Strike up again, my ducklings!” + +Thus incited, the survivors staggered to their feet; and hammering away +at each others’ sconces, till they rung like a chime of bells going off +with a triple-bob-major, they finally succeeded in immortalizing +themselves by quenching their mortalities all round; the bards still +singing. + +“Never mind your music now,” cried Piko. + +“It’s all over,” said Hello. + +“What valiant fellows we have for subjects,” cried Piko. + +“Ho! grave-diggers, clear the field,” cried Hello. + +“Who else is for glory?” cried Piko. + +“There stand the bards!” cried Hello. + +But now there rushed among the crowd a haggard figure, trickling with +blood, and wearing a robe, whose edges were burned and blacked by fire. +Wielding a club, it ran to and fro, with loud yells menacing all. + +A noted warrior this; who, distracted at the death of five sons slain +in recent games, wandered from valley to valley, wrestling and +fighting. + +With wild cries of “The Despairer! The Despairer!” the appalled +multitude fled; leaving the two kings frozen on their throne, quaking +and quailing, their teeth rattling like dice. + +The Despairer strode toward them; when, recovering their senses, they +ran; for a time pursued through the woods by the phantom. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. +Taji Still Hunted, And Beckoned + + +Previous to the kings’ flight, we had plunged into the neighboring +woods; and from thence emerging, entered brakes of cane, sprouting from +morasses. Soon we heard a whirring, as if three startled partridges had +taken wing; it proved three feathered arrows, from three unseen hands. + +Gracing us, two buried in the ground, but from Taji’s arm, the third +drew blood. + +On all sides round we turned; but none were seen. “Still the avengers +follow,” said Babbalanja. + +“Lo! the damsels three!” cried Yoomy. “Look where they come!” + +We joined them by the sumach-wood’s red skirts; and there, they waved +their cherry stalks, and heavy bloated cactus leaves, their crimson +blossoms armed with nettles; and before us flung shining, yellow, +tiger-flowers spotted red. + +“Blood!” cried Yoomy, starting, “and leopards on your track!” + +And now the syrens blew through long reeds, tasseled with their +panicles, and waving verdant scarfs of vines, came dancing toward us, +proffering clustering grapes. + +“For all now yours, Taji; and all that yet may come,” cried Yoomy, “fly +to me! I will dance away your gloom, and drown it in inebriation.” + +“Away! woe is its own wine. What may be mine, that will I endure, in +its own essence to the quick. Let me feel the poniard if it stabs.” + +They vanished in the wood; and hurrying on, we soon gained sun-light, +and the open glade. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. +They Embark From Diranda + + +Arrived at the Sign of the Skulls, we found the illustrious lord +seigniors at rest from their flight, and once more, quaffing their +claret, all thoughts of the specter departed. Instead of rattling their +own ivory iii the heads on their shoulders, they were rattling their +dice in the skulls in their hands. And still “Heads,” was the cry, and +“Heads,” was the throw. + +That evening they made known to my lord Media that an interval of two +days must elapse ere the games were renewed, in order to reward the +victors, bury their dead, and provide for the execution of an Islander, +who under the provocation of a blow, had killed a stranger. + +As this suspension of the festivities had been wholly unforeseen, our +hosts were induced to withdraw the embargo laid upon our canoes. +Nevertheless, they pressed us to remain; saying, that what was to come +would far exceed in interest, what had already taken place. The games +in prospect being of a naval description, embracing certain +hand-to-hand contests in the water between shoals of web-footed +warriors. + +However, we decided to embark on the morrow. + +It was in the cool of the early morning, at that hour when a man’s face +can be known, that we set sail from Diranda; and in the ghostly +twilight, our thoughts reverted to the phantom that so suddenly had +cleared the plain. With interest we hearkened to the recitals of Mohi; +who discoursing of the sad end of many brave chieftains in Mardi, made +allusion to the youthful Adondo, one of the most famous of the chiefs +of the chronicles. In a canoe-fight, after performing prodigies of +valor; he was wounded in the head, and sunk to the bottom of the +lagoon. + +“There is a noble monody upon the death of Adondo,” said Yoomy. “Shall +I sing it, my lord? It. is very beautiful; nor could I ever repeat it +without a tear.” + +“We will dispense with your tears, minstrel,” said Media, “but sing it, +if you will.” + +And Yoomy sang:— + +Departed the pride and the glory of Mardi: +The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea, + That rolls o’er his corpse with a hush. + His warriors bend over their spears, + His sisters gaze upward and mourn. + Weep, weep, for Adondo, is dead! + The sun has gone down in a shower; + Buried in clouds in the face of the moon; +Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies, + And stand in the eyes of the flowers; +And streams of tears are the trickling brooks, + Coursing adown the mountains.— +Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi: +The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea. +Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that sobs.— + Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro. + + +“A dismal time it must have been,” yawned Media, “not a dry brook then +in Mardi, not a lake that was not moist. Lachrymose rivulets, and +inconsolable lagoons! Call you this poetry, minstrel?” + +“Mohi has something like a tear in his eye,” said Yoomy. + +“False!” cried Mohi, brushing it aside. + +“Who composed that monody?” said Babbalanja. “I have often heard it +before.” + +“None know, Babbalanja but the poet must be still singing to himself; +his songs bursting through the turf in the flowers over his grave.” + +“But gentle Yoomy, Adondo is a legendary hero, indefinitely dating +back. May not his monody, then, be a spontaneous melody, that has been +with us since Mardi began? What bard composed the soft verses that our +palm boughs sing at even? Nay, Yoomy, that monody was not written by +man.” + +“Ah! Would that I had been the poet, Babbalanja; for then had I been +famous indeed; those lines are chanted through all the isles, by prince +and peasant. Yes, Adondo’s monody will pervade the ages, like the low +under-tone you hear, when many singers do sing.” + +“My lord, my lord,” cried Babbalanja, “but this were to be truly +immortal;—to be perpetuated in our works, and not in our names. Let me, +oh Oro! be anonymously known!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. +Wherein Babbalanja Discourses Of Himself + + +An interval of silence was at last broken by Babbalanja. + +Pointing to the sun, just gaining the horizon, he exclaimed, “As old +Bardianna says—shut your eyes, and believe.” + +“And what may Bardianna have to do with yonder orb?” said Media. + +This much, my lord, the astronomers maintain that Mardi moves round the +sun; which I, who never formally investigated the matter for myself, +can by no means credit; unless, plainly seeing one thing, I blindly +believe another. Yet even thus blindly does all Mardi subscribe to an +astronomical system, which not one in fifty thousand can astronomically +prove. And not many centuries back, my lord, all Mardi did equally +subscribe to an astronomical system, precisely the reverse of that +which they now believe. But the mass of Mardians have not as much +reason to believe the first system, as the exploded one; for all who +have eyes must assuredly see, that the sun seems to move, and that +Mardi seems a fixture, eternally _here_. But doubtless there are +theories which may be true, though the face of things belie them. +Hence, in such cases, to the ignorant, disbelief would seem more +natural than faith; though they too often reject the testimony of their +own senses, for what to them, is a mere hypothesis. And thus, my lord, +is it, that the mass of Mardians do not believe because they know, but +because they know not. And they are as ready to receive one thing as +another, if it comes from a canonical source. My lord, Mardi is as an +ostrich, which will swallow augh you offer, even a bar of iron, if +placed endwise. And though the iron be indigestible, yet it serves to +fill: in feeding, the end proposed. For Mardi must have something to +exercise its digestion, though that something be forever indigestible. +And as fishermen for sport, throw two lumps of bait, united by a cord, +to albatrosses floating on the sea; which are greedily attempted to be +swallowed, one lump by this fowl, the other by that; but forever are +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.” + +“Will you never come to the mark, Babbalanja? Tell me something direct +of the stranger. Who, what is he? Introduce him.” + +“My lord, I can not. He is locked up in me. In a mask, he dodges me. He +prowls about in me, hither and thither; he peers, and I stare. This is +he who talks in my sleep, revealing my secrets; and takes me to unheard +of realms, beyond the skies of Mardi. So present is he always, that I +seem not so much to live of myself, as to be a mere apprehension of the +unaccountable being that is in me. Yet all the time, this being is I, +myself.” + +“Babbalanja,” said Media, “you have fairly turned yourself inside out.” + +“Yes, my lord,” said Mohi, “and he has so unsettled me, that I begin to +think all Mardi a square circle.” + +“How is that, Babbalanja,” said Media, “is a circle square?” + +“No, my lord, but ever since Mardi began, we Mardians have been +essaying our best to square it.” + +“Cleverly retorted. Now, Babbalanja, do you not imagine, that you may +do harm by disseminating these sophisms of yours; which like your devil +theory, would seem to relieve all Mardi from moral accountability?” + +“My lord, at bottom, men wear no bonds that other men can strike off; +and have no immunities, of which other men can deprive them. Tell a +good man that he is free to commit murder,—will he murder? Tell a +murderer that at the peril of his soul he indulges in murderous +thoughts,—will that make him a saint?” + +“Again on the verge, Babbalanja? Take not the leap, I say.” + +“I can leap no more, my lord. Already I am down, down, down.” + +“Philosopher,” said Media, “what with Azzageddi, and the mysterious +indweller you darkly hint of, I marvel not that you are puzzled to +decide upon your identity. But when do you seem most yourself?” + +“When I sleep, and dream not, my lord.” + +“Indeed?” + +“Why then, a fool’s cap might be put on you, and you would not know +it.” + +“The very turban he ought to wear,” muttered Mohi. + +“Yet, my lord, I live while consciousness is not mine, while to all +appearances I am a clod. And may not this same state of being, though +but alternate with me, be continually that of many dumb, passive +objects we so carelessly regard? Trust me, there are more things alive +than those that crawl, or fly, or swim. Think you, my lord, there is no +sensation in being a tree? feeling the sap in one’s boughs, the breeze +in one’s foliage? think you it is nothing to be a world? one of a herd, +bison-like, wending its way across boundless meadows of ether? In the +sight of a fowl, that sees not our souls, what are our own tokens of +animation? That we move, make a noise, have organs, pulses, and are +compounded of fluids and solids. And all these are in this Mardi as a +unit. Daily the slow, majestic throbbings of its heart are perceptible +on the surface in the tides of the la-goon. Its rivers are its veins; +when agonized, earthquakes are its throes; it shouts in the thunder, +and weeps in the shower; and as the body of a bison is covered with +hair, so Mardi is covered with grasses and vegetation, among which, we +parasitical things do but crawl, vexing and tormenting the patient +creature to which we cling. Nor yet, hath it recovered from the pain of +the first foundation that was laid. Mardi is alive to its axis. When +you pour water, does it not gurgle? When you strike a pearl shell, does +it not ring? Think you there is no sensation in being a rock?—To exist, +is to be; to be, is to be something: to be something, is—” + +“Go on,” said Media. + +“And what is it, to be something?” said Yoomy artlessly. “Bethink +yourself of what went before,” said Media. + +“Lose not the thread,” said Mohi. + +“It has snapped,” said Babbalanja. + +“I breathe again,” said Mohi. + +“But what a stepping-off place you came to then, philosopher,” said +Media. “By the way, is it not old Bardianna who says, that no Mardian +should undertake to walk, without keeping one foot foremost?” + +“To return to the vagueness of the notion I have of myself,” said +Babbalanja. + +“An appropriate theme,” said Media, “proceed.” + +“My lord,” murmured Mohi, “Is not this philosopher like a centipede? +Cut off his head, and still he crawls.” + +“There are times when I fancy myself a lunatic,” resumed Babbalanja. + +“Ah, now he’s beginning to talk sense,” whispered Mohi. + +“Surely you forget, Babbalanja,” said Media. “How many more theories +have you? First, you are possessed by a devil; then rent yourself out +to the indweller; and now turn yourself into a mad-house. You are +inconsistent.” + +“And for that very reason, my lord, not inconsistent; for the sum of my +inconsistencies makes up my consistency. And to be consistent to one’s +self, is often to be inconsistent to Mardi. Common consistency implies +unchangeableness; but much of the wisdom here below lives in a state of +transition.” + +“Ah!” murmured Mold, “my head goes round again.” + +“Azzageddi aside, then, my lord, and also, for the nonce, the +mysterious indweller, I come now to treat of myself as a lunatic. But +this last conceit is not so much based upon the madness of particular +actions, as upon the whole drift of my ordinary and hourly ones; those, +in which I most resemble all other Mardians. It seems like going +through with some nonsensical whim-whams, destitute of fixed purpose. +For though many of my actions seem to have objects, and all of them +somehow run into each other; yet, where is the grand result? To what +final purpose, do I walk about, eat, think, dream? To what great end, +does Mohi there, now stroke his beard?” + +“But I was doing it unconsciously,” said Mohi, dropping his hand, and +lifting his head. + +“Just what I would be at, old man. ‘What we do, we do blindly,’ says +old Bardianna. Many things we do, we do without knowing,—as with you +and your beard, Mohi. And many others we know not, in their true +bearing at least, till they are past. Are not half our lives spent in +reproaches for foregone actions, of the true nature and consequences of +which, we were wholly ignorant at the time? Says old Bardianna, ‘Did I +not so often feel an appetite for my yams, I should think every thing a +dream;’—so puzzling to him, seemed the things of this Mardi. But +Alla-Malolla goes further. Says he, ‘Let us club together, +fellow-riddles:—Kings, clowns, and intermediates. We are bundles of +comical sensations; we bejuggle ourselves into strange phantasies: we +are air, wind, breath, bubbles; our being is told in a tick.’” + +“Now, then, Babbalanja,” said Media, “what have you come to in all this +rhapsody? You everlastingly travel in a circle.” + +“And so does the sun in heaven, my lord; like me, it goes round, and +gives light as it goes. Old Bardianna, too, revolved. He says so +himself. In his roundabout chapter on Cycles and Epicycles, with Notes +on the Ecliptic, he thus discourseth:—‘All things revolve upon some +center, to them, fixed; for the centripetal is ever too much for the +centrifugal. Wherefore, it is a perpetual cycling with us, without +progression; and we fly round, whether we will or no. To stop, were to +sink into space. So, over and over we go, and round and round; +double-shuffle, on our axis, and round the sun.’ In an another place, +he says:—‘There is neither apogee nor perigee, north nor south, right +nor left; what to-night is our zenith, to-morrow is our nadir; stand as +we will, we stand on our heads; essay to spring into the air, and down +we come; here we stick; our very bones make glue.’” + +“Enough, enough, Babbalanja,” cried Media. “You are a very wise +Mardian; but the wisest Mardians make the most consummate fools.” + +“So they do, my lord; but I was interrupted. I was about to say, that +there is no place but the universe; no limit but the limitless; no +bottom but the bottomless.” + + + + +CHAPTER XL. +Of The Sorcerers In The Isle Of Minda + + +“Tiffin! tiffin!” cried Media; “time for tiffin! Up, comrades! and +while the mat is being spread, walk we to the bow, and inhale the +breeze for an appetite. Hark ye, Vee-Vee! forget not that calabash with +the sea-blue seal, and a round ring for a brand. Rare old stuff, that, +Mohi; older than you: the circumnavigator, I call it. My sire had a +canoe launched for the express purpose of carrying it thrice round +Mardi for a flavor. It was many moons on the voyage; the mariners never +sailed faster than three knots. Ten would spoil the best wine ever +floated.” + +Tiffin over, and the blue-sealed calabash all but hid in the great +cloud raised by our pipes, Media proposed to board it in the smoke. So, +goblet in hand, we all gallantly charged, and came off victorious from +the fray. + +Then seated again, and serenely puffing in a circle, the +circumnavigator meanwhile pleasantly going the rounds, Media called +upon Mohi for something entertaining. + +Now, of all the old gossips in Mardi, surely our delightful old +Diodorus was furnished with the greatest possible variety of histories, +chronicles, anecdotes, memoirs, legends, traditions, and biographies. +There was no end to the library he carried. In himself, he was the +whole history of Mardi, amplified, not abridged, in one volume. + +In obedience, then, to King Media’s command, Mohi regaled the company +with a narrative, in substance as follows:— + +In a certain quarter of the Archipelago was an island called Minda; and +in Minda were many sorcerers, employed in the social differences and +animosities of the people of that unfortunate land. If a Mindarian +deemed himself aggrieved or insulted by a countryman, he forthwith +repaired to one of these sorcerers; who, for an adequate consideration, +set to work with his spells, keeping himself in the dark, and directing +them against the obnoxious individual. And full soon, by certain +peculiar sensations, this individual, discovering what was going on, +would straightway hie to his own professor of the sable art, who, being +well feed, in due time brought about certain counter-charms, so that in +the end it sometimes fell out that neither party was gainer or loser, +save by the sum of his fees. + +But the worst of it was, that in some cases all knowledge of these +spells were at the outset hidden from the victim; who, hearing too late +of the mischief brewing, almost always fell a prey to his foe; which +calamity was held the height of the art. But as the great body of +sorcerers were about matched in point of skill, it followed that the +parties employing them were so likewise. Hence arose those interminable +contests, in which many moons were spent, both parties toiling after +their common destruction. + +Indeed, to say nothing of the obstinacy evinced by their employers, it +was marvelous, the pertinacity of the sorcerers themselves. To the very +last tooth in their employer’s pouches, they would stick to their +spells; never giving over till he was financially or physically +defunct. + +But much as they were vilified, no people in Minda were half so +disinterested as they. Certain indispensable conditions secured, some +of them were as ready to undertake the perdition of one man as another; +good, bad, or indifferent, it made little matter. + +What wonder, then, that such abominable mercenaries should cause a +mighty deal of mischief in Minda; privately going about, inciting +peaceable folks to enmities with their neighbors; and with marvelous +alacrity, proposing themselves as the very sorcerers to rid them of the +annoyances suggested as existing. + +Indeed, it even happened that a sorcerer would be secretly retained to +work spells upon a victim, who, from his bodily sensations, suspecting +something wrong, but knowing not what, would repair to that self-same +sorcerer, engaging him to counteract any mischief that might be +brewing. And this worthy would at once undertake the business; when, +having both parties in his hands, he kept them forever in suspense; +meanwhile seeing to it well, that they failed not in handsomely +remunerating him for his pains. + +At one time, there was a prodigious excitement about these sorcerers, +growing out of some alarming revelations concerning their practices. In +several villages of Minda, they were sought to be put down. But +fruitless the attempt; it was soon discovered that already their spells +were so spread abroad, and they themselves so mixed up with the +everyday affairs of the isle, that it was better to let their vocation +alone, than, by endeavoring to suppress it, breed additional troubles. +Ah! they were a knowing and a cunning set, those sorcerers; very hard +to overcome, cajole, or circumvent. + +But in the name of the Magi, what were these spells of theirs, so +potent and occult? On all hands it was agreed, that they derived their +greatest virtue from the fumes of certain compounds, whose +ingredients—horrible to tell—were mostly obtained from the human heart; +and that by variously mixing these ingredients, they adapted their +multifarious enchantments. + +They were a vain and arrogant race. Upon the strength of their dealing +in the dark, they affected even more mystery than belonged to them; +when interrogated concerning their science, would confound the inquirer +by answers couched in an extraordinary jargon, employing words almost +as long as anacondas. But all this greatly prevailed with the common +people. + +Nor was it one of the least remarkable things, that oftentimes two +sorcerers, contrarily employed upon a Mindarian,—one to attack, the +other to defend,—would nevertheless be upon the most friendly terms +with each other; which curious circumstance never begat the slightest +suspicions in the mind of the victim. + +Another phenomenon: If from any cause, two sorcerers fell out, they +seldom exercised their spells upon each other; ascribable to this, +perhaps,—that both being versed in the art, neither could hope to get +the advantage. + +But for all the opprobrium cast upon these sorcerers, part of which +they deserved, the evils imputed to them were mainly, though +indirectly, ascribable to the very persons who abused them; nay, to the +very persons who employed them; the latter being by far the loudest in +their vilifyings; for which, indeed, they had excellent reason. + +Nor was it to be denied, that in certain respects, the sorcerers were +productive of considerable good. The nature of their pursuits leading +them deep into the arcana of mind, they often lighted upon important +discoveries; along with much that was cumbersome, accumulated valuable +examples concerning the inner working of the hearts of the Mindarians; +and often waxed eloquent in elucidating the mysteries of iniquity. + +Yet was all this their lore graven upon so uncouth, outlandish, and +antiquated tablets, that it was all but lost to the mass of their +countrymen; and some old sachem of a wise man is quoted as having said, +that their treasures were locked up after such a fashion, that for old +iron, the key was worth more than the chest and its contents. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. +Chiefly Of Sing Bello + + +“Now Taji,” said Media, “with old Bello of the Hump whose island of +Dominora is before us, I am at variance.” + +“Ah! How so?” + +“A dull recital, but you shall have it.” + +And forthwith his Highness began. + +This princely quarrel originated, it seems, in a slight jostling +concerning the proprietorship of a barren islet in a very remote +quarter of the lagoon. At the outset the matter might have been easily +adjusted, had the parties but exchanged a few amicable words. But each +disdaining to visit the other, to discuss so trivial an affair, the +business of negotiating an understanding was committed to certain +plenipos, men with lengthy tongues, who scorned to utter a word short +of a polysyllable. + +Now, the more these worthies penetrated into the difficulty, the wider +became the breach; till what was at first a mere gap, became a yawning +gulf. + +But that which had perhaps tended more than any thing else to deepen +the variance of the kings, was hump-backed Bello’s dispatching to Odo, +as his thirtieth plenipo, a diminutive little negotiator, who all by +himself, in a solitary canoe, sailed over to have audience of Media; +into whose presence he was immediately ushered. + +Darting one glance at him, the king turned to his chieftains, and +said:—“By much straining of your eyes, my lords, can you perceive this +insignificant manikin? What! are there no tall men in Dominora, that +King Bello must needs send this dwarf hither?” + +And charging his attendents to feed the embassador extraordinary with +the soft pap of the cocoanut, and provide nurses during his stay, the +monarch retired from the arbor of audience. + +“As I am a man,” shouted the despised plenipo, raising himself on his +toes, “my royal master will resent this affront!—A dwarf, forsooth!— +Thank Oro, I am no long-drawn giant! There is as much stuff in me, as +in others; what is spread out in their clumsy carcasses, in me is +condensed. I am much in little! And that much, thou shalt know full +soon, disdainful King of Odo!” + +“Speak not against our lord the king,” cried the attendants. + +“And speak not ye to me, ye headless spear poles!” + +And so saying, under sufferance of being small, the plenipo was +permitted to depart unmolested; for all his bravadoes, fobbing his +credentials and affronts. + +Apprized of his servant’s ignoble reception, the choleric Bello burst +forth in a storm of passion; issuing orders for, one thousand conch +shells to be blown, and his warriors to assemble by land and by sea. + +But bethinking him of the hostilities that might ensue, the sagacious +Media hit upon an honorable expedient to ward off an event for which he +was then unprepared. With all haste he dispatched to the hump-backed +king a little dwarf of his own; who voyaging over to Dominora in a +canoe, sorry and solitary as that of Bello’s plenipo, in like manner, +received the same insults. The effect whereof, was, to strike a balance +of affronts; upon the principle, that a blow given, heals one received. + +Nevertheless, these proceedings but amounted to a postponement of +hostilities; for soon after, nothing prevented the two kings from +plunging into war, but the following judicious considerations. First: +Media was almost afraid of being beaten. Second: Bello was almost +afraid to conquer. Media, because he was inferior in men and arms; +Bello, because, his aggrandizement was already a subject of warlike +comment among the neighboring kings. + +Indeed, did the old chronicler Braid-Beard speak truth, there were some +tribes in Mardi, that accounted this king of Dominora a testy, +quarrelsome, rapacious old monarch; the indefatigable breeder of +contentions and wars; the elder brother of this household of nations, +perpetually essaying to lord it over the juveniles; and though his +patrimonial dominions were situated to the north of the lagoon, not the +slightest misunderstanding took place between the rulers of the most +distant islands, than this doughty old cavalier on a throne, forthwith +thrust his insolent spear into the matter, though it in no wise +concerned him, and fell to irritating all parties by his gratuitous +interference. + +Especially was he officious in the concerns of Porpheero, a neighboring +island, very large and famous, whose numerous broad valleys were +divided among many rival kings:—the king of Franko, a small-framed, +poodle-haired, fine, fiery gallant; finical in his tatooing; much given +to the dance and glory;—the king of Ibeereea, a tall and stately +cavalier, proud, generous, punctilious, temperate in wine; one hand +forever on his javelin, the other, in superstitious homage, lifted to +his gods; his limbs all over marks of stakes and crosses;—the king of +Luzianna; a slender, dark-browed thief; at times wrapped in a moody +robe, beneath which he fumbled something, as if it were a dagger; but +otherwise a sprightly troubadour, given to serenades and +moonlight;—-the many chiefs of sunny Latianna; minstrel monarchs, full +of song and sentiment; fiercer in love than war; glorious bards of +freedom; but rendering tribute while they sang;—the priest-king of +Vatikanna; his chest marked over with antique tatooings; his crown, a +cowl; his rusted scepter swaying over falling towers, and crumbling +mounds; full of the superstitious past; askance, eyeing the suspicious +time to come;—the king of Hapzaboro; portly, pleasant; a lover of wild +boar’s meat; a frequent quaffer from the can; in his better moods, much +fancying solid comfort;—the eight-and-thirty banded kings, chieftains, +seigniors, and oligarchies of the broad hill and dale of Tutoni; +clubbing together their domains, that none might wrest his neighbor’s; +an earnest race; deep thinkers, deeper drinkers; long pipes, long +heads; their wise ones given to mystic cogitations, and consultations +with the devil;—the twin kings of Zandinavia; hardy, frugal +mountaineers; upright of spine and heart; clad in skins of bears;—the +king of Jutlanda; much like their Highnesses of Zandinavia; a seal-skin +cap his crown; a fearless sailor of his frigid seas;—the king of +Muzkovi; a shaggy, icicled White-bear of a despot in the north; said to +reign over millions of acres of glaciers; had vast provinces of +snow-drifts, and many flourishing colonies among the floating icebergs. +Absolute in his rule as Predestination in metaphysics, did he command +all his people to give up the ghost, it would be held treason to die +last. Very precise and foppish in his imperial tastes was this monarch. +Disgusted with the want of uniformity in the stature of his subjects, +he was said to nourish thoughts of killing off all those below his +prescribed standard—six feet, long measure. Immortal souls were of no +account in his fatal wars; since, in some of his serf-breeding estates, +they were daily manufactured to order. + +Now, to all the above-mentioned monarchs, old Bello would frequently +dispatch heralds; announcing, for example, his unalterable resolution, +to espouse the cause of this king, against that; at the very time, +perhaps, that their Serene Superfluities, instead of crossing spears, +were touching flagons. And upon these occasions, the kings would often +send back word to old Bello, that instead of troubling himself with +their concerns, he might far better attend to his own; which, they +hinted, were in a sad way, and much needed reform. + +The royal old warrior’s pretext for these and all similar proceedings, +was the proper adjustment in Porpheero, of what he facetiously styled +the “Equipoise of Calabashes;” which he stoutly swore was essential to +the security of the various tribes in that country. + +“But who put the balance into thy hands, King Bello?” cried the +indignant nations. + +“Oro!” shouted the hump-backed king, shaking his javelin. + +Superadded to the paternal interest which Bello betrayed in the +concerns of the kings of Porpheero, according to our chronicler, he +also manifested no less interest in those of the remotest islands. +Indeed, where he found a rich country, inhabited by a people, deemed by +him barbarous and incapable of wise legislation, he sometimes relieved +them from their political anxieties, by assuming the dictatorship over +them. And if incensed at his conduct, they flew to their spears, they +were accounted rebels, and treated accordingly. But as old Mohi very +truly observed,—herein, Bello was not alone; for throughout Mardi, all +strong nations, as well as all strong men, loved to govern the weak. +And those who most taunted King Bello for his political rapacity, were +open to the very same charge. So with Vivenza, a distant island, at +times very loud in denunciations of Bello, as a great national brigand. +Not yet wholly extinct in Vivenza, were its aboriginal people, a race +of wild Nimrods and hunters, who year by year were driven further and +further into remoteness, till as one of their sad warriors said, after +continual removes along the log, his race was on the point of being +remorselessly pushed off the end. + +Now, Bello was a great geographer, and land surveyor, and gauger of the +seas. Terraqueous Mardi, he was continually exploring in quest of +strange empires. Much he loved to take the altitude of lofty mountains, +the depth of deep rivers, the breadth of broad isles. Upon the highest +pinnacles of commanding capes and promontories, he loved to hoist his +flag. He circled Mardi with his watch-towers: and the distant voyager +passing wild rocks in the remotest waters, was startled by hearing the +tattoo, or the reveille, beating from hump-backed Bello’s omnipresent +drum. Among Antartic glaciers, his shrill bugle calls mingled with the +scream of the gulls; and so impressed seemed universal nature with the +sense of his dominion, that the very clouds in heaven never sailed over +Dominora without rendering the tribute of a shower; whence the air of +Dominora was more moist than that of any other clime. + +In all his grand undertakings, King Bello was marvelously assisted by +his numerous fleets of war-canoes; his navy being the largest in Mardi. +Hence his logicians swore that the entire Lagoon was his; and that all +prowling whales, prowling keels, and prowling sharks were invaders. And +with this fine conceit to inspire them, his poets-laureat composed some +glorious old saltwater odes, enough to make your very soul sing to hear +them. + +But though the rest of Mardi much delighted to list to such noble +minstrelsy, they agreed not with Bello’s poets in deeming the lagoon +their old monarch’s hereditary domain. + +Once upon a time, the paddlers of the hump-backed king, meeting upon +the broad lagoon certain canoes belonging to the before-mentioned +island of Vivenza; these paddlers seized upon several of their +occupants; and feeling their pulses, declared them born men of +Dominora; and therefore, not free to go whithersoever they would; for, +unless they could somehow get themselves born over again, they must +forever remain subject to Bello. Shed your hair; nay, your skin, if you +will, but shed your allegiance you can not; while you have bones, they +are Bello’s. So, spite of all expostulations and attempts to prove +alibis, these luckless paddlers were dragged into the canoes of +Dominora, and commanded to paddle home their captors. + +Whereof hearing, the men of Vivenza were thrown into a great ferment; +and after a mighty pow-wow over their council fire, fitting out several +double-keeled canoes, they sallied out to sea, in quest of those, whom +they styled the wholesale corsairs of Dominora. + +But lucky perhaps it was, that at this juncture, in all parts of Mardi, +the fleets of the hump-backed king, were fighting, gunwale and gunwale, +alongside of numerous foes; else there had borne down upon the canoes +of the men of Vivenza so tremendous an armada, that the very swell +under its thousand prows might have flooded their scattered proas +forever out of sight. + +As it was, Bello dispatched a few of his smaller craft to seek out, and +incidentally run down the enemy; and without returning home, +straightway proceed upon more important enterprises. + +But it so chanced, that Bello’s crafts, one by one meeting the foe, in +most cases found the canoes of Vivenza much larger than their own; and +manned by more men, with hearts bold as theirs; whence, in the +ship-duels that ensued, they were worsted; and the canoes of Vivenza, +locking their yard-arms into those of the vanquished, very courteously +gallanted them into their coral harbors. + +Solely imputing these victories to their superior intrepidity and +skill, the people of Vivenza were exceedingly boisterous in their +triumph; raising such obstreperous peans, that they gave themselves +hoarse throats; insomuch, that according to Mohi, some of the present +generation are fain to speak through their noses. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. +Dominora And Vivenza + + +The three canoes still gliding on, some further particulars were +narrated concerning Dominora; and incidentally, of other isles. + +It seems that his love of wide dominion sometimes led the otherwise +sagacious Bello into the most extravagant actions. If the chance +accumulation of soil and drift-wood about any detached shelf of coral +in the lagoon held forth the remotest possibility of the eventual +existence of an islet there, with all haste he dispatched canoes to the +spot, to take prospective possession of the as yet nearly submarine +territory; and if possible, eject the zoophytes. + +During an unusually low tide, here and there baring the outer reef of +the Archipelago, Bello caused his royal spear to be planted upon every +place thus exposed, in token of his supreme claim thereto. + +Another anecdote was this: that to Dominora there came a rumor, that in +a distant island dwelt a man with an uncommonly large nose; of most +portentous dimensions, indeed; by the soothsayers supposed to +foreshadow some dreadful calamity. But disregarding these superstitious +conceits, Bello forthwith dispatched an agent, to discover whether this +huge promontory of a nose was geographically available; if so, to +secure the same, by bringing the proprietor back. + +Now, by sapient old Mohi, it was esteemed a very happy thing for Mardi +at large, that the subjects whom Bello sent to populate his foreign +acquisitions, were but too apt to throw off their vassalage, so soon as +they deemed themselves able to cope with him. + +Indeed, a fine country in the western part of Mardi, in this very +manner, became a sovereign—nay, a republican state. It was the nation +to which Mohi had previously alluded—Vivenza. But in the flush and +pride of having recently attained their national majority, the men of +Vivenza were perhaps too much inclined to carry a vauntful crest. And +because intrenched in their fastnesses, after much protracted fighting, +they had eventually succeeded in repelling the warriors dispatched by +Bello to crush their insurrection, they were unanimous in the opinion, +that the hump-backed king had never before been so signally chastised. +Whereas, they had not so much vanquished Bello, as defended their +shores; even as a young lion will protect its den against legions of +unicorns, though, away from home, he might be torn to pieces. In truth, +Braid-Beard declared, that at the time of this war, Dominora couched +ten long spears for every short javelin Vivenza could dart; though the +javelins were stoutly hurled as the spears. + +But, superior in men and arms, why, at last, gave over King Bello the +hope of reducing those truculent men of Vivenza? One reason was, as +Mohi said, that many of his fighting men were abundantly occupied in +other quarters of Mardi; nor was he long in discovering that fight he +never so valiantly, Vivenza—not yet its inhabitants—was wholly +unconquerable. Thought Bello, Mountains are sturdy foes; fate hard to +dam. + +Yet, the men of Vivenza were no dastards; not to lie, coming from +lion-like loins, they were a lion-loined race. Did not their bards +pronounce them a fresh start in the Mardian species; requiring a new +world for their full development? For be it known, that the great land +of Kolumbo, no inconsiderable part of which was embraced by Vivenza, +was the last island discovered in the Archipelago. + +In good round truth, and as if an impartialist from Arcturus spoke it, +Vivenza was a noble land. Like a young tropic tree she stood, laden +down with greenness, myriad blossoms, and the ripened fruit +thick-hanging from one bough. She was promising as the morning. + +Or Vivenza might be likened to St. John, feeding on locusts and wild +honey, and with prophetic voice, crying to the nations from the +wilderness. Or, child-like, standing among the old robed kings and +emperors of the Archipelago, Vivenza seemed a young Messiah, to whose +discourse the bearded Rabbis bowed. + +So seemed Vivenza in its better aspect. Nevertheless, Vivenza was a +braggadocio in Mardi; the only brave one ever known. As an army of +spurred and crested roosters, her people chanticleered at the +resplendent rising of their sun. For shame, Vivenza! Whence thy +undoubted valor? Did ye not bring it with ye from the bold old shores +of Dominora, where there is a fullness of it left? What isle but +Dominora could have supplied thee with that stiff spine of thine?— That +heart of boldest beat? Oh, Vivenza! know that true grandeur is too big +for a boast; and nations, as well as men, may be too clever to be +great. + +But what more of King Bello? Notwithstanding his territorial +acquisitiveness, and aversion to relinquishing stolen nations, he was +yet a glorious old king; rather choleric—a word and a blow—but of a +right royal heart. Rail at him as they might, at bottom, all the isles +were proud of him. And almost in spite of his rapacity, upon the whole, +perhaps, they were the better for his deeds. For if sometimes he did +evil with no very virtuous intentions, he had fifty, ways of +accomplishing good with the best; and a thousand ways of doing good +without meaning it. According to an ancient oracle, the hump-backed +monarch was but one of the most conspicuous pieces on a board, where +the gods played for their own entertainment. + +But here it must not be omitted, that of late, King Bello had somewhat +abated his efforts to extend his dominions. Various causes were +assigned. Some thought it arose from the fact that already he found his +territories too extensive for one scepter to rule; that his more remote +colonies largely contributed to his tribulations, without +correspondingly contributing to his revenues. Others affirmed that his +hump was getting too mighty for him to carry; others still, that the +nations were waving too strong for him. With prophetic solemnity, +head-shaking sages averred that he was growing older and older had +passed his grand climacteric; and though it was a hale old age with +him, yet it was not his lusty youth; that though he was daily getting +rounder, and rounder in girth, and more florid of face, that these, +howbeit, were rather the symptoms of a morbid obesity, than of a +healthful robustness. These wise ones predicted that very soon poor +Bello would go off in an apoplexy. + +But in Vivenza there were certain blusterers, who often thus prated: +“The Hump-back’s hour is come; at last the old teamster will be gored +by the nations he’s yoked; his game is done,—let him show his hand and +throw up his scepter; he cumbers Mardi,—let him be cut down and burned; +he stands in the way of his betters,—let him sheer to one side; he has +shut up many eyes, and now himself grows blind; he hath committed +horrible atrocities during his long career, the old sinner! —now, let +him quickly say his prayers and be beheaded.” + +Howbeit, Bello lived on; enjoying his dinners, and taking his jorums as +of yore. Ah, I have yet a jolly long lease of life, thought he over his +wine; and like unto some obstinate old uncle, he persisted in +flourishing, in spite of the prognostications of the nephew nations, +which at his demise, perhaps hoped to fall heir to odd parts of his +possessions: Three streaks of fat valleys to one of lean mountains! + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. +They Land At Dominora + + +As erewhile recounted, not being on the best terms in Mardi with the +King of Dominora, Media saw fit to draw nigh unto his dominions in +haughty state; he (Media) being upon excellent terms with himself. Our +sails were set, our paddles paddling, streamers streaming, and Vee-Vee +in the shark’s mouth, clamorous with his conch. The din was soon heard; +and sweeping into a fine broad bay we beheld its margin seemingly +pebbled in the distance with heads; so populous the land. + +Winding through a noble valley, we presently came to Bello’s palace, +couchant and bristling in a grove. The upright canes composing its +front projected above the eaves in a long row of spear-heads fluttering +with scarlet pennons; while below, from the intervals of the canes, +were slantingly thrust three tiers of decorated lances. A warlike +aspect! The entire structure looking like the broadside of the +Macedonian phalanx, advancing to the charge, helmeted with a roof. + +“Ah, Bello,” said Media, “thou dwellest among thy quills like the +porcupine.” + +“I feel a prickly heat coming over me,” cried Mohi, “my lord Media, let +us enter.” + +“Ay,” said Babbalanja, “safer the center of peril, than the +circumference.” + +Passing under an arch, formed by two pikes crossed, we found ourselves +targets in prospective, for certain flingers of javelins, with poised +weapons, occupying the angles of the palace. + +Fronting us, stood a portly old warrior, spear in hand, hump on back, +and fire in eye. + +“Is it war?” he cried, pointing his pike, “or peace?” reversing it. + +“Peace,” said Media. + +Whereupon advancing, King Bello courteously welcomed us. + +He was an arsenal to behold: Upon his head the hereditary crown of +Dominora,—a helmet of the sea-porcupine’s hide, bristling all over with +spikes, in front displaying a river-horse’s horn, leveled to the +charge; thrust through his ears were barbed arrows; and from his dyed +shark-skin girdle, depended a kilt of strung javelins. + +The broad chest of Bello was the chart of Mardi. Tattooed in sea-blue +were all the groups and clusters of the Archipelago; and every time he +breathed, rose and fell the isles, as by a tide: Dominora full upon his +heart. + +His sturdy thighs were his triumphal arch; whereon in numerous +medallions, crests, and shields, were blazoned all his victories by sea +and land. + +His strong right arm was Dominora’s scroll of Fame, where all her +heroes saw their names recorded.—An endless roll! + +Our chronicler avouched, that on the sole of Bello’s dexter foot was +stamped the crest of Franko’s king, his hereditary foe. “Thus, thus,” +cried Bello, stamping, “thus I hourly crush him.” + +In stature, Bello was a mountaineer; but, as over some tall tower +impends the hill-side cliff, so Bello’s Athos hump hung over him. Could +it be, as many of his nobles held, that the old monarch’s hump was his +sensorium and source of strength; full of nerves, muscles, ganglions +and tendons? Yet, year by year it grew, ringed like the bole of his +palms. The toils of war increased it. But another skirmish with the +isles, said the wiseacres of Porpheero, and Bello’s mount will crush +him. + +Against which calamity to guard, his medicos and Sangredos sought the +hump’s reduction. But down it would not come. Then by divers mystic +rites, his magi tried. Making a deep pit, many teeth they dropped +therein. But they could not fill it. Hence, they called it the Sinking +Pit, for bottom it had none. Nevertheless, the magi said, when this pit +is filled, Bello’s hump you’ll see no more. “Then, hurrah for the +hump!” cried the nobles, “for he will never hurl it off. Long life to +the hump! By the hump we will rally and die! Cheer up, King Bello! +Stand up, old king!” + +But these were they, who when their sovereign went abroad, with that +Athos on his back, followed idly in its shade; while Bello leaned +heavily upon his people, staggering as they went. + +Ay, sorely did Bello’s goodly stature lean; but though many swore he +soon must fall; nevertheless, like Pisa’s Leaning Tower, he may long +lean over, yet never nod. + +Visiting Dominora in a friendly way, in good time, we found King Bello +very affable; in hospitality, almost exceeding portly Borabolla: +October-plenty reigned throughout his palace borders. + +Our first reception over, a sumptuous repast was served, at which much +lively talk was had. + +Of Taji, Bello sought to know, whether his solar Majesty had yet made a +province of the moon; whether the Astral hosts were of much account as +territories, or mere Motoos, as the little tufts of verdure are +denominated, here and there clinging to Mardi’s circle reef; whether +the people in the sun vilified, him (Bello) as they did in Mardi; and +what they thought of an event, so ominous to the liberties of the +universe, as the addition to his navy of three large canoes. + +Ere long, so fused in social love we grew, that Bello, filling high his +can, and clasping Media’s palm, drank everlasting amity with Odo. + +So over their red cups, the two kings forgot their differences, and +concerning the disputed islet nothing more was ever heard; especially, +as it so turned out, that while they were most hot about it, it had +suddenly gone out of sight, being of volcanic origin. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. +Through Dominora, They Wander After Yillah + + +At last, withdrawing from the presence of King Bello, we went forth, +still intent on our search. + +Many brave sights we saw. Fair fields; the whole island a garden; green +hedges all round; neat lodges, thick as white mice in the landscape; +old oak woods, hale and hearty as ever; old temples buried in ivy; old +shrines of old heroes, deep buried in broad groves of bay trees; old +rivers laden down with heavy-freighted canoes; humped hills, like +droves of camels, piled up with harvests; every sign and token of a +glorious abundance, every sign and token of generations of renown. Rare +sight! fine sight! none rarer, none finer in Mardi. + +But roving on through this ravishing region, we passed through a corn- +field in full beard, where a haggard old reaper laid down his hook, +beseeching charity for the sake of the gods.—“Bread, bread! or I die +mid these sheaves!” + +“Thrash out your grain, and want not.” + +“Alas, masters, this grain is not mine; I plough, I sow, I reap, I +bind, I stack,—Lord Primo garners.” + +Rambling on, we came to a hamlet, hidden in a hollow; and beneath +weeping willows saw many mournful maidens seated on a bank; beside +each, a wheel that was broken. “Lo, we starve,” they cried, “our +distaffs are snapped; no more may we weave and spin!” + +Then forth issued from vaults clamorous crowds of men, hands tied to +their backs.—“Bread! Bread!” they cried. “The magician hath turned us +out from our glen, where we labored of yore in the days of the merry +Green Queen. He has pinioned us hip and arm that we starve. Like sheep +we die off with the rot.—Curse on the magician. A curse on his spell.” + +Bending our steps toward the glen, roaring down the rocks we descried a +stream from the mountains. But ere those waters gained the sea, vassal +tribute they rendered. Conducted through culverts and moats, they +turned great wheels, giving life to ten thousand fangs and fingers, +whose gripe no power could withstand, yet whose touch was soft as the +velvet paw of a kitten. With brute force, they heaved down great +weights, then daintily wove and spun; like the trunk of the elephant, +which lays lifeless a river-horse, and counts the pulses of a moth. On +all sides, the place seemed alive with its spindles. Round and round, +round and round; throwing off wondrous births at every revolving; +ceaseless as the cycles that circle in heaven. Loud hummed the loom, +flew the shuttle like lightning, red roared the grim forge, rung anvil +and sledge; yet no mortal was seen. + +“What ho, magician! Come forth from thy cave!” + +But all deaf were the spindles, as the mutes, that mutely wait on the +Sultan. + +“Since we are born, we will live!” so we read on a crimson banner, +flouting the crimson clouds, in the van of a riotous red-bonneted mob, +racing by us as we came from the glen. Many more followed: black, or +blood-stained:—. + +“Mardi is man’s!” + +“Down with landholders!” + +“Our turn now!” + +“Up rights! Down wrongs!” + +“Bread! Bread!” + +“Take the tide, ere it turns!” + +Waving their banners, and flourishing aloft clubs, hammers, and +sickles, with fierce yells the crowd ran on toward the palace of Bello. +Foremost, and inciting the rest by mad outcries and gestures, were six +masks; “This way! This way!” they cried,—“by the wood; by the dark +wood!” Whereupon all darted into the groves; when of a sudden, the +masks leaped forward, clearing a long covered trench, into which fell +many of those they led. But on raced the masks; and gaining Bello’s +palace, and raising the alarm, there sallied from thence a woodland of +spears, which charged upon the disordered ranks in the grove. A crash +as of icicles against icebergs round Zembla, and down went the hammers +and sickles. The host fled, hotly pursued. Meanwhile brave heralds from +Bello advanced, and with chaplets crowned the six masks.—“Welcome, +heroes! worthy and valiant!” they cried. “Thus our lord Bello rewards +all those, who to do him a service, for hire betray their kith and +their kin.” + +Still pursuing our quest, wide we wandered through all the sun and +shade of Dominora; but nowhere was Yillah found. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. +They Behold King Bello’s State Canoe + + +At last, bidding adieu to King Bello; and in the midst of the lowing of +oxen, breaking away from his many hospitalities, we departed for the +beach. But ere embarking, we paused to gaze at an object, which long +fixed our attention. + +Now, as all bold cavaliers have ever delighted in special chargers, +gayly caparisoned, whereon upon grand occasions to sally forth upon the +plains: even so have maritime potentates ever prided themselves upon +some holiday galley, splendidly equipped, wherein to sail over the sea. + +When of old, glory-seeking Jason, attended by his promising young +lieutenants, Castor and Pollux, embarked on that hardy adventure to +Colchis, the brave planks of the good ship Argos he trod, its model a +swan to behold. + +And when Trojan Aeneas wandered West, and discovered the pleasant land +of Latium, it was in the fine craft Bis Taurus that he sailed: its +stern gloriously emblazoned, its prow a leveled spear. + +And to the sound of sackbut and psaltery, gliding down the Nile, in the +pleasant shade of its pyramids to welcome mad Mark, Cleopatra was +throned on the cedar quarter-deck of a glorious gondola, silk and satin +hung; its silver plated oars, musical as flutes. So, too, Queen Bess +was wont to disport on old Thames. + +And tough Torf-Egill, the Danish Sea-king, reckoned in his stud, a +slender yacht; its masts young Zetland firs; its prow a seal, dog-like +holding a sword-fish blade. He called it the Grayhound, so swift was +its keel; the Sea-hawk, so blood-stained its beak. + +And groping down his palace stairs, the blind old Doge Dandolo, oft +embarked in his gilded barge, like the lord mayor setting forth in +civic state from Guildhall in his chariot. But from another sort of +prow leaped Dandolo, when at Constantinople, he foremost sprang ashore, +and with a right arm ninety years old, planted the standard of St. Mark +full among the long chin-pennons of the long-bearded Turks. + +And Kumbo Sama, Emperor of Japan, had a dragon-beaked junk, a floating +Juggernaut, wherein he burnt incense to the sea-gods. + +And Kannakoko, King of New Zealand; and the first Tahitian Pomaree; and +the Pelew potentate, each possessed long state canoes; sea-snakes, all; +carved over like Chinese card-cases, and manned with such scores of +warriors, that dipping their paddles in the sea, they made a commotion +like shoals of herring. + +What wonder then, that Bello of the Hump, the old sea-king of Mardi, +should sport a brave ocean-chariot? + +In a broad arbor by the water-side, it was housed like Alp Arsian’s +war-horse, or the charger Caligula deified; upon its stern a wilderness +of sculpture:—shell-work, medal-lions, masques, griffins, gulls, ogres, +finned-lions, winged walruses; all manner of sea-cavalry, crusading +centaurs, crocodiles, and sharks; and mermen, and mermaids, and Neptune +only knows all. + +And in this craft, Doge-like, yearly did King Bello stand up and wed +with the Lagoon. But the custom originated not in the manner of the +Doge’s, which was as follows; so, at least, saith Ghibelli, who tells +all about it:— + +When, in a stout sea-fight, Ziani defeated Barbarossa’s son Otho, +sending his feluccas all flying, like frightened water-fowl from a +lake, then did his Holiness, the Pope, present unto him a ring; saying, +“Take this, oh Ziani, and with it, the sea for thy bride; and every +year wed her again.” + +So the Doge’s tradition; thus Bello’s:— + +Ages ago, Dominora was circled by a reef, which expanding in proportion +to the extension of the isle’s naval dominion, in due time embraced the +entire lagoon; and this marriage ring zoned all the world. + +But if the sea was King Bello’s bride, an Adriatic Tartar he wedded; +who, in her mad gales of passions, often boxed about his canoes, and +led his navies a very boisterous life indeed. + +And hostile prognosticators opined, that ere long she would desert her +old lord, and marry again. Already, they held, she had made advances in +the direction of Vivenza. + +But truly, should she abandon old Bello, he would straight-way after +her with all his fleets; and never rest till his queen was regained. + +Now, old sea-king! look well to thy barge of state: for, peradventure, +the dry-rot may be eating into its keel; and the wood-worms exploring +into its spars. + +Without heedful tending, any craft will decay; yet, for ever may its +first, fine model be preserved, though its prow be renewed every +spring, like the horns of the deer, if, in repairing, plank be put for +plank, rib for rib, in exactest similitude. Even so, then, oh Bello! do +thou with thy barge. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. +Wherein Babbalanja Bows Thrice + + +The next morning’s twilight found us once more afloat; and yielding to +that almost sullen feeling, but too apt to prevail with some mortals at +that hour, all but Media long remained silent. + +But now, a bright mustering is seen among the myriad white Tartar tents +in the Orient; like lines of spears defiling upon some upland plain, +the sunbeams thwart the sky. And see! amid the blaze of banners, and +the pawings of ten thousand thousand golden hoofs, day’s mounted +Sultan, Xerxes-like, moves on: the Dawn his standard, East and West his +cymbals. + +“Oh, morning life!” cried Yoomy, with a Persian air; “would that all +time were a sunrise, and all life a youth.” + +“Ah! but these striplings whimper of youth,” said Mohi, caressing his +braids, “as if they wore this beard.” + +“But natural, old man,” said Babbalanja. “We Mardians never seem young +to ourselves; childhood is to youth what manhood is to age:—something +to be looked back upon, with sorrow that it is past. But childhood +reeks of no future, and knows no past; hence, its present passes in a +vapor.” + +“Mohi, how’s your appetite this morning?” said Media. + +“Thus, thus, ye gods,” sighed Yoomy, “is feeling ever scouted. Yet, +what might seem feeling in me, I can not express.” + +“A good commentary on old Bardianna, Yoomy,” said Babbalanja, “who +somewhere says, that no Mardian can out with his heart, for his +unyielding ribs are in the way. And indeed, pride, or something akin +thereto, often holds check on sentiment. My lord, there are those who +like not to be detected in the possession of a heart.” + +“Very true, Babbalanja; and I suppose that pride was at the bottom of +your old Ponderer’s heartless, unsentimental, bald-pated style.” + +“Craving pardon, my lord is deceived. Bardianna was not at all proud; +though he had a queer way of showing the absence of pride. In his +essay, entitled,—“On the Tendency to curl in Upper Lips,” he thus +discourses. “We hear much of pride and its sinfulness in this Mardi +wherein we dwell: whereas, I glory in being brimmed with it;—my sort of +pride. In the presence of kings, lords, palm-trees, and all those who +deem themselves taller than myself, I stand stiff as a pike, and will +abate not one vertebra of my stature. But accounting no Mardian my +superior, I account none my inferior; hence, with the social, I am ever +ready to be sociable.” + +“An agrarian!” said Media; “no doubt he would have made the headsman +the minister of equality.” + +“At bottom we are already equal, my honored lord,” said Babbalanja, +profoundly bowing—“One way we all come into Mardi, and one way we +withdraw. Wanting his yams a king will starve, quick as a clown; and +smote on the hip, saith old Bardianna, he will roar as loud as the next +one.” + +“Roughly worded, that, Babbalanja.—Vee-Vee! my crown!—So; now, +Babbalanja, try if you can not polish Bardianna’s style in that last +saying you father upon him.” + +“I will, my ever honorable lord,” said Babbalanja, salaming. “Thus +we’ll word it, then: In their merely Mardian nature, the sublimest +demi-gods are subject to infirmities; for struck by some keen shaft, +even a king ofttimes dons his crown, fearful of future darts.” + +“Ha, ha!—well done, Babbalanja; but I bade you polish, not sharpen the +arrow.” + +“All one, my thrice honored lord;—to polish is not to blunt.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. +Babbalanja Philosophizes, And My Lord Media Passes Round The Calabashes + + +An interval of silence passed; when Media cried, “Out upon thee, Yoomy! +curtail that long face of thine.” + +“How can he, my lord,” said Mohi, “when he is thinking of furlongs?” + +“Fathoms you mean, Mohi; see you not he is musing over the gunwale? And +now, minstrel, a banana for thy thoughts. Come, tell me how you poets +spend so many hours in meditation.” + +“My lord, it is because, that when we think, we think so little of +ourselves.” + +“I thought as much,” said Mohi, “for no sooner do I undertake to be +sociable with myself, than I am straightway forced to beat a retreat.” + +“Ay, old man,” said Babbalanja, “many of us Mardians are but sorry +hosts to ourselves. Some hearts are hermits.” + +“If not of yourself, then, Yoomy, of whom else do you think?” asked +Media. + +“My lord, I seldom think,” said Yoomy, “I but give ear to the voices in +my calm.” + +“Did Babbalanja speak?” said Media. “But no more of your reveries;” and +so saying Media gradually sunk into a reverie himself. + +The rest did likewise; and soon, with eyes enchanted, all reclined: +gazing at each other, witless of what we did. + +It was Media who broke the spell; calling for Vee-Vee our page, his +calabashes and cups, and nectarines for all. + +Eyeing his goblet, Media at length threw himself back, and said: +“Babbalanja, not ten minutes since, we were all absent-minded; now, how +would you like to step out of your body, in reality; and, as a spirit, +haunt some shadowy grove?” + +“But our lungs are not wholly superfluous, my lord,” said Babbalanja, +speaking loud. + +“No, nor our lips,” said Mohi, smacking his over his wine. + +“But could you really be disembodied here in Mardi, Babbalanja, how +would you fancy it?” said Media. + +“My lord,” said Babbalanja, speaking through half of a nectarine, +“defer putting that question, I beseech, till after my appetite is +satisfied; for, trust me, no hungry mortal would forfeit his palate, to +be resolved into the impalpable.” + +“Yet pure spirits we must all become at last, Babbalanja,” said Yoomy, +“even the most ignoble.” + +“Yes, so they say, Yoomy; but if all boors be the immortal sires of +endless dynasties of immortals, how little do our pious patricians bear +in mind their magnificent destiny, when hourly they scorn their +companionship. And if here in Mardi they can not abide an equality with +plebeians, even at the altar; how shall they endure them, side by side, +throughout eternity? But since the prophet Alma asserts, that Paradise +is almost entirely made up of the poor and despised, no wonder that +many aristocrats of our isles pursue a career, which, according to some +theologies, must forever preserve the social distinctions so sedulously +maintained in Mardi. And though some say, that at death every thing +earthy is removed from the spirit, so that clowns and lords both stand +on a footing; yet, according to the popular legends, it has ever been +observed of the ghosts of boors when revisiting Mardi, that invariably +they rise in their smocks. And regarding our intellectual equality +here, how unjust, my lord, that after whole years of days end nights +consecrated to the hard gaining of wisdom, the wisest Mardian of us all +should in the end find the whole sum of his attainments, at one leap +outstripped by the veriest dunce, suddenly inspired by light divine. +And though some hold, that all Mardian lore is vain, and that at death +all mysteries will be revealed; yet, none the less, do they toil and +ponder now. Thus, their tongues have one mind, and their understanding +another.” + +“My lord,” said Mohi, “we have come to the lees; your pardon, +Babbalanja.” + +“Then, Vee-Vee, another calabash! Fill up, Mohi; wash down wine with +wine. Your cup, Babbalanja; any lees?” + +“Plenty, my lord; we philosophers come to the lees very soon.” + +“Flood them over, then; but cease not discoursing; thanks be to the +gods, your mortal palates and tongues can both wag together; fill up, I +say, Babbalanja; you are no philosopher, if you stop at the tenth cup; +endurance is the test of philosophy all Mardi over; drink, I say, and +make us wise by precept and example.—Proceed, Yoomy, you look as if you +had something to say.” + +“Thanks, my lord. Just now, Babbalanja, you flew from the subject;— you +spoke of boors; but has not the lowliest peasant an eye that can take +in the vast horizon at a sweep: mountains, vales, plains, and oceans? +Is such a being nothing?” + +“But can that eye see itself, Yoomy?” said Babbalanja, winking. “Taken +out of its socket, will it see at all? Its connection with the body +imparts to it its virtue.” + +“He questions every thing,” cried Mohi. “Philosopher, have you a head?” + +“I have,” said Babbalanja, feeling for it; “I am finished off at the +helm very much as other Mardians, Mohi.” + +“My lord, the first yea that ever came from him.” + +“Ah, Mohi,” said Media, “the discourse waxes heavy. I fear me we have +again come to the lees. Ho, Vee-Vee, a fresh calabash; and with it we +will change the subject. Now, Babbalanja, I have this cup to drink, and +then a question to propound. Ah, Mohi, rare old wine this; it smacks of +the cork. But attention, Philosopher. Supposing you had a wife—which, +by the way, you have not—would you deem it sensible in her to imagine +you no more, because you happened to stroll out of her sight?” + +“However that might be,” murmured Yoomy, “young Nina bewailed herself a +widow, whenever Arhinoo, her lord, was absent from her side.” + +“My lord Media,” said Babbalanja, “During my absence, my wife would +have more reason to conclude that I was not living, than that I was. To +the former supposition, every thing tangible around her would tend; to +the latter, nothing but her own fond fancies. It is this imagination of +ours, my lord, that is at the bottom of these things. When I am in one +place, there exists no other. Yet am I but too apt to fancy the +reverse. Nevertheless, when I am in Odo, talk not to me of Ohonoo. To +me it is not, except when I am there. If it be, prove it. To prove it, +you carry me thither but you only prove, that to its substantive +existence, as cognizant to me, my presence is indispensable. I say +that, to me, all Mardi exists by virtue of my sovereign pleasure; and +when I die, the universe will perish with me.” + +“Come you of a long-lived race,” said Mohi, “one free from apoplexies? +I have many little things to accomplish yet, and would not be left in +the lurch.” + +“Heed him not, Babbalanja,” said Media. “Dip your beak again, my eagle, +and soar.” + +“Let us be eagles, then, indeed, my lord: eagle-like, let us look at +this red wine without blinking; let us grow solemn, not boisterous, +with good cheer.” + +Then, lifting his cup, “My lord, serenely do I pity all who are stirred +one jot from their centers by ever so much drinking of this fluid. Ply +him hard as you will, through the live-long polar night, a wise man can +not be made drunk. Though, toward sunrise, his body may reel, it will +reel round its center; and though he make many tacks in going home, he +reaches it at last; while scores of over-plied fools are foundering by +the way. My lord, when wild with much thought, ’tis to wine I fly, to +sober me; its magic fumes breathe over me like the Indian summer, which +steeps all nature in repose. To me, wine is no vulgar fire, no fosterer +of base passions; my heart, ever open, is opened still wider; and +glorious visions are born in my brain; it is then that I have all Mardi +under my feet, and the constellations of the firmament in my soul.” + +“Superb!” cried Yoomy. + +“Pooh, pooh!” said Mohi, “who does not see stars at such times? I see +the Great Bear now, and the little one, its cub; and Andromeda, and +Perseus’ chain-armor, and Cassiopea in her golden chair, and the +bright, scaly Dragon, and the glittering Lyre, and all the jewels in +Orion’s sword-hilt.” + +“Ay,” cried Media, “the study of astronomy is wonderfully facilitated +by wine. Fill up, old Ptolemy, and tell us should you discover a new +planet. Methinks this fluid needs stirring. Ho, Vee-Vee, my scepter! be +we sociable. But come, Babbalanja, my gold-headed aquila, return to +your theme;—the imagination, if you please.” + +“Well, then, my lord, I was about to say, that the imagination is the +Voli-Donzini; or, to speak plainer, the unical, rudimental, and all- +comprehending abstracted essence of the infinite remoteness of things. +Without it, we were grass-hoppers.” + +“And with it, you mortals are little else; do you not chirp all over, +Mohi? By my demi-god soul, were I not what I am, this wine would almost +get the better of me.” + +“Without it—” continued Babbalanja. + +“Without what?” demanded Media, starting to his feet. “This wine? +Traitor, I’ll stand by this to the last gasp, you are inebriated, +Babbalanja.” + +“Perhaps so, my lord; but I was treating of the imagination, may it +please you.” + +“My lord,” added Mohi, “of the unical, and rudimental fundament of +things, you remember.” + +“Ah! there’s none of them sober; proceed, proceed, Azzageddi!” + +“My lord waves his hand like a banner,” murmured Yoomy. + +“Without imagination, I say, an armless man, born, blind, could not be +made to believe, that he had a head of hair, since he could neither see +it, nor feel it, nor has hair any feeling of itself.” + +“Methinks though,” said Mohi, “if the cripple had a Tartar for a wife, +he would not remain skeptical long.” + +“You all fly off at tangents,” cried Media, “but no wonder: your mortal +brains can not endure much quaffing. Return to your subject, +Babbalanja. Assume now, Babbalanja,—assume, my dear prince—assume it, +assume it, I say!—Why don’t you?” + +“I am willing to assume any thing you please, my lord: what is it?” + +“Ah! yes!—Assume that—that upon returning home, you should find your +wife had newly wedded, under the—the—the metaphysical presumption, that +being no longer visible, you—_you_ Azzageddi, had departed this life; +in other words, out of sight, out of mind; what then, my dear prince?” + +“Why then, my lord, I would demolish my rival in a trice.” + +“Would you?—then—then so much for your metaphysics, Bab—Babbalanja.” + +Babbalanja rose to his feet, muttering to himself—“Is this assumed, or +real?—Can a demi-god be mastered by wine? Yet, the old mythologies make +bacchanals of the gods. But he was wondrous keen! He felled me, ere he +fell himself.” + +“Yoomy, my lord Media is in a very merry mood to-day,” whispered Mohi, +“but his counterfeit was not well done. No, no, a bacchanal is not used +to be so logical in his cups.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. +They Sail Round An Island Without Landing; And Talk Round A Subject +Without Getting At It + + +Purposing a visit to Kaleedoni, a country integrally united to +Dominora, our course now lay northward along the western white cliffs +of the isle. But finding the wind ahead, and the current too strong for +our paddlers, we were fain to forego our destination; Babbalanja +observing, that since in Dominora we had not found Yillah, then in +Kaleedoni the maiden could not be lurking. + +And now, some conversation ensued concerning the country we were +prevented from visiting. Our chronicler narrated many fine things of +its people; extolling their bravery in war, their amiability in peace, +their devotion in religion, their penetration in philosophy, their +simplicity and sweetness in song, their loving-kindness and frugality +in all things domestic:—running over a long catalogue of heroes, +meta-physicians, bards, and good men. + +But as all virtues are convertible into vices, so in some cases did the +best traits of these people degenerate. Their frugality too often +became parsimony; their devotion grim bigotry; and all this in a +greater degree perhaps than could be predicated of the more immediate +subjects of King Bello. + +In Kaleedoni was much to awaken the fervor of its bards. Upland and +lowland were full of the picturesque; and many unsung lyrics yet lurked +in her glens. Among her blue, heathy hills, lingered many tribes, who +in their wild and tattooed attire, still preserved the garb of the +mightiest nation of old times. They bared the knee, in token that it +was honorable as the face, since it had never been bent. + +While Braid-Beard was recounting these things, the currents were +sweeping us over a strait, toward a deep green island, bewitching to +behold. + +Not greener that midmost terrace of the Andes, which under a torrid +meridian steeps fair Quito in the dews of a perpetual spring;—not +greener the nine thousand feet of Pirohitee’s tall peak, which, rising +from out the warm bosom of Tahiti, carries all summer with it into the +clouds;—nay, not greener the famed gardens of Cyrus,—than the vernal +lawn, the knoll, the dale of beautiful Verdanna. + +“Alas, sweet isle! Thy desolation is overrun with vines,” sighed Yoomy, +gazing. + +“Land of caitiff curs!” cried Media. + +“Isle, whose future is in its past. Hearth-stone, from which its +children run,” said Babbalanja. + +“I can not read thy chronicles for blood, Verdanna,” murmured Mohi. + +Gliding near, we would have landed, but the rolling surf forbade. Then +thrice we circumnavigated the isle for a smooth, clear beach; but it +was not found. + +Meanwhile all still conversed. + +“My lord,” said Yoomy, “while we tarried with King Bello, I heard much +of the feud between Dominora and this unhappy shore. Yet is not +Verdanna as a child of King Bello’s?” + +“Yes, minstrel, a step-child,” said Mohi. + +“By way of enlarging his family circle,” said Babbalanja, “an old lion +once introduced a deserted young stag to his den; but the stag never +became domesticated, and would still charge upon his foster-brothers. +—Verdanna is not of the flesh and blood of Dominora, whence, in good +part, these dissensions.” + +“But Babbalanja, is there no way of reconciling these foes?” + +“But one way, Yoomy:—By filling up this strait with dry land; for, +divided by water, we Mardians must ever remain more or less divided at +heart. Though Kaleedoni was united to Dominora long previous to the +union of Verdanna, yet Kaleedoni occasions Bello no disquiet; for, +geographically one, the two populations insensibly blend at the point +of junction. No hostile strait flows between the arms, that to embrace +must touch.” + +“But, Babbalanja,” said Yoomy, “what asks Verdanna of Dominora, that +Verdanna so clamors at the denial?” + +“They are arrant cannibals, Yoomy,” said Media, “and desire the +privilege of eating each other up.” + +“King Bello’s idea,” said Babbalanja; “but, in these things, my lord, +you demi-gods are ever unanimous. But, whatever be Verdanna’s demands, +Bello persists in rejecting them.” + +“Why not grant every thing she asks, even to renouncing all claim upon +the isle,” said Mohi; “for thus, Bello would rid himself of many +perplexities.” + +“And think you, old man,” said Media, “that, bane or blessing, Bello +will yield his birthright? Will a tri-crowned king resign his triple +diadem? And even did Bello what you propose he would only breed still +greater perplexities. For if granted, full soon would Verdanna be glad +to surrender many things she demands. And all she now asks, she has had +in times past; but without turning it to advantage:—and is she wiser +now?” + +“Does she not demand her harvests, my lord?” said Yoomy, “and has not +the reaper a right to his sheaf?” + +“Cant! cant! Yoomy. If you reap for me, the sheaf is mine.” + +“But if the reaper reaps on his own harvest-field, whose then the +sheaf, my lord?” said Babbalanja. + +“His for whom he reaps—his lord’s!” + +“Then let the reaper go with sickle and with sword,” said Yoomy, “with +one hand, cut down the bearded grain; and with the other, smite his +bearded lords.” + +“Thou growest fierce, in thy lyric moods, my warlike dove,” said +‘Media, blandly. “But for thee, philosopher, know thou, that Verdanna’s +men are of blood and brain inferior to Bello’s native race; and the +better Mardian must ever rule.” + +“Verdanna inferior to Dominora, my lord!—Has she produced no bards, no +orators, no wits, no patriots? Mohi, unroll thy chronicles! Tell me, if +Verdanna may not claim full many a star along King Bello’s tattooed arm +of Fame? + +“Even so,” said Mohi. “Many chapters bear you out.” + +“But my lord,” said Babbalanja, “as truth, omnipresent, lurks in all +things, even in lies: so, does some germ of it lurk in the calumnies +heaped on the people of this land. For though they justly boast of many +lustrous names, these jewels gem no splendid robe. And though like a +bower of grapes, Verdanna is full of gushing juices, spouting out in +bright sallies of wit, yet not all her grapes make wine; and here and +there, hang goodly clusters mildewed; or half devoured by worms, bred +in their own tendrils.” + +“Drop, drop your grapes and metaphors!” cried Media. “Bring forth your +thoughts like men; let them come naked into Mardi.—What do you mean, +Babbalanja?” + +“This, my lord, Verdanna’s worst evils are her own, not of another’s +giving. Her own hand is her own undoer. She stabs herself with bigotry, +superstition, divided councils, domestic feuds, ignorance, temerity; +she wills, but does not; her East is one black storm-cloud, that never +bursts; her utmost fight is a defiance; she showers reproaches, where +she should rain down blows. She stands a mastiff baying at the moon.” + +“Tropes on tropes!” said. Media. “Let me tell the tale,—straight- +forward like a line. Verdanna is a lunatic—” + +“A trope! my lord,” cried Babbalanja. + +“My tropes are not tropes,” said Media, “but yours are.—Verdanna is a +lunatic, that after vainly striving to cut another’s throat, grimaces +before a standing pool and threatens to cut his own. And is such a +madman to be intrusted with himself? No; let another govern him, who is +ungovernable to himself Ay, and tight hold the rein; and curb, and rasp +the bit. Do I exaggerate?—Mohi, tell me, if, save one lucid interval, +Verdanna, while independent of Dominora, ever discreetly conducted her +affairs? Was she not always full of fights and factions? And what first +brought her under the sway of Bello’s scepter? Did not her own Chief +Dermoddi fly to Bello’s ancestor for protection against his own +seditious subjects? And thereby did not her own king unking himself? +What wonder, then, and where the wrong, if Henro, Bello’s conquering +sire, seized the diadem?” + +“What my lord cites is true,” said Mohi, “but cite no more, I pray; +lest, you harm your cause.” + +“Yet for all this, Babbalanja,” said Media, “Bello but holds lunatic +Verdanna’s lands in trust.” + +“And may the guardian of an estate also hold custody of the ward, my +lord?” + +“Ay, if he can. What _can_ be done, may be: that’s the Greed of demi- +gods.” + +“Alas, alas!” cried Yoomy, “why war with words over this poor, +suffering land. See! for all her bloom, her people starve; perish her +yams, ere taken from the soil; the blight of heaven seems upon them.” + +“Not so,” said Media. “Heaven sends no blights. Verdanna will not +learn. And if from one season’s rottenss, rottenness they sow again, +rottenness must they reap. But Yoomy, you seem earnest in this +matter;—come: on all hands it is granted that evils exist in Verdanna; +now sweet Sympathizer, what must the royal Bello do to mend them?” + +“I am no sage,” said Yoomy, “what would my lord Media do?” + +“What would _you_ do, Babbalanja,” said Media. + +“Mohi, what you?” asked the philosopher. + +“And what would the company do?” added Mohi. + +“Now, though these evils pose us all,” said Babbalanja, “there lately +died in Verdanna, one, who set about curing them in a humane and +peaceable way, waving war and bloodshed. That man was Konno. Under a +huge caldron, he kept a roaring fire.” + +“Well, Azzageddi, how could that answer his purpose?” asked Media. + +“Nothing better, my lord. His fire boiled his bread-fruit; and so +convinced were his countrymen, that he was well employed, that they +almost stripped their scanty orchards to fill his caldron.” + +“Konno was a knave,” said Mohi. + +“Your pardon, old man, but that is only known to his ghost, not to us. +At any rate he was a great man; for even assuming he cajoled his +country, no common man could have done it.” + +“Babbalanja,” said Mohi, “my lord has been pleased to pronounce +Verdanna crazy; now, may not her craziness arise from the irritating, +tantalizing practices of Dominora?” + +“Doubtless, Braid-Beard, many of the extravagances of Verdanna, are in +good part to be ascribed to the cause you mention; but, to be +impartial, none the less does Verdanna essay to taunt and provoke +Dominora; yet not with the like result. Perceive you, Braid-Beard, that +the trade-wind blows dead across this strait from Dominora, and not +from Verdanna? Hence, when King Bello’s men fling gibes and insults, +every missile hits; but those of Verdanna are blown back in its teeth: +her enemies jeering her again and again.” + +“King Bello’s men are dastards for that,” cried Yoomy. “It shows +neither sense, nor spirit, nor humanity,” said Babbalanja. + +“All wide of the mark,” cried Media. “What is to be done for Verdanna?” + +“What will she do for herself?” said Babbalanja. + +“Philosopher, you are an extraordinary sage; and since sages should be +seers, reveal Verdanna’s future.” + +“My lord, you will ever find true prophets, prudent; nor will any +prophet risk his reputation upon predicting aught concerning this land. +The isles are Oro’s. Nevertheless, he who doctors Verdanna aright, will +first medicine King Bello; who in some things is, himself a patient, +though he would fain be a physician. However, my lord, there is a demon +of a doctor in Mardi, who at last deals with these desperate cases. He +employs only pills, picked off the Conroupta Quiancensis tree.” + +“And what sort of a vegetable is that?” asked Mohi. “Consult the +botanists,” said Babbalanja. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. +They Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption + + +Gliding away from Verdanna at the turn of the tide, we cleared the +strait, and gaining the more open lagoon, pointed our prows for +Porpheero, from whose magnificent monarchs my lord Media promised +himself a glorious reception. + +“They are one and all demi-gods,” he cried, “and have the old demi-god +feeling. We have seen no great valleys like theirs:—their scepters are +long as our spears; to their sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo’s are but +inns:—their banquetting halls are as vistas; no generations run +parallel to theirs:—their pedigrees reach back into chaos. + +“Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:—the whole land +checkered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, manners, +and mind. Here you will find science and sages; manuscripts in miles; +bards singing in choirs. + +“Mohi! here you will flag over your page; in Porpheero the ages have +hived all their treasures: like a pyramid, the past shadows over the +land. + +“Yoomy! here you will find stuff for your songs:—blue rivers flowing +through forest arches, and vineyards; velvet meads, soft as ottomans: +bright maidens braiding the golden locks of the harvest; and a +background of mountains, that seem the end of the world. Or if nature +will not content you, then turn to the landscapes of art. See! mosaic +walls, tattooed like our faces; paintings, vast as horizons; and into +which, you feel you could rush: See! statues to which you could off +turban; cities of columns standing thick as mankind; and firmanent +domes forever shedding their sunsets of gilding: See! spire behind +spire, as if the land were the ocean, and all Bello’s great navy were +riding at anchor. + +“Noble Taji! you seek for your Yillah;—give over despair! Porpheero’s +such a scene of enchantment, that there, the lost maiden must lurk.” + +“A glorious picture!” cried Babbalanja, but turn the medal, my lord;— +what says the reverse?” + +“Cynic! have done.—But bravo! we’ll ere long be in Franko, the +goodliest vale of them all; how I long to take her old king by the +hand!” + +The sun was now setting behind us, lighting up the white cliffs of +Dominora, and the green capes of Verdanna; while in deep shade lay +before us the long winding shores of Porpheero. + +It was a sunset serene. + +“How the winds lowly warble in the dying day’s ear,” murmured Yoomy. + +“A mild, bright night, we’ll have,” said Media. + +“See you not those clouds over Franko, my lord,” said Mohi, shaking his +head. + +“Ah, aged and weather-wise as ever, sir chronicler;—I predict a fair +night, and many to follow.” + +“Patience needs no prophet,” said Babbalanja. “The night, is at hand.” + +Hitherto the lagoon had been smooth: but anon, it grew black, and +stirred; and out of the thick darkness came clamorous sounds. Soon, +there shot into the air a vivid meteor, which bursting at the zenith, +radiated down the firmament in fiery showers, leaving treble darkness +behind. + +Then as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted an eruption, +which seemed to plant all Mardi in the foreground. + +As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept +surges in Naples’ bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed +Franko’s multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch’s +palace blazed, fast by the burning mountain. + +“By my eternal throne!” cried Media, starting, “the old volcano has +burst forth again!” + +“But a new vent, my lord,” said Babbalanja. + +“More fierce this, than the eruption which happened in my youth,” said +Mohi—“methinks that Franko’s end has come.” + +“You look pale, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “while all other faces +glow;—Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of a king.” + +Over the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the din of warfare, +and thwarted by showers of embers that fell not, for the whirling +blasts. + +“Off shore! off shore!” cried Media; and with all haste we gained a +place of safety. + +Down the valley now poured Rhines and Rhones of lava, a fire-freshet, +flooding the forests from their fastnesses, and leaping with them into +the seething sea. + +The shore was lined with multitudes pushing off wildly in canoes. + +Meantime, the fiery storm from Franko, kindled new flames in the +distant valleys of Porpheero; while driven over from Verdanna came +frantic shouts, and direful jubilees. Upon Dominora a baleful glare was +resting. + +“Thrice cursed flames!” cried Media. “Is Mardi to be one conflagration? +How it crackles, forks, and roars!—Is this our funeral pyre?” + +“Recline, recline, my lord,” said Babbalanja. “Fierce flames are ever +brief—a song, sweet Yoomy! Your pipe, old Mohi! Greater fires than this +have ere now blazed in Mardi. Let us be calm;—the isles were made to +burn;—Braid-Beard! hereafter, in some quiet cell, of this whole scene +you will but make one chapter;—come, digest it now.” + +“My face is scorched,” cried Media. + +“The last, last day!” cried Mohi. + +“Not so, old man,” said Babbalanja, “when that day dawns, ’twill dawn +serene. Be calm, be calm, my potent lord.” + +“Talk not of calm brows in storm-time!” cried Media fiercely. “See! how +the flames blow over upon Dominora!” + +“Yet the fires they kindle there are soon extinguished,” said +Babbalanja. “No, no; Dominora ne’er can burn with Franko’s fires; only +those of her own kindling may consume her.” + +“Away! Away!” cried Media. “We may not touch Porpheero now.—Up sails! +and westward be our course.” + +So dead before the blast, we scudded. + +Morning broke, showing no sign of land. + +“Hard must it go with Franko’s king,” said Media, “when his people rise +against him with the red volcanoes. Oh, for a foot to crush them! Hard, +too, with all who rule in broad Porpheero. And may she we seek, survive +this conflagration!” + +“My lord,” said Babbalanja, “where’ere she hide, ne’er yet did Yillah +lurk in this Porpheero; nor have we missed the maiden, noble Taji! in +not touching at its shores.” + +“This fire must make a desert of the land,” said Mohi; “burn up and +bury all her tilth.” + +“Yet, Mohi, vineyards flourish over buried villages,” murmured Yoomy. + +“True, minstrel,” said Babbalanja, “and prairies are purified by fire. +Ashes breed loam. Nor can any skill make the same surface forever +fruitful. In all times past, things have been overlaid; and though the +first fruits of the marl are wild and poisonous, the palms at last +spring forth; and once again the tribes repose in shade. My lord, if +calms breed storms, so storms calms; and all this dire commotion must +eventuate in peace. It may be, that Perpheero’s future has been cheaply +won.” + + + + +CHAPTER L. +Wherein King Media Celebrates The Glories Of Autumn, The Minstrel, The +Promise Of Spring + + +“Ho, now!” cried Media, “across the wide waters, for that New Mardi, +Vivenza! Let us indeed see, whether she who eludes us elsewhere, he at +last found in Vivenza’s vales.” + +“There or nowhere, noble Taji,” said Yoomy. + +“Be not too sanguine, gentle Yoomy,” said Babbalanja. + +“Does Yillah choose rather to bower in the wild wilderness of Vivenza, +than in the old vineyards of Porpheero?” said Braid-Beard. + +Sang Yoomy:— +Her bower is not of the vine, +But the wild, wild eglantine! +Not climbing a moldering arch, +But upheld by the fir-green larch. + Old ruins she flies: + To new valleys she hies:— + Not the hoar, moss-wood, + Ivied trees each a rood— + Not in Maramma she dwells, + Hollow with hermit cells. + + ’Tis a new, new isle! + An infant’s its smile, + Soft-rocked by the sea. + Its bloom all in bud; + No tide at its flood, + In that fresh-born sea! + +Spring! Spring! where she dwells, +In her sycamore dells, +Where Mardi is young and new: +Its verdure all eyes with dew. + +There, there! in the bright, balmy morns, +The young deer sprout their horns, +Deep-tangled in new-branching groves, +Where the Red-Rover Robin roves,— + + Stooping his crest, + To his molting breast— + Rekindling the flambeau there! + Spring! Spring! where she dwells, + In her sycamore dells:— + Where, fulfilling their fates, + All creatures seek mates— + The thrush, the doe, and the hare! + + +“Thou art most musical, sweet Yoomy,” said Media. “concerning this +spring-land Vivenza. But are not the old autumnal valleys of Porpheero +more glorious than those of vernal Vivenza? Vivenza shows no trophies +of the summer time, but Dominora’s full-blown rose hangs blushing on +her garden walls; her autumn groves are glory-dyed.” + +“My lord, autumn soon merges in winter, but the spring has all the +seasons before. The full-blown rose is nearer withering than the bud. +The faint morn is a blossom: the crimson sunset the flower.” + + + + +CHAPTER LI. +In Which Azzageddi Seems To Use Babbalanja For A Mouth-Piece + + +Porpheero far astern, the spirits of the company rose. Once again, old +Mohi serenely unbraided, and rebraided his beard; and sitting Turk-wise +on his mat, my lord Media smoking his gonfalon, diverted himself with +the wild songs of Yoomy, the wild chronicles of Mohi, or the still +wilder speculations of Babbalanja; now and then, as from pitcher to +pitcher, pouring royal old wine down his soul. + +Among other things, Media, who at times turned over Babbalanja for an +encyclopaedia, however unreliable, demanded information upon the +subject of neap tides and their alleged slavish vassalage to the moon. + +When true to his cyclopaediatic nature, Babbalanja quoted from a still +older and better authority than himself; in brief, from no other than +eternal Bardianna. It seems that that worthy essayist had discussed the +whole matter in a chapter thus headed: “On Seeing into Mysteries +through Mill-Stones;“ and throughout his disquisitions he evinced such +a profundity of research, though delivered in a style somewhat +equivocal, that the company were much struck by the erudition +displayed. + +“Babbalanja, that Bardianna of yours must have been a wonderful +student,” said Media after a pause, “no doubt he consumed whole +thickets of rush-lights.” + +“Not so, my lord.—‘Patience, patience, philosophers,’ said Bardianna; +‘blow out your tapers, bolt not your dinners, take time, wisdom will be +plenty soon.’” + +“A notable hint! Why not follow it, Babbalanja?” + +“Because, my lord, I have overtaken it, and passed on.” + +“True to your nature, Babbalanja; you stay nowhere.” + +“Ay, keep moving is my motto; but speaking of hard students, did my +lord ever hear of Midni the ontologist and entomologist?” + +“No.” + +“Then, my lord, you shall hear of him now. Midni was of opinion that +day-light was vulgar; good enough for taro-planting and traveling; but +wholly unadapted to the sublime ends of study. He toiled by night; from +sunset to sunrise poring over the works of the old logicans. Like most +philosophers, Midni was an amiable man; but one thing invariably put +him out. He read in the woods by glow-worm light; insect in hand, +tracing over his pages, line by line. But glow-worms burn not long: and +in the midst of some calm intricate thought, at some imminent comma, +the insect often expired, and Midni groped for a meaning. Upon such an +occasion, ‘Ho, Ho,’ he cried; ‘but for one instant of sun-light to see +my way to a period!’ But sun-light there was none; so Midni sprang to +his feet, and parchment under arm, raced about among the sloughs and +bogs for another glow-worm. Often, making a rapid descent with his +turban, he thought he had caged a prize; but nay. Again he tried; yet +with no better succcess. Nevertheless, at last he secured one; but +hardly had he read three lines by its light, when out it went. Again +and again this occurred. And thus he forever went halting and stumbling +through his studies, and plunging through his quagmires after a glim.” + +At this ridiculous tale, one of our silliest paddlers burst into +uncontrollable mirth. Offended at which breach of decorum, Media +sharply rebuked him. + +But he protested he could not help laughing. + +Again Media was about to reprimand him, when Babbalanja begged leave to +interfere. + +“My lord, he is not to blame. Mark how earnestly he struggles to +suppress his mirth; but he can not. It has often been the same with +myself. And many a time have I not only vainly sought to check my +laughter, but at some recitals I have both laughed and cried. But can +opposite emotions be simultaneous in one being? No. I wanted to weep; +but my body wanted to smile, and between us we almost choked. My lord +Media, this man’s body laughs; not the man himself.” + +“But his body is his own, Babbalanja; and he should have it under +better control.” + +“The common error, my lord. Our souls belong to our bodies, not our +bodies to our souls. For which has the care of the other? which keeps +house? which looks after the replenishing of the aorta and auricles, +and stores away the secretions? Which toils and ticks while the other +sleeps? Which is ever giving timely hints, and elderly warnings? Which +is the most authoritative?—Our bodies, surely. At a hint, you must +move; at a notice to quit, you depart. Simpletons show us, that a body +can get along almost without a soul; but of a soul getting along +without a body, we have no tangible and indisputable proof. My lord, +the wisest of us breathe involuntarily. And how many millions there are +who live from day to day by the incessant operation of subtle processes +in them, of which they know nothing, and care less? Little ween they, +of vessels lacteal and lymphatic, of arteries femoral and temporal; of +pericranium or pericardium; lymph, chyle, fibrin, albumen, iron in the +blood, and pudding in the head; they live by the charity of their +bodies, to which they are but butlers. I say, my lord, our bodies are +our betters. A soul so simple, that it prefers evil to good, is lodged +in a frame, whose minutest action is full of unsearchable wisdom. +Knowing this superiority of theirs, our bodies are inclined to be +willful: our beards grow in spite of us; and as every one knows, they +sometimes grow on dead men.” + +“You mortals are alive, then, when you are dead, Babbalanja.” + +“No, my lord; but our beards survive us.” + +“An ingenious distinction; go on, philosopher.” + +“Without bodies, my lord, we Mardians would be minus our strongest +motive-passions, those which, in some way or other, root under our +every action. Hence, without bodies, we must be something else than we +essentially are. Wherefore, that saying imputed to Alma, and which, by +his very followers, is deemed the most hard to believe of all his +instructions, and the most at variance with all preconceived notions of +immortality, I Babbalanja, account the most reasonable of his doctrinal +teachings. It is this;—that at the last day, every man shall rise in +the flesh.” + +“Pray, Babbalanja, talk not of resurrections to a demi-god.” + +“Then let me rehearse a story, my lord. You will find it in the ‘Very +Merry Marvelings’ of the Improvisitor Quiddi; and a quaint book it is. +Fugle-fi is its finis:—fugle-fi, fugle-fo, fugle-fogle-orum!” + +“That wild look in his eye again,” murmured Yoomy. “Proceed, +Azzageddi,” said Media. + +“The philosopher Grando had a sovereign contempt for his carcass. Often +he picked a quarrel with it; and always was flying out in its +disparagement. ‘Out upon you, you beggarly body! you clog, drug, drag! +You keep me from flying; I could get along better without you. Out upon +you, I say, you vile pantry, cellar, sink, sewer; abominable body! what +vile thing are you not? And think you, beggar! to have the upper hand +of me? Make a leg to that man if you dare, without my permission. This +smell is intolerable; but turn from it, if you can, unless I give the +word. Bolt this yam!—it is done. Carry me across yon field!—off we go. +Stop!—it’s a dead halt. There, I’ve trained you enough for to-day; now, +sirrah, crouch down in the shade, and be quiet.—I’m rested. So, here’s +for a stroll, and a reverie homeward:— Up, carcass, and march.’ So the +carcass demurely rose and paced, and the philosopher meditated. He was +intent upon squaring the circle; but bump he came against a bough. ‘How +now, clodhopping bumpkin! you would take advantage of my reveries, +would you? But I’ll be even with you;’ and seizing a cudgel, he laid +across his shoulders with right good will. But one of his backhanded +thwacks injured his spinal cord; the philosopher dropped; but presently +came to. ‘Adzooks! I’ll bend or break you! Up, up, and I’ll run you +home for this.’ But wonderful to tell, his legs refused to budge; all +sensation had left them. But a huge wasp happening to sting his foot, +not him, for he felt it not, the leg incontinently sprang into the air, +and of itself, cut all manner of capers. Be still! Down with you!’ But +the leg refused. ‘My arms are still loyal,’ thought Grando; and with +them he at last managed to confine his refractory member. But all +commands, volitions, and persuasions, were as naught to induce his +limbs to carry him home. It was a solitary place; and five days after, +Grando the philosopher was found dead under a tree.” + +“Ha, ha!” laughed Media, “Azzageddi is full as merry as ever.” + +“But, my lord,” continued Babbalanja, “some creatures have still more +perverse bodies than Grando’s. In the fables of Ridendiabola, this is +to be found. ‘A fresh-water Polyp, despising its marine existence; +longed to live upon air. But all it could do, its tentacles or arms +still continued to cram its stomach. By a sudden preternatural impulse, +however, the Polyp at last turned itself inside out; supposing that +after such a proceeding it would have no gastronomic interior. But its +body proved ventricle outside as well as in. Again its arms went to +work; food was tossed in, and digestion continued.’” + +“Is the literal part of that a fact?” asked Mohi. + +“True as truth,” said Babbalanja; “the Polyp will live turned inside +out.” + +“Somewhat curious, certainly,” said Media.—“But me-thinks, Babbalanja, +that somewhere I have heard something about organic functions, so +called; which may account for the phenomena you mention; and I have +heard too, me-thinks, of what are called reflex actions of the nerves, +which, duly considered, might deprive of its strangeness that story of +yours concerning Grande and his body.” + +“Mere substitutions of sounds for inexplicable meanings, my lord. In +some things science cajoles us. Now, what is undeniable of the Polyp +some physiologists analogically maintain with regard to us Mardians; +that forasmuch, as the lining of our interiors is nothing more than a +continuation of the epidermis, or scarf-skin, therefore, that in a +remote age, we too must have been turned wrong side out: an hypothesis, +which, indirectly might account for our moral perversities: and also, +for that otherwise nonsensical term—‘the coat of the stomach;’ for +originally it must have been a surtout, instead of an inner garment.” + +“Pray, Azzageddi,” said Media, “are you not a fool?” + +“One of a jolly company, my lord; but some creatures besides wearing +their surtouts within, sport their skeletons without: witness the +lobster and turtle, who alive, study their own anatomies.” + +“Azzageddi, you are a zany.” + +“Pardon, my lord,” said Mohi, “I think him more of a lobster; it’s hard +telling his jaws from his claws.” + +“Yes, Braid-Beard, I am a lobster, a mackerel, any thing you please; +but my ancestors were kangaroos, not monkeys, as old Boddo erroneously +opined. My idea is more susceptible of demonstration than his. Among +the deepest discovered land fossils, the relics of kangaroos are +discernible, but no relics of men. Hence, there were no giants in those +days; but on the contrary, kangaroos; and those kangaroos formed the +first edition of mankind, since revised and corrected.” + +“What has become of our finises, or tails, then?” asked Mohi, wriggling +in his seat. + +“The old question, Mohi. But where are the tails of the tadpoles, after +their gradual metamorphosis into frogs? Have frogs any tails, old man? +Our tails, Mohi, were worn off by the process of civilization; +especially at the period when our fathers began to adopt the sitting +posture: the fundamental evidence of all civilization, for neither +apes, nor savages, can be said to sit; invariably, they squat on their +hams. Among barbarous tribes benches and settles are unknown. But, my +lord Media, as your liege and loving subject I can not sufficiently +deplore the deprivation of your royal tail. That stiff and vertebrated +member, as we find it in those rustic kinsmen we have disowned, would +have been useful as a supplement to your royal legs; and whereas my +good lord is now fain to totter on two stanchions, were he only a +kangaroo, like the monarchs of old, the majesty of Odo would be +dignified, by standing firm on a tripod.” + +“A very witty conceit! But have a care, Azzageddi; your theory applies +not to me.” + +“Babbalanja,” said Mohi, “you must be the last of the kangaroos.” + +“I am, Mohi.” + +“But the old fashioned pouch or purse of your grandams?” hinted Media. + +“My lord, I take it, that must have been transferred; nowadays our sex +carries the purse.” + +“Ha, ha!” + +“My lord, why this mirth? Let us be serious. Although man is no longer +a kangaroo, he may be said to be an inferior species of plant. Plants +proper are perhaps insensible of the circulation of their sap: we +mortals are physically unconscious of the circulation of the blood; and +for many ages were not even aware of the fact. Plants know nothing of +their interiors:—three score years and ten we trundle about ours, and +never get a peep at them; plants stand on their stalks:—we stalk on our +legs; no plant flourishes over its dead root:—dead in the grave, man +lives no longer above ground; plants die without food:—so we. And now +for the difference. Plants elegantly inhale nourishment, without +looking it up: like lords, they stand still and are served; and though +green, never suffer from the colic:—whereas, we mortals must forage all +round for our food: we cram our insides; and are loaded down with +odious sacks and intestines. Plants make love and multiply; but excel +us in all amorous enticements, wooing and winning by soft pollens and +essences. Plants abide in one place, and live: we must travel or die. +Plants flourish without us: we must perish without them.” + +“Enough Azzageddi!” cried Media. “Open not thy lips till to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER LII. +The Charming Yoomy Sings + + +The morrow came; and three abreast, with snorting prows, we raced +along; our mat-sails panting to the breeze. All present partook of the +life of the air; and unanimously Yoomy was called upon for a song. The +canoes were passing a long, white reef, sparkling with shells, like a +jeweler’s case: and thus Yoomy sang in the same old strain as of yore; +beginning aloud, where he had left off in his soul:— + + Her sweet, sweet mouth! + The peach-pearl shell:— +Red edged its lips, + That softly swell, +Just oped to speak, +With blushing cheek, + That fisherman +With lonely spear + On the reef ken, +And lift to ear +Its voice to hear,— + Soft sighing South! +Like this, like this,— +The rosy kiss!— + That maiden’s mouth. +A shell! a shell! +A vocal shell! + Song-dreaming, +In its inmost dell! + +Her bosom! Two buds half blown, they tell; +A little valley between perfuming; + That roves away, + Deserting the day,— + The day of her eyes illuming;— +That roves away, o’er slope and fell, +Till a soft, soft meadow becomes the dell. + + +Thus far, old Mohi had been wriggling about in his seat, twitching his +beard, and at every couplet looking up expectantly, as if he desired +the company to think, that he was counting upon that line as the last; +But now, starting to his feet, he exclaimed, “Hold, minstrel! thy +muse’s drapery is becoming disordered: no more!” + +“Then no more it shall be,” said Yoomy, “But you have lost a glorious +sequel.” + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. +They Draw Nigh Unto Land + + +In good time, after many days sailing, we snuffed the land from afar, +and came to a great country, full of inland mountains, north and south +stretching far out of sight. “All hail, Kolumbo!” cried Yoomy. + +Coasting by a portion of it, which Mohi called Kanneeda, a province of +King Bello’s, we perceived the groves rocking in the wind; their +flexible boughs bending like bows; and the leaves flying forth, and +darkening the landscape, like flocks of pigeons. + +“Those groves must soon fall,” said Mohi. + +“Not so,” said Babbalanja. “My lord, as these violent gusts are formed +by the hostile meeting of two currents, one from over the lagoon, the +other from land; they may be taken as significant of the occasional +variances between Kanneeda and Dominora.” + +“Ay,” said Media, “and as Mohi hints, the breeze from Dominora must +soon overthrow the groves of Kanneeda.” + +“Not if the land-breeze holds, my lord;—one breeze oft blows another +home.—Stand up, and gaze! From cape to cape, this whole main we see, is +young and froward. And far southward, past this Kanneeda and Vivenza, +are haughty, overbearing streams, which at their mouths dam back the +ocean, and long refuse to mix their freshness with the foreign +brine:—so bold, so strong, so bent on hurling off aggression is this +brave main, Kolumbo;—last sought, last found, Mardi’s estate, so long +kept back;—pray Oro, it be not squandered foolishly. Here lie +plantations, held in fee by stout hearts and arms; and boundless +fields, that may be had for seeing. Here, your foes are forests, struck +down with bloodless maces.—Ho! Mardi’s Poor, and Mardi’s Strong! ye, +who starve or beg; seventh-sons who slave for earth’s first-born—here +is your home; predestinated yours; Come over, Empire-founders! fathers +of the wedded tribes to come!—abject now, illustrious evermore:—Ho: +Sinew, Brawn, and Thigh!” + +“A very fine invocation,” said Media, “now Babbalanja, be seated; and +tell us whether Dominora and the kings of Porpheero do not own some +small portion of this great continent, which just now you poetically +pronounced as the spoil of any vagabonds who may choose to settle +therein? Is not Kanneeda, Dominora’s?” + +“And was not Vivenza once Dominora’s also? And what Vivenza now is, +Kanneeda soon must be. I speak not, my lord, as wishful of what I say, +but simply as foreknowing it. The thing must come. Vain for Dominora to +claim allegiance from all the progeny she spawns. As well might the old +patriarch of the flood reappear, and claim the right of rule over all +mankind, as descended from the loins of his three roving sons. + +“’Tis the old law:—the East peoples the West, the West the East; flux +and reflux. And time may come, after the rise and fall of nations yet +unborn, that, risen from its future ashes, Porpheero shall be the +promised land, and from her surplus hordes Kolumbo people it.” + +Still coasting on, next day, we came to Vivenza; and as Media desired +to land first at a point midway between its extremities, in order to +behold the convocation of chiefs supposed to be assembled at this +season, we held on our way, till we gained a lofty ridge, jutting out +into the lagoon, a bastion to the neighboring land. It terminated in a +lofty natural arch of solid trap. Billows beat against its base. But +above, waved an inviting copse, wherein was revealed an open temple of +canes, containing one only image, that of a helmeted female, the +tutelar deity of Vivenza. + +The canoes drew near. + +“Lo! what inscription is that?” cried Media, “there, chiseled over the +arch?” + +Studying those immense hieroglyphics awhile, antiquarian Mohi still +eyeing them, said slowly:—“In-this-re-publi-can-land-all-men-are- +born-free-and-equal.” + +“False!” said Media. + +“And how long stay they so?” said Babbalanja. + +“But look lower, old man,” cried Media, “methinks there’s a small +hieroglyphic or two hidden away in yonder angle.—Interpret them, old +man.” + +After much screwing of his eyes, for those characters were very minute, +Champollion Mohi thus spoke—” Except-the-tribe-of-Hamo.” + +“That nullifies the other,” cried Media. “Ah, ye republicans!” + +“It seems to have been added for a postscript,” rejoined Braid-Beard, +screwing his eyes again. + +“Perhaps so,” said Babbalanja, “but some wag must have done it.” + +Shooting through the arch, we rapidly gained the beach. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. +They Visit The Great Central Temple Of Vivenza + + +The throng that greeted us upon landing were exceedingly boisterous. + +“Whence came ye?” they cried. “Whither bound? Saw ye ever such a land +as this? Is it not a great and extensive republic? Pray, observe how +tall we are; just feel of our thighs; Are we not a glorious people? +Here, feel of our beards. Look round; look round; be not afraid; Behold +those palms; swear now, that this land surpasses all others. Old +Bello’s mountains are mole-hills to ours; his rivers, rills; his +empires, villages; his palm-trees, shrubs.” + +“True,” said Babbalanja. “But great Oro must have had some hand in +making your mountains and streams.—Would ye have been as great in a +desert?” + +“Where is your king?” asked Media, drawing himself up in his robe, and +cocking his crown. + +“Ha, ha, my fine fellow! We are all kings here; royalty breathes in the +common air. But come on, come on. Let us show you our great Temple of +Freedom.” + +And so saying, irreverently grasping his sacred arm, they conducted us +toward a lofty structure, planted upon a bold hill, and supported by +thirty pillars of palm; four quite green; as if recently added; and +beyond these, an almost interminable vacancy, as if all the palms in +Mardi, were at some future time, to aid in upholding that fabric. + +Upon the summit of the temple was a staff; and as we drew nigh, a man +with a collar round his neck, and the red marks of stripes upon his +back, was just in the act of hoisting a tappa standard— correspondingly +striped. Other collared menials were going in and out of the temple. + +Near the porch, stood an image like that on the top of the arch we had +seen. Upon its pedestal, were pasted certain hieroglyphical notices; +according to Mohi, offering rewards for missing men, so many hands +high. + +Entering the temple, we beheld an amphitheatrical space, in the middle +of which, a great fire was burning. Around it, were many chiefs, robed +in long togas, and presenting strange contrasts in their style of +tattooing. + +Some were sociably laughing, and chatting; others diligently making +excavations between their teeth with slivers of bamboo; or turning +their heads into mills, were grinding up leaves and ejecting their +juices. Some were busily inserting the down of a thistle into their +ears. Several stood erect, intent upon maintaining striking attitudes; +their javelins tragically crossed upon their chests. They would have +looked very imposing, were it not, that in rear their vesture was sadly +disordered. Others, with swelling fronts, seemed chiefly indebted to +their dinners for their dignity. Many were nodding and napping. And, +here and there, were sundry indefatigable worthies, making a great show +of imperious and indispensable business; sedulously folding banana +leaves into scrolls, and recklessly placing them into the hands of +little boys, in gay turbans and trim little girdles, who thereupon fled +as if with salvation for the dying. + +It was a crowded scene; the dusky chiefs, here and there, grouped +together, and their fantastic tattooings showing like the carved work +on quaint old chimney-stacks, seen from afar. But one of their number +overtopped all the rest. As when, drawing nigh unto old Rome, amid the +crowd of sculptured columns and gables, St. Peter’s grand dome soars +far aloft, serene in the upper air; so, showed one calm grand forehead +among those of this mob of chieftains. That head was Saturnina’s. Gall +and Spurzheim! saw you ever such a brow?—poised like an avalanche, +under the shadow of a forest! woe betide the devoted valleys below! +Lavatar! behold those lips,—like mystic scrolls! Those eyes,— like +panthers’ caves at the base of Popocatepetl! + +“By my right hand, Saturnina,” cried Babbalanja, “but thou wert made in +the image of thy Maker! Yet, have I beheld men, to the eye as +commanding as thou; and surmounted by heads globe-like as thine, who +never had thy caliber. We must measure brains, not heads, my lord; +else, the sperm whale, with his tun of an occiput, would transcend us +all.” + +Near by, were arched ways, leading to subterranean places, whence +issued a savory steam, and an extraordinary clattering of calabashes, +and smacking of lips, as if something were being eaten down there by +the fattest of fat fellows, with the heartiest of appetites, and the +most irresistible of relishes. It was a quaffing, guzzling, gobbling +noise. Peeping down, we beheld a company, breasted up against a board, +groaning under numerous viands. In the middle of all, was a mighty +great gourd, yellow as gold, and jolly round like a pumpkin in October, +and so big it must have grown in the sun. Thence flowed a tide of red +wine. And before it, stood plenty of paunches being filled therewith +like portly stone jars at a fountain. Melancholy to tell, before that +fine flood of old wine, and among those portly old topers, was a lean +man; who occasionally ducked in his bill. He looked like an ibis +standing in the Nile at flood tide, among a tongue-lapping herd of +hippopotami. + +They were jolly as the jolliest; and laughed so uproariously, that +their hemispheres all quivered and shook, like vast provinces in an +earthquake. Ha! ha! ha! how they laughed, and they roared. A deaf man +might have heard them; and no milk could have soured within a +forty-two-pounder ball shot of that place. + +Now, the smell of good things is no very bad thing in itself. It is the +savor of good things beyond; proof positive of a glorious good meal. So +snuffing up those zephyrs from Araby the blest, those boisterous gales, +blowing from out the mouths of baked boars, stuffed with bread-fruit, +bananas, and sage, we would fain have gone down and partaken. + +But this could not be; for we were told that those worthies below, were +a club in secret conclave; very busy in settling certain weighty state +affairs upon a solid basis, They were all chiefs of immense +capacity:—how many gallons, there was no finding out. + +Be sure, now, a most riotous noise came up from those catacombs, which +seemed full of the ghosts of fat Lamberts; and this uproar it was, that +heightened the din above-ground. + +But heedless of all, in the midst of the amphitheater, stood a tall, +gaunt warrior, ferociously tattooed, with a beak like a buzzard; long +dusty locks; and his hands full of headless arrows. He was laboring +under violent paroxysms; three benevolent individuals essaying to hold +him. But repeatedly breaking loose, he burst anew into his delirium; +while with an absence of sympathy, distressing to behold, the rest of +the assembly seemed wholly engrossed with themselves; nor did they +appear to care how soon the unfortunate lunatic might demolish himself +by his frantic proceedings. + +Toward one side of the amphitheatrical space, perched high upon an +elevated dais, sat a white-headed old man with a tomahawk in his hand: +earnestly engaged in overseeing the tumult; though not a word did he +say. Occasionally, however, he was regarded by those present with a +mysterious sort of deference; and when they chanced to pass between him +and the crazy man, they invariably did so in a stooping position; +probably to elude the atmospheric grape and cannister, continually +flying from the mouth of the lunatic. + +“What mob is this?” cried Media. + +“’Tis the grand council of Vivenza,” cried a bystander. “Hear ye not +Alanno?” and he pointed to the lunatic. + +Now coming close to Alanno, we found, that with incredible volubility, +he was addressing the assembly upon some all-absorbing subject +connected with King Bello, and his presumed encroachments toward the +northwest of Vivenza. + +One hand smiting his hip, and the other his head, the lunatic thus +proceeded; roaring like a wild beast, and beating the air like a +windmill:— + +“I have said it! the thunder is flashing, the lightning is crashing! +already there’s an earthquake in Dominora! Full soon will old Bello +discover that his diabolical machinations against this ineffable land +must soon come to naught. Who dare not declare, that we are not +invincible? I repeat it, we are. Ha! ha! Audacious Bello must bite the +dust! Hair by hair, we will trail his gory gray beard at the end of our +spears! Ha, ha! I grow hoarse; but would mine were a voice like the +wild bulls of Bullorom, that I might be heard from one end of this +great and gorgeous land to its farthest zenith; ay, to the uttermost +diameter of its circumference. Awake! oh Vivenza. The signs of the +times are portentous; nay, extraordinary; I hesitate not to add, +peculiar! Up! up! Let us not descend to the bathos, when we should soar +to the climax! Does not all Mardi wink and look on? Is the great sun +itself a frigid spectator? Then let us double up our mandibles to the +deadly encounter. Methinks I see it now. Old Bello is crafty, and his +oath is recorded to obliterate us! Across this wide lagoon he casts his +serpent eyes; whets his insatiate bill; mumbles his barbarous tusks; +licks his forked tongues; and who knows when we shall have the shark in +our midst? Yet be not deceived; for though as yet, Bello has forborn +molesting us openly, his emissaries are at work; his infernal sappers, +and miners, and wet-nurses, and midwives, and grave- diggers are busy! +His canoe-yards are all in commotion! In navies his forests are being +launched upon the wave; and ere long typhoons, zephyrs, white-squalls, +balmy breezes, hurricanes, and besoms will be raging round us!” + +His philippic concluded, Alanno was conducted from the place; and being +now quite exhausted, cold cobble-stones were applied to his temples, +and he was treated to a bath in a stream. + +This chieftain, it seems, was from a distant western valley, called +Hio-Hio, one of the largest and most fertile in Vivenza, though but +recently settled. Its inhabitants, and those of the vales adjoining,— a +right sturdy set of fellows,—were accounted the most dogmatically +democratic and ultra of all the tribes in Vivenza; ever seeking to push +on their brethren to the uttermost; and especially were they bitter +against Bello. But they were a fine young tribe, nevertheless. Like +strong new wine they worked violently in becoming clear. Time, perhaps, +would make them all right. + +An interval of greater uproar than ever now ensued; during which, with +his tomahawk, the white-headed old man repeatedly thumped and pounded +the seat where he sat, apparently to augment the din, though he looked +anxious to suppress it. + +At last, tiring of his posture, he whispered in the ear of a chief, his +friend; who, approaching a portly warrior present, prevailed upon him +to rise and address the assembly. And no sooner did this one do so, +than the whole convocation dispersed, as if to their yams; and with a +grin, the little old man leaped from his seat, and stretched his legs +on a mat. + +The fire was now extinguished, and the temple deserted. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. +Wherein Babbalanja Comments Upon The Speech Of Alanno + + +As we lingered in the precincts of the temple after all others had +departed, sundry comments were made upon what we had seen; and having +remarked the hostility of the lunatic orator toward Dominora, +Babbalanja thus addressed Media:— + +“My lord, I am constrained to believe, that all Vivenza can not be of +the same mind with the grandiloquent chief from Hio-Hio. Nevertheless, +I imagine, that between Dominora and this land, there exists at bottom +a feeling akin to animosity, which is not yet wholly extinguished; +though but the smoldering embers of a once raging fire. My lord, you +may call it poetry if you will, but there are nations in Mardi, that to +others stand in the relation of sons to sires. Thus with Dominora and +Vivenza. And though, its majority attained, Vivenza is now its own +master, yet should it not fail in a reverential respect for its parent. +In man or nation, old age is honorable; and a boy, however tall, should +never take his sire by the beard. And though Dominora did indeed ill +merit Vivenza’s esteem, yet by abstaining from criminations, Vivenza +should ever merit its own. And if in time to come, which Oro forbid, +Vivenza must needs go to battle with King Bello, let Vivenza first +cross the old veteran’s spear with all possible courtesy. On the other +hand, my lord, King Bello should never forget, that whatever be +glorious in Vivenza, redounds to himself. And as some gallant old lord +proudly measures the brawn and stature of his son; and joys to view in +his noble young lineaments the likeness of his own; bethinking him, +that when at last laid in his tomb, he will yet survive in the long, +strong life of his child, the worthy inheritor of his valor and renown; +even so, should King Bello regard the generous promise of this young +Vivenza of his own lusty begetting. My lord, behold these two states! +Of all nations in the Archipelago, they alone are one in blood. +Dominora is the last and greatest Anak of Old Times; Vivenza, the +foremost and goodliest stripling of the Present. One is full of the +past; the other brims with the future. Ah! did this sire’s old heart +but beat to free thoughts, and back his bold son, all Mardi would go +down before them. And high Oro may have ordained for them a career, +little divined by the mass. Methinks, that as Vivenza will never cause +old Bello to weep for his son; so, Vivenza will not, this many a long +year, be called to weep over the grave of its sire. And though King +Bello may yet lay aside his old-fashioned cocked hat of a crown, and +comply with the plain costume of the times; yet will his, frame remain +sturdy as of yore, and equally grace any habiliments he may don. And +those who say, Dominora is old and worn out, may very possibly err. For +if, as a nation, Dominora be old—her present generation is full as +young as the youths in any land under the sun. Then, Ho! worthy twain! +Each worthy the other, join hands on the instant, and weld them +together. Lo! the past is a prophet. Be the future, its prophecy +fulfilled.” + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. +A Scene In The Land Of Warwicks, Or King-Makers + + +Wending our way from the temple, we were accompanied by a fluent, +obstreperous wight, one Znobbi, a runaway native of Porpheero, but now +an enthusiastic inhabitant of Vivenza. + +“Here comes our great chief!” he cried. “Behold him! It was _I_ that +had a hand in making him what he is!” + +And so saying, he pointed out a personage, no way distinguished, except +by the tattooing on his forehead—stars, thirty in number; and an +uncommonly long spear in his hand. Freely he mingled with the crowd. + +“Behold, how familiar I am with him!” cried Znobbi, approaching, and +pitcher-wise taking him by the handle of his face. + +“Friend,” said the dignitary, “thy salute is peculiar, but welcome. I +reverence the enlightened people of this land.” + +“Mean-spirited hound!” muttered Media, “were I him, I had impaled that +audacious plebeian.” + +“There’s a Head-Chief for you, now, my fine fellow!” cried Znobbi. +“Hurrah! Three cheers! Ay, ay! All kings here—all equal. Every thing’s +in common.” + +Here, a bystander, feeling something grazing his side, looked down; and +perceived Znobbi’s hand in clandestine vicinity to the pouch at his +girdle-end. + +Whereupon the crowd shouted, “A thief! a thief!” And with a loud voice +the starred chief cried—“Seize him, people, and tie him to yonder +tree.” + +And they seized, and tied him on the spot. + +“Ah,” said Media, “this chief has something to say, after all; he +pinions a king at a word, though a plebeian takes him by the nose. +Beshrew me, I doubt not, that spear of his, though without a tassel, is +longer and sharper than mine.” + +“There’s not so much freedom here as these freemen think,” said +Babbalanja, turning; “I laugh and admire.” + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. +They Hearken Unto A Voice From The Gods + + +Next day we retraced our voyage northward, to visit that section of +Vivenza. + +In due time we landed. + +To look round was refreshing. Of all the lands we had seen, none looked +more promising. The groves stood tall and green; the fields spread +flush and broad; the dew of the first morning seemed hardly vanished +from the grass. On all sides was heard the fall of waters, the swarming +of bees, and the rejoicing hum of a thriving population. + +“Ha, ha!” laughed Yoomy, “Labor laughs in this land; and claps his +hands in the jubilee groves! methinks that Yillah will yet be found.” + +Generously entertained, we tarried in this land; till at length, from +over the Lagoon, came full tidings of the eruption we had witnessed in +Franko, with many details. The conflagration had spread through +Porpheero and the kings were to and fro hunted, like malefactors by +blood-hounds; all that part of Mardi was heaving with throes. + +With the utmost delight, these tidings were welcomed by many; yet +others heard them with boding concern. + +Those, too, there were, who rejoiced that the kings were cast down; but +mourned that the people themselves stood not firmer. A victory, turned +to no wise and enduring account, said they, is no victory at all. Some +victories revert to the vanquished. + +But day by day great crowds ran down to the beach, in wait for canoes +periodically bringing further intelligence. + +Every hour new cries startled the air. “Hurrah! another, kingdom is +burnt down to the earth’s edge; another demigod is unhelmed; another +republic is dawning. Shake hands, freemen, shake hands! Soon will we +hear of Dominora down in the dust; of hapless Verdanna free as +ourselves; all Porpheero’s volcanoes are bursting! Who may withstand +the people? The times tell terrible tales to tyrants! Ere we die, +freemen, all Mardi will be free.” + +Overhearing these shouts, Babbalanja thus addressed Media:—“My lord, I +can not but believe, that these men, are far more excited than those +with whom they so ardently sympathize. But no wonder. The single +discharges which are heard in Porpheero; here come condensed in one +tremendous report. Every arrival is a firing off of events by +platoons.” + +Now, during this tumultuous interval, King Media very prudently kept +himself exceedingly quiet. He doffed his regalia; and in all things +carried himself with a dignified discretion. And many hours he absented +himself; none knowing whither he went, or what his employment. + +So also with Babbalanja. But still pursuing our search, at last we all +journeyed into a great valley, whose inhabitants were more than +commonly inflated with the ardor of the times. + +Rambling on, we espied a clamorous crowd gathered about a conspicuous +palm, against which, a scroll was fixed. + +The people were violently agitated; storming out maledictions against +the insolent knave, who, over night must have fixed there, that +scandalous document. But whoever he may have been, certain it was, he +had contrived to hood himself effectually. + +After much vehement discussion, during which sundry inflammatory +harangues were made from the stumps of trees near by, it was proposed, +that the scroll should be read aloud, so that all might give ear. + +Seizing it, a fiery youth mounted upon the bowed shoulders of an old +man, his sire; and with a shrill voice, ever and anon interrupted by +outcries, read as follows:— + +“Sovereign-kings of Vivenza! it is fit you should hearken to wisdom. +But well aware, that you give ear to little wisdom except of your own; +and that as freemen, you are free to hunt down him who dissents from +your majesties; I deem it proper to address you anonymously. + +“And if it please you, you may ascribe this voice to the gods: for +never will you trace it to man. + +“It is not unknown, sovereign-kings! that in these boisterous days, the +lessons of history are almost discarded, as superseded by present +experiences. And that while all Mardi’s Present has grown out of its +Past, it is becoming obsolete to refer to what has been. Yet, +peradventure, the Past is an apostle. + +“The grand error of this age, sovereign-kings! is the general +supposition, that the very special Diabolus is abroad; whereas, the +very special Diabolus has been abroad ever since Mardi began. + +“And the grand error of your nation, sovereign-kings! seems this:—The +conceit that Mardi is now in the last scene of the last act of her +drama; and that all preceding events were ordained, to bring about the +catastrophe you believe to be at hand,—a universal and permanent +Republic. + +“May it please you, those who hold to these things are fools, and not +wise. + +“Time is made up of various ages; and each thinks its own a novelty. +But imbedded in the walls of the pyramids, which outrun all +chronologies, sculptured stones are found, belonging to yet older +fabrics. And as in the mound-building period of yore, so every age +thinks its erections will forever endure. But as your forests grow +apace, sovereign-kings! overrunning the tumuli in your western vales; +so, while deriving their substance from the past, succeeding +generations overgrow it; but in time, themselves decay. + +“Oro decrees these vicissitudes. + +“In chronicles of old, you read, sovereign kings! that an eagle from +the clouds presaged royalty to the fugitive Taquinoo; and a king, +Taquinoo reigned; No end to my dynasty, thought he. + +“But another omen descended, foreshadowing the fall of Zooperbi, his +son; and Zooperbi returning from his camp, found his country a fortress +against him. No more kings would she have. And for five hundred +twelve-moons the Regifugium or King’s-flight, was annually celebrated +like your own jubilee day. And rampant young orators stormed out +detestation of kings; and augurs swore that their birds presaged +immortality to freedom. + +“Then, Romara’s free eagles flew over all Mardi, and perched on the +topmost diadems of the east. + +“Ever thus must it be. + +“For, mostly, monarchs are as gemmed bridles upon the world, checking +the plungings of a steed from the Pampas. And republics are as vast +reservoirs, draining down all streams to one level; and so, breeding a +fullness which can not remain full, without overflowing. And thus, +Romara flooded all Mardi, till scarce an Ararat was left of the lofty +kingdoms which had been. + +“Thus, also, did Franko, fifty twelve-moons ago. Thus may she do again. +And though not yet, have you, sovereign-kings! in any large degree done +likewise, it is because you overflow your redundancies within your own +mighty borders; having a wild western waste, which many shepherds with +their flocks could not overrun in a day. Yet overrun at last it will +be; and then, the recoil must come. + +“And, may it please you, that thus far your chronicles had narrated a +very different story, had your population been pressed and packed, like +that of your old sire-land Dominora. Then, your great experiment might +have proved an explosion; like the chemist’s who, stirring his mixture, +was blown by it into the air. + +“For though crossed, and recrossed by many brave quarterings, and +boasting the great Bull in your pedigree; yet, sovereign-kings! you are +not meditative philosophers like the people of a small republic of old; +nor enduring stoics, like their neighbors. Pent up, like them, may it +please you, your thirteen original tribes had proved more turbulent, +than so many mutinous legions. Free horses need wide prairies; and +fortunate for you, sovereign-kings! that you have room enough, wherein +to be free. + +“And, may it please you, you are free, partly, because you are young. +Your nation is like a fine, florid youth, full of fiery impulses, and +hard to restrain; his strong hand nobly championing his heart. On all +sides, freely he gives, and still seeks to acquire. The breath of his +nostrils is like smoke in spring air; every tendon is electric with +generous resolves. The oppressor he defies to his beard; the high walls +of old opinions he scales with a bound. In the future he sees all the +domes of the East. + +“But years elapse, and this bold boy is transformed. His eyes open not +as of yore; his heart is shut up as a vice. He yields not a groat; and +seeking no more acquisitions, is only bent on preserving his hoard. The +maxims once trampled under foot, are now printed on his front; and he +who hated oppressors, is become an oppressor himself. + +“Thus, often, with men; thus, often, with nations. Then marvel not, +sovereign-kings! that old states are different from yours; and think +not, your own must forever remain liberal as now. + +“Each age thinks its own is eternal. But though for five hundred +twelve-moons, all Romara, by courtesy of history, was republican; yet, +at last, her terrible king-tigers came, and spotted themselves with +gore. + +“And time was, when Dominora was republican, down to her sturdy back- +bone. The son of an absolute monarch became the man Karolus; and his +crown and head, both rolled in the dust. And Dominora had her patriots +by thousands; and lusty Defenses, and glorious Areopagiticas were +written, not since surpassed; and no turban was doffed save in homage +of Oro. + +“Yet, may it please you, to the sound of pipe and tabor, the second +King Karolus returned in good time; and was hailed gracious majesty by +high and low. + +“Throughout all eternity, the parts of the past are but parts of the +future reversed. In the old foot-prints, up and down, you mortals go, +eternally traveling your Sierras. And not more infallible the +ponderings of the Calculating Machine than the deductions from the +decimals of history. + +“In nations, sovereign-kings! there is a transmigration of souls; in +you, is a marvelous destiny. The eagle of Romara revives in your own +mountain bird, and once more is plumed for her flight. Her screams are +answered by the vauntful cries of a hawk; his red comb yet reeking with +slaughter. And one East, one West, those bold birds may fly, till they +lock pinions in the midmost beyond. + +“But, soaring in the sky over the nations that shall gather their +broods under their wings, that bloody hawk may hereafter be taken for +the eagle. + +“And though crimson republics may rise in constellations, like fiery +Aldebarans, speeding to their culminations; yet, down must they sink at +last, and leave the old sultan-sun in the sky; in time, again to be +deposed. + +“For little longer, may it please you, can republics subsist now, than +in days gone by. For, assuming that Mardi is wiser than of old; +nevertheless, though all men approached sages in intelligence, some +would yet be more wise than others; and so, the old degrees be +preserved. And no exemption would an equality of knowledge furnish, +from the inbred servility of mortal to mortal; from all the organic +causes, which inevitably divide mankind into brigades and battalions, +with captains at their head. + +“Civilization has not ever been the brother of equality. Freedom was +born among the wild eyries in the mountains; and barbarous tribes have +sheltered under her wings, when the enlightened people of the plain +have nestled under different pinions. + +“Though, thus far, for you, sovereign-kings! your republic has been +fruitful of blessings; yet, in themselves, monarchies are not utterly +evil. For many nations, they are better than republics; for many, they +will ever so remain. And better, on all hands, that peace should rule +with a scepter, than than the tribunes of the people should brandish +their broadswords. Better be the subject of a king, upright and just; +than a freeman in Franko, with the executioner’s ax at every corner. + +“It is not the prime end, and chief blessing, to be politically free. +And freedom is only good as a means; is no end in itself Nor, did man +fight it out against his masters to the haft, not then, would he +uncollar his neck from the yoke. A born thrall to the last, yelping out +his liberty, he still remains a slave unto Oro; and well is it for the +universe, that Oro’s scepter is absolute. + +“World-old the saying, that it is easier to govern others, than +oneself. And that all men should govern themselves as nations, needs +that all men be better, and wiser, than the wisest of one-man rulers. +But in no stable democracy do all men govern themselves. Though an army +be all volunteers, martial law must prevail. Delegate your power, you +leagued mortals must. The hazard you must stand. And though unlike King +Bello of Dominora, your great chieftain, sovereign-kings! may not +declare war of himself; nevertheless, has he done a still more imperial +thing:—gone to war without declaring intentions. You yourselves were +precipitated upon a neighboring nation, ere you knew your spears were +in your hands. + +“But, as in stars you have written it on the welkin, sovereign-kings! +you are a great and glorious people. And verily, yours is the best and +happiest land under the sun. But not wholly, because you, in your +wisdom, decreed it: your origin and geography necessitated it. Nor, in +their germ, are all your blessings to be ascribed to the noble sires, +who of yore fought in your behalf, sovereign-kings! Your nation enjoyed +no little independence before your Declaration declared it. Your +ancient pilgrims fathered your liberty; and your wild woods harbored +the nursling. For the state that to-day is made up of slaves, can not +to-morrow transmute her bond into free; though lawlessness may +transform them into brutes. Freedom is the name for a thing that is +_not_ freedom; this, a lesson never learned in an hour or an age. By +some tribes it will never be learned. + +“Yet, if it please you, there may be such a thing as being free under +Caesar. Ages ago, there were as many vital freemen, as breathe vital +air to-day. + +“Names make not distinctions; some despots rule without swaying +scepters. Though King Bello’s palace was not put together by yoked men; +your federal temple of freedom, sovereign-kings! was the handiwork of +slaves. + +“It is not gildings, and gold maces, and crown jewels alone, that make +a people servile. There is much bowing and cringing among you +yourselves, sovereign-kings! Poverty is abased before riches, all Mardi +over; any where, it is hard to be a debtor; any where, the wise will +lord it over fools; every where, suffering is found. + +“Thus, freedom is more social than political. And its real felicity is +not to be shared. _That_ is of a man’s own individual getting and +holding. It is not, who rules the state, but who rules me. Better be +secure under one king, than exposed to violence from twenty millions of +monarchs, though oneself be of the number. + +“But superstitious notions you harbor, sovereign kings! Did you visit +Dominora, you would not be marched straight into a dungeon. And though +you would behold sundry sights displeasing, you would start to inhale +such liberal breezes; and hear crowds boasting of their privileges; as +you, of yours. Nor has the wine of Dominora, a monarchical flavor. + +“Now, though far and wide, to keep equal pace with the times, great +reforms, of a verity, be needed; nowhere are bloody revolutions +required. Though it be the most certain of remedies, no prudent invalid +opens his veins, to let out his disease with his life. And though all +evils may be assuaged; all evils can not be done away. For evil is the +chronic malady of the universe; and checked in one place, breaks forth +in another. + +“Of late, on this head, some wild dreams have departed. + +“There are many, who erewhile believed that the age of pikes and +javelins was passed; that after a heady and blustering youth, old Mardi +was at last settling down into a serene old age; and that the Indian +summer, first discovered in your land, sovereign kings! was the hazy +vapor emitted from its tranquil pipe. But it has not so proved. Mardi’s +peaces are but truces. Long absent, at last the red comets have +returned. And return they must, though their periods be ages. And +should Mardi endure till mountain melt into mountain, and all the isles +form one table-land; yet, would it but expand the old battle-plain. + +“Students of history are horror-struck at the massacres of old; but in +the shambles, men are being murdered to-day. Could time be reversed, +and the future change places with the past, the past would cry out +against us, and our future, full as loudly, as we against the ages +foregone. All the Ages are his children, calling each other names. + +“Hark ye, sovereign-kings! cheer not on the yelping pack too furiously: +Hunters have been torn by their hounds. Be advised; wash your hands. +Hold aloof. Oro has poured out an ocean for an everlasting barrier +between you and the worst folly which other republics have perpetrated. +That barrier hold sacred. And swear never to cross over to Porpheero, +by manifesto or army, unless you traverse dry land. + +“And be not too grasping, nearer home. It is not freedom to filch. +Expand not your area too widely, now. Seek you proselytes? Neighboring +nations may be free, without coming under your banner. And if you can +not lay your ambition, know this: that it is best served, by waiting +events. + +“Time, but Time only, may enable you to cross the equator; and give you +the Arctic Circles for your boundaries.” + +So read the anonymous scroll; which straightway, was torn into shreds. + +“Old tory, and monarchist!” they shouted, “Preaching over his benighted +sermons in these enlightened times! Fool! does he not know that all the +Past and its graves are being dug over?” + +They were furious; so wildly rolling their eyes after victims, that +well was it for King Media, he wore not his crown; and in silence, we +moved unnoted from out the crowd. + +“My lord, I am amazed at the indiscretion of a demigod,” said +Babbalanja, as we passed on our way; “I recognized your sultanic style +the very first sentence. This, then, is the result of your hours of +seclusion.” + +“Philosopher! I am astounded at your effrontery. I detected your +philosophy the very first maxim. Who posted that parchment for you?” + +So, each charged the other with its authorship: and there was no +finding out, whether, indeed, either knew aught of its origin. + +Now, could it have been Babbalanja? Hardly. For, philosophic as the +document was, it seemed too dogmatic and conservative for him. King +Media? But though imperially absolute in his political sentiments, +Media delivered not himself so boldly, when actually beholding the +eruption in Franko. + +Indeed, the settlement of this question must be left to the +commentators on Mardi, some four or five hundred centuries hence. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. +They Visit The Extreme South Of Vivenza + + +We penetrated further and further into the valleys around; but, though, +as elsewhere, at times we heard whisperings that promised an end to our +wanderings;—we still wandered on; and once again, even Yoomy abated his +sanguine hopes. + +And now, we prepared to embark for the extreme south of the land. + +But we were warned by the people, that in that portion of Vivenza, +whither we were going, much would be seen repulsive to strangers. Such +things, however, indulgent visitors overlooked. For themselves, they +were well aware of those evils. Northern Vivenza had done all it could +to assuage them; but in vain; the inhabitants of those southern valleys +were a fiery, and intractable race; heeding neither expostulations, nor +entreaties. They were wedded to their ways. Nay, they swore, that if +the northern tribes persisted in intermeddlings, they would dissolve +the common alliance, and establish a distinct confederacy among +themselves. + +Our coasting voyage at an end, our keels grated the beach among many +prostrate palms, decaying, and washed by the billows. Though part and +parcel of the shore we had left, this region seemed another land. Fewer +thriving thingswere seen; fewer cheerful sounds were heard. + +“Here labor has lost his laugh!” cried Yoomy. + +It was a great plain where we landed; and there, under a burning sun, +hundreds of collared men were toiling in trenches, filled with the taro +plant; a root most flourishing in that soil. Standing grimly over +these, were men unlike them; armed with long thongs, which descended +upon the toilers, and made wounds. Blood and sweat mixed; and in great +drops, fell. + +“Who eat these plants thus nourished?” cried Yoomy. “Are these men?” +asked Babbalanja. + +“Which mean you?” said Mohi. + +Heeding him not, Babbalanja advanced toward the fore-most of those with +the thongs,—one Nulli: a cadaverous, ghost-like man; with a low ridge +of forehead; hair, steel-gray; and wondrous eyes;—bright, nimble, as +the twin Corposant balls, playing about the ends of ships’ royal-yards +in gales. + +The sun passed under a cloud; and Nulli, darting at Babbalanja those +wondrous eyes, there fell upon him a baleful glare. + +“Have they souls?” he asked, pointing to the serfs. + +“No,” said Nulli, “their ancestors may have had; but their souls have +been bred out of their descendants; as the instinct of scent is killed +in pointers.” + +Approaching one of the serfs, Media took him by the hand, and felt of +it long; and looked into his eyes; and placed his ear to his side; and +exclaimed, “Surely this being has flesh that is warm; he has Oro in his +eye; and a heart in him that beats. I swear he is a man.” + +“Is this our lord the king?” cried Mohi, starting. + +“What art thou,” said Babbalanja to the serf. “Dost ever feel in thee a +sense of right and wrong? Art ever glad or sad?—They tell us thou art +not a man:—speak, then, for thyself; say, whether thou beliest thy +Maker.” + +“Speak not of my Maker to me. Under the lash, I believe my masters, and +account myself a brute; but in my dreams, bethink myself an angel. But +I am bond; and my little ones;—their mother’s milk is gall.” + +“Just Oro!” cried Yoomy, “do no thunders roll,—no lightnings flash in +this accursed land!” + +“Asylum for all Mardi’s thralls!” cried Media. + +“Incendiaries!” cried he with the wondrous eyes, “come ye, firebrands, +to light the flame of revolt? Know ye not, that here are many serfs, +who, incited to obtain their liberty, might wreak some dreadful +vengeance? Avaunt, thou king! _thou_ horrified at this? Go back to Odo, +and right her wrongs! These serfs are happier than thine; though thine, +no collars wear; more happy as they are, than if free. Are they not +fed, clothed, and cared for? Thy serfs pine for food: never yet did +these; who have no thoughts, no cares.” + +“Thoughts and cares are life, and liberty, and immortality!” cried +Babbalanja; “and are their souls, then, blown out as candles?” + +“Ranter! they are content,” cried Nulli. “They shed no tears.” + +“Frost never weeps,” said Babbalanja; “and tears are frozen in those +frigid eyes.” + +“Oh fettered sons of fettered mothers, conceived and born in manacles,” +cried Yoomy; “dragging them through life; and falling with them, +clanking in the grave:—oh, beings as ourselves, how my stiff arm +shivers to avenge you! ’Twere absolution for the matricide, to strike +one rivet from your chains. My heart outswells its home!” + +“Oro! Art thou?” cried Babbalanja; “and doth this thing exist? It +shakes my little faith.” Then, turning upon Nulli, “How can ye abide to +sway this curs’d dominion?” + +“Peace, fanatic! Who else may till unwholesome fields, but these? And +as these beings are, so shall they remain; ’tis right and righteous! +Maramma champions it!—I swear it! The first blow struck for them, +dissolves the union of Vivenza’s vales. The northern tribes well know +it; and know me.” + +Said Media, “Yet if—” + +“No more! another word, and, king as thou art, thou shalt be +dungeoned:—here, there is such a law; thou art not among the northern +tribes.” + +“And this is freedom!” murmured Media; “when heaven’s own voice is +throttled. And were these serfs to rise, and fight for it; like dogs, +they would be hunted down by her pretended sons!” + +“Pray, heaven!” cried Yoomy, “they may yet find a way to loose their +bonds without one drop of blood. But hear me, Oro! were there no other +way, and should their masters not relent, all honest hearts must cheer +this tribe of Hamo on; though they cut their chains with blades thrice +edged, and gory to the haft! ’Tis right to fight for freedom, whoever +be the thrall.” + +“These South savannahs may yet prove battle-fields,” said Mohi; +gloomily, as we retraced our steps. + +“Be it,” said Yoomy. “Oro will van the right.” + +“Not always has it proved so,” said Babbalanja. “Oft-times, the right +fights single-handed against the world; and Oro champions none. In all +things, man’s own battles, man himself must fight. Yoomy: so far as +feeling goes, your sympathies are not more hot than mine; but for these +serfs you would cross spears; yet, I would not. Better present woes for +some, than future woes for all.” + +“No need to fight,” cried Yoomy, “to liberate that tribe of Hamo +instantly; a way may be found, and no irretrievable evil ensue.” + +“Point it out, and be blessed, Yoomy.” + +“That is for Vivenza; but the head is dull, where the heart is cold.” + +“My lord,” said Babbalanja, “you have startled us by your kingly +sympathy for suffering; say thou, then, in what wise manner it shall be +relieved.” + +“That is for Vivenza,” said Media. + +“Mohi, you are old: speak thou.” + +“Let Vivenza speak,” said Mohi. + +“Thus then we all agree; and weeping all but echo hard-hearted Nulli. +Tears are not swords and wrongs seem almost natural as rights. For the +righteous to suppress an evil, is sometimes harder than for others to +uphold it. Humanity cries out against this vast enormity:— not one man +knows a prudent remedy. Blame not, then, the North; and wisely judge +the South. Ere, as a nation, they became responsible, this thing was +planted in their midst. Such roots strike deep. Place to-day those +serfs in Dominora; and with them, all Vivenza’s Past;— and serfs, for +many years, in Dominora, they would be. Easy is it to stand afar and +rail. All men are censors who have lungs. We can say, the stars are +wrongly marshaled. Blind men say the sun is blind. A thousand muscles +wag our tongues; though our tongues were housed, that they might have a +home. Whose is free from crime, let him cross himself—but hold his +cross upon his lips. That he is not bad, is not of him. Potters’ clay +and wax are all, molded by hands invisible. The soil decides the man. +And, ere birth, man wills not to be born here or there. These southern +tribes have grown up with this thing; bond-women were their nurses, and +bondmen serve them still. Nor are all their serfs such wretches as +those we saw. Some seem happy: yet not as men. Unmanned, they know not +what they are. And though, of all the south, Nulli must stand almost +alone in his insensate creed; yet, to all wrong-doers, custom backs the +sense of wrong. And if to every Mardian, conscience be the awarder of +its own doom; then, of these tribes, many shall be found exempted from +the least penalty of this sin. But sin it is, no less;—a blot, foul as +the crater-pool of hell; it puts out the sun at noon; it parches all +fertility; and, conscience or no conscience—ere he die—let every master +who wrenches bond-babe from mother, that the nipple tear; unwreathes +the arms of sisters; or cuts the holy unity in twain; till apart fall +man and wife, like one bleeding body cleft:—let that master thrice +shrive his soul; take every sacrament; on his bended knees give up the +ghost;—yet shall he die despairing; and live again, to die forever +damned. The future is all hieroglyphics. Who may read? But, methinks +the great laggard Time must now march up apace, and somehow befriend +these thralls. It can not be, that misery is perpetually entailed; +though, in a land proscribing primogeniture, the first-born and last of +Hamo’s tribe must still succeed to all their sires’ wrongs. Yes. +Time—all-healing Time—Time, great Philanthropist!—Time must befriend +these thralls!” + +“Oro grant it!” cried Yoomy “and let Mardi say, amen!” + +“Amen! amen! amen!” cried echoes echoing echoes. + +We traversed many of these southern vales; but as in Dominora,—so, +throughout Vivenza, North and South,—Yillah harbored not. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. +They Converse Of The Mollusca, Kings, Toad-Stools And Other Matters + + +Once more embarking, we gained Vivenza’s southwestern side and there, +beheld vast swarms of laborers discharging from canoes, great loads of +earth; which they tossed upon the beach. + +“It is true, then,” said Media “that these freemen are engaged in +digging down other lands, and adding them to their own, piece-meal. And +this, they call extending their dominions agriculturally, and +peaceably.” + +“My lord, they pay a price for every canoe-load,” said Mohi. + +“Ay, old man, holding the spear in one hand, and striking the bargain +with the other.” + +“Yet charge it not upon all Vivenza,” said Babbalanja. “Some of her +tribes are hostile to these things: and when their countryman fight for +land, are only warlike in opposing war.” + +“And therein, Babbalanja, is involved one of those anomalies in the +condition of Vivenza,” said Media, “which I can hardly comprehend. How +comes it, that with so Many things to divide them, the valley-tribes +still keep their mystic league intact?” + +“All plain, it is because the model, whence they derive their union, is +one of nature’s planning. My lord, have you ever observed the +mysterious federation subsisting among the molluscs of the Tunicata +order,—in other words, a species of cuttle-fish, abounding at the +bottom of the lagoon?” + +“Yes: in clear weather about the reefs, I have beheld them time and +again: but never with an eye to their political condition.” + +“Ah! my lord king, we should not cut off the nervous communication +between our eyes, and our cerebellums.” + +“What were you about to say concerning the Tunicata order of mollusca, +sir philosopher?” + +“My very honorable lord, I hurry to conclude. They live in a compound +structure; but though connected by membranous canals, freely +communicating throughout the league—each member has a heart and stomach +of its own; provides and digests its own dinners; and grins and bears +its own gripes, without imparting the same to its neighbors. But if a +prowling shark touches one member, it ruffles all. Precisely thus now +with Vivenza. In that confederacy, there are as many consciences as +tribes; hence, if one member on its own behalf, assumes aught +afterwards repudiated, the sin rests on itself alone; is not +participated.” + +“A very subtle explanation, Babbalanja. You must allude, then, to those +recreant tribes; which, while in their own eyes presenting a sublime +moral spectacle to Mardi,—in King Bello’s, do but present a hopeless +example of bad debts. And these, the tribes that boast of boundless +wealth.” + +“Most true, my lord. But Bello errs, when for this thing, he +stigmatizes all Vivenza, as a unity.” + +“Babbalanja, you yourself are made up of members:—then, if you be sick +of a lumbago,—’tis not _you_ that are unwell; but your spine.” + +“As you will, my lord. I have said. But to speak no more on that head +—what sort of a sensation, think you, life is to such creatures as +those mollusca?” + +“Answer your own question, Babbalanja.” + +“I will; but first tell me what sort of a sensation life is to you, +yourself, my lord.” + +“Pray answer that along with the other, Azzageddi.” + +“Directly; but tell me, if you will, my lord, what sort of a sensation +life is to a toad-stool.” + +“Pray, Babbalanja put all three questions together; and then, do what +you have often done before, pronounce yourself a lunatic.” + +“My lord, I beseech you, remind me not of that fact so often. It is +true, but annoying. Nor will any wise man call another a fool.” + +“Do you take me for a mere man, then, Babbalanja, that you talk to me +thus?” + +“My demi-divine lord and master, I was deeply concerned at your +indisposition last night:—may a loving subject inquire, whether his +prince is completely recovered from the effect of those guavas?” + +“Have a care, Azzageddi; you are far too courteous, to be civil. But +proceed.” + +“I obey. In kings, mollusca, and toad-stools, life is one thing and the +same. The Philosopher Dumdi pronounces it a certain febral vibration of +organic parts, operating upon the vis inertia of unorganized matter. +But Bardianna says nay. Hear him. ‘Who put together this marvelous +mechanism of mine; and wound it up, to go for three score years and +ten; when it runs out, and strikes Time’s hours no more? And what is +it, that daily and hourly renews, and by a miracle, creates in me my +flesh and my blood? What keeps up the perpetual telegraphic +communication between my outpost toes and digits, and that domed +grandee up aloft, my brain?—It is not I; nor you; nor he; nor it. No; +when I place my hand to that king muscle my heart, I am appalled. I +feel the great God himself at work in me. Oro is life.’” + +“And what is death?” demanded Media. + +“Death, my lord!—it is the deadest of all things.” + + + + +CHAPTER LX. +Wherein, That Gallant Gentleman And Demi-God, King Media, Scepter In +Hand, Throws Himself Into The Breach + + +Sailing south from Vivenza, not far from its coast, we passed a cluster +of islets, green as new fledged grass; and like the mouths of floating +cornucopias, their margins brimmed over upon the brine with flowers. On +some, grew stately roses; on others stood twin-pillars; across others, +tri-hued rainbows rested. + +Cried Babbalanja, pointing to the last, “Franko’s pledge of peace! with +that, she loudly vaunts she’ll span the reef!—Strike out all hues but +red,—and the token’s nearer truth.” + +All these isles were prolific gardens; where King Bello, and the +Princes of Porpheero grew their most delicious fruits,—nectarines and +grapes. + +But, though hard by, Vivenza owned no garden here; yet longed and +lusted; and her hottest tribes oft roundly swore, to root up all roses +the half-reef over; pull down all pillars; and dissolve all rainbows. +“Mardi’s half is ours;” said they. Stand back invaders! Full of vanity; +and mirroring themselves in the future; they deemed all reflected +there, their own. + +’Twas now high noon. + +“Methinks the sun grows hot,” said Media, retreating deeper under the +canopy. “Ho! Vee-Vee; have you no cooling beverage? none of that golden +wine distilled from torrid grapes, and then sent northward to be +cellared in an iceberg? That wine was placed among our stores. Search, +search the crypt, little Vee-Vee! Ha, I see it!—that yellow +gourd!—Come: drag it forth, my boy. Let’s have the amber cups: so: pass +them round;—fill all! Taji! my demi-god, up heart! Old Mohi, my babe, +may you live ten thousand centuries! Ah! this way you mortals have of +dying out at three score years and ten, is but a craven habit. So, +Babbalanja! may you never die. Yoomy! my sweet poet, may you live to +sing to me in Paradise. Ha, ha! would that we floated in this glorious +stuff, instead of this pestilent brine.—Hark ye! were I to make a Mardi +now, I’d have every continent a huge haunch of venison; every ocean a +wine-vat! I’d stock every cavern with choice old spirits, and make +three surplus suns to ripen the grapes all the year round. Let’s drink +to that!—Brimmers! So: may the next Mardi that’s made, be one entire +grape; and mine the squeezing!” + +“Look, look! my lord,” cried Yoomy, “what a glorious shore we pass.” + +Sallying out into the high golden noon, with golden-beaming goblets +suspended, we gazed. + +“This must be Kolumbo of the south,” said Mohi. + +It was a long, hazy reach of land; piled up in terraces, traced here +and there with rushing streams, that worked up gold dust alluvian, and +seemed to flash over pebbled diamonds. Heliotropes, sun-flowers, +marigolds gemmed, or starred the violet meads, and vassal-like, still +sunward bowed their heads. The rocks were pierced with grottoes, +blazing with crystals, many-tinted. + +It was a land of mints and mines; its east a ruby; west a topaz. +Inland, the woodlands stretched an ocean, bottomless with foliage; its +green surges bursting through cable-vines; like Xerxes’ brittle chains +which vainly sought to bind the Hellespont. Hence flowed a tide of +forest sounds; of parrots, paroquets, macaws; blent with the howl of +jaguars, hissing of anacondas, chattering of apes, and herons +screaming. + +Out from those depths up rose a stream. + +The land lay basking in the world’s round torrid brisket, hot with +solar fire. + +“No need here to land,” cried Yoomy, “Yillah lurks not here.” + +“Heat breeds life, and sloth, and rage,” said Babbalanja. “Here live +bastard tribes and mongrel nations; wrangling and murdering to prove +their freedom.—Refill, my lord.” + +“Methinks, Babbalanja, you savor of the mysterious parchment, in +Vivenza read:—Ha? Yes, philosopher, these are the men, who toppled +castles to make way for hovels; these, they who fought for freedom, but +find it despotism to rule themselves. These, Babbalanja, are of the +race, to whom a tyrant would prove a blessing.” So saying he drained +his cup. + +“My lord, that last sentiment decides the authorship of the scroll. +But, with deference, tyrants seldom can prove blessings; inasmuch as +evil seldom eventuates in good. Yet will these people soon have a +tyrant over them, if long they cleave to war. Of many javelins, one +must prove a scepter; of many helmets, one a crown. It is but in the +wearing.—Refill, my lord.” + +“Fools, fools!” cried Media, “these tribes hate us kings; yet know not, +that Peace is War against all kings. We seldom are undone by spears, +which are our ministers.—This wine is strong.” + +“Ha, now’s the time! In his cups learn king-craft from a king. Ay, ay, +my lord, your royal order will endure, so long as men will fight. Break +the spears, and free the nations. Kings reap the harvests that wave on +battle-fields. And oft you kings do snatch the aloe-flower, whose slow +blossoming mankind watches for a hundred years.—Say on, my lord.” + +“All this I know; and, therefore, rest content. My children’s children +will be kings; though, haply, called by other titles. Mardi grows +fastidious in names: we royalties will humor it. The steers would burst +their yokes, but have not hands. The whole herd rears and plunges, but +soon will bow again: the old, old way!” + +“Yet, in Porpheero, strong scepters have been wrested from anointed +hands. Mankind seems in arms.” + +“Let them arm on. They hate us:—good;—they always have; yet still we’ve +reigned, son after sire. Sometimes they slay us, Babbalanja; pour out +our marrow, as I this wine; but they spill no kinless blood. ’Twas +justly held of old, that but to touch a monarch, was to strike at +Oro.—Truth. The palest vengeance is a royal ghost; and regicides but +father slaves. Thrones, not scepters, have been broken. Mohi, what of +the past? Has it not ever proved so?” + +“Pardon, my lord; the times seem changed. ’Tis held, that demi-gods no +more rule by right divine. In Vivenza’s land, they swear the last kings +now reign in Mardi.” + +“Is the last day at hand, old man? Mohi, your beard is gray; but, +Yoomy, listen. When you die, look around; mark then if any mighty +change be seen. Old kingdoms may be on the wane; but new dynasties +advance. Though revolutions rise to high spring-tide, monarchs will +still drown hard;—monarchs survived the flood!” + +“Are all our dreams, then, vain?” sighed Yoomy. “Is this no dawn of day +that streaks the crimson East! Naught but the false and flickering +lights which sometimes mock Aurora in the north! Ah, man, my brother! +have all martyrs for thee bled in vain; in vain we poets sang, and +prophets spoken? Nay, nay; great Mardi, helmed and mailed, strikes at +Oppression’s shield, and challenges to battle! Oro will defend the +right, and royal crests must roll.” + +“Thus, Yoomy, ages since, you mortal poets sang; but the world may not +be moved from out the orbit in which first it rolled. On the map that +charts the spheres, Mardi is marked ‘the world of kings.’ Round +centuries on centuries have wheeled by:—has all this been its nonage? +Now, when the rocks grow gray, does man first sprout his beard? Or, is +your golden time, your equinoctial year, at hand, that your race fast +presses toward perfection; and every hand grasps at a scepter, that +kings may be no more?” + +“But free Vivenza! Is she not the star, that must, ere long, lead up +the constellations, though now unrisen? No kings are in Vivenza; yet, +spite her thralls, in that land seems more of good than elsewhere. Our +hopes are not wild dreams: Vivenza cheers our hearts. She is a rainbow +to the isles!” + +“Ay, truth it is, that in Vivenza they have prospered. But thence it +comes not, that all men may be as they. Are all men of one heart and +brain; one bone and sinew? Are all nations sprung of Dominora’s loins? +Or, has Vivenza yet proved her creed? Yoomy! the years that prove a +man, prove not a nation. But two kings’-reigns have passed since +Vivenza was a monarch’s. Her climacteric is not come; hers is not yet a +nation’s manhood even; though now in childhood, she anticipates her +youth, and lusts for empire like any czar. Yoomy! judge not yet. Time +hath tales to tell. Many books, and many long, long chapters, are +wanting to Vivenza’s history; and whet history but is full of blood?” + +“There stop, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “nor aught predict. Fate laughs +at prophets; and of all birds, the raven is a liar!” + + + + +CHAPTER LXI. +They Round The Stormy Cape Of Capes + + +Long leagues, for weary days, we voyaged along that coast, till we came +to regions where we multiplied our mantles. + +The sky grew overcast. Each a night, black storm-clouds swept the +wintry sea; and like Sahara caravans, which leave their sandy wakes— +so, thick and fleet, slanted the scud behind. Through all this rack and +mist, ten thousand foam-flaked dromedary-humps uprose. + +Deep among those panting, moaning fugitives, the three canoes raced on. + +And now, the air grew nipping cold. The clouds shed off their fleeces; +a snow-hillock, each canoe; our beards, white-frosted. + +And so, as seated in our shrouds, we sailed in among great mountain +passes of ice-isles; from icy ledges scaring shivering seals, and white +bears, musical with icicles, jingling from their shaggy ermine. + +Far and near, in towering ridges, stretched the glassy Andes; with +their own frost, shuddering through all their domes and pinnacles. +Ice-splinters rattled down the cliffs, and seethed into the sea. + +Broad away, in amphitheaters undermined by currents, whole cities of +ice-towers, in crashes, toward one center, fell.—In their earthquakes, +Lisbon and Lima never saw the like. Churned and broken in the boiling +tide, they swept off amain;—over and over rolling; like porpoises to +vessels tranced in calms, bringing down the gale. + +At last, rounding an antlered headland, that seemed a moose at bay—ere +long, we launched upon blue lake-like waters, serene as Windermere, or +Horicon. Thus, from the boisterous storms of youth, we glide upon +senility. + +But as we northward voyaged, another aspect wore the sea. + +In far-off, endless vistas, colonnades of water-spouts were seen: all +heaven’s dome upholding on their shafts: and bright forms gliding up +and down within. So at Luz, in his strange vision, Jacob saw the +angels. + +A boundless cave of stalactites, it seemed; the cloud-born vapors +downward spiraling, till they met the whirlpool-column from the sea; +then, uniting, over the waters stalked, like ghosts of gods. Or midway +sundered—down, sullen, sunk the watery half; and far up into heaven, +was drawn the vapory. As, at death, we mortals part in twain; our +earthy half still here abiding; but our spirits flying whence they +came. + +In good time, we gained the thither side of great Kolumbo of the South; +and sailing on, long waited for the day; and wondered at the darkness. + +“What steadfast clouds!” cried Yoomy, “yonder! far aloft: that ridge, +with many points; it fades below, but shows a faint white crest.” + +“Not clouds, but mountains,” said Babbalanja, “the vast spine, that +traverses Kolumbo; spurring off in ribs, that nestle loamy valleys, +veined with silver streams, and silver ores.” + +It was a long, embattled line of pinnacles. And high posted in the +East, those thousand bucklered peaks stood forth, and breasted back the +Dawn. Before their purple bastions bold, Aurora long arrayed her +spears, and clashed her golden shells. The summons dies away. But now, +her lancers charge the steep, and gain its crest a-glow;—their +glittering spears and blazoned shields triumphant in the morn. + +But ere that sight, we glided on for hours in twilight; when, on those +mountains’ farther side, the hunters must have been abroad, morning- +glories all astir. + + + + +CHAPTER LXII. +They Encounter Gold-Hunters + + +Now, northward coasting along Kolumbo’s Western shore, whence came the +same wild forest-sounds, as from the Eastern; and where we landed not, +to seek among those wrangling tribes;—after many, many days, we spied +prow after prow, before the wind all northward bound: sails +wide-spread, and paddles plying: scaring the fish from before them. + +Their inmates answered not our earnest hail. + +But as they sped, with frantic glee, in one long chorus thus they +sang:— + + We rovers bold, + To the land of Gold, + Over bowling billows are gliding: + Eager to toil, + For the golden spoil, + And every hardship biding. + See! See! + Before our prows’ resistless dashes, + The gold-fish fly in golden flashes! + ’Neath a sun of gold, + We rovers bold, + On the golden land are gaining; + And every night, + We steer aright, + By golden stars unwaning! + All fires burn a golden glare: + No locks so bright as golden hair! + All orange groves have golden gushings: + All mornings dawn with golden flushings! +In a shower of gold, say fables old, +A maiden was won by the god of gold! + In golden goblets wine is beaming: + On golden couches kings are dreaming! + The Golden Rule dries many tears! + The Golden Number rules the spheres! +Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations: +Gold! gold! the center of all rotations! + On golden axles worlds are turning: + With phosphorescence seas are burning! + All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings: + Gold-hunters’ hearts with golden dreamings! + With golden arrows kings are slain: + With gold we’ll buy a freeman’s name! +In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings, +At home we’ve slaved, with stifled yearnings: +No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe! +When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow. + But joyful now, with eager eye, + Fast to the Promised Land we fly: + Where in deep mines, + The treasure shines; + Or down in beds of golden streams, + The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams! + How we long to sift, + That yellow drift! + Rivers! Rivers! cease your going! + Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide! + ’Till we’ve gained the golden flowing; + And in the golden haven ride! + + +“Quick, quick, my lord,” cried Yoomy, “let us follow them; and from the +golden waters where she lies, our Yillah may emerge.” + +“No, no,” said Babbalanja,—“no Yillah there!—from yonder promised-land, +fewer seekers will return, than go. Under a gilded guise, happiness is +still their instinctive aim. But vain, Yoomy, to snatch at Happiness. +Of that we may not pluck and eat. It is the fruit of our own toilsome +planting; slow it grows, nourished by many teats, and all our earnest +tendings. Yet ere it ripen, frosts may nip;—and then, we plant again; +and yet again. Deep, Yoomy, deep, true treasure lies; deeper than all +Mardi’s gold, rooted to Mardi’s axis. But unlike gold, it lurks in +every soil,—all Mardi over. With golden pills and potions is sickness +warded off?—the shrunken veins of age, dilated with new wine of youth? +Will gold the heart-ache cure? turn toward us hearts estranged? will +gold, on solid centers empires fix? ’Tis toil world-wasted to toil in +mines. Were all the isles gold globes, set in a quicksilver sea, all +Mardi were then a desert. Gold is the only poverty; of all glittering +ills the direst. And that man might not impoverish himself thereby, Oro +hath hidden it, with all other banes,—saltpeter and explosives, deep in +mountain bowels, and river-beds. But man still will mine for it; and +mining, dig his doom.— Yoomy, Yoomy!—she we seek, lurks not in the +Golden Hills!” + +“Lo, a vision!” cried Yoomy, his hands wildly passed across his eyes. +“A vast and silent bay, belted by silent villages:—gaunt dogs howling +over grassy thresholds at stark corpses of old age and infancy; gray +hairs mingling with sweet flaxen curls; fields, with turned furrows, +choked with briers; arbor-floors strown over with hatchet-helves, +rotting in the iron; a thousand paths, marked with foot-prints, all +inland leading, none villageward; and strown with traces, as of a +flying host. On: over forest—hill, and dale—and lo! the golden region! +After the glittering spoil, by strange river-margins, and beneath +impending cliffs, thousands delve in quicksands; and, sudden, sink in +graves of their own making: with gold dust mingling their own ashes. +Still deeper, in more solid ground, other thousands slave; and pile +their earth so high, they gasp for air, and die; their comrades +mounting on them, and delving still, and dying—grave pile on grave! +Here, one haggard hunter murders another in his pit; and murdering, +himself is murdered by a third. Shrieks and groans! cries and curses! +It seems a golden Hell! With many camels, a sleek stranger comes— +pauses before the shining heaps, and shows _his_ treasures: yams and +bread-fruit. ‘Give, give,’ the famished hunters cry—, ‘a thousand +shekels for a yam!—a prince’s ransom for a meal!—Oh, stranger! on our +knees we worship thee:—take, take our gold; but let us live!’ Yams are +thrown them and they fight. Then he who toiled not, dug not, slaved +not, straight loads his caravans with gold; regains the beach, and +swift embarks for home. ‘Home! home!’ the hunters cry, with bursting +eyes. ‘With this bright gold, could we but join our waiting wives, who +wring their hands on distant shores, all then were well. But we can not +fly; our prows lie rotting on the beach. Ah! home! thou only +happiness!—better thy silver earnings than all these golden findings. +Oh, bitter end to all our hopes—we die in golden graves.” + + + + +CHAPTER LXIII. +They Seek Through The Isles Of Palms; And Pass The Isles Of Myrrh + + +Now, our prows we turned due west, across the blue lagoon. + +Soon, no land appeared. Far as the eye could sweep, one azure plain; +all over flaked with foamy fleeces:—a boundless flock upon a boundless +mead! + +Again, all changed. Like stars in multitude, bright islets multiplied +around. Emerald-green, they dotted shapes fantastic: circles, arcs, and +crescents;—atolls all, or coral carcanets, begemmed and flashing in the +sun. + +By these we glided, group after group; and through the foliage, spied +sweet forms of maidens, like Eves in Edens ere the Fall, or Proserpines +in Ennas. Artless airs came from the shore; and from the +censer-swinging roses, a bloom, as if from Hebe’s cheek. + +“Here, at last, we find sweet Yillah!” murmured Yoomy. “Here must she +lurk in innocence! Quick! Let us land and search.” + +“If here,” said Babbalanja, “Yillah will not stay our coming, but fly +before us through the groves. Wherever a canoe is beached, see you not +the palm-trees pine? Not so, where never keel yet smote the strand. In +mercy, let us fly from hence. I know not why, but our breath here, must +prove a blight.” + +These regions passed, we came to savage islands, where the glittering +coral seemed bones imbedded, bleaching in the sun. Savage men stood +naked on the strand, and brandished uncouth clubs, and gnashed their +teeth like boars. + +The full red moon was rising; and, in long review there passed before +it, phantom shapes of victims, led bound to altars through the groves. +Death-rattles filled the air. But a cloud descended, and all was gloom. + +Again blank water spread before us; and after many days, there came a +gentle breeze, fraught with all spicy breathings; cinnamon aromas; and +in the rose-flushed evening air, like glow worms, glowed the islets, +where this incense burned. + +“Sweet isles of myrh! oh crimson groves,” cried Yoomy. “Woe, woe’s your +fate! your brightness and your bloom, like musky fire-flies, +double-lure to death! On ye, the nations prey like bears that gorge +themselves with honey.” + +Swan-like, our prows sailed in among these isles; and oft we landed; +but in vain; and leaving them, we still pursued the setting sun. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIV. +Concentric, Inward, With Mardi’s Reef, They Leave Their Wake Around The +World + + +West, West! West, West! Whitherward point Hope and prophet-fingers; +whitherward, at sun-set, kneel all worshipers of fire; whitherward in +mid-ocean, the great whales turn to die; whitherward face all the +Moslem dead in Persia; whitherward lie Heaven and Hell!—West, West! +Whitherward mankind and empires—flocks, caravans, armies, navies; +worlds, suns, and stars all wend!—West, West!—Oh boundless boundary! +Eternal goal! Whitherward rush, in thousand worlds, ten thousand +thousand keels! Beacon, by which the universe is steered!—Like the +north-star, attracting all needles! Unattainable forever; but forever +leading to great things this side thyself!—Hive of all sunsets!— +Gabriel’s pinions may not overtake thee! + +Over balmy waves, still westward sailing! From dawn till eve, the +bright, bright days sped on, chased by the gloomy nights; and, in glory +dying, lent their luster to the starry skies. So, long the radiant +dolphins fly before the sable sharks but seized, and torn in +flames—die, burning:—their last splendor left, in sparkling scales that +float along the sea. + +Cymbals, drums and psalteries! the air beats like a pulse with music! +—High land! high land! and moving lights, and painted lanterns!—What +grand shore is this? + +“Reverence we render thee, Old Orienda!” cried Media, with bared brow, +“Original of all empires and emperors!—a crowned king salutes thee!” + +“Mardi’s father-land!” cried Mohi, “grandsire of the nations,—hail!” + +“All hail!” cried Yoomy. “Kings and sages hither coming, should come +like palmers,—scrip and staff! Oh Orienda! thou wert our East, where +first dawned song and science, with Mardi’s primal mornings! But now, +how changed! the dawn of light become a darkness, which we kindle with +the gleam of spears! On the world’s ancestral hearth, we spill our +brothers’ blood!” + +“Herein,” said Babbalanja, “have many distant tribes proved parricidal. +In times gone by, Luzianna hither sent her prom; Franko, her scores of +captains; and the Dykemen, their peddler hosts, with yard-stick spears! +But thou, oh Bello! lord of the empire lineage! Noah of the moderns. +Sire of the long line of nations yet in germ!— thou, Bello, and thy +locust armies, are the present curse of Orienda. Down ancient streams, +from holy plains, in rafts thy murdered float! The pestilence that +thins thy armies here, is bred of corpses, made by thee. Maramma’s +priests, thy pious heralds, loud proclaim that of all pagans, Orienda’s +most resist the truth!—ay! vain all pious voices, that speak from +clouds of war! The march of conquest through wild provinces, may be the +march of Mind; but not the march of Love.” + +“Thou, Bello!” cried Yoomy, “would’st wrest the crook from Alma’s hand, +and place in it a spear. But vain to make a conqueror of him, who put +off the purple when he came to Mardi; and declining gilded miters, +entered the nations meekly on an ass.” + +“Oh curse of commerce!” cried Babbalanja, “that it barters souls for +gold. Bello! with opium, thou wouldst drug this land, and murder it in +sleep!—And what boot thy conquests here? Seed sown by spears but seldom +springs; and harvests reaped thereby, are poisoned by the sickle’s +edge.” + +Yet on, and on we coasted; counting not the days. + +“Oh, folds and flocks of nations! dusky tribes innumerable!” cried +Yoomy, “camped on plains and steppes; on thousand mountains, worshiping +the stars; in thousand valleys, offering up first-fruits, till all the +forests seem in flames;—where, in fire, the widow’s spirit mounts to +meet her lord!—Oh, Orienda, in thee ’tis vain to seek our Yillah!” + +“How dark as death the night!” said Mohi, shaking the dew from his +braids, “the Heavens blaze not here with stars, as over Dominora’s +land, and broad Vivenza.” + +One only constellation was beheld; but every star was brilliant as the +one, that promises the morning. That constellation was the Crux- +Australis,—the badge, and type of Alma. + +And now, southwest we steered, till another island vast, was reached; +—Hamora! far trending toward the Antarctic Pole. + +Coasting on by barbarous beaches, where painted men, with spears, +charged on all attempts to land, at length we rounded a mighty bluff, +lit by a beacon; and heard a bugle call:—Bello’s! hurrying to their +quarters, the World-End’s garrison. + +Here, the sea rolled high, in mountain surges: mid which, we toiled and +strained, as if ascending cliffs of Caucasus. + +But not long thus. As when from howling Rhoetian heights, the traveler +spies green Lombardy below, and downward rushes toward that pleasant +plain; so, sloping from long rolling swells, at last we launched upon +the calm lagoon. + +But as we northward sailed, once more the storm-trump blew, and +charger-like, the seas ran mustering to the call; and in battalions +crouched before a towering rock, far distant from the main. No moon, +eclipsed in Egypt’s skies, looked half so lone. But from out that +darkness, on the loftiest peak, Bello’s standard waved. + +“Oh rifled tomb!” cried Babbalanja. “Wherein lay the Mars and Moloch of +our times, whose constellated crown, was gemmed with diadems. Thou god +of war! who didst seem the devouring Beast of the Apocalypse; casting +so vast a shadow over Mardi, that yet it lingers in old Franko’s vale; +where still they start at thy tremendous ghost; and, late, have hailed +a phantom, King! Almighty hero-spell! that after the lapse of half a +century, can so bewitch all hearts! But one drop of hero-blood will +deify a fool. + +“Franko! thou wouldst be free; yet thy free homage is to the buried +ashes of a King; thy first choice, the exaltation of his race. In +furious fires, thou burn’st Ludwig’s throne; and over thy new-made +chieftain’s portal, in golden letters print’st—‘The Palace of our +Lord!’ In thy New Dispensation, thou cleavest to the exploded Law. And +on Freedom’s altar—ah, I fear—still, may slay thy hecatombs. But +Freedom turns away; she is sick with burnt blood of offerings. Other +rituals she loves; and like Oro, unseen herself, would be worshiped +only by invisibles. Of long drawn cavalcades, pompous processions, +frenzied banners, mystic music, marching nations, she will none. Oh, +may thy peaceful Future, Franko, sanctify thy bloody Past. Let not +history say; ‘To her old gods, she turned again.’” + +This rocky islet passed, the sea went down; once more we neared +Hamora’s western shore. In the deep darkness, here and there, its +margin was lit up by foam-white, breaking billows rolled over from +Vivenza’s strand, and down from northward Dominora; marking places +where light was breaking in, upon the interior’s jungle-gloom. + +In heavy sighs, the night-winds from shore came over us. + +“Ah, vain to seek sweet Yillah here,” cried Yoomy.—“Poor land! curst of +man, not Oro! how thou faintest for thy children, torn from thy soil, +to till a stranger’s. Vivenza! did these winds not spend their plaints, +ere reaching thee, thy every vale would echo them. Oh, tribe of Hamo! +thy cup of woe so brims, that soon it must overflow upon the land which +holds ye thralls. No misery born of crime, but spreads and poisons +wide. Suffering hunteth sin, as the gaunt hound the hare, and tears it +in the greenest brakes.” + +Still on we sailed: and after many tranquil days and nights, a storm +came down, and burst its thousand bombs. The lightnings forked and +flashed; the waters boiled; our three prows lifted themselves in +supplication; but the billows smote them as they reared. + +Said Babbalanja, bowing to the blast: “Thus, oh Vivenza! retribution +works! Though long delayed, it comes at last—Judgment, with all her +bolts.” + +Now, a current seized us, and like three darts, our keels sped +eastward, through a narrow strait, far in, upon a smooth expanse, an +inland ocean, without a throb. + +On our left, Porpheero’s southwest point, a mighty rock, long tiers of +galleries within, deck on deck; and flag-staffs, like an admiral’s +masts: a line-of-battle-ship, all purple stone, and anchored in the +sea. Here Bello’s lion crouched; and, through a thousand port-holes, +eyed the world. + +On our right, Hamora’s northern shore gleamed thick with crescents; +numerous as the crosses along the opposing strand. + +“How vain to say, that progress is the test of truth, my lord,” said +Babbalanja, “when, after many centuries, those crescents yet unwaning +shine, and count a devotee for every worshiper of yonder crosses. Truth +and Merit have other symbols than success; and in this mortal race, all +competitors may enter; and the field is clear for all. Side by side, +Lies run with Truths, and fools with wise; but, like geometric lines, +though they pierce infinity, never may they join.” + +Over that tideless sea we sailed; and landed right, and landed left; +but the maiden never found; till, at last, we gained the water’s limit; +and inland saw great pointed masses, crowned with halos. + +“Granite continents,” cried Babbalanja, “that seem created like the +planets, not built with human hands. Lo, Landmarks! upon whose flanks +Time leaves its traces, like old tide-rips of diluvian seas.” + +As, after wandering round and round some purple dell, deep in a +boundless prairie’s heart, the baffled hunter plunges in; then, +despairing, turns once more to gain the open plain; even so we seekers +now curved round our keels; and from that inland sea emerged. The +universe again before us; our quest, as wide. + + + + +CHAPTER LXV. +Sailing On + + +Morning dawned upon the same mild, blue Lagoon as erst; and all the +lands that we had passed, since leaving Piko’s shore of spears, were +faded from the sight. + +Part and parcel of the Mardian isles, they formed a cluster by +themselves; like the Pleiades, that shine in Taurus, and are eclipsed +by the red splendor of his fiery eye, and the thick clusterings of the +constellations round. + +And as in Orion, to some old king-astronomer,—say, King of Rigel, or +Betelguese,—this Earth’s four quarters show but four points afar; so, +seem they to terrestrial eyes, that broadly sweep the spheres. + +And, as the sun, by influence divine, wheels through the Ecliptic; +threading Cancer, Leo, Pisces, and Aquarius; so, by some mystic impulse +am I moved, to this fleet progress, through the groups in white-reefed +Mardi’s zone. + +Oh, reader, list! I’ve chartless voyaged. With compass and the lead, we +had not found these Mardian Isles. Those who boldly launch, cast off +all cables; and turning from the common breeze, that’s fair for all, +with their own breath, fill their own sails. Hug the shore, naught new +is seen; and “Land ho!” at last was sung, when a new world was sought. + +That voyager steered his bark through seas, untracked before; ploughed +his own path mid jeers; though with a heart that oft was heavy with the +thought, that he might only be too bold, and grope where land was none. + +So I. + +And though essaying but a sportive sail, I was driven from my course, +by a blast resistless; and ill-provided, young, and bowed to the brunt +of things before my prime, still fly before the gale;—hard have I +striven to keep stout heart. + +And if it harder be, than e’er before, to find new climes, when now our +seas have oft been circled by ten thousand prows,—much more the glory! + +But this new world here sought, is stranger far than his, who stretched +his vans from Palos. It is the world of mind; wherein the wanderer may +gaze round, with more of wonder than Balboa’s band roving through the +golden Aztec glades. + +But fiery yearnings their own phantom-future make, and deem it present. +So, if after all these fearful, fainting trances, the verdict be, the +golden haven was not gained;—yet, in bold quest thereof, better to sink +in boundless deeps, than float on vulgar shoals; and give me, ye gods, +an utter wreck, if wreck I do. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVI. +A Flight Of Nightingales From Yoomy’s Mouth + + +By noon, down came a calm. + +“Oh Neeva! good Neeva! kind Neeva! thy sweet breath, dear Neeva!” + +So from his shark’s-mouth prayed little Vee-Vee to the god of Fair +Breezes. And along they swept; till the three prows neighed to the +blast; and pranced on their path, like steeds of Crusaders. + +Now, that this fine wind had sprung up; the sun riding joyously in the +heavens; and the Lagoon all tossed with white, flying manes; Media +called upon Yoomy to ransack his whole assortment of songs:—warlike, +amorous, and sentimental,—and regale us with something inspiring for +too long the company had been gloomy. + +“Thy best,” he cried. + +Then will I e’en sing you a song, my lord, which is a song-full of +songs. I composed it long, long since, when Yillah yet bowered in Odo. +Ere now, some fragments have been heard. Ah, Taji! in this my lay, live +over again your happy hours. Some joys have thousand lives; can never +die; for when they droop, sweet memories bind them up.—My lord, I deem +these verses good; they came bubbling out of me, like live waters from +a spring in a silver mine. And by your good leave, my lord, I have much +faith in inspiration. Whoso sings is a seer.” + +“Tingling is the test,” said Babbalanja, “Yoomy, did you tingle, when +that song was composing?” + +“All over, Babbalanja.” + +“From sole to crown?” + +“From finger to finger.” + +“My life for it! true poetry, then, my lord! For this self-same +tingling, I say, is the test.” + +“And infused into a song,” cried Yoomy, “it evermore causes it so to +sparkle, vivify, and irradiate, that no son of man can repeat it +without tingling himself. This very song of mine may prove what I say.” + +“Modest youth!” sighed Media. + +“Not more so, than sincere,” said Babbalanja. “He who is frank, will +often appear vain, my lord. Having no guile, he speaks as freely of +himself, as of another; and is just as ready to honor his own merits, +even if imaginary, as to lament over undeniable deficiencies. Besides, +such men are prone to moods, which to shallow-minded, unsympathizing +mortals, make their occasional distrust of themselves, appear but as a +phase of self-conceit. Whereas, the man who, in the presence of his +very friends, parades a barred and bolted front,—that man so highly +prizes his sweet self, that he cares not to profane the shrine he +worships, by throwing open its portals. He is locked up; and Ego is the +key. Reserve alone is vanity. But all mankind are egotists. The world +revolves upon an I; and we upon ourselves; for we are our own +worlds:—all other men as strangers, from outlandish, distant climes, +going clad in furs. Then, whate’er they be, let us show our worlds; and +not seek to hide from men, what Oro knows.” + +“Truth, my lord,” said Yoomy, “but all this applies to men in mass; not +specially, to my poor craft. Of all mortals, we poets are most subject +to contrary moods. Now, heaven over heaven in the skies; now layer +under layer in the dust. This, the penalty we pay for being what we +are. But Mardi only sees, or thinks it sees, the tokens of our +self-complacency: whereas, all our agonies operate unseen. Poets are +only seen when they soar.” + +“The song! the song!” cried Media. “Never mind the metaphysics of +genius.” + +And Yoomy, thus clamorously invoked, hemmed thrice, tuning his voice +for the air. + +But here, be it said, that the minstrel was miraculously gifted with +three voices; and, upon occasions, like a mocking-bird, was a concert +of sweet sounds in himself. Had kind friends died, and bequeathed him +their voices? But hark! in a low, mild tenor, he begins:— + + Half-railed above the hills, yet rosy bright, + Stands fresh, and fair, the meek and blushing morn! +So Yillah looks! her pensive eyes the stars, + That mildly beam from out her cheek’s young dawn! + + But the still meek Dawn, + Is not aye the form + Of Yillah nor Morn! + Soon rises the sun, + Day’s race to run: + His rays abroad, + Flash each a sword,— + And merrily forth they flare! + Sun-music in the air! + So Yillah now rises and flashes! + Rays shooting from ont her long lashes,— + Sun-music in the air! + + Her laugh! How it bounds! + Bright cascade of sounds! + Peal after peal, and ringing afar,— + Ringing of waters, that silvery jar, + From basin to basin fast falling! + Fast falling, and shining, and streaming:— + Yillah’s bosom, the soft, heaving lake, + Where her laughs at last dimple, and flake! + +Oh beautiful Yillah! Thy step so free!— + Fast fly the sea-ripples, +Revealing their dimples, + When forth, thou hi’st to the frolicsome sea! + + All the stars laugh, + When upward she looks: + All the trees chat + In their woody nooks: + All the brooks sing; + All the caves ring; + All the buds blossom; + All the boughs bound; + All the birds carol; + And leaves turn round, + Where Yillah looks! + +Light wells from her soul’s deep sun +Causing many toward her to run! +Vines to climb, and flowers to spring; +And youths their love by hundreds bring! + + +“Proceed, gentle Yoomy,” said Babbalanja. + +“The meaning,” said Mohi. + +“The sequel,” said Media. + +“My lord, I have ceased in the middle; the end is not yet.” + +“Mysticism!” cried Babbalanja. “What, minstrel; must nothing ultimate +come of all that melody? no final and inexhaustible meaning? nothing +that strikes down into the soul’s depths; till, intent upon itself, it +pierces in upon its own essence, and is resolved into its pervading +original; becoming a thing constituent of the all embracing deific; +whereby we mortals become part and parcel of the gods; our souls to +them as thoughts; and we privy to all things occult, ineffable, and +sublime? Then, Yoomy, is thy song nothing worth. Alla Mollolla saith, +‘That is no true, vital breath, which leaves no moisture behind.’ I +mistrust thee, minstrel! that thou hast not yet been impregnated by the +arcane mysteries; that thou dost not sufficiently ponder on the Adyta, +the Monads, and the Hyparxes; the Dianoias, the Unical Hypostases, the +Gnostic powers of the Psychical Essence, and the Supermundane and +Pleromatic Triads; to say nothing of the Abstract Noumenons.” + +“Oro forbid!” cried Yoomy; “the very sound of thy words affrights me.” +Then, whispering to Mohi—“Is he daft again?” + +“My brain is battered,” said Media. “Azzageddi! you must diet, and be +bled.” + +“Ah!” sighed Babbalanja, turning; “how little they ween of the +Rudimental Quincunxes, and the Hecatic Spherula!” + + + + +CHAPTER LXVII. +They Visit One Doxodox + + +Next morning, we came to a deep, green wood, slowly nodding over the +waves; its margin frothy-white with foam. A charming sight! + +While delighted, all our paddlers gazed, Media, observing Babbalanja +plunged in reveries, called upon him to awake; asking what might so +absorb him. + +“Ah, my lord! what seraphic sounds have ye driven from me!” + +“Sounds! Sure, there’s naught heard but yonder murmuring surf; what +other sound heard you?” + +“The thrilling of my soul’s monochord, my lord. But prick not your ears +to hear it; that divine harmony is overheard by the rapt spirit alone; +it comes not by the auditory nerves.” + +“No more, Azzageddi! No more of that. Look yonder!” + +“A most lovely wood, in truth. And methinks it is here the sage +Doxodox, surnamed the Wise One, dwells.” + +“Hark, I hear the hootings of his owls,” said Mohi. + +“My lord, you must have read of him. He is said to have penetrated from +the zoned, to the unzoned principles. Shall we seek him out, that we +may hearken to his wisdom? Doubtless he knows many things, after which +we pant.” + +The lagoon was calm, as we landed; not a breath stirred the plumes of +the trees; and as we entered the voiceless shades, lifting his hand, +Babbalanja whispered:—“This silence is a fit introduction to the +portals of Telestic lore. Somewhere, beneath this moss, lurks the +mystic stone Mnizuris; whereby Doxodox hath attained unto a knowledge +of the ungenerated essences. Nightly, he bathes his soul in +archangelical circumlucencies. Oh, Doxodox! whip me the Strophalunian +top! Tell o’er thy Jynges!” + +“Down, Azzageddi! down!” cried Media. “Behold: there sits the Wise One; +now, for true wisdom!” + +From the voices of the party, the sage must have been aware of our +approach: but seated on a green bank, beneath the shade of a red +mulberry, upon the boughs of which, many an owl was perched, he seemed +intent upon describing divers figures in the air, with a jet-black +wand. + +Advancing with much deference and humility, Babbalanja saluted him. + +“Oh wise Doxodox! Drawn hither by thy illustrious name, we seek +admittance to thy innermost wisdom. Of all Mardian, thou alone +comprehendest those arcane combinations, whereby to drag to day the +most deftly hidden things, present and to come. Thou knowest what we +are, and what we shall be. We beseech thee, evoke thy Tselmns!” + +“Tetrads; Pentads; Hexads; Heptads; Ogdoads:—meanest thou those?” + +“New terms all!” + +“Foiled at thy own weapons,” said Media. + +“Then, if thou comprehendest not my nomenclature:—how my science? But +let me test thee in the portico.—Why is it, that as some things extend +more remotely than others; so, Quadammodotatives are larger than +Qualitatives; forasmuch, as Quadammodotatives extend to those things, +which include the Quadammodotatives themselves.” + +“Azzageddi has found his match,” said Media. + +“Still posed, Babbalanja?” asked Mohi. + +“At a loss, most truly! But I beseech thee, wise Doxodox! instruct me +in thy dialectics, that I may embrace thy more recondite lore.” + +“To begin then, my child:—all Dicibles reside in the mind.” + +“But what are Dicibles?” said Media. + +“Meanest thou, Perfect or Imperfect Dicibles?” Any kind you please;— +but what are they?” + +“Perfect Dicibles are of various sorts: Interrogative; Percontative; +Adjurative; Optative; Imprecative; Execrative; Substitutive; +Compellative; Hypothetical; and lastly, Dubious.” + +“Dubious enough! Azzageddi! forever, hereafter, hold thy peace.” + +“Ah, my children! I must go back to my Axioms.” + +“And what are they?” said old Mohi. + +“Of various sorts; which, again, are diverse. Thus: my contrary axioms +are Disjunctive, and Subdisjunctive; and so, with the rest. So, too, in +degree, with my Syllogisms.” + +“And what of them?” + +“Did I not just hint what they were, my child? I repeat, they are of +various sorts: Connex, and Conjunct, for example.” + +“And what of them?” persisted Mohi; while Babbalanja, arms folded, +stood serious and mute; a sneer on his lip. + +“As with other branches of my dialectics: so, too, in their way, with +my Syllogisms. Thus: when I say,—If it be warm, it is not cold:— that’s +a simple Sumption. If I add, But it is warm:—that’s an _Ass_umption.” + +“So called from the syllogist himself, doubtless;” said Mohi, stroking +his beard. + +“Poor ignorant babe! no. Listen:—if finally, I say,—Therefore it is not +cold that’s the final inference.” + +“And a most triumphant one it is!” cried Babbalanja. “Thrice profound, +and sapient Doxodox! Light of Mardi! and Beacon of the Universe! didst +ever hear of the Shark-Syllogism?” + +“Though thy epithets be true, my child, I distrust thy sincerity. I +have not yet heard of the syllogism to which thou referrest.” + +“It was thus. A shark seized a swimmer by the leg; addressing him: +‘Friend, I will liberate you, if you truly answer whether you think I +purpose harm.’ Well knowing that sharks seldom were magnanimous, he +replied: Kind sir, you mean me harm; now go your ways.’ ‘No, no; my +conscience forbids. Nor will I falsify the words of so veracious a +mortal. You were to answer truly; but you say I mean you harm:—so harm +it is:—here goes your leg.’” + +“Profane jester! Would’st thou insult me with thy torn-foolery? +Begone—all of ye! tramp! pack! I say: away with ye!” and into the woods +Doxodox himself disappeared. + +“Bravely done, Babbalanja!” cried Media. “You turned the corner to +admiration.” + +“I have hopes of our Philosopher yet,” said Mohi. + +“Outrageous impostor! fool, dotard, oaf! Did he think to bejuggle me +with his preposterous gibberish? And is this shallow phraseman the +renowned Doxodox whom I have been taught so highly to reverence? Alas, +alas—Odonphi there is none!” + +“His fit again,” sighed Yoomy. + + + + +CHAPTER LXVIII. +King Media Dreams + + +That afternoon was melting down to eve; all but Media broad awake; yet +all motionless, as the slumberer upon the purple mat. Sailing on, with +open eyes, we slept the wakeful sleep of those, who to the body only +give repose, while the spirit still toils on, threading her mountain +passes. + +King Media’s slumbers were like the helmed sentry’s in the saddle. From +them, he started like an antlered deer, bursting from out a copse. Some +said he never slept; that deep within himself he but intensified the +hour; or, leaving his crowned brow in marble quiet, unseen, departed to +far-off councils of the gods. Howbeit, his lids never closed; in the +noonday sun, those crystal eyes, like diamonds, sparkled with a fixed +light. + +As motionless we thus reclined, Media turned and muttered:—“Brother +gods, and demi-gods, it is not well. These mortals should have less or +more. Among my subjects is a man, whose genius scorns the common +theories of things; but whose still mortal mind can not fathom the +ocean at his feet. His soul’s a hollow, wherein he raves.” + +“List, list,” whispered Yoomy—“our lord is dreaming; and what a royal +dream.” + +“A very royal and imperial dream,” said Babbalanja—“he is arraigning me +before high heaven;—ay, ay; in dreams, at least, he deems himself a +demi-god.” + +“Hist,” said Mohi—“he speaks again.” + +“Gods and demi-gods! With one gesture all abysses we may disclose; and +before this Mardi’s eyes, evoke the shrouded time to come. Were this +well? Like lost children groping in the woods, they falter through +their tangled paths; and at a thousand angles, baffled, start upon each +other. And even when they make an onward move, ’tis but an endless +vestibule, that leads to naught. In my own isle of Odo—Odo! Odo! How +rules my viceroy there?—Down, down, ye madding mobs! Ho, spearmen, +charge! By the firmament, but my halberdiers fly!” + +“His dream has changed,” said Babbalanja. “He is in Odo, whither his +anxieties impel him.” + +“Hist, hist,” said Yoomy. + +“I leap upon the soil! Render thy account, Almanni! Where’s my throne? +Mohi, am I not a king? Do not thy chronicles record me? Yoomy, am I not +the soul of some one glorious song? Babbalanja, speak.—Mohi! Yoomy!” + +“What is it, my lord? thou dost but dream.” + +Staring wildly; then calmly gazing round, Media smiled. “Ha! how we +royalties ramble in our dreams! I’ve told no secrets?” + +“While he seemed to sleep, my lord spoke much,” said Mohi. + +“I knew it not, old man; nor would now; but that ye tell me.” + +“We dream not ourselves,” said Babbalanja, “but the thing within us.” + +“Ay?—good-morrow Azzageddi!—But come; no more dreams: Vee-Vee! wine.” + +And straight through that livelong night, immortal Media plied the can. + + + + +CHAPTER LXIX. +After A Long Interval, By Night They Are Becalmed + + +Now suns rose, and set; moons grew, and waned; till, at last, the star +that erewhile heralded the dawn, presaged the eve; to us, sad token!— +while deep within the deepest heart of Mardi’s circle, we sailed from +sea to sea; and isle to isle; and group to group;—vast empires +explored, and inland valleys, to their utmost heads; and for every ray +in heaven, beheld a king. + +Needless to recount all that then befell; what tribes and caravans we +saw; what vast horizons; boundless plains: and sierras, in their every +intervale, a nation nestling. + +Enough that still we roamed. + +It was evening; and as the red sun, magnified, launched into the wave, +once more, from a wild strand, we launched our three canoes. + +Soon, from her clouds, hooded Night, like a nun from a convent, drew +nigh. Rustled her train, yet no spangles were there. But high on her +brow, still shone her pale crescent; haloed by bandelets—violet, red, +and yellow. So looked the lone watcher through her rainbow-iris; so +sad, the night without stars. + +The winds were laid; the lagoon, still, as a prairie of an August noon. + +“Let us dream out the calm,” said Media. “One of ye paddlers, watch: Ho +companions! who’s for Cathay?” + +Sleep reigned throughout the canoes, sleeping upon the waters. But +nearer and nearer, low-creeping along, came mists and vapors, a +thousand; spotted with twinklings of Will-o-Wisps from neighboring +shores. Dusky leopards, stealing on by crouches, those vapors seemed. + +Hours silently passed. When startled by a cry, Taji sprang to his feet; +against which something rattled; then, a quick splash! and a dark form +bounded into the lagoon. + +The dozing watcher had called aloud; and, about to stab, the assassin, +dropping his stiletto, plunged. + +Peering hard through those treacherous mists, two figures in a shallop, +were espied; dragging another, dripping, from the brine. + +“Foiled again, and foiled forever. No foe’s corpse was I.” + +As we gazed, in the gloom quickly vanished the shallop; ere ours could +be reversed to pursue. + +Then, from the opposite mists, glided a second canoe; and beneath the +Iris round the moon, shone now another:—Hautia’s flowery flag! + +Vain to wave the sirens off; so still they came. + +One waved a plant of sickly silver-green. + +“The Midnight Tremmella!” cried Yoomy; “the falling-star of flowers!— +Still I come, when least foreseen; then flee.” + +The second waved a hemlock top, the spike just tapering its final +point. The third, a convolvulus, half closed. “The end draws nigh, and +all thy hopes are waning.” Then they proffered grapes. + +But once more waved off, silently they vanished. + +Again the buried barb tore, at my soul; again Yillah was invoked, but +Hautia made reply. + +Slowly wore out the night. But when uprose the sun, fled clouds, and +fled sadness. + + + + +CHAPTER LXX. +They Land At Hooloomooloo + + +“Keep all three prows, for yonder rock.” cried Media; “No sadness on +this merry morn! And now for the Isle of Cripples,—even Hooloomooloo.” + +“The Isle of Cripples?” + +“Ay; why not? Mohi, tell how they came to club.” In substance, this was +the narration. + +Averse to the barbarous custom of destroying at birth all infants not +symmetrically formed; but equally desirous of removing from their sight +those unfortunate beings; the islanders of a neighboring group had long +ago established an asylum for cripples; where they lived, subject to +their own regulations; ruled by a king of their own election; in short, +forming a distinct class of beings by themselves. + +One only restriction was placed upon them: on no account must they quit +the isle assigned them. And to the surrounding islanders, so unpleasant +the sight of a distorted mortal, that a stranger landing at +Hooloomooloo, was deemed a prodigy. Wherefore, respecting any knowledge +of aught beyond them, the cripples were well nigh as isolated, as if +Hooloomooloo was the only terra-firma extant. + +Dwelling in a community of their own, these unfortunates, who otherwise +had remained few in number, increased and multiplied greatly. Nor did +successive generations improve in symmetry upon those preceding them. + +Soon, we drew nigh to the isle. + +Heaped up, and jagged with rocks; and, here and there, covered with +dwarfed, twisted thickets, it seemed a fit place for its denizens. + +Landing, we were surrounded by a heterogeneous mob; and thus escorted, +took our way inland, toward the abode of their lord, King Yoky. + +What a scene! + +Here, helping himself along with two crotched roots, hobbled a dwarf +without legs; another stalked before, one arm fixed in the air, like a +lightning rod; a third, more active than any, seal-like, flirted a pair +of flippers, and went skipping along; a fourth hopped on a solitary +pin, at every bound, spinning round like a top, to gaze; while still +another, furnished with feelers or fins, rolled himself up in a ball, +bowling over the ground in advance. + +With curious instinct, the blind stuck close to our side; with their +chattering finger, the deaf and the dumb described angles, obtuse and +acute in the air; and like stones rolling down rocky ravines, scores of +stammerers stuttered. Discord wedded deformity. All asses’ brays were +now harmonious memories; all Calibans, as angels. + +Yet for every stare we gave them, three stares they gave us. + +At last, we halted before a tenement of rude stones; crooked Banian +boughs its rafters, thatched with fantastic leaves. So rambling and +irregular its plan, it seemed thrown up by the eruption, according to +sage Mohi, the origin of the isle itself. + +Entering, we saw King Yoky. + +Ah! sadly lacking was he, in all the requisites of an efficient ruler. +Deaf and dumb he was; and save arms, minus every thing but an +indispensable trunk and head. So huge his all-comprehensive mouth, it +seemed to swallow up itself. + +But shapeless, helpless as was Yoky,—as king of Hooloomooloo, he was +competent; the state being a limited monarchy, of which his Highness +was but the passive and ornamental head. + +As his visitors advanced, he fell to gossiping with his fingers: a +servitor interpreting. Very curious to note the rapidity with which +motion was translated into sound; and the simultaneousness with which +meaning made its way through four successive channels to the mind—hand, +sight, voice, and tympanum. + +Much amazement His Highness now expressed; horrified his glances. + +“Why club such frights as ye? Herd ye, to keep in countenance; or are +afraid of your own hideousness, that ye dread to go alone? Monsters! +speak.” + +“Great Oro!” cried Mohi, “are we then taken for cripples, by the very +King of the Cripples? My lord, are not our legs and arms all right?” + +“Comelier ones were never turned by turners, Mohi. But royal Yoky! in +sooth we feel abashed before thee.” + +Some further stares were then exchanged; when His Highness sought to +know, whether there were any Comparative Anatomists among his visitors. + +“Comparative Anatomists! not one.” + +“And why may King Yoky ask that question?” inquired Babbalanja. + +Then was made the following statement. + +During the latter part of his reign, when he seemed fallen into his +dotage, the venerable predecessor of King Yoky had been much attached +to an old gray-headed Chimpanzee, one day found meditating in the +woods. Rozoko was his name. He was very grave, and reverend of aspect; +much of a philosopher. To him, all gnarled and knotty subjects were +familiar; in his day he had cracked many a crabbed nut. And so in love +with his Timonean solitude was Rozoko, that it needed many bribes and +bland persuasions, to induce him to desert his mossy, hillside, +misanthropic cave, for the distracting tumult of a court. + +But ere long, promoted to high offices, and made the royal favorite, +the woodland sage forgot his forests; and, love for love, returned the +aged king’s caresses. Ardent friends they straight became; dined and +drank together; with quivering lips, quaffed long-drawn, sober bumpers; +comparing all their past experiences; and canvassing those hidden +themes, on which octogenarians dilate. + +For when the fires and broils of youth are passed, and Mardi wears its +truer aspect—then we love to think, not act; the present seems more +unsubstantial than the past; then, we seek out gray-beards like +ourselves; and hold discourse of palsies, hearses, shrouds, and tombs; +appoint our undertakers; our mantles gather round us, like to +winding-sheets; and every night lie down to die. Then, the world’s +great bubble bursts; then, Life’s clouds seem sweeping by, revealing +heaven to our straining eyes; then, we tell our beads, and murmur +pater-nosters; and in trembling accents cry—“Oro! be merciful.” + +So, the monarch and Rozoko. + +But not always were they thus. Of bright, cheerful mornings, they took +slow, tottering rambles in the woods; nodding over grotesque walking- +sticks, of the Chimpanzee’s handiwork. For sedate Rozoko was a +dilletante-arborist: an amateur in canes. Indeed, canes at last became +his hobby. For half daft with age, sometimes he straddled his good +staff and gently rode abroad, to take the salubrious evening air; +deeming it more befitting exercise, at times, than walking. Into this +menage, he soon initiated his friend, the king; and side by side they +often pranced; or, wearying of the saddle, dismounted; and paused to +ponder over prostrate palms, decaying across the path. Their mystic +rings they counted; and, for every ring, a year in their own calendars. + +Now, so closely did the monarch cleave to the Chimpanzee, that, in good +time, summoning his subjects, earnestly he charged it on them, that at +death, he and his faithful friend should be buried in one tomb. + +It came to pass, the monarch died; and Poor Rozoko, now reduced to +second childhood, wailed most dismally:—no one slept that night in +Hooloomooloo. Never did he leave the body; and at last, slowly going +round it thrice, he laid him down; close nestled; and noiselessly +expired. + +The king’s injunctions were remembered; and one vault received them +both. + +Moon followed moon; and wrought upon by jeers and taunts, the people of +the isle became greatly scandalized, that a base-born baboon should +share the shroud of their departed lord; though they themselves had +tucked in the aged AEneas fast by the side of his Achates. + +They straight resolved, to build another vault; and over it, a lofty +cairn; and thither carry the remains they reverenced. + +But at the disinterring, a sad perplexity arose. For lo surpassing Saul +and Jonathan, not even in decay were these fast friends divided. So +mingled every relic,—ilium and ulna, carpus and metacarpus;—and so +similar the corresponding parts, that like the literary remains of +Beaumont and of Fletcher, which was which, no spectacles could tell. +Therefore, they desisted; lest the towering monument they had reared, +might commemorate an ape, and not a king. + +Such the narration; hearing which, my lord Media kept stately silence. +But in courtly phrase, as beseemed him, Babbalanja, turban in hand, +thus spoke:— + +“My concern is extreme, King Yoky, at the embarrassment into which your +island is thrown. Nor less my grief, that I myself am not the man, to +put an end to it. I could weep that Comparative Anatomists are not so +numerous now, as hereafter they assuredly must become; when their +services shall be in greater request; when, at the last, last day of +all, millions of noble and ignoble spirits will loudly clamor for lost +skeletons; when contending claimants shall start up for one poor, +carious spine; and, dog-like, we shall quarrel over our own bones.” + +Then entered dwarf-stewards, and major-domos; aloft bearing twisted +antlers; all hollowed out in goblets, grouped; announcing dinner. + +Loving not, however, to dine with misshapen Mardians, King Media was +loth to move. But Babbalanja, quoting the old proverb—“Strike me in the +face, but refuse not my yams,” induced him to sacrifice his +fastidiousness. + +So, under a flourish of ram-horn bugles, court and company proceeded to +the banquet. + +Central was a long, dislocated trunk of a wild Banian; like a huge +centipede crawling on its hundred branches, sawn of even lengths for +legs. This table was set out with wry-necked gourds; deformities of +calabashes; and shapeless trenchers, dug out of knotty woods. + +The first course was shrimp-soup, served in great clampshells; the +second, lobsters, cuttle-fish, crabs, cockles, cray-fish; the third, +hunchbacked roots of the Taro-plant—plantains, perversely curling at +the end, like the inveterate tails of pertinacious pigs; and for +dessert, ill-shaped melons, huge as idiots’ heads, plainly suffering +from water in the brain. + +Now these viands were commended to the favorable notice of all guests; +not only for their delicacy of flavor, but for their symmetry. + +And in the intervals of the courses, we were bored with hints to admire +numerous objects of vertu: bow-legged stools of mangrove wood; zig-zag +rapiers of bone; armlets of grampus-vertebrae; outlandish tureens of +the callipees of terrapin; and cannakins of the skulls of baboons. + +The banquet over, with many congees, we withdrew. + +Returning to the water-side, we passed a field, where dwarfs were +laboring in beds of yams, heaping the soil around the roots, by +scratching it backward; as a dog. + +All things in readiness, Yoky’s valet, a tri-armed dwarf, treated us to +a glorious start, by giving each canoe a vigorous triple-push, crying, +“away with ye, monsters!” + +Nor must it be omitted that just previous to embarking, Vee-Vee, spying +a curious looking stone, turned it over, and found a snake. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXI. +A Book From The “Ponderings Of Old Bardianna” + + +“Now,” said Babbalanja, lighting his trombone as we sailed from the +isle, “who are the monsters, we or the cripples?” + +“You yourself are a monster, for asking the question,” said Mohi. + +“And so, to the cripples I am; though not, old man, for the reason you +mention. But I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends upon +who is made judge. There is no supreme standard yet revealed, whereby +to judge of ourselves; ‘Our very instincts are prejudices,’ saith Alla +Mallolla; ‘Our very axioms, and postulates are far from infallible.’ +‘In respect of the universe, mankind is but a sect,’ saith Diloro: ‘and +first principles but dogmas.’ What ethics prevail in the Pleiades? What +things have the synods in Sagittarius decreed?” + +“Never mind your old authors,” said Media. “Stick to the cripples; +enlarge upon them.” + +“But I have done with them now, my lord; the sermon is not the text. +Give ear to old Bardianna. I know him by heart. Thus saith the sage in +Book X. of the Ponderings, ‘Zermalmende,’ the title: ‘Je pense,’ the +motto:—‘My supremacy over creation, boasteth man, is declared in my +natural attitude:—I stand erect! But so do the palm-trees; and the +giraffes that graze off their tops. And the fowls of the air fly high +over our heads; and from the place where we fancy our heaven to be, +defile the tops of our temples. Belike, the eagles, from their eyries +look down upon us Mardians, in our hives, even as upon the beavers in +their dams, marveling at our incomprehensible ways. And cunning though +we be, some things, hidden from us, may not be mysteries to them. +Having five keys, hold we all that open to knowledge? Deaf, blind, and +deprived of the power of scent, the bat will steer its way +unerringly:—could we? Yet man is lord of the bat and the brute; lord +over the crows; with whom, he must needs share the grain he garners. We +sweat for the fowls, as well as ourselves. The curse of labor rests +only on us. Like slaves, we toil: at their good leisure they glean. + +“‘Mardi is not wholly ours. We are the least populous part of creation. +To say nothing of other tribes, a census of the herring would find us +far in the minority. And what life is to us,—sour or sweet,—so is it to +them. Like us, they die, fighting death to the last; like us, they +spawn and depart. We inhabit but a crust, rough surfaces, odds and ends +of the isles; the abounding lagoon being its two-thirds, its grand +feature from afar; and forever unfathomable. + +“‘What shaft has yet been sunk to the antipodes? What underlieth the +gold mines? + +“‘But even here, above-ground, we grope with the sun at meridian. +Vainly, we seek our Northwest Passages,—old alleys, and thoroughfares +of the whales. + +“‘Oh men! fellow men! we are only what we are; not what we would be; +nor every thing we hope for. We are but a step in a scale, that reaches +further above us than below. We breathe but oxygen. Who in Arcturus +hath heard of us? They know us not in the Milky Way. We prate of +faculties divine: and know not how sprouteth a spear of grass; we go +about shrugging our shoulders: when the firmament-arch is over us; we +rant of etherealities: and long tarry over our banquets; we demand +Eternity for a lifetime: when our mortal half-hours too often prove +tedious. We know not of what we talk. The Bird of Paradise out-flies +our flutterings. What it is to be immortal, has not yet entered into +our thoughts. At will, we build our futurities; tier above tier, all +galleries full of laureates: resounding with everlasting oratorios! +Pater-nosters forever, or eternal Misereres! forgetting that in Mardi, +our breviaries oft fall from our hands. But divans there are, some say, +whereon we shall recline, basking in effulgent suns, knowing neither +Orient nor Occident. Is it so? Fellow men! our mortal lives have an +end; but that end is no goal: no place of repose. Whatever it may be, +it will prove but as the beginning of another race. We will hope, joy, +weep, as before; though our tears may be such as the spice-trees shed. +Supine we can only be, annihilated. + +“‘The thick film is breaking; the ages have long been circling. +Fellow-men! if we live hereafter, it will not be in lyrics; nor shall +we yawn, and our shadows lengthen, while the eternal cycles are +revolving. To live at all, is a high vocation; to live forever, and run +parallel with Oro, may truly appall us. Toil we not here? and shall we +be forever slothful elsewhere? Other worlds differ not much from this, +but in degree. Doubtless, a pebble is a fair specimen of the universe. + +“‘We point at random. Peradventure at this instant, there are beings +gazing up to this very world as their future heaven. But the universe +is all over a heaven: nothing but stars on stars, throughout infinities +of expansion. All we see are but a cluster. Could we get to Bootes, we +would be no nearer Oro, than now he hath no place; but is here. +Already, in its unimaginable roamings, our system may have dragged us +through and through the spaces, where we plant cities of beryl and +jasper. Even now, we may be inhaling the ether, which we fancy seraphic +wings are fanning. But look round. There is much to be seen here, and +now. Do the archangels survey aught more glorious than the +constellations we nightly behold? Continually we slight the wonders, we +deem in reserve. We await the present. With marvels we are glutted, +till we hold them no marvels at all. But had these eyes first opened +upon all the prodigies in the Revelation of the Dreamer, long +familiarity would have made them appear, even as these things we see. +Now, _now_, the page is out-spread: to the simple, easy as a primer; to +the wise, more puzzling than hieroglyphics. The eternity to come, is +but a prolongation of time present: and the beginning may be more +wonderful than the end. + +“‘Then let us be wise. But much of the knowledge we seek, already we +have in our cores. Yet so simple it is, we despise it; so bold, we fear +it. + +“‘In solitude, let us exhume our ingots. Let us hear our own thoughts. +The soul needs no mentor, but Oro; and Oro, without proxy. Wanting Him, +it is both the teacher and the taught. Undeniably, reason was the first +revelation; and so far as it tests all others, it has precedence over +them. It comes direct to us, without suppression or interpolation; and +with Oro’s indisputable imprimatur. But inspiration though it be, it is +not so arrogant as some think. Nay, far too humble, at times it submits +to the grossest indignities. Though in its best estate, not infallible; +so far as it goes, for us, it is reliable. When at fault, it stands +still. We speak not of visionaries. But if this our first revelation +stops short of the uttermost, so with all others. If, often, it only +perplexes: much more the rest. They leave much unexpounded; and +disclosing new mysteries, add to the enigma. Fellow-men; the ocean we +would sound is unfathomable; and however much we add to our line, when +it is out, we feel not the bottom. Let us be truly lowly, then; not +lifted up with a Pharisaic humility. We crawl not like worms; nor wear +we the liveries of angels. + +“‘The firmament-arch has no key-stone; least of all, is man its prop. +He stands alone. We are every thing to ourselves, but how little to +others. What are others to us? Assure life everlasting to this +generation, and their immediate forefathers—and what tears would flow, +were there no resurrection for the countless generations from the first +man to five cycles since? And soon we ourselves shall have fallen in +with the rank and file of our sires. At a blow, annihilate some distant +tribe, now alive and jocund—and what would we reck? Curiosity apart, do +we really care whether the people in Bellatrix are immortal or no? + +“‘Though they smite us, let us not turn away from these things, if they +be really thus. + +“‘There was a time, when near Cassiopeia, a star of the first +magnitude, most lustrous in the North, grew lurid as a fire, then dim +as ashes, and went out. Now, its place is a blank. A vast world, with +all its continents, say the astronomers, blazing over the heads of our +fathers; while in Mardi were merry-makings, and maidens given in +marriage. Who now thinks of that burning sphere? How few are aware that +ever it was? + +“‘These things are so. + +“‘Fellow-men! we must go, and obtain a glimpse of what we are from the +Belts of Jupiter and the Moons of Saturn, ere we see ourselves aright. +The universe can wax old without us; though by Oro’s grace we may live +to behold a wrinkle in the sky. Eternity is not ours by right; and, +alone, unrequited sufferings here, form no title thereto, unless +resurrections are reserved for maltreated brutes. Suffering is +suffering; be the sufferer man, brute, or thing. + +“‘How small;—how nothing, our deserts! Let us stifle all vain +speculations; we need not to be told what righteousness is; we were +born with the whole Law in our hearts. Let us do: let us act: let us +down on our knees. And if, after all, we should be no more forever;— +far better to perish meriting immortality, than to enjoy it +unmeritorious. While we fight over creeds, ten thousand fingers point +to where vital good may be done. All round us, Want crawls to her +lairs; and, shivering, dies unrelieved. Here, _here_, fellow-men, we +can better minister as angels, than in heaven, where want and misery +come not. + +“‘We Mardians talk as though the future was all in all; but act as +though the present was every thing. Yet so far as, in our theories, we +dwarf our Mardi; we go not beyond an archangel’s apprehension of it, +who takes in all suns and systems at a glance. Like pebbles, were the +isles to sink in space, Sirius, the Dog-star, would still flame in the +sky. But as the atom to the animalculae, so Mardi to us. And lived +aright, these mortal lives are long; looked into, these souls, +fathomless as the nethermost depths. + +“‘Fellow-men; we split upon hairs; but stripped, mere words and phrases +cast aside, the great bulk of us are orthodox. None who think, dissent +from the grand belief. The first man’s thoughts were as ours. The +paramount revelation prevails with us; and all that clashes therewith, +we do not so much believe, as believe that we can not disbelieve. +Common sense is a sturdy despot; that, for the most part, has its own +way. It inspects and ratifies much independent of it. But those who +think they do wholly reject it, are but held in a sly sort of bondage; +under a semblance of something else, wearing the old yoke.’” + +“Cease, cease, Babbalanja,” said Media, “and permit me to insinuate a +word in your ear. You have long been in the habit, philosopher, of +regaling us with chapters from your old Bardianna; and with infinite +gusto, you have just recited the longest of all. But I do not observe, +oh, Sage! that for all these things, you yourself are practically the +better or wiser. You live not up to Bardianna’s main thought. Where he +stands, he stands immovable; but you are a Dog-vane. How is this?” + +“Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum!” + +“Mad, mad again,” cried Yoomy. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXII. +Babbalanja Starts To His Feet + + +For twenty-four hours, seated stiff, and motionless, Babbalanja spoke +not a word; then, almost without moving a muscle, muttered thus:—“At +banquets surfeit not, but fill; partake, and retire; and eat not again +till you crave. Thereby you give nature time to work her magic +transformings; turning all solids to meat, and wine into blood. After a +banquet you incline to repose:—do so: digestion commands. All this +follow those, who feast at the tables of Wisdom; and all such are they, +who partake of the fare of old Bardianna.” + +“Art resuscitated, then, Babbalanja?” said Media. “Ay, my lord, I am +just risen from the dead.” + +“And did Azzageddi conduct you to their realms?” + +“Fangs off! fangs off! depart, thou fiend!—unhand me! or by Oro, I will +die and spite thee!” + +“Quick, quick, Mohi! let us change places,” cried Yoomy. + +“How now, Babbalanja?” said Media. + +“Oh my lord man—not _you_ my lord Media!—high and mighty Puissance! +great King of Creation!—thou art but the biggest of braggarts! In every +age, thou boastest of thy valorous advances:—flat fools, old dotards, +and numskulls, our sires! All the Past, wasted time! the Present knows +all! right lucky, fellow-beings, we live now! every man an author! +books plenty as men! strike a light in a minute! teeth sold by the +pound! all the elements fetching and carrying! lightning running on +errands! rivers made to order! the ocean a puddle!— But ages back they +boasted like us; and ages to come, forever and ever, they’ll boast. +Ages back they black-balled the past, thought the last day was come; so +wise they were grown. Mardi could not stand long; have to annex one of +the planets; invade the great sun; colonize the moon;—conquerors sighed +for new Mardis; and sages for heaven— having by heart all the primers +here below. Like us, ages back they groaned under their books; made +bonfires of libraries, leaving ashes behind, mid which we reverentially +grope for charred pages, forgetting we are so much wiser than they.—But +amazing times! astounding revelations; preternatural divulgings!—How +now?—more wonderful than all our discoveries is this: that they never +were discovered before. So simple, no doubt our ancestors overlooked +them; intent on deeper things—the deep things of the soul. All we +discover has been with us since the sun began to roll; and much we +discover, is not worth the discovering. We are children, climbing trees +after birds’ nests, and making a great shout, whether we find eggs in +them or no. But where are our wings, which our fore-fathers surely had +not? Tell us, ye sages! something worth an archangel’s learning; +discover, ye discoverers, something new. Fools, fools! Mardi’s not +changed: the sun yet rises in its old place in the East; all things go +on in the same old way; we cut our eye-teeth just as late as they did, +three thousand years ago.” + +“Your pardon,” said Mohi, “for beshrew me, they are not yet all cut. At +threescore and ten, here have I a new tooth coming now.” + +“Old man! it but clears the way for another. The teeth sown by the +alphabet-founder, were eye-teeth, not yet all sprung from the soil. +Like spring-wheat, blade by blade, they break ground late; like +spring-wheat, many seeds have perished in the hard winter glebe. Oh, my +lord! though we galvanize corpses into St. Vitus’ dances, we raise not +the dead from their graves! Though we have discovered the circulation +of the blood, men die as of yore; oxen graze, sheep bleat, babies bawl, +asses bray—loud and lusty as the day before the flood. Men fight and +make up; repent and go at it; feast and starve; laugh and weep; pray +and curse; cheat, chaffer, trick, truckle, cozen, defraud, fib, lie, +beg, borrow, steal, hang, drown—as in the laughing and weeping, +tricking and truckling, hanging and drowning times that have been. +Nothing changes, though much be new-fashioned: new fashions but +revivals of things previous. In the books of the past we learn naught +but of the present; in those of the present, the past. All Mardi’s +history—beginning middle, and finis—was written out in capitals in the +first page penned. The whole story is told in a title- page. An +exclamation point is entire Mardi’s autobiography.” + +“Who speaks now?” said Media, “Bardianna, Azzageddi, or Babbalanja?” + +“All three: is it not a pleasant concert?” + +“Very fine: very fine.—Go on; and tell us something of the future.” + +“I have never departed this life yet, my lord.” + +“But just now you said you were risen from the dead.” “From the buried +dead within me; not from myself, my lord.” + +“If you, then, know nothing of the future—did Bardianna?” + +“If he did, naught did he reveal. I have ever observed, my lord, that +even in their deepest lucubrations, the profoundest, frankest, +ponderers always reserve a vast deal of precious thought for their own +private behoof. They think, perhaps, that ’tis too good, or too bad; +too wise, or too foolish, for the multitude. And this unpleasant +vibration is ever consequent upon striking a new vein of ideas in the +soul. As with buried treasures, the ground over them sounds strange and +hollow. At any rate, the profoundest ponderer seldom tells us all he +thinks; seldom reveals to us the ultimate, and the innermost; seldom +makes us open our eyes under water; seldom throws open the +totus-in-toto; and never carries us with him, to the unconsubsistent, +the ideaimmanens, the super-essential, and the One.” + +Confusion! Remember the Quadammodatatives!” + +“Ah!” said Braid-Beard, “that’s the crack in his calabash, which all +the Dicibles of Doxdox will not mend.” + +“And from that crazy calabash he gives us to drink, old Mohi.” + +“But never heed his leaky gourd nor its contents, my lord. Let these +philosophers muddle themselves as they will, we wise ones refuse to +partake.” + +“And fools like me drink till they reel,” said Babbalanja. “But in +these matters one’s calabash must needs go round to keep afloat. +Fogle-orum!” + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIII. +At Last, The Last Mention Is Made Of Old Bardianna; And His Last Will +And Testament Is Recited At Length + + +The day was waning. And, as after many a tale of ghosts, around their +forest fire, Hungarian gipsies silent sit; watching the ruddy glow +kindling each other’s faces;—so, now we solemn sat; the crimson West +our fire; all our faces flushed. + +“Testators!” then cried Media, when your last wills are all round +settled, speak, and make it known!” + +“Mine, my lord, has long been fixed,” said Babbalanja. + +“And how runs it?” + +“Fugle-fogle—” + +“Hark ye, intruding Azzageddi! rejoin thy merry mates below;—go there, +and wag thy saucy tail; or I will nail it to our bow, till ye roar for +liberation. Begone, I say.” + +“Down, devil! deeper down!” rumbled Babbalanja. + +“My lord, I think he’s gone. And now, by your good leave, I’ll repeat +old Bardianna’s Will. It’s worth all Mardi’s hearing; and I have so +studied it, by rote I know it.” + +“Proceed then; but I mistrust that Azzageddi is not yet many thousand +fathoms down.” + +“Attend my lord:—‘Anno Mardis 50,000,000, o.s. I, Bardianna, of the +island of Vamba, and village of the same name, having just risen from +my yams, in high health, high spirits, and sound mind, do hereby +cheerfully make and ordain this my last will and testament. + +“‘Imprimis: + +“‘All my kith and kin being well to do in Mardi, I wholly leave them +out of this my will. + +“‘Item. Since, in divers ways, verbally and otherwise, my good friend +Pondo has evinced a strong love for me, Bardianna, as the owner and +proprietor of all that capital messuage with the appurtenances, in +Vamba aforesaid, called ‘The Lair,’ wherein I now dwell; also for all +my Bread-fruit orchards, Palm-groves, Banana-plantations, Taro-patches, +gardens, lawns, lanes, and hereditaments whatsoever, adjoining the +aforesaid messuage;—I do hereby give and bequeath the same to Bomblum +of the island of Adda; the aforesaid Bomblum having never expressed any +regard for me, as a holder of real estate. + +“‘Item. My esteemed neighbor Lakreemo having since the last lunar +eclipse called daily to inquire after the state of my health: and +having nightly made tearful inquiries of my herb-doctor, concerning the +state of my viscera;—I do hereby give and bequeath to the aforesaid +Lakreemo all and sundry those vegetable pills, potions, powders, +aperients, purgatives, expellatives, evacuatives, tonics, emetics, +cathartics, clysters, injections, scarifiers, cataplasms, lenitives, +lotions, decoctions, washes, gargles, and phlegmagogues; together with +all the jars, calabashes, gourds, and galipots, thereunto pertaining; +situate, lying, and being, in the west-by-north corner of my +east-southeast crypt, in my aforesaid tenement known as ‘The Lair.’ + +“‘Item. The woman Pesti; a native of Vamba, having oftentimes hinted +that I, Bardianna, sorely needed a spouse, and having also intimated +that she bore me a conjugal affection; I do hereby give and bequeath to +the aforesaid Pesti:—my blessing; forasmuch, as by the time of the +opening of this my last will and testament, I shall have been forever +delivered from the aforesaid Pesti’s persecutions. + +“‘Item. Having a high opinion of the probity of my worthy and excellent +friend Bidiri, I do hereby entirely, and wholly, give, will, grant, +bestow, devise, and utterly hand over unto the said Bidiri, all that +tenement where my servant Oram now dwelleth; with all the lawns, +meadows, uplands and lowlands, fields, groves, and gardens, thereunto +belonging:—IN TRUST NEVERTHELESS to have and to hold the same for the +sole use and benefit of Lanbranka Hohinna, spinster, now resident of +the aforesaid island of Vamba. + +“‘Item. I give and bequeath my large carved drinking gourd to my good +comrade Topo. + +“’Item. My fast friend Doldrum having at sundry times, and in sundry +places, uttered the prophecy, that upon my decease his sorrow would be +great; I do hereby give and bequeath to the aforesaid Doldrum, ten +yards of my best soft tappa, to be divided into handkerchiefs for his +sole benefit and behoof. + +“’Item. My sensible friend Solo having informed me, that he intended to +remain a bachelor for life; I give and devise to the aforesaid Solo, +the mat for one person, whereon I nightly repose. + +“’Item. Concerning my private Arbor and Palm-groves, adjoining, lying, +and being in the isle of Vamba, I give and devise the same, with all +appurtenances whatsoever, to my friend Minta the Cynic, to have and to +hold, in trust for the first through-and-through honest man, issue of +my neighbor Mondi; and in default of such issue, for the first +through-and-through honest man, issue of my neighbor Pendidda; and in +default of such issue, for the first through-and-through honest man, +issue of my neighbor Wynodo: and in default of such issue, to any +through-and-through honest man, issue of any body, to be found through +the length and breadth of Mardi. + +“’Item. My friend Minta the Cynic to be sole judge of all claims to the +above-mentioned devise; and to hold the said premises for his own use, +until the aforesaid person be found. + +“’Item. Knowing my devoted scribe Marko to be very sensitive touching +the receipt of a favor; I willingly spare him that pain; and hereby +bequeath unto the aforesaid scribe, three milk-teeth, not as a +pecuniary legacy, but as a very slight token of my profound regard. + +“’Item. I give to the poor of Vamba the total contents of my +red-labeled bags of bicuspids and canines (which I account +three-fourths of my whole estate); to my body servant Fidi, my staff, +all my robes and togas, and three hundred molars in cash; to that +discerning and sagacious philosopher my disciple Krako, one complete +set of denticles, to buy him a vertebral bone ring; and to that pious +and promising youth Vangi, two fathoms of my best kaiar rope, with the +privilege of any bough in my groves. + +“’All the rest of my goods, chattels and household stuff whatsoever; +and all my loose denticles, remaining after my debts and legacies are +paid, and my body is out of sight, I hereby direct to be distributed +among the poor of Vamba. + +“’Ultimo. I give and bequeath to all Mardi this my last advice and +counsel:—videlicet: live as long as you can; close your own eyes when +you die. + +“’I have no previous wills to revoke; and publish this to be my first +and last. + +“’In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my right hand; and hereunto +have caused a true copy of the tattooing on my right temple to be +affixed, during the year first above written. + +“’By me, BARDIANNA.’” + +“Babbalanja, that’s an extraordinary document,” said Media. + +“Bardianna was an extraordinary man, my lord.” + +“Were there no codicils?” + +“The will is all codicils; all after-thoughts; Ten thoughts for one +act, was Bardianna’s motto.” + +“Left he nothing whatever to his kindred?” + +“Not a stump.” + +“Prom his will, he seems to have lived single.” + +“Yes: Bardianna never sought to improve upon nature; a bachelor he was +born, and a bachelor he died.” + +“According to the best accounts, how did he depart, Babbalanja?” asked +Mohi. + +“With a firm lip, and his hand on his heart, old man.” + +“His last words?” + +“Calmer, and better!” + +“Where think you, he is now?” + +“In his Ponderings. And those, my lord, we all inherit; for like the +great chief of Romara, who made a whole empire his legatee; so, great +authors have all Mardi for an heir.” + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIV. +A Death-Cloud Sweeps By Them, As They Sail + + +Next day, a fearful sight! + +As in Sooloo’s seas, one vast water-spout will, sudden, form: and +whirling, chase the flying Malay keels; so, before a swift-winged +cloud, a thousand prows sped by, leaving braided, foaming wakes; their +crowded inmates’ arms, in frenzied supplications wreathed; like tangled +forest-boughs. + +“See, see,” cried Yoomy, “how the Death-cloud flies! Let us dive down +in the sea.” + +“Nay,” said Babbalanja. “All things come of Oro; if we must drown, let +Oro drown us.” + +“Down sails: drop paddles,” said Media: “here we float.” + +Like a rushing bison, sweeping by, the Death-cloud grazed us with its +foam; and whirling in upon the thousand prows beyond, sudden burst in +deluges; and scooping out a maelstrom, dragged down every plank and +soul. + +Long we rocked upon the circling billows, which expanding from that +center, dashed every isle, till, moons after-ward, faint, they laved +all Mardi’s reef. + +“Thanks unto Oro,” murmured Mohi, “this heart still beats.” + +That sun-flushed eve, we sailed by many tranquil harbors, whence fled +those thousand prows. Serene, the waves ran up their strands; and +chimed around the unharmed stakes of palm, to which the thousand prows +that morning had been fastened. + +“Flying death, they ran to meet it,” said Babbalanja. “But tie not that +they fled, they died; for maelstroms, of these harbors, the Death-cloud +might have made. But they died, because they might not longer live. +Could we gain one glimpse of the great calendar of eternity, all our +names would there be found, glued against their dates of death. We die +by land, and die by sea; we die by earthquakes, famines, plagues, and +wars; by fevers, agues; woe, or mirth excessive. This mortal air is one +wide pestilence, that kills us all at last. Whom the Death-cloud +spares, sleeping, dies in silent watches of the night. He whom the +spears of many battles could not slay, dies of a grape-stone, beneath +the vine-clad bower he built, to shade declining years. We die, because +we live. But none the less does Babbalanja quake. And if he flies not, +’tis because he stands the center of a circle; its every point a +leveled dart; and every bow, bent back:—a twang, and Babbalanja dies.” + + + + +CHAPTER LXXV. +They Visit The Palmy King Abrazza + + +Night and morn departed; and in the afternoon, we drew nigh to an +island, overcast with shadows; a shower was falling; and pining, +plaintive notes forth issued from the groves: half-suppressed, and +sobbing whisperings of leaves. The shore sloped to the water; thither +our prows were pointed. + +“Sheer off! no landing here,” cried Media, “let us gain the sunny side; +and like the care-free bachelor Abrazza, who here is king, turn our +back on the isle’s shadowy side, and revel in its morning-meads.” + +“And lord Abrazza:—who is he?” asked Yoomy. + +“The one hundred and twentieth in lineal descent from Phipora,” said +Mohi; “and connected on the maternal side to the lord seigniors of +Klivonia. His uttermost uncle was nephew to the niece of Queen +Zmiglandi; who flourished so long since, she wedded at the first +Transit of Venus. His pedigree is endless.” + +“But who is lord Abrazza?” + +“Has he not said?” answered Babbalanja. “Why so dull?—Uttermost nephew +to him, who was nephew to the niece of the peerless Queen Zmiglandi; +and the one hundred and twentieth in descent from the illustrious +Phipora.” + +“Will none tell, who Abrazza is?” + +“Can not a man then, be described by running off the catalogue of his +ancestors?” said Babbalanja. “Or must we e’en descend to himself. Then, +listen, dull Yoomy! and know that lord Abrazza is six feet two: plump +thighs; blue eyes; and brown hair; likes his bread-fruit baked, not +roasted; sometimes carries filberts in his crown: and has a way of +winking when he speaks. His teeth are good.” + +“Are you publishing some decamped burglar,” said Media, “that you speak +thus of my royal friend, the lord Abrazza? Go on, sir! and say he +reigns sole king of Bonovona!” + +“My lord, I had not ended. Abrazza, Yoomy, is a fine and florid king: +high-fed, and affluent of heart; of speech, mellifluent. And for a +royalty extremely amiable. He is a sceptered gentleman, who does much +good. Kind king! in person he gives orders for relieving those, who +daily dive for pearls, to grace his royal robe; and gasping hard, with +blood-shot eyes, come up from shark-infested depths, and fainting, lay +their treasure at his feet. Sweet lord Abrazza! how he pities those, +who in his furthest woodlands day-long toil to do his bidding. Yet +king-philosopher, he never weeps; but pities with a placid smile; and +that but seldom.” + +“There seems much iron in your blood,” said Media. “But say your say.” + +“Say I not truth, my lord? Abrazza, I admire. Save his royal pity all +else is jocund round him. He loves to live for life’s own sake. He vows +he’ll have no cares; and often says, in pleasant reveries,— ‘Sure, my +lord Abrazza, if any one should be care-free, ’tis thou; who strike +down none, but pity all the fallen!’ Yet none he lifteth up.” + +At length we gained the sunny side, and shoreward tended. Vee-Vee’s +horn was sonorous; and issuing from his golden groves, my lord Abrazza, +like a host that greets you on the threshold, met us, as we keeled the +beach. + +“Welcome! fellow demi-god, and king! Media, my pleasant guest!” + +His servitors salamed; his chieftains bowed; his yeoman-guard, in +meadow-green, presented palm-stalks,—royal tokens; and hand in hand, +the nodding, jovial, regal friends, went up a lane of salutations; +dragging behind, a train of envyings. + +Much we marked Abrazza’s jeweled crown; that shot no honest blaze of +ruddy rubies; nor looked stern-white like Media’s pearls; but cast a +green and yellow glare; rays from emeralds, crossing rays from many a +topaz. In those beams, so sinister, all present looked cadaverous: +Abrazza’s cheek alone beamed bright, but hectic. + +Upon its fragrant mats a spacious hall received the kings; and +gathering courtiers blandly bowed; and gushing with soft flatteries, +breathed idol-incense round them. + +The hall was terraced thrice; its elevated end was curtained; and +thence, at every chime of words, there burst a girl, gay scarfed, with +naked bosom, and poured forth wild and hollow laughter, as she raced +down all the terraces, and passed their merry kingships. + +Wide round the hall, in avenues, waved almond-woods; their whiteness +frosted into bloom. But every vine-clad trunk was hollow-hearted; +hollow sounds came from the grottos: hollow broke the billows on the +shore: and hollow pauses filled the air, following the hollow laughter. + +Guards, with spears, paced the groves, and in the inner shadows, oft +were seen to lift their weapons, and backward press some ugly phantom, +saying, “Subjects! haunt him not; Abrazza would be merry; Abrazza +feasts his guests.” + +So, banished from our sight seemed all things uncongenial; and pleasant +times were ours, in these dominions. Not a face passed by, but smiled; +mocking-birds perched on the boughs; and singing, made us vow the woods +were warbling forth thanksgiving, with a thousand throats! The stalwart +yeomen grinned beneath their trenchers, heaped with citrons +pomegrantes, grapes; the pages tittered, pouring out the wine; and all +the lords loud laughed, smote their gilded spears, and swore the isle +was glad. + +Such the isle, in which we tarried; but in our rambles, found no +Yillah. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVI. +Some Pleasant, Shady Talk In The Groves, Between My Lords Abrazza And +Media, Babbalanja, Mohi, And Yoomy + + +Abrazza had a cool retreat—a grove of dates; where we were used to +lounge of noons, and mix our converse with the babble of the rills; and +mix our punches in goblets chased with grapes. And as ever, King +Abrazza was the prince of hosts. + +“Your crown,” he said to Media; and with his own, he hung it on a +bough. + +“Be not ceremonious:” and stretched his royal legs upon the turf. + +“Wine!” and his pages poured it out. + +So on the grass we lounged; and King Abrazza, who loved his antique +ancestors; and loved old times; and would not talk of moderns;—bade +Yoomy sing old songs; bade Mohi rehearse old histories; bade Babbalanja +tell of old ontologies; and commanded all, meanwhile, to drink his old, +old wine. + +So, all round we quaffed and quoted. + +At last, we talked of old Homeric bards:—those who, ages back, harped, +and begged, and groped their blinded way through all this charitable +Mardi; receiving coppers then, and immortal glory now. + +ABRAZZA—How came it, that they all were blind? + +BABBALANJA—It was endemical, your Highness. Few grand poets have good +eyes; for they needs blind must be, who ever gaze upon the sun. Vavona +himself was blind: when, in the silence of his secret bower, he said—“I +will build another world. Therein, let there be kings and slaves, +philosophers and wits; whose checkered actions—strange, grotesque, and +merry-sad, will entertain my idle moods.” So, my lord, Vavona played at +kings and crowns, and men and manners; and loved that lonely game to +play. + +ABRAZZA—Vavona seemed a solitary Mardian; who seldom went abroad; had +few friends; and shunning others, was shunned by them. + +BABBALANJA—But shunned not himself, my lord; like gods, great poets +dwell alone; while round them, roll the worlds they build. + +MEDIA—You seem to know all authors:—you must have heard of Lombardo, +Babbalanja; he who flourished many ages since. + +BABBALANJA—I have; and his grand Kortanza know by heart. + +MEDIA (_to Abrazza._)—A very curious work, that, my lord. + +ABRAZZA—Yes, my dearest king. But, Babbalanja, if Lombardo had aught to +tell to Mardi—why choose a vehicle so crazy? + +BABBALANJA—It was his nature, I suppose. + +ABRAZZA—But so it would not have been, to me. + +BABBALANJA—Nor would it have been natural, for my noble lord Abrazza, +to have worn Lombardo’s head:—every man has his own, thank Oro! + +ABBRAZZA—A curious work: a very curious work. Babbalanja, are you +acquainted with the history of Lombardo? + +BABBALANJA—None better. All his biographies have I read. + +ABRAZZA—Then, tell us how he came to write that work. For one, I can +not imagine how those poor devils contrive to roll such thunders +through all Mardi. + +MEDIA—Their thunder and lightning seem spontaneous combustibles, my +lord. + +ABRAZZA—With which, they but consume themselves, my prince beloved. + +BABBALANJA—In a measure, true, your Highness. But pray you, listen; and +I will try to tell the way in which Lombardo produced his great +Kortanza. + +MEDIA—But hark you, philosopher! this time no incoherencies; gag that +devil, Azzageddi. And now, what was it that originally impelled +Lombardo to the undertaking? + +BABBALANJA—Primus and forever, a full heart:—brimful, bubbling, +sparkling; and running over like the flagon in your hand, my lord. +Secundo, the necessity of bestirring himself to procure his yams. + +ABRAZZA—Wanting the second motive, would the first have sufficed, +philosopher? + +BABBALANJA—Doubtful. More conduits than one to drain off the soul’s +overflowings. Besides, the greatest fullnesses overflow not +spontaneously; and, even when decanted, like rich syrups, slowly ooze; +whereas, poor fluids glibly flow, wide-spreading. Hence, when great +fullness weds great indolence;—that man, to others, too often proves a +cipher; though, to himself, his thoughts form an Infinite Series, +indefinite, from its vastness; and incommunicable;—not for lack of +power, but for lack of an omnipotent volition, to move his strength. +His own world is full before him; the fulcrum set; but lever there is +none. To such a man, the giving of any boor’s resoluteness, with +tendons braided, would be as hanging a claymore to Valor’s side, before +unarmed. Our minds are cunning, compound mechanisms; and one spring, or +wheel, or axle wanting, the movement lags, or halts. Cerebrum must not +overbalance cerebellum; our brains should be round as globes; and +planted on capacious chests, inhaling mighty morning- inspirations. We +have had vast developments of parts of men; but none of manly wholes. +Before a full-developed man, Mardi would fall down and worship. We are +idiot, younger-sons of gods, begotten in dotages divine; and our +mothers all miscarry. Giants are in our germs; but we are dwarfs, +staggering under heads overgrown. Heaped, our measures burst. We die of +too much life. + +MEDIA (_to Abrazza_)—Be not impatient, my lord; he’ll recover +presently. You were talking of Lombardo, Babbalanja. + +BABBALANJA—I was, your Highness. Of all Mardians, by nature, he was the +most inert. Hast ever seen a yellow lion, all day basking in the yellow +sun:—in reveries, rending droves of elephants; but his vast loins +supine, and eyelids winking? Such, Lombardo; but fierce Want, the +hunter, came and roused his roar. In hairy billows, his great mane +tossed like the sea; his eyeballs flamed two hells; his paw had stopped +a rolling world. + +ABRAZZA—In other words, yams were indispensable, and, poor devil, he +roared to get them. + +BABBALANJA (_bowing_)—Partly so, my literal lord. And as with your own +golden scepter, at times upon your royal teeth, indolent tattoos you +beat; then, potent, sway it o’er your isle; so, Lombardo. And ere +Necessity plunged spur and rowel into him, he knew not his own paces. +_That_ churned him into consciousness; and brought ambition, ere then +dormant, seething to the top, till he trembled at himself. No mailed +hand lifted up against a traveler in woods, can so, appall, as we +ourselves. We are full of ghosts and spirits; we are as grave-yards +full of buried dead, that start to life before us. And all our dead +sires, verily, are in us; _that_ is their immortality. From sire to +son, we go on multiplying corpses in ourselves; for all of which, are +resurrections. Every thought’s a soul of some past poet, hero, sage. We +are fuller than a city. Woe it is, that reveals these things. He knows +himself, and all that’s in him, who knows adversity. To scale great +heights, we must come out of lowermost depths. The way to heaven is +through hell. We need fiery baptisms in the fiercest flames of our own +bosoms. We must feel our hearts hot—hissing in us. And ere their fire +is revealed, it must burn its way out of us; though it consume us and +itself. Oh, sleek-cheeked Plenty! smiling at thine own dimples;—vain +for thee to reach out after greatness. Turn! turn! from all your tiers +of cushions of eider-down—turn! and be broken on the wheels of many +woes. At white-heat, brand thyself; and count the scars, like old +war-worn veterans, over camp-fires. Soft poet! brushing tears from +lilies—this way! and howl in sackcloth and in ashes! Know, thou, that +the lines that live are turned out of a furrowed brow. Oh! there is a +fierce, a cannibal delight, in the grief that shrieks to multiply +itself. That grief is miserly of its own; it pities all the happy. Some +damned spirits would not be otherwise, could they. + +ABRAZZA (_to Media_)—Pray, my lord, is this good gentleman a devil? + +MEDIA.—No, my lord; but he’s possessed by one. His name is Azzageddi. +You may hear more of him. But come, Babbalanja, hast forgotten all +about Lombardo? How set he about that great undertaking, his Kortanza? + +ABRAZZA (_to Media_)—Oh, for all the ravings of your Babbalanja, +Lombardo took no special pains; hence, deserves small commendation. +For, genius must be somewhat like us kings,—calm, content, in +consciousness of power. And to Lombardo, the scheme of his Kortanza +must have come full-fledged, like an eagle from the sun. + +BABBALANJA—No, your Highness; but like eagles, his thoughts were first +callow; yet, born plumeless, they came to soar. + +ABRAZZA—Very fine. I presume, Babbalanja, the first thing he did, was +to fast, and invoke the muses. + +BABBALANJA—Pardon, my lord; on the contrary he first procured a ream of +vellum, and some sturdy quills: indispensable preliminaries, my +worshipful lords, to the writing of the sublimest epics. + +ABRAZZA—Ah! then the muses were afterward invoked. + +BABBALANJA—Pardon again. Lombardo next sat down to a fine plantain +pudding. + +YOOMY—When the song-spell steals over me, I live upon olives. + +BABBALANJA—Yoomy, Lombardo eschewed olives. Said he, “What fasting +soldier can fight? and the fight of all fights is to write.” In ten +days Lombardo had written— + +ABRAZZA—Dashed off, you mean. + +BABBALANJA—He never dashed off aught. + +ABRAZZA—As you will. + +BABBALANJA—In ten days, Lombardo had written full fifty folios; he +loved huge acres of vellum whereon to expatiate. + +MEDIA—What then? + +BABBALANJA—He read them over attentively; made a neat package of the +whole: and put it into the fire. + +ALL—How? + +MEDIA—What! these great geniuses writing trash? + +ABRAZZA—I thought as much. + +BABBALANJA—My lords, they abound in it! more than any other men in +Mardi. Genius is full of trash. But genius essays its best to keep it +to itself; and giving away its ore, retains the earth; whence, the too +frequent wisdom of its works, and folly of its life. + +ABRAZZA—Then genius is not inspired, after all. How they must slave in +their mines! I weep to think of it. + +BABBALANJA—My lord, all men are inspired; fools are inspired; your +highness is inspired; for the essence of all ideas is infused. Of +ourselves, and in ourselves, we originate nothing. When Lombardo set +about his work, he knew not what it would become. He did not build +himself in with plans; he wrote right on; and so doing, got deeper and +deeper into himself; and like a resolute traveler, plunging through +baffling woods, at last was rewarded for his toils. “In good time,” +saith he, in his autobiography, “I came out into a serene, sunny, +ravishing region; full of sweet scents, singing birds, wild plaints, +roguish laughs, prophetic voices. “Here we are at last, then,” he +cried; “I have created the creative.” And now the whole boundless +landscape stretched away. Lombardo panted; the sweat was on his brow; +he off mantle; braced himself; sat within view of the ocean; his face +to a cool rushing breeze; placed flowers before him; and gave himself +plenty of room. On one side was his ream of vellum— + +ABBRAZZA—And on the other, a brimmed beaker. + +BABBALANJA—No, your Highness; though he loved it, no wine for Lombardo +while actually at work. + +MOHI—Indeed? Why, I ever thought that it was to the superior quality of +Lombardo’s punches, that Mardi was indebted for that abounding humor of +his. + +BABBALANJA—Not so; he had another way of keeping himself well braced. + +YOOMY—Quick! tell us the secret. + +BABBALANJA—He never wrote by rush-light. His lamp swung in heaven.— He +rose from his East, with the sun; he wrote when all nature was alive. + +MOHI—Doubtless, then, he always wrote with a grin; and none laughed +louder at his quips, than Lombardo himself. + +BABBALANJA—Hear you laughter at the birth of a man child, old man? The +babe may have many dimples; not so, the parent. Lombardo was a hermit +to behold. + +MEDIA—What! did Lombardo laugh with a long face? + +BABBALANJA—His merriment was not always merriment to him, your +Highness. For the most part, his meaning kept him serious. Then he was +so intensely riveted to his work, he could not pause to laugh. + +MOHI—My word for it; but he had a sly one, now and then. + +BABBALANJA—For the nonce, he was not his own master: a mere amanuensis +writing by dictation. + +YOOMY—Inspiration, that! + +BABBALANJA.—Call it as you will, Yoomy, it was a sort of sleep- walking +of the mind. Lombardo never threw down his pen: it dropped from him; +and then, he sat disenchanted: rubbing his eyes; staring; and feeling +faint—sometimes, almost unto death. + +MEDIA—But pray, Babbalanja, tell us how he made acquaintance with some +of those rare worthies, he introduces us to, in his Koztanza. + +BABBALANJA—He first met them in his reveries; they were walking about +in him, sour and moody: and for a long time, were shy of his advances; +but still importuned, they at last grew ashamed of their reserve; +stepped forward; and gave him their hands. After that, they were frank +and friendly. Lombardo set places for them at his board; when he died, +he left them something in his will. + +MEDIA—What! those imaginary beings? + +ABRAZZA—Wondrous witty! infernal fine! + +MEDIA—But, Babbalanja; after all, the Koztanza found no favor in the +eyes of some Mardians. + +ABRAZZA—Ay: the arch-critics Verbi and Batho denounced it. + +BABBALANJA—Yes: on good authority, Verbi is said to have detected a +superfluous comma; and Batho declared that, with the materials he could +have constructed a far better world than Lombardo’s. But, didst ever +hear of his laying his axis? + +ABRAZZA—But the unities; Babbalanja, the unities! they are wholly +wanting in the Koztanza. + +BABBALANJA—Your Highness; upon that point, Lombardo was frank. Saith +he, in his autobiography: “For some time, I endeavored to keep in the +good graces of those nymphs; but I found them so captious, and +exacting; they threw me into such a violent passion with their +fault-findings; that, at last, I renounced them.” + +ABRAZZA—Very rash! + +BABBALANJA—No, your Highness; for though Lombardo abandoned all +monitors from without; he retained one autocrat within—his crowned and +sceptered instinct. And what, if he pulled down one gross world, and +ransacked the etherial spheres, to build up something of his own—a +composite:—what then? matter and mind, though matching not, are mates; +and sundered oft, in his Koztanza they unite:—the airy waist, embraced +by stalwart arms. + +MEDIA—Incoherent again! I thought we were to have no more of this! + +BABBALANJA—My lord Media, there are things infinite in the finite; and +dualities in unities. Our eyes are pleased with the redness of the +rose, but another sense lives upon its fragrance. Its redness you must +approach, to view: its invisible fragrance pervades the field. So, with +the Koztanza. Its mere beauty is restricted to its form: its expanding +soul, past Mardi does embalm. Modak is Modako; but fogle-foggle is not +fugle-fi. + +MEDIA (_to Abrazza_)—My lord, you start again; but ’tis only another +phase of Azzageeddi; sometimes he’s quite mad. But all this you must +needs overlook. + +ABRAZZA—I will, my dear prince; what one can not see through, one must +needs look over, as you say. + +YOOMY—But trust me, your Highness, some of those strange things fall +far too melodiously upon the ear, to be wholly deficient in meaning. + +ABRAZZA—Your gentle minstrel, _this_ must be, my lord. But Babbalanja, +the Koztanza lacks cohesion; it is wild, unconnected, all episode. + +BABBALANJA—And so is Mardi itself:—nothing but episodes; valleys and +hills; rivers, digressing from plains; vines, roving all over; boulders +and diamonds; flowers and thistles; forests and thickets; and, here and +there, fens and moors. And so, the world in the Koztanza. + +ABRAZZA—Ay, plenty of dead-desert chapters there; horrible sands to +wade through. + +MEDIA—Now, Babbalanja, away with your tropes; and tell us of the work, +directly it was done. What did Lombardo then? Did he show it to any one +for an opinion? + +BABBALANJA—Yes, to Zenzori; who asked him where he picked up so much +trash; to Hanto, who bade him not be cast down, it was pretty good; to +Lucree, who desired to know how much he was going to get for it; to +Roddi, who offered a suggestion. + +MEDIA—And what was that? + +BABBALANJA—That he had best make a faggot of the whole; and try again. + +ABRAZZA—Very encouraging. + +MEDIA—Any one else? + +BABBALANJA—To Pollo; who, conscious his opinion was sought, was thereby +puffed up; and marking the faltering of Lombardo’s voice, when the +manuscript was handed him, straightway concluded, that the man who +stood thus trembling at the bar, must needs be inferior to the judge. +But his verdict was mild. After sitting up all night over the work; and +diligently taking notes:—“Lombardo, my friend! here, take your sheets. +I have run through them loosely. You might have done better; but then +you might have done worse. Take them, my friend; I have put in some +good things for you:” + +MEDIA—And who was Pollo? + +BABBALANJA—Probably some one who lived in Lombardo’s time, and went by +that name. He is incidentally mentioned, and cursorily immortalized in +one of the posthumous notes to the Koztanza. + +MEDIA—What is said of him there? + +BABBALANJA—Not much. In a very old transcript of the work—that of +Aldina—the note alludes to a brave line in the text, and runs thus:— +“Diverting to tell, it was this passage that an old prosodist, one +Pollo, claimed for his own. He maintained he made a free-will offering +of it to Lombardo. Several things are yet extant of this Pollo, who +died some weeks ago. He seems to have been one of those, who would do +great things if they could; but are content to compass the small. He +imagined, that the precedence of authors he had established in his +library, was their Mardi order of merit. He condemned the sublime poems +of Vavona to his lowermost shelf. ‘Ah,’ thought he, ‘how we library +princes, lord it over these beggarly authors!’ Well read in the history +of their woes, Pollo pitied them all, particularly the famous; and +wrote little essays of his own, which he read to himself.” + +MEDIA—Well: and what said Lombardo to those good friends of his,— +Zenzori, Hanto, and Roddi? + +BABBALANJA—Nothing. Taking home his manuscript, he glanced it over; +making three corrections. + +ABRAZZA—And what then? + +BABBALANJA—Then, your Highness, he thought to try a conclave of +professional critics; saying to himself, “Let them privately point out +to me, now, all my blemishes; so that, what time they come to review me +in public, all will be well.” But curious to relate, those professional +critics, for the most part, held their peace, concerning a work yet +unpublished. And, with some generous exceptions, in their vague, +learned way, betrayed such base, beggarly notions of authorship, that +Lombardo could have wept, had tears been his. But in his very grief, he +ground his teeth. Muttered he, “They are fools. In their eyes, bindings +not brains make books. They criticise my tattered cloak, not my soul, +caparisoned like a charger. He is the great author, think they, who +drives the best bargain with his wares: and no bargainer am I. Because +he is old, they worship some mediocrity of an ancient, and mock at the +living prophet with the live coal on his lips. They are men who would +not be men, had they no books. Their sires begat them not; but the +authors they have read. Feelings they have none: and their very +opinions they borrow. They can not say yea, nor nay, without first +consulting all Mardi as an Encyclopedia. And all the learning in them, +is as a dead corpse in a coffin. Were they worthy the dignity of being +damned, I would damn them; but they are not. Critics?—Asses! rather +mules!—so emasculated, from vanity, they can not father a true thought. +Like mules, too, from dunghills, they trample down gardens of roses: +and deem that crushed fragrance their own.—Oh! that all round the +domains of genius should lie thus unhedged, for such cattle to uproot! +Oh! that an eagle should be stabbed by a goose-quill! But at best, the +greatest reviewers but prey on my leavings. For I am critic and +creator; and as critic, in cruelty surpass all critics merely, as a +tiger, jackals. For ere Mardi sees aught of mine, I scrutinize it +myself, remorseless as a surgeon. I cut right and left; I probe, tear, +and wrench; kill, burn, and destroy; and what’s left after that, the +jackals are welcome to. It is I that stab false thoughts, ere hatched; +I that pull down wall and tower, rejecting materials which would make +palaces for others. Oh! could Mardi but see how we work, it would +marvel more at our primal chaos, than at the round world thence +emerging. It would marvel at our scaffoldings, scaling heaven; marvel +at the hills of earth, banked all round our fabrics ere completed.—How +plain the pyramid! In this grand silence, so intense, pierced by that +pointed mass,—could ten thousand slaves have ever toiled? ten thousand +hammers rung?—There it stands, —part of Mardi: claiming kin with +mountains;—was this thing piecemeal built?—It was. Piecemeal?—atom by +atom it was laid. The world is made of mites.” + +YOOMY (_musing._)—It is even so. + +ABRAZZA—Lombardo was severe upon the critics; and they as much so upon +him;—of that, be sure. + +BABBALANGA—Your Highness, Lombardo never presumed to criticise true +critics; who are more rare than true poets. A great critic is a sultan +among satraps; but pretenders are thick as ants, striving to scale a +palm, after its aerial sweetness. And they fight among themselves. +Essaying to pluck eagles, they themselves are geese, stuck full of +quills, of which they rob each other. + +ABRAZZA (_to Media._)—Oro help the victim that falls in Babbalanja’s +hands! + +MEDIA.—Ay, my lord; at times, his every finger is a dagger: every +thought a falling tower that whelms! But resume, philosopher—what of +Lombardo now? + +BABBALANJA—“For this thing,” said he, “I have agonized over it +enough.—I can wait no more. It has faults—all mine;—its merits all its +own;—but I can toil no longer. The beings knit to me implore; my heart +is full; my brain is sick. Let it go—let it go—and Oro with it. +Somewhere Mardi has a mighty heart—-_that_ struck, all the isles shall +resound!” + +ABRAZZA—Poor devil! he took the world too hard. + +MEDIA.-As most of these mortals do, my lord. That’s the load, self- +imposed, under which Babbalanja reels. But now, philosopher, ere Mardi +saw it, what thought Lombardo of his work, looking at it objectively, +as a thing out of him, I mean. + +ABRAZZA—No doubt, he hugged it. + +BABBALANJA—Hard to answer. Sometimes, when by himself, he thought +hugely of it, as my lord Abrazza says; but when abroad, among men, he +almost despised it; but when he bethought him of those parts, written +with full eyes, half blinded; temples throbbing; and pain at the heart— + +ABRAZZA—Pooh! pooh! + +BABBALANJA—He would say to himself, “Sure, it can not be in vain!” Yet +again, when he bethought him of the hurry and bustle of Mardi, +dejection stole over him. “Who will heed it,” thought he; “what care +these fops and brawlers for me? But am I not myself an egregious +coxcomb? Who will read me? Say one thousand pages—twenty-five lines +each—every line ten words—every word ten letters. That’s two million +five hundred thousand _a_’s, and _i_’s, and _o_’s to read! How many are +superfluous? Am I not mad to saddle Mardi with such a task? Of all men, +am I the wisest, to stand upon a pedestal, and teach the mob? Ah, my +own Kortanza! child of many prayers!—in whose earnest eyes, so +fathomless, I see my own; and recall all past delights and silent +agonies-thou may’st prove, as the child of some fond dotard:— beauteous +to me; hideous to Mardi! And methinks, that while so much slaving +merits that thou should’st not die; it has not been intense, prolonged +enough, for the high meed of immortality. Yet, things immortal have +been written; and by men as me;—men, who slept and waked; and ate; and +talked with tongues like mine. Ah, Oro! how may we know or not, we are +what we would be? Hath genius any stamp and imprint, obvious to +possessors? Has it eyes to see itself; or is it blind? Or do we delude +ourselves with being gods, and end in grubs? Genius, genius?—a thousand +years hence, to be a household-word?—I?— Lombardo? but yesterday cut in +the market-place by a spangled fool!— Lombardo immortal?—Ha, ha, +Lombardo! but thou art an ass, with vast ears brushing the tops of +palms! Ha, ha, ha! Methinks I see thee immortal! ‘Thus great Lombardo +saith; and thus; and thus; and thus:— thus saith he—illustrious +Lombardo!—Lombardo, our great countryman! Lombardo, prince of +poets—Lombardo! great Lombardo!’—Ha, ha, ha!— go, go! dig thy grave, +and bury thyself!” + +ABRAZZA—He was very funny, then, at times. + +BABBALANJA—Very funny, your Highness:—amazing jolly! And from my +nethermost soul, would to Oro, thou could’st but feel one touch of that +jolly woe! It would appall thee, my Right Worshipful lord Abrazza! + +ABRAZZA (_to Media_)—My dear lord, his teeth are marvelously white and +sharp: some she-shark must have been his dam:—does he often grin thus? +It was infernal! + +MEDIA—Ah! that’s Azzageddi. But, prithee, Babbalanja, proceed. + +BABBALANJA—Your Highness, even in his calmer critic moods, Lombardo was +far from fancying his work. He confesses, that it ever seemed to him +but a poor scrawled copy of something within, which, do what he would, +he could not completely transfer. “My canvas was small,” said he; +“crowded out were hosts of things that came last. But Fate is in it.” +And Fate it was, too, your Highness, which forced Lombardo, ere his +work was well done, to take it off his easel, and send it to be +multiplied. “Oh, that I was not thus spurred!” cried he; “but like many +another, in its very childhood, this poor child of mine must go out +into Mardi, and get bread for its sire.” + +ABRAZZA (_with a sigh_)—Alas, the poor devil! But methinks ’twas +wondrous arrogant in him to talk to all Mardi at that lofty rate.—Did +he think himself a god? + +BABBALANJA—He himself best knew what he thought; but, like all others, +he was created by Oro to some special end; doubtless, partly answered +in his Koztanza. + +MEDIA—And now that Lombardo is long dead and gone—and his work, hooted +during life, lives after him—what think the present company of it? +Speak, my lord Abrazza! Babbalanja! Mohi! Yoomy! + +ABRAZZA (_tapping his sandal with his scepter__)—I never read it. + +BABBALANJA (_looking upward_)—It was written with a divine intent. + +Mohi (_stroking his beard_)—I never hugged it in a corner, and ignored +it before Mardi. + +Yoomy (_musing_)—It has bettered my heart. + +MEDIA (_rising_)—And I have read it through nine times. + +BABBALANJA (_starting up_)—Ah, Lombardo! this must make thy ghost glad! + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVII. +They Sup + + +There seemed something sinister, hollow, heartless, about Abrazza, and +that green-and-yellow, evil-starred crown that he wore. + +But why think of that? Though we like not something in the curve of +one’s brow, or distrust the tone of his voice; yet, let us away with +suspicions if we may, and make a jolly comrade of him, in the name of +the gods. Miserable! thrice miserable he, who is forever turning over +and over one’s character in his mind, and weighing by nice avoirdupois, +the pros and the cons of his goodness and badness. For we are all good +and bad. Give me the heart that’s huge as all Asia; and unless a man, +be a villain outright, account him one of the best tempered blades in +the world. + +That night, in his right regal hall, King Abrazza received us. And in +merry good time a fine supper was spread. + +Now, in thus nocturnally regaling us, our host was warranted by many +ancient and illustrious examples. + +For old Jove gave suppers; the god Woden gave suppers; the Hindoo deity +Brahma gave suppers; the Red Man’s Great Spirit gave suppers:— chiefly +venison and game. + +And many distinguished mortals besides. + +Ahasuerus gave suppers; Xerxes gave suppers; Montezuma gave suppers; +Powhattan gave suppers; the Jews’ Passovers were suppers; the Pharaohs +gave suppers; Julius Caesar gave suppers:—and rare ones they were; +Great Pompey gave suppers; Nabob Crassus gave suppers; and +Heliogabalus, surnamed the Gobbler, gave suppers. + +It was a common saying of old, that King Pluto gave suppers; some say +he is giving them still. If so, he is keeping tip-top company, old +Pluto:—Emperors and Czars; Great Moguls and Great Khans; Grand Lamas +and Grand Dukes; Prince Regents and Queen Dowagers:—Tamerlane +hob-a-nobbing with Bonaparte; Antiochus with Solyman the Magnificent; +Pisistratus pledging Pilate; Semiramis eating bon-bons with Bloody +Mary, and her namesake of Medicis; the Thirty Tyrants quaffing three to +one with the Council of Ten; and Sultans, Satraps, Viziers, Hetmans, +Soldans, Landgraves, Bashaws, Doges, Dauphins, Infantas, Incas, and +Caciques looking on. + +Again: at Arbela, the conqueror of conquerors, conquering son of +Olympia by Jupiter himself, sent out cards to his captains,— +Hephestion, Antigonus, Antipater, and the rest—to join him at ten, +p.m., in the Temple of Belus; there, to sit down to a victorious +supper, off the gold plate of the Assyrian High Priests. How +majestically he poured out his old Madeira that night!—feeling grand +and lofty as the Himmalehs; yea, all Babylon nodded her towers in his +soul! + +Spread, heaped up, stacked with good things; and redolent of citrons +and grapes, hilling round tall vases of wine; and here and there, +waving with fresh orange-boughs, among whose leaves, myriads of small +tapers gleamed like fire-flies in groves,—Abrazza’s glorious board +showed like some banquet in Paradise: Ceres and Pomona presiding; and +jolly Bacchus, like a recruit with a mettlesome rifle, staggering back +as he fires off the bottles of vivacious champagne. + +In ranges, roundabout stood living candelabras:—lackeys, gayly +bedecked, with tall torches in their hands; and at one end, stood +trumpeters, bugles at their lips. + +“This way, my dear Media!—this seat at my left—Noble Taji!—my right. +Babbalanja!—Mohi—where you are. But where’s pretty Yoomy?— Gone to +meditate in the moonlight? ah!—Very good. Let the banquet begin. A +blast there!” + +And charge all did. + +The venison, wild boar’s meat, and buffalo-humps, were extraordinary; +the wine, of rare vintages, like bottled lightning; and the first +course, a brilliant affair, went off like a rocket. + +But as yet, Babbalanja joined not in the revels. His mood was on him; +and apart he sat; silently eyeing the banquet; and ever and anon +muttering,—“Fogle-foggle, fugle-fi.—” + +The first fury of the feast over, said King Media, pouring out from a +heavy flagon into his goblet, “Abrazza, these suppers are wondrous fine +things.” + +“Ay, my dear lord, much better than dinners.” + +“So they are, so they are. The dinner-hour is the summer of the day: +full of sunshine, I grant; but not like the mellow autumn of supper. A +dinner, you know, may go off rather stiffly; but invariably suppers are +jovial. At dinners, ’tis not till you take in sail, furl the cloth, bow +the lady-passengers out, and make all snug; ’tis not till then, that +one begins to ride out the gale with complacency. But at these +suppers—Good Oro! your cup is empty, my dear demi-god!—But at these +suppers, I say, all is snug and ship-shape before you begin; and when +you begin, you waive the beginning, and begin in the middle. And as for +the cloth,—but tell us, Braid-Beard, what that old king of Franko, +Ludwig the Fat, said of that matter. The cloth for suppers, you know. +It’s down in your chronicles.” + +“My lord,”—wiping his beard,—“Old Ludwig was of opinion, that at +suppers the cloth was superfluous, unless on the back of some jolly +good friar. Said he, ‘For one, I prefer sitting right down to the +unrobed table.’” + +“High and royal authority, that of Ludwig the Fat,” said Babbalanja, +“far higher than the authority of Ludwig the Great:—the one, only great +by courtesy; the other, fat beyond a peradventure. But they are equally +famous; and in their graves, both on a par. For after devouring many a +fair province, and grinding the poor of his realm, Ludwig the Great has +long since, himself, been devoured by very small worms, and ground into +very fine dust. And after stripping many a venison rib, Ludwig the Fat +has had his own polished and bleached in the Valley of Death; yea, and +his cranium chased with corrodings, like the carved flagon once held to +its jaws.” + +“My lord! my lord!”—cried Abrazza to Media—“this ghastly devil of yours +grins worse than a skull. I feel the worms crawling over me!—By Oro we +must eject him!” + +“No, no, my lord. Let him sit there, as of old the Death’s-head graced +the feasts of the Pharaohs—let him sit—let him sit—for Death but +imparts a flavor to Life—Go on: wag your tongue without fear, +Azzageddi!—But come, Braid-Beard! let’s hear more of the Ludwigs.” + +“Well, then, your Highness, of all the eighteen royal Ludwigs of +Franko—” + +“Who like so many ten-pins, all in a row,” interposed Babbalanja— “have +been bowled off the course by grim Death.” + +“Heed him not,” said Media—“go on.” + +“The Debonnaire, the Pious, the Stammerer, the Do-Nothing, the +Juvenile, the Quarreler:—of all these, I say, Ludwig the Fat was the +best table-man of them all. Such a full orbed paunch was his, that no +way could he devise of getting to his suppers, but by getting right +into them. Like the Zodiac his table was circular, and full in the +middle he sat, like a sun;—all his jolly stews and ragouts revolving +around him.” + +“Yea,” said Babbalanja, “a very round sun was Ludwig the Fat. No wonder +he’s down in the chronicles; several ells about the waist, and King of +cups and Tokay. Truly, a famous king: three hundred-weight of lard, +with a diadem on top: lean brains and a fat doublet—a demijohn of a +demi-god!” + +“Is this to be longer borne?” cried Abrazza, starting up. “Quaff that +sneer down, devil! on the instant! down with it, to the dregs! This +comes, my lord Media, of having a slow drinker at one’s board. Like an +iceberg, such a fellow frosts the whole atmosphere of a banquet, and is +felt a league off We must thrust him out. Guards!” + +“Back! touch him not, hounds!”—cried Media. “Your pardon, my lord, but +we’ll keep him to it; and melt him down in this good wine. Drink! I +command it, drink, Babbalanja!” + +“And am I not drinking, my lord? Surely you would not that I should +imbibe more than I can hold. The measure being full, all poured in +after that is but wasted. I am for being temperate in these things, my +good lord. And my one cup outlasts three of yours. Better to sip a +pint, than pour down a quart. All things in moderation are good; +whence, wine in moderation is good. But all things in excess are bad: +whence wine in excess is bad.” + +“Away with your logic and conic sections! Drink!—But no, no: I am too +severe. For of all meals a supper should be the most social and free. +And going thereto we kings, my lord, should lay aside our scepters.— Do +as you please Babbalanja.” + +“You are right, you are right, after all, my dear demi-god,” said +Abrazza. “And to say truth, I seldom worry myself with the ways of +these mortals; for no thanks do we demi-gods get. We kings should be +ever indifferent. Nothing like a cold heart; warm ones are ever +chafing, and getting into trouble. I let my mortals here in this isle +take heed to themselves; only barring them out when they would thrust +in their petitions. This very instant, my lord, my yeoman-guard is on +duty without, to drive off intruders.—Hark!—what noise is that?—Ho, who +comes?” + +At that instant, there burst into the hall, a crowd of spearmen, driven +before a pale, ragged rout, that loudly invoked King Abrazza. + +“Pardon, my lord king, for thus forcing an entrance! But long in vain +have we knocked at thy gates! Our grievances are more than we can bear! +Give ear to our spokesman, we beseech!” + +And from their tumultuous midst, they pushed forward a tall, grim, +pine-tree of a fellow, who loomed up out of the throng, like the Peak +of Teneriffe among the Canaries in a storm. + +“Drive the knaves out! Ho, cowards, guards, turn about! charge upon +them! Away with your grievances! Drive them out, I say, drive them +out!—High times, truly, my lord Media, when demi-gods are thus annoyed +at their wine. Oh, who would reign over mortals!” + +So at last, with much difficulty, the ragged rout were ejected; the +Peak of Teneriffe going last, a pent storm on his brow; and muttering +about some black time that was corning. + +While the hoarse murmurs without still echoed through the hall, King +Abrazza refilling his cup thus spoke:—“You were saying, my dear lord, +that of all meals a supper is the most social and free. Very true. And +of all suppers those given by us bachelor demi-gods are the best. Are +they not?” + +“They are. For Benedict mortals must be home betimes: bachelor +demi-gods are never away.” + +“Ay, your Highnesses, bachelors are all the year round at home;” said +Mohi: “sitting out life in the chimney corner, cozy and warm as the +dog, whilome turning the old-fashioned roasting jack.” + +“And to us bachelor demi-gods,” cried Media “our to-morrows are as long +rows of fine punches, ranged on a board, and waiting the hand.” + +“But my good lords,” said Babbalanja, now brightening with wine; “if, +of all suppers those given by bachelors be the best:—of all bachelors, +are not your priests and monks the jolliest? I mean, behind the scenes? +Their prayers all said, and their futurities securely invested,—who so +carefree and cozy as they? Yea, a supper for two in a friar’s cell in +Maramma, is merrier far, than a dinner for five-and-twenty, in the +broad right wing of Donjalolo’s great Palace of the Morn.” + +“Bravo, Babbalanja!” cried Media, “your iceberg is thawing. More of +that, more of that. Did I not say, we would melt him down at last, my +lord?” + +“Ay,” continued Babbalanja, “bachelors are a noble fraternity: I’m a +bachelor myself. One of ye, in that matter, my lord demi-gods. And if +unlike the patriarchs of the world, we father not our brigades and +battalions; and send not out into the battles of our country whole +regiments of our own individual raising;—yet do we oftentimes leave +behind us goodly houses and lands; rare old brandies and mountain +Malagas; and more especially, warm doublets and togas, and +spatterdashes, wherewithal to keep comfortable those who survive us;— +casing the legs and arms, which others beget. Then compare not +invidiously Benedicts with bachelors, since thus we make an equal +division of the duties, which both owe to posterity.” + +“Suppers forever!” cried Media. “See, my lord, what yours has done for +Babbalanja. He came to it a skeleton; but will go away, every bone +padded!” + +“Ay, my lord demi-gods,” said Babbalanja, drop by drop refilling his +goblet. “These suppers are all very fine, very pleasant, and merry. But +we pay for them roundly. Every thing, my good lords, has its price, +from a marble to a world. And easier of digestion, and better for both +body and soul, are a half-haunch of venison and a gallon of mead, taken +under the sun at meridian, than the soft bridal breast of a partridge, +with some gentle negus, at the noon of night!” + +“No lie that!” said Mohi. “Beshrew me, in no well-appointed mansion +doth the pantry lie adjoining the sleeping chamber. A good thought: +I’ll fill up, and ponder on it.” + +“Let not Azzageddi get uppermost again, Babbalanja,” cried Media. “Your +goblet is only half-full.” + +“Permit it to remain so; my lord. For whoso takes much wine to bed with +him, has a bedfellow, more restless than a somnambulist. And though +Wine be a jolly blade at the board, a sulky knave is he under a +blanket. I know him of old. Yet, your Highness, for all this, to many a +Mardian, suppers are still better than dinners, at whatever cost +purchased. Forasmuch, as many have more leisure to sup, than dine. And +though you demi-gods, may dine at your ease; and dine it out into +night: and sit and chirp over your Burgundy, till the morning larks +join your crickets, and wed matins to vespers;—far otherwise, with us +plebeian mortals. From our dinners, we must hie to our anvils: and the +last jolly jorum evaporates in a cark and a care.” + +“Methinks he relapses,” said Abrazza. + +“It waxes late,” said Mohi; “your Highnesses, is it not time to break +up?” + +“No, no!”, cried Abrazza; “let the day break when it will: but no +breakings for us. It’s only midnight. This way with the wine; pass it +along, my dear Media. We are young yet, my sweet lord; light hearts and +heavy purses; short prayers and long rent-rolls. Pass round the Tokay! +We demi-gods have all our old age for a dormitory. Come!—Round and +round with the flagons! Let them disappear like mile-stones on a +race-course!” + +“Ah!” murmured Babbalanja, holding his full goblet at arm’s length on +the board, “not thus with the hapless wight, born with a hamper on his +back, and blisters in his palms.—Toil and sleep—sleep and toil, are his +days and his nights; he goes to bed with a lumbago, and wakes with the +rheumatics;—I know what it is;—he snatches lunches, not dinners, and +makes of all life a cold snack! Yet praise be to Oro, though to such +men dinners are scarce worth the eating; nevertheless, praise Oro +again, a good supper is something. Off jack-boots; nay, off shirt, if +you will, and go at it. Hurrah! the fagged day is done: the last blow +is an echo. Twelve long hours to sunrise! And would it were an +Antarctic night, and six months to to-morrow! But, hurrah! the very +bees have their hive, and after a day’s weary wandering, hie home to +their honey. So they stretch out their stiff legs, rub their lame +elbows, and putting their tired right arms in a sling, set the others +to fetching and carrying from dishes to dentals, from foaming flagon to +the demijohn which never pours out at the end you pour in. Ah! after +all, the poorest devil in Mardi lives not in vain. There’s a soft side +to the hardest oak-plank in the world!” + +“Methinks I have heard some such sentimental gabble as this before from +my slaves, my lord,” said Abrazza to Media. “It has the old gibberish +flavor.” + +“Gibberish, your Highness? Gibberish? I’m full of it—I’m a gibbering +ghost, my right worshipful lord! Here, pass your hand through me— here, +_here_, and scorch it where I most burn. By Oro! King! but I will gibe +and gibber at thee, till thy crown feels like another skull clapped on +thy own. Gibberish? ay, in hell we’ll gibber in concert, king! we’ll +howl, and roast, and hiss together!” + +“Devil that thou art, begone! Ho, guards! seize him!” + +“Back, curs!” cried Media. “Harm not a hair of his head. I crave +pardon, King Abrazza, but no violence must be done Babbalanja.” + +“Trumpets there!” said Abrazza; “so: the banquet is done—lights for +King Media! Good-night, my lord!” + +Now, thus, for the nonce, with good cheer, we close. And after many +fine dinners and banquets—through light and through shade; through +mirth, sorrow, and all—drawing nigh to the evening end of these +wanderings wild—meet is it that all should be regaled with a supper. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXVIII. +They Embark + + +Next morning, King Abrazza sent frigid word to Media that the day was +very fine for yachting; but he much regretted that indisposition would +prevent his making one of the party, who that morning doubtless would +depart his isle. + +“My compliments to your king,” said Media to the chamberlains, “and say +the royal notice to quit was duly received.” + +“Take Azzageddi’s also,” said Babbalanja; “and say, I hope his Highness +will not fail in his appointment with me:—the first midnight after he +dies; at the grave-yard corner;—there I’ll be, and grin again!” + +Sailing on, the next land we saw was thickly wooded: hedged round about +by mangrove trees; which growing in the water, yet lifted high their +boughs. Here and there were shady nooks, half verdure and half water. +Fishes rippled, and canaries sung. + +“Let us break through, my lord,” said Yoomy, “and seek the shore. Its +solitudes must prove reviving.” “Solitudes they are,” cried Mohi. + +“Peopled but not enlivened,” said Babbalanja. “Hard landing here, +minstrel! see you not the isle is hedged?” + +“Why, break through, then,” said Media. “Yillah is not here.” + +“I mistrusted it,” sighed Yoomy; “an imprisoned island! full of +uncomplaining woes: like many others we must have glided by, +unheedingly. Yet of them have I heard. This isle many pass, marking its +outward brightness, but dreaming not of the sad secrets here embowered. +Haunt of the hopeless! In those inland woods brood Mardians who have +tasted Mardi, and found it bitter—the draught so sweet to +others!—maidens whose unimparted bloom has cankered in the bud; and +children, with eyes averted from life’s dawn—like those new-oped +morning blossoms which, foreseeing storms, turn and close.” + +“Yoomy’s rendering of the truth,” said Mohi. + +“Why land, then?” said Media. “No merry man of sense—no demi-god like +me, will do it. Let’s away; let’s see all that’s pleasant, or that +seems so, in our circuit, and, if possible, shun the sad.” + +“Then we have circled not the round reef wholly,” said Babbalanja, “but +made of it a segment. For this is far from being the first sad land, my +lord, that we have slighted at your instance.” + +“No more. I will have no gloom. A chorus! there, ye paddlers! spread +all your sails; ply paddles; breeze up, merry winds!” + +And so, in the saffron sunset, we neared another shore. + +A gloomy-looking land! black, beetling crags, rent by volcanic clefts; +ploughed up with water-courses, and dusky with charred woods. The beach +was strewn with scoria and cinders; in dolorous soughs, a chill wind +blew; wails issued from the caves; and yellow, spooming surges, lashed +the moaning strand. + +“Shall we land?” said Babbalanja. + +“Not here,” cried Yoomy; “no Yillah here.” + +“No,” said Media. “This is another of those lands far better to avoid.” + +“Know ye not,” said Mohi, “that here are the mines of King Klanko, +whose scourged slaves, toiling in their pits, so nigh approach the +volcano’s bowels, they hear its rumblings? ‘Yet they must work on,’ +cries Klanko, ‘the mines still yield!’ And daily his slaves’ bones are +brought above ground, mixed with the metal masses.” + +“Set all sail there, men! away!” + +“My lord,” said Babbalanja; “still must we shun the unmitigated evil; +and only view the good; or evil so mixed therewith, the mixture’s +both?” + +Half vailed in misty clouds, the harvest-moon now rose; and in that +pale and haggard light, all sat silent; each man in his own secret +mood: best knowing his own thoughts. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXIX. +Babbalanja At The Full Of The Moon + + +“Ho, mortals! Go we to a funeral, that our paddles seem thus muffled? +Up heart, Taji! or does that witch Hautia haunt thee? Be a demi-god +once more, and laugh. Her flowers are not barbs; and the avengers’ +arrows are too blunt to slay. Babbalanja! Mohi! Yoomy! up heart! up +heart!—By Oro! I will debark the whole company on the next land we +meet. No tears for me. Ha, ha! let us laugh. Ho, Vee-Vee! awake; quick, +boy,—some wine! and let us make glad, beneath the glad moon. Look! it +is stealing forth from its clouds. Perdition to Hautia! Long lives, and +merry ones to ourselves! Taji, my charming fellow, here’s to you:—May +your heart be a stone! Ha, ha!—will nobody join me? My laugh is lonely +as his who laughed in his tomb. Come, laugh; will no one quaff wine, I +say? See! the round moon is abroad.” + +“Say you so, my lord? then for one, I am with you;” cried Babbalanja. +“Fill me a brimmer. Ah! but this wine leaps through me like a panther. +Ay, let us laugh: let us roar: let us yell! What, if I was sad but just +now? Life is an April day, that both laughs and weeps in a breath. But +whoso is wise, laughs when he can. Men fly from a groan; but run to a +laugh. Vee-Vee! your gourd. My lord, let me help you. Ah, how it +sparkles! Cups, cups, Vee-Vee, more cups! Here, Taji, take that: Mohi, +take that: Yoomy, take that. And now let us drown away grief. Ha! ha! +the house of mourning, is deserted, though of old good cheer kept the +funeral guests; and so keep I mine; here I sit by my dead, and +replenish your wine cups. Old Mohi, your cup: Yoomy, yours: ha! ha! let +us laugh, let us scream! Weeds are put off at a fair; no heart bursts +but in secret; it is good to laugh, though the laugh be hollow; and +wise to make merry, now and for aye. Laugh, and make friends: weep, and +they go. Women sob, and are rid of their grief: men laugh, and retain +it. There is laughter in heaven, and laughter in hell. And a deep +thought whose language is laughter. Though wisdom be wedded to woe, +though the way thereto is by tears, yet all ends in a shout. But wisdom +wears no weeds; woe is more merry than mirth; ’tis a shallow grief that +is sad. Ha! ha! how demoniacs shout; how all skeletons grin; we all die +with a rattle. Laugh! laugh! Are the cherubim grave? Humor, thy laugh +is divine; whence, mirth-making idiots have been revered; and therefore +may I. Ho! let us be gay, if it be only for an hour, and Death hand us +the goblet. Vee-Vee! bring on your gourds! Let us pledge each other in +bumpers!—let us laugh, laugh, laugh it out to the last. All sages have +laughed,—let us; Bardianna laughed, let us; Demorkriti laughed,—let us: +Amoree laughed,—let us; Rabeelee roared,—let us; the hyenas grin, the +jackals yell,—let us.—But you don’t laugh, my lord? laugh away!” + +“No, thank you, Azzageddi, not after that infernal fashion; better +weep.” + +“He makes me crawl all over, as if I were an ant-hill,” said Mohi. + +“He’s mad, mad, mad!” cried Yoomy. + +“Ay, mad, mad, mad!—mad as the mad fiend that rides me!—But come, sweet +minstrel, wilt list to a song?—We madmen are all poets, you know:—Ha! +ha!— + +Stars laugh in the sky: + Oh fugle-fi I +The waves dimple below: + Oh fugle-fo! + + +“The wind strikes her dulcimers; the groves give a shout; the hurricane +is only an hysterical laugh; and the lightning that blasts, blasts only +in play. We must laugh or we die; to laugh is to live. Not to laugh is +to have the tetanus. Will you weep? then laugh while you weep. For +mirth and sorrow are kin; are published by identical nerves. Go, Yoomy: +go study anatomy: there is much to be learned from the dead, more than +you may learn from the living and I am dead though I live; and as soon +dissect myself as another; I curiously look into my secrets: and grope +under my ribs. I have found that the heart is not whole, but divided; +that it seeks a soft cushion whereon to repose; that it vitalizes the +blood; which else were weaker than water: I have found that we can not +live without hearts; though the heartless live longest. Yet hug your +hearts, ye handful that have them; ’tis a blessed inheritance! Thus, +thus, my lord, I run on; from one pole to the other; from this thing to +that. But so the great world goes round, and in one Somerset, shows the +sun twenty-five thousand miles of a landscape!” + +At that instant, down went the fiery full-moon, and the Dog-Star; and +far down into Media, a Tivoli of wine. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXX. +Morning + + +Life or death, weal or woe, the sun stays not his course. On: over +battle-field and bower; over tower, and town, he speeds,—peers in at +births, and death-beds; lights up cathedral, mosque, and pagan +shrine;—laughing over all;—a very Democritus in the sky; and in one +brief day sees more than any pilgrim in a century’s round. + +So, the sun; nearer heaven than we:—with what mind, then, may blessed +Oro downward look. + +It was a purple, red, and yellow East;—streaked, and crossed. And down +from breezy mountains, robust and ruddy Morning came,—a plaided +Highlander, waving his plumed bonnet to the isles. + +Over the neighboring groves the larks soared high; and soaring, sang in +jubilees; while across our bows, between two isles, a mighty moose swam +stately as a seventy-four; and backward tossed his antlered wilderness +in air. + +Just bounding from fresh morning groves, with the brine he mixed the +dew of leaves,—his antlers dripping on the swell, that rippled before +his brown and bow-like chest. + +“Five hundred thousand centuries since,” said Babbalanja, “this same +sight was seen. With Oro, the sun is co-eternal; and the same life that +moves that moose, animates alike the sun and Oro. All are parts of One. +In me, in _me_, flit thoughts participated by the beings peopling all +the stars. Saturn, and Mercury, and Mardi, are brothers, one and all; +and across their orbits, to each other talk, like souls. Of these +things what chapters might be writ! Oh! that flesh can not keep pace +with spirit. Oh! that these myriad germ-dramas in me, should so perish +hourly, for lack of power mechanic.—Worlds pass worlds in space, as +men, men,—in thoroughfares; and after periods of thousand years, +cry:—“Well met, my friend, again!”—To me to _me_, they talk in mystic +music; I hear them think through all their zones. —Hail, furthest +worlds! and all the beauteous beings in ye! Fan me, sweet Zenora! with +thy twilight wings!—Ho! let’s voyage to Aldebaran.—Ha! indeed, a ruddy +world! What a buoyant air! Not like to Mardi, this. Ruby columns: +minarets of amethyst: diamond domes! Who is this?—a god? What a +lake-like brow! transparent as the morning air. I see his thoughts like +worlds revolving—and in his eyes—like unto heavens—soft falling stars +are shooting.—How these thousand passing wings winnow away my breath:—I +faint:—back, back to some small asteroid.—Sweet being! if, by Mardian +word I may address thee— speak!—‘I bear a soul in germ within me; I +feel the first, faint trembling, like to a harp-string, vibrate in my +inmost being. Kill me, and generations die.’—So, of old, the unbegotten +lived within the virgin; who then loved her God, as new-made mothers +their babes ere born. Oh, Alma, Alma, Alma!—Fangs off, fiend!—will that +name ever lash thee into foam?—Smite not my face so, forked flames!” + +“Babbalanja! Babbalanja! rouse, man! rouse! Art in hell and damned, +that thy sinews so snake-like coil and twist all over thee? Thy brow is +black as Ops! Turn, turn! see yonder moose!” + +“Hail! mighty brute!—thou feelest not these things: never canst _thou_ +be damned. Moose! would thy soul were mine; for if that scorched thing, +mine, be immortal—so thine; and thy life hath not the consciousness of +death. I read profound placidity—deep—million— violet fathoms down, in +that soft, pathetic, woman eye! What is man’s shrunk form to thine, +thou woodland majesty?—Moose, moose!—my soul is shot again—Oh, Oro! +Oro!” + +“He falls!” cried Media. + +“Mark the agony in his waning eye,” said Yoomy;—“alas, poor Babbalanja! +Is this thing of madness conscious to thyself? If ever thou art sane +again, wilt thou have reminiscences? Take my robe:— here, I strip me to +cover thee and all thy woes. Oro! by this, thy being’s side, I +kneel:—grant death or happiness to Babbalanja!” + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXI. +L’ultima Sera + + +Thus far, through myriad islands, had we searched: of all, no one pen +may write: least, mine;—and still no trace of Yillah. + +But though my hopes revived not from their ashes; yet, so much of Mardi +had we searched, it seemed as if the long pursuit must, ere many moons, +be ended; whether for weal or woe, my frenzy sometimes reeked not. + +After its first fair morning flushings, all that day was overcast. We +sailed upon an angry sea, beneath an angry sky. Deep scowled on deep; +and in dun vapors, the blinded sun went down, unseen; though full +toward the West our three prows were pointed; steadfast as three +printed points upon the compass-card. + +“When we set sail from Odo, ’twas a glorious morn in spring,” said +Yoomy; “toward the rising sun we steered. But now, beneath autumnal +night-clouds, we hasten to its setting.” + +“How now?” cried Media; “why is the minstrel mournful?—He whose place +it is to chase away despondency: not be its minister.” + +“Ah, my lord, so _thou_ thinkest. But better can my verses soothe the +sad, than make them light of heart. Nor are we minstrels so gay of soul +as Mardi deems us. The brook that sings the sweetest, murmurs through +the loneliest woods: + +The isles hold thee not, thou departed! + From thy bower, now issues no lay:— +In vain we recall perished warblings: + Spring birds, to far climes, wing their way!” + + +As Yoomy thus sang; unmindful of the lay, with paddle plying, in low, +pleasant tones, thus hummed to himself our bowsman, a gamesome wight:— + +Ho! merrily ho! we paddlers sail! +Ho! over sea-dingle, and dale!— + Our pulses fly, + Our hearts beat high, +Ho! merrily, merrily, ho! + + +But a sudden splash, and a shrill, gurgling sound, like that of a +fountain subsiding, now broke upon the air. Then all was still, save +the rush of the waves by our keels. + +“Save him! Put back!” + +From his elevated seat, the merry bowsman, too gleefully reaching +forward, had fallen into the lagoon. + +With all haste, our speeding canoes were reversed; but not till we had +darted in upon another darkness than that in which the bowsman fell. + +As, blindly, we groped back, deep Night dived deeper down in the sea. + +“Drop paddles all, and list.” + +Holding their breath, over the six gunwales all now leaned; but the +only moans were the wind’s. + +Long time we lay thus; then slowly crossed and recrossed our track, +almost hopeless; but yet loth to leave him who, with a song in his +mouth, died and was buried in a breath. + +“Let us away,” said Media—“why seek more? He is gone.” + +“Ay, gone,” said Babbalanja, “and whither? But a moment since, he was +among us: now, the fixed stars are not more remote than he. So far off, +can he live? Oh, Oro! this death thou ordainest, unmans the manliest. +Say not nay, my lord. Let us not speak behind Death’s back. Hard and +horrible is it to die: blindfold to leap from life’s verge! But thus, +in clouds of dust, and with a trampling as of hoofs, the generations +disappear; death driving them all into his treacherous fold, as wild +Indians the bison herds. Nay, nay, Death is Life’s last despair. Hard +and horrible is it to die. Oro himself, in Alma, died not without a +groan. Yet why, why live? Life is wearisome to all: the same dull +round. Day and night, summer and winter, round about us revolving for +aye. One moment lived, is a life. No new stars appear in the sky; no +new lights in the soul. Yet, of changes there are many. For though, +with rapt sight, in childhood, we behold many strange things beneath +the moon, and all Mardi looks a tented fair— how soon every thing +fades. All of us, in our very bodies, outlive our own selves. I think +of green youth as of a merry playmate departed; and to shake hands, and +be pleasant with my old age, seems in prospect even harder, than to +draw a cold stranger to my bosom. But old age is not for me. I am not +of the stuff that grows old. This Mardi is not our home. Up and down we +wander, like exiles transported to a planet afar:—’tis not the world +_we_ were born in; not the world once so lightsome and gay; not the +world where we once merrily danced, dined, and supped; and wooed, and +wedded our long-buried wives. Then let us depart. But whither? We push +ourselves forward then, start back in affright. Essay it again, and +flee. Hard to live; hard to die; intolerable suspense! But the grim +despot at last interposes; and with a viper in our winding-sheets, we +are dropped in the sea.” + +“To me,” said Mohi, his gray locks damp with night-dews, “death’s dark +defile at times seems at hand, with no voice to cheer. That all have +died, makes it not easier for me to depart. And that many have been +quenched in infancy seems a mercy to the slow perishing of my old age, +limb by limb and sense by sense. I have long been the tomb of my youth. +And more has died out of me, already, than remains for the last death +to finish. Babbalanja says truth. In childhood, death stirred me not; +in middle age, it pursued me like a prowling bandit on the road; now, +grown an old man, it boldly leads the way; and ushers me on; and turns +round upon me its skeleton gaze: poisoning the last solaces of life. +Maramma but adds to my gloom.” + +“Death! death!” cried Yoomy, “must I be not, and millions be? Must I +go, and the flowers still bloom? Oh, I have marked what it is to be +dead;—how shouting boys, of holidays, hide-and-seek among the tombs, +which must hide all seekers at last.” + +“Clouds on clouds!” cried Media, “but away with them all! Why not leap +your graves, while ye may? Time to die, when death comes, without dying +by inches. ’Tis no death, to die; the only death is the fear of it. I, +a demi-god, fear death not.” + +“But when the jackals howl round you?” said Babbalanja. + +“Drive them off! Die the demi-god’s death! On his last couch of crossed +spears, my brave old sire cried, ‘Wine, wine; strike up, conch and +cymbal; let the king die to martial melodies!’” + +“More valiant dying, than dead,” said Babbalanja. “Our end of the +winding procession resounds with music and flaunts with banners with +brave devices: ‘Cheer up!’ ‘Fear not!’ ‘Millions have died before!’— +but in the endless van, not a pennon streams; all there, is silent and +solemn. The last wisdom is dumb.” + +Silence ensued; during which, each dip of the paddles in the now calm +water, fell full and long upon the ear. + +Anon, lifting his head, Babbalanja thus:—“Yillah still eludes us. And +in all this tour of Mardi, how little have we found to fill the heart +with peace: how much to slaughter all our yearnings.” + +“Croak no more, raven!” cried Media. “Mardi is full of spring-time +sights, and jubilee sounds. I never was sad in my life.” + +“But for thy one laugh, my lord, how many groans! Were all happy, or +all miserable,—more tolerable then, than as it is. But happiness and +misery are so broadly marked, that this Mardi may be the retributive +future of some forgotten past.—Yet vain our surmises. Still vainer to +say, that all Mardi is but a means to an end; that this life is a state +of probation: that evil is but permitted for a term; that for specified +ages a rebel angel is viceroy.—Nay, nay. Oro delegates his scepter to +none; in his everlasting reign there are no interregnums; and Time is +Eternity; and we live in Eternity now. Yet, some tell of a hereafter, +where all the mysteries of life will be over; and the sufferings of the +virtuous recompensed. Oro is just, they say.—Then always,—now, and +evermore. But to make restitution implies a wrong; and Oro can do no +wrong. Yet what seems evil to us, may be good to him. If he fears not, +nor hopes,—he has no other passion; no ends, no purposes. He lives +content; all ends are compassed in Him; He has no past, no future; He +is the everlasting now; which is an everlasting calm; and things that +are, have been,— will be. This gloom’s enough. But hoot! hoot! the +night-owl ranges through the woodlands of Maramma; its dismal notes +pervade our lives; and when we would fain depart in peace, that bird +flies on before:— cloud-like, eclipsing our setting suns, and filling +the air with dolor.” + +“Too true!” cried Yoomy. “Our calms must come by storms. Like helmless +vessels, tempest-tossed, our only anchorage is when we founder.” + +“Our beginnings,” murmured Mohi, “are lost in clouds; we live in +darkness all our days, and perish without an end.” + +“Croak on, cowards!” cried Media, “and fly before the hideous phantoms +that pursue ye.” + +“No coward he, who hunted, turns and finds no foe to fight,” said +Babbalanja. “Like the stag, whose brow is beat with wings of hawks, +perched in his heavenward antlers; so I, blinded, goaded, headlong, +rush! this way and that; nor knowing whither; one forest wide around!” + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXII. +They Sail From Night To Day + + +Ere long the three canoes lurched heavily in a violent swell. Like +palls, the clouds swept to and fro, hooding the gibbering winds. At +every head-beat wave, our arching prows reared up, and shuddered; the +night ran out in rain. + +Whither to turn we knew not; nor what haven to gain; so dense the +darkness. + +But at last, the storm was over. Our shattered prows seemed gilded. Day +dawned; and from his golden vases poured red wine upon the waters. + +That flushed tide rippled toward us; floating from the east, a lone +canoe; in which, there sat a mild, old man; a palm-bough in his hand: a +bird’s beak, holding amaranth and myrtles, his slender prow. + +“Alma’s blessing upon ye, voyagers! ye look storm-worn.” + +“The storm we have survived, old man; and many more, we yet must ride,” +said Babbalanja. + +“The sun is risen; and all is well again. We but need to repair our +prows,” said Media. + +“Then, turn aside to Serenia, a pleasant isle, where all are welcome; +where many storm-worn rovers land at last to dwell.” + +“Serenia?” said Babbalanja; “methinks Serenia is that land of +enthusiasts, of which we hear, my lord; where Mardians pretend to the +unnatural conjunction of reason with things revealed; where Alma, they +say, is restored to his divine original; where, deriving their +principles from the same sources whence flow the persecutions of +Maramma,—men strive to live together in gentle bonds of peace and +charity;—folly! folly!” + +“Ay,” said Media; “much is said of those people of Serenia; but their +social fabric must soon fall to pieces; it is based upon the idlest of +theories. Thanks for thy courtesy, old man, but we care not to visit +thy isle. Our voyage has an object, which, something tells me, will not +be gained by touching at thy shores. Elsewhere we may refit. Farewell! +’Tis breezing; set the sails! Farewell, old man.” + +“Nay, nay! think again; the distance is but small; the wind fair,—but +’tis ever so, thither;—come: we, people of Serenia, are most anxious to +be seen of Mardi; so that if our manner of life seem good, all Mardi +may live as we. In blessed Alma’s name, I pray ye, come!” + +“Shall we then, my lord?” + +“Lead on, old man! We will e’en see this wondrous isle.” + +So, guided by the venerable stranger, by noon we descried an island +blooming with bright savannas, and pensive with peaceful groves. + +Wafted from this shore, came balm of flowers, and melody of birds: a +thousand summer sounds and odors. The dimpled tide sang round our +splintered prows; the sun was high in heaven, and the waters were deep +below. + +“The land of Love!” the old man murmured, as we neared the beach, where +innumerable shells were gently rolling in the playful surf, and +murmuring from their tuneful valves. Behind, another, and a verdant +surf played against lofty banks of leaves; where the breeze, likewise, +found its shore. + +And now, emerging from beneath the trees, there came a goodly multitude +in flowing robes; palm-branches in their hands; and as they came, they +sang:— + + Hail! voyagers, hail! +Whence e’er ye come, where’er ye rove, + No calmer strand, + No sweeter land, +Will e’er ye view, than the Land of Love! + + Hail! voyagers, hail! +To these, our shores, soft gales invite: + The palm plumes wave, + The billows lave, +And hither point fix’d stars of light! + + Hail! voyagers, hail! +Think not our groves wide brood with gloom; + In this, our isle, + Bright flowers smile: +Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom. + + Hail! voyagers, hail! +Be not deceived; renounce vain things; + Ye may not find + A tranquil mind, +Though hence ye sail with swiftest wings. + + Hail! voyagers, hail! +Time flies full fast; life soon is o’er; + And ye may mourn, + That hither borne, +Ye left behind our pleasant shore. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIII. +They Land + + +The song was ended; and as we gained the strand, the crowd embraced us; +and called us brothers; ourselves and our humblest attendants. + +“Call ye us brothers, whom ere now ye never saw?” + +“Even so,” said the old man, “is not Oro the father of all? Then, are +we not brothers? Thus Alma, the master, hath commanded.” + +“This was not our reception in Maramma,” said Media, “the appointed +place of Alma; where his precepts are preserved.” + +“No, no,” said Babbalanja; “old man! your lesson of brotherhood was +learned elsewhere than from Alma; for in Maramma and in all its +tributary isles true brotherhood there is none. Even in the Holy Island +many are oppressed; for heresies, many murdered; and thousands perish +beneath the altars, groaning with offerings that might relieve them.” + +“Alas! too true. But I beseech ye, judge not Alma by all those who +profess his faith. Hast thou thyself his records searched?” + +“Fully, I have not. So long, even from my infancy, have I witnessed the +wrongs committed in his name; the sins and inconsistencies of his +followers; that thinking all evil must flow from a congenial fountain, +I have scorned to study the whole record of your Master’s life. By +parts I only know it.” + +“Ah! baneful error! But thus is it, brothers!! that the wisest are set +against the Truth, because of those who wrest it from itself.” + +“Do ye then claim to live what your Master hath spoken? Are your +precepts practices?” + +“Nothing do we claim: we but earnestly endeavor.” + +“Tell me not of your endeavors, but of your life. What hope for the +fatherless among ye?” + +“Adopted as a son.” + +“Of one poor, and naked?” + +“Clothed, and he wants for naught.” + +“If ungrateful, he smite you?” + +“Still we feed and clothe him.” + +“If yet an ingrate?” + +“Long, he can not be; for Love is a fervent fire.” + +“But what, if widely he dissent from your belief in Alma;—then, surely, +ye must cast him forth?” + +“No, no; we will remember, that if he dissent from us, we then equally +dissent from him; and men’s faculties are Oro-given. Nor will we say +that he is wrong, and we are right; for this we know not, absolutely. +But we care not for men’s words; we look for creeds in actions; which +are the truthful symbols of the things within. He who hourly prays to +Alma, but lives not up to world-wide love and charity—that man is more +an unbeliever than he who verbally rejects the Master, but does his +bidding. Our lives are our Amens.” + +“But some say that what your Alma teaches is wholly new—a revelation of +things before unimagined, even by the poets. To do his bidding, then, +some new faculty must be vouchsafed, whereby to apprehend aright.” + +“So have I always thought,” said Mohi. + +“If Alma teaches love, I want no gift to learn,” said Yoomy. + +“All that is vital in the Master’s faith, lived here in Mardi, and in +humble dells was practiced, long previous to the Master’s coming. But +never before was virtue so lifted up among us, that all might see; +never before did rays from heaven descend to glorify it, But are Truth, +Justice, and Love, the revelations of Alma alone? Were they never heard +of till he came? Oh! Alma but opens unto us our own hearts. Were his +precepts strange we would recoil—not one feeling would respond; +whereas, once hearkened to, our souls embrace them as with the +instinctive tendrils of a vine.” + +“But,” said Babbalanja, “since Alma, they say, was solely intent upon +the things of the Mardi to come—which to all, must seem uncertain—of +what benefit his precepts for the daily lives led here?” + +“Would! would that Alma might once more descend! Brother! were the turf +our everlasting pillow, still would the Master’s faith answer a blessed +end;—making us more truly happy _here_. _That_ is the first and chief +result; for holy here, we must be holy elsewhere. ’Tis Mardi, to which +loved Alma gives his laws; not Paradise.” + +“Full soon will I be testing all these things,” murmured Mohi. + +“Old man,” said Media, “thy years and Mohi’s lead ye both to dwell upon +the unknown future. But speak to me of other themes. Tell me of this +island and its people. From all I have heard, and now behold, I gather +that here there dwells no king; that ye are left to yourselves; and +that this mystic Love, ye speak of, is your ruler. Is it so? Then, are +ye full as visionary, as Mardi rumors. And though for a time, ye may +have prospered,—long, ye can not be, without some sharp lesson to +convince ye, that your faith in Mardian virtue is entirely vain.” + +“Truth. We have no king; for Alma’s precepts rebuke the arrogance of +place and power. He is the tribune of mankind; nor will his true faith +be universal Mardi’s, till our whole race is kingless. But think not we +believe in man’s perfection. Yet, against all good, he is not +absolutely set. In his heart, there is a germ. _That_ we seek to +foster. To _that_ we cling; else, all were hopeless!” + +“Your social state?” + +“It is imperfect; and long must so remain. But we make not the +miserable many support the happy few. Nor by annulling reason’s laws, +seek to breed equality, by breeding anarchy. In all things, equality is +not for all. Each has his own. Some have wider groves of palms than +others; fare better; dwell in more tasteful arbors; oftener renew their +fragrant thatch. Such differences must be. But none starve outright, +while others feast. By the abounding, the needy are supplied. Yet not +by statute, but from dictates, born half dormant in us, and warmed into +life by Alma. Those dictates we but follow in all we do; we are not +dragged to righteousness; but go running. Nor do we live in common. For +vice and virtue blindly mingled, form a union where vice too often +proves the alkali. The vicious we make dwell apart, until reclaimed. +And reclaimed they soon must be, since every thing invites. The sin of +others rests not upon our heads: none we drive to crime. Our laws are +not of vengeance bred, but Love and Alma.” + +“Fine poetry all this,” said Babbalanja, “but not so new. Oft do they +warble thus in bland Maramma!” + +“It sounds famously, old man!” said Media, “but men are men. Some must +starve; some be scourged.—Your doctrines are impracticable.” + +“And are not these things enjoined by Alma? And would Alma inculcate +the impossible? of what merit, his precepts, unless they may be +practiced? But, I beseech ye, speak no more of Maramma. Alas! did Alma +revisit Mardi, think you, it would be among those Morals he would lay +his head?” + +“No, no,” said Babbalanja, “as an intruder he came; and an intruder +would he be this day. On all sides, would he jar our social systems.” + +“Not here, not here! Rather would we welcome Alma hungry and athirst, +than though he came floating hither on the wings of seraphs; the +blazing zodiac his diadem! In all his aspects we adore him; needing no +pomp and power to kindle worship. Though he came from Oro; though he +did miracles; though through him is life;—not for these things alone, +do we thus love him. We love him from, an instinct in us;—a fond, +filial, reverential feeling. And this would yet stir in our souls, were +death our end; and Alma incapable of befriending us. We love him +because we do.” + +“Is this man divine?” murmured Babbalanja. “But thou speakest most +earnestly of adoring Alma:—I see no temples in your groves.” + +“Because this isle is all one temple to his praise; every leaf is +consecrated his. We fix not Alma here and there; and say,—‘those groves +for Him, and these broad fields for us.’ It is all his own; and we +ourselves; our every hour of life; and all we are, and have.” + +“Then, ye forever fast and pray; and stand and sing; as at long +intervals the censer-bearers in Maramma supplicate their gods.” + +“Alma forbid! We never fast; our aspirations are our prayers; our lives +are worship. And when we laugh, with human joy at human things, —_then_ +do we most sound great Oro’s praise, and prove the merit of sweet +Alma’s love! Our love in Alma makes us glad, not sad. Ye speak of +temples;—behold! ’tis by not building _them_, that we widen charity +among us. The treasures which, in the islands round about, are lavished +on a thousand fanes;—with these we every day relieve the Master’s +suffering disciples. In Mardi, Alma preached in open fields, —and must +his worshipers have palaces?” + +“No temples, then no priests;” said Babbalanja, “for few priests will +enter where lordly arches form not the portal.” + +“We have no priests, but one; and he is Alma’s self. We have his +precepts: we seek no comments but our hearts.” + +“But without priests and temples, how long will flourish this your +faith?” said Media. + +“For many ages has not this faith lived, in spite of priests and +temples? and shall it not survive them? What we believe, we hold +divine; and things divine endure forever.” + +“But how enlarge your bounds? how convert the vicious, without +persuasion of some special seers? Must your religion go hand in hand +with all things secular?” + +“We hold not, that one man’s words should be a gospel to the rest; but +that Alma’s words should be a gospel to us all. And not by precepts +would we have some few endeavor to persuade; but all, by practice, fix +convictions, that the life we lead is the life for all. We are +apostles, every one. Where’er we go, our faith we carry in our hands, +and hearts. It is our chiefest joy. We do not put it wide away six days +out of seven; and then, assume it. In it we all exult, and joy; as that +which makes us happy here; as that, without which, we could be happy +nowhere; as something meant for this time present, and henceforth for +aye. It is our vital mode of being; not an incident. And when we die, +this faith shall be our pillow; and when we rise, our staff; and at the +end, our crown. For we are all immortal. Here, Alma joins with our own +hearts, confirming nature’s promptings.” + +“How eloquent he is!” murmured Babbalanja. “Some black cloud seems +floating from me. I begin to see. I come out in light. The sharp fang +tears me less. The forked flames wane. My soul sets back like ocean +streams, that sudden change their flow. Have I been sane? Quickened in +me is a hope. But pray you, old man—say on—methinks, that in your faith +must be much that jars with reason.” + +“No, brother! Right-reason, and Alma, are the same; else Alma, not +reason, would we reject. The Master’s great command is Love; and here +do all things wise, and all things good, unite. Love is all in all. The +more we love, the more we know; and so reversed. Oro we love; this +isle; and our wide arms embrace all Mardi like its reef. How can we +err, thus feeling? We hear loved Alma’s pleading, prompting voice, in +every breeze, in every leaf; we see his earnest eye in every star and +flower.” + +“Poetry!” cried Yoomy; “and poetry is truth! He stirs me.” + +“When Alma dwelt in Mardi, ’twas with the poor and friendless. He fed +the famishing; he healed the sick; he bound up wounds. For every +precept that he spoke, he did ten thousand mercies. And Alma is our +loved example.” + +“Sure, all this is in the histories!” said Mohi, starting. + +“But not alone to poor and friendless, did Alma wend his charitable +way. From lowly places, he looked up; and long invoked great chieftains +in their state; and told them all their pride was vanity; and bade them +ask their souls. ‘In _me_,’ he cried, ‘is that heart of mild content, +which in vain ye seek in rank and title. I am Love: love ye then me.’” + +“Cease, cease, old man!” cried Media; “thou movest me beyond my +seeming. What thoughts are these? Have done! Wouldst thou unking me?” + +“Alma is for all; for high and low. Like heaven’s own breeze, he lifts +the lily from its lowly stem, and sweeps, reviving, through the palmy +groves. High thoughts he gives the sage, and humble trust the simple. +Be the measure what it may, his grace doth fill it to the brim. He lays +the lashings of the soul’s wild aspirations after things unseen; oil he +poureth on the waters; and stars come out of night’s black concave at +his great command. In him is hope for all; for all, unbounded joys. +Fast locked in his loved clasp, no doubts dismay. He opes the eye of +faith and shuts the eye of fear. He is all we pray for, and beyond; +all, that in the wildest hour of ecstasy, rapt fancy paints in bright +Auroras upon the soul’s wide, boundless Orient!” + +“Oh, Alma, Alma! prince divine!” cried Babbalanja, sinking on his +knees—“in _thee_, at last, I find repose. Hope perches in my heart a +dove;—a thousand rays illume;—all Heaven’s a sun. Gone, gone! are all +distracting doubts. Love and Alma now prevail. I see with other +eyes:—Are these my hands? What wild, wild dreams were mine;—I have been +mad. Some things there are, we must not think of. Beyond one obvious +mark, all human lore is vain. Where have I lived till now? Had dark +Maramma’s zealot tribe but murmured to me as this old man, long since +had I, been wise! Reason no longer domineers; but still doth speak. All +I have said ere this, that wars with Alma’s precepts, I here recant. +Here I kneel, and own great Oro and his sovereign son.” + +“And here another kneels and prays,” cried Yoomy. + +“In Alma all my dreams are found, my inner longings for the Love +supreme, that prompts my every verse. Summer is in my soul.” + +“Nor now, too late for these gray hairs,” cried Mohi, with devotion. +“Alma, thy breath is on my soul. I see bright light.” + +“No more a demigod,” cried Media, “but a subject to our common chief. +No more shall dismal cries be heard from Odo’s groves. Alma, I am +thine.” + +With swimming eyes the old man kneeled; and round him grouped king, +sage, gray hairs, and youth. + +There, as they kneeled, and as the old man blessed them, the setting +sun burst forth from mists, gilded the island round about, shed rays +upon their heads, and went down in a glory—all the East radiant with +red burnings, like an altar-fire. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIV. +Babbalanja Relates To Them A Vision + + +Leaving Babbalanja in the old man’s bower, deep in meditation; +thoughtfully we strolled along the beach, inspiring the musky, midnight +air; the tropical stars glistening in heaven, like drops of dew among +violets. + +The waves were phosphorescent, and laved the beach with a fire that +cooled it. + +Returning, we espied Babbalanja advancing in his snow-white mantle. The +fiery tide was ebbing; and in the soft, moist sand, at every step, he +left a lustrous foot-print. + +“Sweet friends! this isle is full of mysteries,” he said. “I have +dreamed of wondrous things. After I had laid me down, thought pressed +hard upon me. By my eyes passed pageant visions. I started at a low, +strange melody, deep in my inmost soul. At last, methought my eyes were +fixed on heaven; and there, I saw a shining spot, unlike a star. +Thwarting the sky, it grew, and grew, descending; till bright wings +were visible: between them, a pensive face angelic, downward beaming; +and, for one golden moment, gauze-vailed in spangled Berenice’s Locks. + +“Then, as white flame from yellow, out from that starry cluster it +emerged; and brushed the astral Crosses, Crowns, and Cups. And as in +violet, tropic seas, ships leave a radiant-white, and fire-fly wake; +so, in long extension tapering, behind the vision, gleamed another +Milky-Way. + +“Strange throbbings seized me; my soul tossed on its own tides. But +soon the inward harmony bounded in exulting choral strains. I heard a +feathery rush; and straight beheld a form, traced all over with veins +of vivid light. The vision undulated round me. + +“‘Oh! Spirit!! angel! god! whate’er thou art,’—I cried, ‘leave me; I am +but man.’ + +“Then, I heard a low, sad sound, no voice. It said, or breathed upon +me,—‘Thou hast proved the grace of Alma: tell me what thou’st learned.’ + +“Silent replied my soul, for voice was gone,—‘This have I learned, oh! +spirit!—In things mysterious, to seek no more; but rest content, with +knowing naught but Love.’ + +“‘Blessed art thou for that: thrice blessed,’ then I heard, and since +humility is thine, thou art one apt to learn. That which thy own wisdom +could not find, thy ignorance confessed shall gain. Come, and see new +things.’ + +“Once more it undulated round me; its lightning wings grew dim; nearer, +nearer; till I felt a shock electric,—and nested ’neath its wing. + +“We clove the air; passed systems, suns, and moons: what seem from +Mardi’s isles, the glow-worm stars. + +“By distant fleets of worlds we sped, as voyagers pass far sails at +sea, and hail them not. Foam played before them as they darted on; wild +music was their wake; and many tracks of sound we crossed, where worlds +had sailed before. + +“Soon, we gained a point, where a new heaven was seen; whence all our +firmament seemed one nebula. Its glories burned like thousand +steadfast-flaming lights. + +“Here hived the worlds in swarms: and gave forth sweets ineffable. + +“We lighted on a ring, circling a space, where mornings seemed forever +dawning over worlds unlike. + +“‘Here,’ I heard, ‘thou viewest thy Mardi’s Heaven. Herein each world +is portioned.’ + +“As he who climbs to mountain tops pants hard for breath; so panted I +for Mardi’s grosser air. But that which caused my flesh to faint, was +new vitality to my soul. My eyes swept over all before me. The spheres +were plain as villages that dot a landscape. I saw most beauteous +forms, yet like our own. Strange sounds I heard of gladness that seemed +mixed with sadness:—a low, sweet harmony of both. Else, I know not how +to phrase what never man but me e’er heard. + +“‘In these blest souls are blent,’ my guide discoursed, ‘far higher +thoughts, and sweeter plaints than thine. Rude joy were discord here. +And as a sudden shout in thy hushed mountain-passes brings down the +awful avalanche; so one note of laughter here, might start some white +and silent world.’ + +“Then low I murmured:—‘Is their’s, oh guide! no happiness supreme? +their state still mixed? Sigh these yet to know? Can these sin?’ + +“Then I heard:—‘No mind but Oro’s can know all; no mind that knows not +all can be content; content alone approximates to happiness. Holiness +comes by wisdom; and it is because great Oro is supremely wise, that +He’s supremely holy. But as perfect wisdom can be only Oro’s; so, +perfect holiness is his alone. And whoso is otherwise than perfect in +his holiness, is liable to sin. + +“‘And though death gave these beings knowledge, it also opened other +mysteries, which they pant to know, and yet may learn. And still they +fear the thing of evil; though for them, ’tis hard to fall. Thus hoping +and thus fearing, then, their’s is no state complete. And since Oro is +past finding out, and mysteries ever open into mysteries beyond; so, +though these beings will for aye progress in wisdom and in good; yet, +will they never gain a fixed beatitude. Know, then, oh mortal Mardian! +that when translated hither, thou wilt but put off lowly temporal +pinings, for angel and eternal aspirations. Start not: thy human joy +hath here no place: no name. + +“Still, I mournful mused; then said:—‘Many Mardians live, who have no +aptitude for Mardian lives of thought: how then endure more earnest, +everlasting, meditations?’ + +“‘Such have their place,’ I heard. + +“‘Then low I moaned, ‘And what, oh! guide! of those who, living +thoughtless lives of sin, die unregenerate; no service done to Oro or +to Mardian?’ + +“‘They, too, have their place,’ I heard; ‘but ’tis not here. And +Mardian! know, that as your Mardian lives are long preserved through +strict obedience to the organic law, so are your spiritual lives +prolonged by fast keeping of the law of mind. Sin is death.’ + +“‘Ah, then,’ yet lower moan made I; ‘and why create the germs that sin +and suffer, but to perish?’ + +“‘That,’ breathed my guide; ‘is the last mystery which underlieth all +the rest. Archangel may not fathom it; that makes of Oro the +everlasting mystery he is; that to divulge, were to make equal to +himself in knowledge all the souls that are; that mystery Oro guards; +and none but him may know.’ + +“Alas! were it recalled, no words have I to tell of all that now my +guide discoursed, concerning things unsearchable to us. My sixth sense +which he opened, sleeps again, with all the wisdom that it gained. + +“Time passed; it seemed a moment, might have been an age; when from +high in the golden haze that canopied this heaven, another angel came; +its vans like East and West; a sunrise one, sunset the other. As +silver-fish in vases, so, in his azure eyes swam tears unshed. + +“Quick my guide close nested me; through its veins the waning light +throbbed hard. + +“‘Oh, spirit! archangel! god! whate’er thou art,’ it breathed; ‘leave +me: I am but blessed, not glorified.’ + +“So saying, as down from doves, from its wings dropped sounds. Still +nesting me, it crouched its plumes. + +“Then, in a snow of softest syllables, thus breathed the greater and +more beautiful:—‘From far away, in fields beyond thy ken, I heard thy +fond discourse with this lone Mardian. It pleased me well; for thy +humility was manifeat; no arrogance of knowing. Come _thou_ and learn +new things.’ + +“And straight it overarched us with its plumes; which, then, down- +sweeping, bore us up to regions where my first guide had sunk, but for +the power that buoyed us, trembling, both. + +“My eyes did wane, like moons eclipsed in overwhelming dawns: such +radiance was around; such vermeil light, born of no sun, but pervading +all the scene. Transparent, fleck-less, calm, all glowed one flame. + +“Then said the greater guide This is the night of all ye here behold— +its day ye could not bide. Your utmost heaven is far below.’ + +“Abashed, smote down, I, quaking, upward gazed; where, to and fro, the +spirits sailed, like broad-winged crimson-dyed flamingos, spiraling in +sunset-clouds. But a sadness glorified, deep-fringed their mystic +temples, crowned with weeping halos, bird-like, floating o’er them, +whereso’er they roamed. + +“Sights and odors blended. As when new-morning winds, in summer’s +prime, blow down from hanging gardens, wafting sweets that never pall; +so, from those flowery pinions, at every motion, came a flood of +fragrance. + +“And now the spirits twain discoursed of things, whose very terms, to +me, were dark. But my first guide grew wise. For me, I could but +blankly list; yet comprehended naught; and, like the fish that’s mocked +with wings, and vainly seeks to fly;—again I sought my lower element. + +“As poised, we hung in this rapt ether, a sudden trembling seized the +four wings now folding me. And afar of, in zones still upward reaching, +suns’ orbits off, I, tranced, beheld an awful glory. Sphere in sphere, +it burned:—the one Shekinah! The air was flaked with fire;—deep in +which, fell showers of silvery globes, tears magnified —braiding the +flame with rainbows. I heard a sound; but not for me, nor my first +guide, was that unutterable utterance. Then, my second guide was swept +aloft, as rises a cloud of red-dyed leaves in autumn whirlwinds. + +“Fast clasping me, the other drooped, and, instant, sank, as in a +vacuum; myriad suns’ diameters in a breath;—my five senses merged in +one, of falling; till we gained the nether sky, descending still. + +“Then strange things—soft, sad, and faint, I saw or heard; as, when, in +sunny, summer seas, down, down, you dive, starting at pensive phantoms, +that you can not fix. + +“‘These,’ breathed my guide, ‘are spirits in their essences; sad, even +in undevelopment. With these, all space is peopled;—all the air is +vital with intelligence, which seeks embodiment. This it is, that +unbeknown to Mardians, causes them to strangely start in solitudes of +night, and in the fixed flood of their enchanted noons. From hence, are +formed your mortal souls; and all those sad and shadowy dreams, and +boundless thoughts man hath, are vague remembrances of the time when +the soul’s sad germ, wide wandered through these realms. And hence it +is, that when ye Mardians feel most sad, then ye feel most immortal. + +“Like a spark new-struck from flint, soon Mardi showed afar. It glowed +within a sphere, which seemed, in space, a bubble, rising from vast +depths to the sea’s surface. Piercing it, my Mardian strength returned; +but the angel’s veins once more grew dim. + +“Nearing the isles, thus breathed my guide:—‘Loved one, love on! But +know, that heaven hath no roof. To know all is to be all. Beatitude +there is none. And your only Mardian happiness is but exemption from +great woes—no more. Great Love is sad; and heaven is Love. Sadness +makes the silence throughout the realms of space; sadness is universal +and eternal; but sadness is tranquillity; tranquillity the uttermost +that souls may hope for.’ + +“Then, with its wings it fanned adieu; and disappeared where the sun +flames highest.” + +We heard the dream and, silent, sought repose, to dream away our +wonder. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXV. +They Depart From Serenia + + +At sunrise, we stood upon the beach. + +Babbalanja thus:—“My voyage is ended. Not because what we sought is +found; but that I now possess all which may be had of what I sought in +Mardi. Here, tarry to grow wiser still:—then I am Alma’s and the +world’s. Taji! for Yillah thou wilt hunt in vain; she is a phantom that +but mocks thee; and while for her thou madly huntest, the sin thou +didst cries out, and its avengers still will follow. But here they may +not come: nor those, who, tempting, track thy path. Wise counsel take. +Within our hearts is all we seek: though in that search many need a +prompter. Him I have found in blessed Alma. Then rove no more. Gain +now, in flush of youth, that last wise thought, too often purchased, by +a life of woe. Be wise: be wise. + +“Media! thy station calls thee home. Yet from this isle, thou earnest +that, wherewith to bless thy own. These flowers, that round us spring, +may be transplanted: and Odo made to bloom with amaranths and myrtles, +like this Serenia. Before thy people act the things, thou here hast +heard. Let no man weep, that thou may’st laugh; no man toil too hard, +that thou may’st idle be. Abdicate thy throne: but still retain the +scepter. None need a king; but many need a ruler. + +“Mohi! Yoomy! do we part? then bury in forgetfulness much that hitherto +I’ve spoken. But let not one syllable of this old man’s words be lost. + +“Mohi! Age leads thee by the hand. Live out thy life; and die, calm- +browed. + +“But Yoomy! many days are thine. And in one life’s span, great circles +may be traversed, eternal good be done. Take all Mardi for thy home. +Nations are but names; and continents but shifting sands. + +“Once more: Taji! be sure thy Yillah never will be found; or found, +will not avail thee. Yet search, if so thou wilt; more isles, thou +say’st, are still unvisited; and when all is seen, return, and find thy +Yillah here. + +“Companions all! adieu.” + +And from the beach, he wended through the woods. + +Our shallops now refitted, we silently embarked; and as we sailed away, +the old man blessed us. + +For a time, each prow’s ripplings were distinctly heard: ripple after +ripple. + +With silent, steadfast eyes, Media still preserved his noble mien; Mohi +his reverend repose; Yoomy his musing mood. + +But as a summer hurricane leaves all nature still, and smiling to the +eye; yet, in deep woods, there lie concealed some anguished roots torn +up:—so, with these. + +Much they longed, to point our prows for Odo’s isle; saying our search +was over. + +But I was fixed as fate. + +On we sailed, as when we first embarked; the air was bracing as before. +More isles we visited:—thrice encountered the avengers: but unharmed; +thrice Hautia’s heralds but turned not aside;—saw many checkered +scenes—wandered through groves, and open fields—traversed many +vales—climbed hill-tops whence broad views were gained—tarried in +towns—broke into solitudes—sought far, sought near:—Still Yillah there +was none. + +Then again they all would fain dissuade me. + +“Closed is the deep blue eye,” said Yoomy. + +“Fate’s last leaves are turning, let me home and die,” said Mohi. + +“So nigh the circuit’s done,” said Media, “our morrow’s sun must rise +o’er Odo; Taji! renounce the hunt.” + +“I am the hunter, that never rests! the hunter without a home! She I +seek, still flies before; and I will follow, though she lead me beyond +the reef; through sunless seas; and into night and death. Her, will I +seek, through all the isles and stars; and find her, whate’er betide!” + +Again they yielded; and again we glided on;—our storm-worn prows, now +pointed here, now there;—beckoned, repulsed;—their half-rent sails, +still courting every breeze. + +But that same night, once more, they wrestled with me. Now, at last, +the hopeless search must be renounced: Yillah there was none: back must +I hie to blue Serenia. + +Then sweet Yillah called me from the sea;—still must I on! but gazing +whence that music seemed to come, I thought I saw the green corse +drifting by: and striking ’gainst our prow, as if to hinder. Then, +then! my heart grew hard, like flint; and black, like night; and +sounded hollow to the hand I clenched. Hyenas filled me with their +laughs; death-damps chilled my brow; I prayed not, but blasphemed. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVI. +They Meet The Phantoms + + +That starless midnight, there stole from out the darkness, the Iris +flag of Hautia. + +Again the sirens came. They bore a large and stately urn-like flower, +white as alabaster, and glowing, as if lit up within. From its calyx, +flame-like, trembled forked and crimson stamens, burning with intensest +odors. + +The phantoms nearer came; their flower, as an urn of burning niter. +Then it changed, and glowed like Persian dawns; or passive, was shot +over by palest lightnings;—so variable its tints. + +“The night-blowing Cereus!” said Yoomy, shuddering, “that never blows +in sun-light; that blows but once; and blows but for an hour.—For the +last time I come; now, in your midnight of despair, and promise you +this glory. Take heed! short time hast thou to pause; through me, +perhaps, thy Yillah may be found.” + +“Away! away! tempt me not by that, enchantress! Hautia! I know thee +not; I fear thee not; but instinct makes me hate thee. Away! my eyes +are frozen shut; I will not be tempted more.” + +“How glorious it burns!” cried Media. I reel with incense:—can such +sweets be evil?” + +“Look! look!” cried Yoomy, “its petals wane, and creep; one moment +more, and the night-flower shuts up forever the last, last hope of +Yillah!” + +“Yillah! Yillah! Yillah!” bayed three vengeful voices far behind. + +“Yillah! Yillah!—dash the urn! I follow, Hautia! though thy lure be +death.” + +The Cereus closed; and in a mist the siren prow went on before; we, +following. + +When day dawned, three radiant pilot-fish swam in advance: three +ravenous sharks astern. + +And, full before us, rose the isle of Hautia. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVII. +They Draw Nigh To Flozella + + +As if Mardi were a poem, and every island a canto, the shore now in +sight was called Flozella-a-Nina, or The-Last-Verse-of-the-Song. + +According to Mohi, the origin of this term was traceable to the +remotest antiquity. + +In the beginning, there were other beings in Mardi besides Mardians; +winged beings, of purer minds, and cast in gentler molds, who would +fain have dwelt forever with mankind. But the hearts of the Mardians +were bitter against them, because of their superior goodness. Yet those +beings returned love for malice, and long entreated to virtue and +charity. But in the end, all Mardi rose up against them, and hunted +them from isle to isle; till, at last, they rose from the woodlands +like a flight of birds, and disappeared in the skies. Thereafter, +abandoned of such sweet influences, the Mardians fell into all manner +of sins and sufferings, becoming the erring things their descendants +were now. Yet they knew not, that their calamities were of their own +bringing down. For deemed a victory, the expulsion of the winged beings +was celebrated in choruses, throughout Mardi. And among other +jubilations, so ran the legend, a pean was composed, corresponding in +the number of its stanzas, to the number of islands. And a band of +youths, gayly appareled, voyaged in gala canoes all round the lagoon, +singing upon each isle, one verse of their song. And Flozella being the +last isle in their circuit, its queen commemorated the circumstance, by +new naming her realm. + +That queen had first incited Mardi to wage war against the beings with +wings. She it was, who had been foremost in every assault. And that +queen was ancestor of Hautia, now ruling the isle. + +Approaching the dominions of one who so long had haunted me, +conflicting emotions tore up my soul in tornadoes. Yet Hautia had held +out some prospect of crowning my yearnings. But how connected were +Hautia and Yillah? Something I hoped; yet more I feared. Dire +presentiments, like poisoned arrows, shot through me. Had they pierced +me before, straight to Flozella would I have voyaged; not waiting for +Hautia to woo me by that last and victorious temptation. But unchanged +remained my feelings of hatred for Hautia; yet vague those feelings, as +the language of her flowers. Nevertheless, in some mysterious way +seemed Hautia and Yillah connected. But Yillah was all beauty, and +innocence; my crown of felicity; my heaven below;—and Hautia, my whole +heart abhorred. Yillah I sought; Hautia sought me. One, openly beckoned +me here; the other dimly allured me there. Yet now was I wildly +dreaming to find them together. But so distracted my soul, I knew not +what it was, that I thought. + +Slowly we neared the land. Flozella-a-Nina!—An omen? Was this isle, +then, to prove the last place of my search, even as it was the Last- +Verse-of-the-Song? + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVIII. +They Land + + +A jeweled tiara, nodding in spray, looks flowery Flozella, approached +from the sea. For, lo you! the glittering foam all round its white +marge; where, forcing themselves underneath the coral ledge, and up +through its crevices, in fountains, the blue billows gush. While, +within, zone above zone, thrice zoned in belts of bloom, all the isle, +as a hanging-garden soars; its tapering cone blending aloft, with +heaven’s own blue. + +“What flies through the spray! what incense is this?” cried Media. + +“Ha! you wild breeze! you have been plundering the gardens of Hautia,” +cried Yoomy. + +“No sweets can be sweeter,” said Braid-Beard, “but no Upas more +deadly.” + +Anon we came nearer; sails idly flapping, and paddles suspended; sleek +currents our coursers. And round about the isle, like winged rainbows, +shoals of dolphins were leaping over floating fragments of wrecks:— +dark-green, long-haired ribs, and keels of canoes. For many shallops, +inveigled by the eddies, were oft dashed to pieces against that flowery +strand. But what cared the dolphins? Mardian wrecks were their homes. +Over and over they sprang: from east to west: rising and setting: many +suns in a moment; while all the sea, like a harvest plain, was stacked +with their glittering sheaves of spray. + +And far down, fathoms on fathoms, flitted rainbow hues:—as seines- full +of mermaids; half-screening the bones of the drowned. + +Swifter and swifter the currents now ran; till with a shock, our prows +were beached. + +There, beneath an arch of spray, three dark-eyed maidens stood; +garlanded with columbines, their nectaries nodding like jesters’ bells; +and robed in vestments blue. + +“The pilot-fish transformed!” cried Yoomy. + +“The night-eyed heralds three!” said Mohi. + +Following the maidens, we now took our way along a winding vale; where, +by sweet-scented hedges, flowed blue-braided brooks; their tributaries, +rivulets of violets, meandering through the meads. + +On one hand, forever glowed the rosy mountains with a tropic dawn; and +on the other; lay an Arctic eve;—the white daisies drifted in long +banks of snow, and snowed the blossoms from the orange boughs. There, +summer breathed her bridal bloom; her hill-top temples crowned with +bridal wreaths. + +We wandered on, through orchards arched in long arcades, that seemed +baronial halls, hung o’er with trophies:—so spread the boughs in +antlers. This orchard was the frontlet of the isle. + +The fruit hung high in air, that only beaks, not hands, might pluck. + +Here, the peach tree showed her thousand cheeks of down, kissed often +by the wooing winds; here, in swarms; the yellow apples hived, like +golden bees upon the boughs; here, from the kneeling, fainting trees, +thick fell the cherries, in great drops of blood; and here, the +pomegranate, with cold rind and sere, deep pierced by bills of birds +revealed the mellow of its ruddy core. So, oft the heart, that cold and +withered seems, within yet hides its juices. + +This orchard passed, the vale became a lengthening plain, that seemed +the Straits of Ormus bared so thick it lay with flowery gems: +torquoise-hyacinths, ruby-roses, lily-pearls. Here roved the vagrant +vines; their flaxen ringlets curling over arbors, which laughed and +shook their golden locks. From bower to bower, flew the wee bird, that +ever hovering, seldom lights; and flights of gay canaries passed, like +jonquils, winged. + +But now, from out half-hidden bowers of clematis, there issued swarms +of wasps, which flying wide, settled on all the buds. + +And, fifty nymphs preceding, who now follows from those bowers, with +gliding, artful steps:—the very snares of love!—Hautia. A gorgeous +amaryllis in her hand; Circe-flowers in her ears; her girdle tied with +vervain. + +She came by privet hedges, drooping; downcast honey-suckles; she trod +on pinks and pansies, blue-bells, heath, and lilies. She glided on: her +crescent brow calm as the moon, when most it works its evil influences. + +Her eye was fathomless. + +But the same mysterious, evil-boding gaze was there, which long before +had haunted me in Odo, ere Yillah fled.—Queen Hautia the incognito! +Then two wild currents met, and dashed me into foam. + +“Yillah! Yillah!—tell me, queen!” But she stood motionless; radiant, +and scentless: a dahlia on its stalk. “Where? Where?” + +“Is not thy voyage now ended?—Take flowers! Damsels, give him wine to +drink. After his weary hunt, be the wanderer happy.” + +I dashed aside their cups, and flowers; still rang the vale with +Yillah! + +“Taji! did I know her fate, naught would I now disclose; my heralds +pledged their queen to naught. Thou but comest here to supplant thy +mourner’s night-shade, with marriage roses. Damsels! give him wreaths; +crowd round him; press him with your cups!” + +Once more I spilled their wine, and tore their garlands. Is not that, +the evil eye that long ago did haunt me? and thou, the Hautia who hast +followed me, and wooed, and mocked, and tempted me, through all this +long, long voyage? I swear! thou knowest all.” + +“I am Hautia. Thou hast come at last. Crown him with your flowers! +Drown him in your wine! To all questions, Taji! I am mute.—Away!— +damsels dance; reel round him; round and round!” + +Then, their feet made music on the rippling grass, like thousand leaves +of lilies on a lake. And, gliding nearer, Hautia welcomed Media; and +said, “Your comrade here is sad:—be ye gay. Ho, wine!—I pledge ye, +guests!” + +Then, marking all, I thought to seem what I was not, that I might learn +at last the thing I sought. + +So, three cups in hand I held; drank wine, and laughed; and half-way +met Queen Hautia’s blandishments. + + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIX. +They Enter The Bower Of Hautia + + +Conducted to the arbor, from which the queen had emerged, we came to a +sweet-brier bower within; and reclined upon odorous mats. + +Then, in citron cups, sherbet of tamarinds was offered to Media, Mohi, +Yoomy; to me, a nautilus shell, brimmed with a light-like fluid, that +welled, and welled like a fount. + +“Quaff, Taji, quaff! every drop drowns a thought!” + +Like a blood-freshet, it ran through my veins. + +A philter?—How Hautia burned before me! Glorious queen! with all the +radiance, lighting up the equatorial night. + +“Thou art most magical, oh queen! about thee a thousand constellations +cluster.” + +“They blaze to burn,” whispered Mohi. + +“I see ten million Hautias!—all space reflects her, as a mirror.” + +Then, in reels, the damsels once more mazed, the blossoms shaking from +their brows; till Hautia, glided near; arms lustrous as rainbows: +chanting some wild invocation. + +My soul ebbed out; Yillah there was none! but as I turned round open- +armed, Hautia vanished. + +“She is deeper than the sea,” said Media. + +“Her bow is bent,” said Yoomy. + +“I could tell wonders of Hautia and her damsels,” said Mohi. + +“What wonders?” + +“Listen; and in his own words will I recount the adventure of the youth +Ozonna. It will show thee, Taji, that the maidens of Hautia are all +Yillahs, held captive, unknown to themselves; and that Hautia, their +enchantress, is the most treacherous of queens. + +“‘Camel-like, laden with woe,’ said Ozonna, ‘after many wild rovings in +quest of a maiden long lost—beautiful Ady! and after being repelled in +Maramma; and in vain hailed to land at Serenia, represented as naught +but another Maramma;—with vague promises of discovering Ady, three +sirens, who long had pursued, at last inveigled me to Flozella; where +Hautia made me her thrall. But ere long, in Rea, one of her maidens, I +thought I discovered my Ady transformed. My arms opened wide to +embrace; but the damsel knew not Ozonna. And even, when after hard +wooing, I won her again, she seemed not lost Ady, but Rea. Yet all the +while, from deep in her strange, black orbs, Ady’s blue eyes seemed +pensively looking:—blue eye within black: sad, silent soul within +merry. Long I strove, by fixed ardent gazing, to break the spell, and +restore in Rea my lost one’s Past. But in vain. It was only Rea, not +Ady, who at stolen intervals looked on me now. One morning Hautia +started as she greeted me; her quick eye rested on my bosom; and +glancing there, affrighted, I beheld a distinct, fresh mark, the +impress of Rea’s necklace drop. Fleeing, I revealed what had passed to +the maiden, who broke from my side; as I, from Hautia’s. The queen +summoned her damsels, but for many hours the call was unheeded; and +when at last they came, upon each bosom lay a necklace-drop like Rea’s. +On the morrow, lo! my arbor was strown over with bruised Linden-leaves, +exuding a vernal juice. Full of forbodings, again I sought Rea: who, +casting down her eyes, beheld her feet stained green. Again she fled; +and again Hautia summoned her damsels: malicious triumph in her eye; +but dismay succeeded: each maid had spotted feet. That night Rea was +torn from my side by three masks; who, stifling her cries, rapidly bore +her away; and as I pursued, disappeared in a cave. Next morning, Hautia +was surrounded by her nymphs, but Rea was absent. Then, gliding near, +she snatched from my hair, a jet-black tress, loose-hanging. ‘Ozonna is +the murderer! See! Rea’s torn hair entangled with his!’ Aghast, I swore +that I knew not her fate. ‘Then let the witch Larfee be called!’ The +maidens darted from the bower; and soon after, there rolled into it a +green cocoa-nut, followed by the witch, and all the damsels, flinging +anemones upon it. Bowling this way and that, the nut at last rolled to +my feet.—‘It is he!’ cried all.—Then they bound me with osiers; and at +midnight, unseen and irresistible hands placed me in a shallop; which +sped far out into the lagoon, where they tossed me to the waves; but so +violent the shock, the osiers burst; and as the shallop fled one way, +swimming another, ere long I gained land. + +“‘Thus in Flozella, I found but the phantom of Ady, and slew the last +hope of Ady the true.’” + +This recital sank deep into my soul. In some wild way, Hautia had made +a captive of Yillah; in some one of her black-eyed maids, the blue-eyed +One was transformed. From side to side, in frenzy, I turned; but in all +those cold, mystical eyes, saw not the warm ray that I sought. + +“Hast taken root within this treacherous soil?” cried Media. “Away! thy +Yillah is behind thee, not before. Deep she dwells in blue Serenia’s +groves; which thou would’st not search. Hautia mocks thee; away! The +reef is rounded; but a strait flows between this isle and Odo, and +thither its ruler must return. Every hour I tarry here, some wretched +serf is dying there, for whom, from blest Serenia, _I carry life and +joy. Away!_” + +“Art still bent on finding evil for thy good?” cried Mohi.—“How can +Yillah harbor here?—Beware!—Let not Hautia so enthrall thee.” + +“Come away, come away,” cried Yoomy. “Far hence is Yillah! and he who +tarries among these flowers, must needs burn juniper.” + +“Look on me, Media, Mohi, Yoomy. Here I stand, my own monument, till +Hautia breaks the spell.” + +In grief they left me. + +Vee-Vee’s conch I heard no more. + + + + +CHAPTER XC. +Taji With Hautia + + +As their last echoes died away down the valley, Hautia glided near;— +zone unbound, the amaryllis in her hand. Her bosom ebbed and flowed; +the motes danced in the beams that darted from her eyes. + +“Come! let us sin, and be merry. Ho! wine, wine, wine! and lapfuls of +flowers! let all the cane-brakes pipe their flutes. Damsels! dance; +reel, swim, around me:—I, the vortex that draws all in. Taji! Taji!— as +a berry, that name is juicy in my mouth!—Taji, Taji!” and in choruses, +she warbled forth the sound, till it seemed issuing from her syren +eyes. + +My heart flew forth from out its bars, and soared in air; but as my +hand touched Hautia’s, down dropped a dead bird from the clouds. + +“Ha! how he sinks!—but did’st ever dive in deep waters, Taji? Did’st +ever see where pearls grow?—To the cave!—damsels, lead on!” + +Then wending through constellations of flowers, we entered deep groves. +And thus, thrice from sun-light to shade, it seemed three brief nights +and days, ere we paused before the mouth of the cavern. + +A bow-shot from the sea, it pierced the hill-side like a vaulted way; +and glancing in, we saw far gleams of water; crossed, here and there, +by long-flung distant shadows of domes and columns. All Venice seemed +within. + +From a stack of golden palm-stalks, the damsels now made torches; then +stood grouped; a sheaf of sirens in a sheaf of frame. + +Illuminated, the cavern shone like a Queen of Kandy’s casket: full of +dawns and sunsets. + +From rocky roof to bubbling floor, it was columned with stalactites; +and galleried all round, in spiral tiers, with sparkling, coral ledges. + +And now, their torches held aloft, into the water the maidens softly +glided; and each a lotus floated; while, from far above, into the air +Hautia flung her flambeau; then bounding after, in the lake, two +meteors were quenched. + +Where she dived, the flambeaux clustered; and up among them, Hautia +rose; hands, full of pearls. + +“Lo! Taji; all these may be had for the diving; and Beauty, Health, +Wealth, Long Life, and the Last Lost Hope of man. But through me alone, +may these be had. Dive thou, and bring up one pearl if thou canst.” + +Down, down! down, down, in the clear, sparkling water, till I seemed +crystalized in the flashing heart of a diamond; but from those +bottomless depths, I uprose empty handed. + +“Pearls, pearls! thy pearls! thou art fresh from the mines. Ah, Taji! +for thee, bootless deep diving. Yet to Hautia, one shallow plunge +reveals many Golcondas. But come; dive with me:—join hands—let me show +thee strange things.” + +“Show me that which I seek, and I will dive with thee, straight through +the world, till we come up in oceans unknown.” + +“Nay, nay; but join hands, and I will take thee, where thy Past shall +be forgotten; where thou wilt soon learn to love the living, not the +dead.” + +“Better to me, oh Hautia! all the bitterness of my buried dead, than +all the sweets of the life thou canst bestow; even, were it eternal.” + + + + +CHAPTER XCI. +Mardi Behind: An Ocean Before + + +Returned from the cave, Hautia reclined in her clematis bower, +invisible hands flinging fennel around her. And nearer, and nearer, +stole dulcet sounds dissolving my woes, as warm beams, snow. Strange +languors made me droop; once more within my inmost vault, side by side, +the Past and Yillah lay:—two bodies tranced;—while like a rounding sun, +before me Hautia magnified magnificence; and through her fixed eyes, +slowly drank up my soul. + +Thus we stood:—snake and victim: life ebbing out from me, to her. + +But from that spell, I burst again, as all the Past smote all the +Present in me. + +“Oh Hautia! thou knowest the mystery I die to fathom. I see it +crouching in thine eye:—Reveal!” + +“Weal or woe?” + +“Life or death!” + +“See, see!” and Yillah’s rose-pearl danced before me. + +I snatched it from her hand:—“Yillah! Yillah!” + +“Rave on: she lies too deep to answer; stranger voices than thine she +hears:—bubbles are bursting round her.” + +“Drowned! drowned then, even as she dreamed:—I come, I come!—Ha, what +form is this?—hast mosses? sea-thyme? pearls?—Help, help! I sink!—Back, +shining monster!—-What, Hautia,—is it thou?—Oh vipress, I could slay +thee!” + +“Go, go,—and slay thyself: I may not make thee mine;—go,—dead to +dead!—There is another cavern in the hill.” Swift I fled along the +valley-side; passed Hautia’s cave of pearls; and gained a twilight +arch; within, a lake transparent shone. Conflicting currents met, and +wrestled; and one dark arch led to channels, seaward tending. + +Round and round, a gleaming form slow circled in the deepest eddies:— +white, and vaguely Yillah. + +Straight I plunged; but the currents were as fierce headwinds off +capes, that beat back ships. + +Then, as I frenzied gazed; gaining the one dark arch, the revolving +shade darted out of sight, and the eddies whirled as before. + +“Stay, stay! let me go with thee, though thou glidest to gulfs of +blackness;—naught can exceed the hell of this despair!—Why beat longer +in this corpse oh, my heart!” + +As somnambulists fast-frozen in some horrid dream, ghost-like glide +abroad, and fright the wakeful world; so that night, with death-glazed +eyes, to and fro I flitted on the damp and weedy beach. + +“Is this specter, Taji?”—and Mohi and the minstrel stood before me. + +“Taji lives no more. So dead, he has no ghost. I am his spirit’s +phantom’s phantom.” + +“Nay, then, phantom! the time has come to flee.” + +They dragged me to the water’s brink, where a prow was beached. Soon— +Mohi at the helm—we shot beneath the far-flung shadow of a cliff; when, +as in a dream, I hearkened to a voice. + +Arrived at Odo, Media had been met with yells. Sedition was in arms, +and to his beard defied him. Vain all concessions then. Foremost stood +the three pale sons of him, whom I had slain, to gain the maiden lost. +Avengers, from the first hour we had parted on the sea, they had +drifted on my track survived starvation; and lived to hunt me round all +Mardi’s reef; and now at Odo, that last threshold, waited to destroy; +or there, missing the revenge they sought, still swore to hunt me round +Eternity. + +Behind the avengers, raged a stormy mob, invoking Media to renounce his +rule. But one hand waving like a pennant above the smoke of some +sea-fight, straight through that tumult Media sailed serene: the +rioters parting from before him, as wild waves before a prow +inflexible. + +A haven gained, he turned to Mohi and the minstrel:—“Oh, friends! after +our long companionship, hard to part! But henceforth, for many moons, +Odo will prove no home for old age, or youth. In Serenia only, will ye +find the peace ye seek; and thither ye must carry Taji, who else must +soon be slain, or lost. Go: release him from the thrall of Hautia. +Outfly the avengers, and gain Serenia. Reek not of me. The state is +tossed in storms; and where I stand, the combing billows must break +over. But among all noble souls, in tempest-time, the headmost man last +flies the wreck. So, here in Odo will I abide, though every plank +breaks up beneath me. And then,—great Oro! let the king die clinging to +the keel! Farewell!” + +Such Mohi’s tale. + +In trumpet-blasts, the hoarse night-winds now blew; the Lagoon, black +with the still shadows of the mountains, and the driving shadows of the +clouds. Of all the stars, only red Arcturus shone. But through the +gloom, and on the circumvallating reef, the breakers dashed +ghost-white. + +An outlet in that outer barrier was nigh. + +“Ah! Yillah! Yillah!—the currents sweep thee ocean-ward; nor will I +tarry behind.—Mardi, farewell!—Give me the helm, old man!” + +“Nay, madman! Serenia is our haven. Through yonder strait, for thee, +perdition lies. And from the deep beyond, no voyager e’er puts back.” + +“And why put back? is a life of dying worth living o’er again?—Let +_me_, then, be the unreturning wanderer. The helm! By Oro, I will steer +my own fate, old man.—Mardi, farewell!” + +“Nay, Taji: commit not the last, last crime!” cried Yoomy. + +“He’s seized the helm! eternity is in his eye! Yoomy: for our lives we +must now swim.” + +And plunging, they struck out for land: Yoomy buoying Mohi up, and the +salt waves dashing the tears from his pallid face, as through the scud, +he turned it on me mournfully. + +“Now, I am my own soul’s emperor; and my first act is abdication! Hail! +realm of shades!”—and turning my prow into the racing tide, which +seized me like a hand omnipotent, I darted through. + +Churned in foam, that outer ocean lashed the clouds; and straight in my +white wake, headlong dashed a shallop, three fixed specters leaning +o’er its prow: three arrows poising. + +And thus, pursuers and pursued flew on, over an endless sea. + + THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Mardi: and A Voyage Thither<br /> + Vol. II (of II)</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 12, 2004 [eBook #13721]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 15, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Geoff Palmer</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER ***</div> + +<h1>MARDI:<br/> +AND A VOYAGE THITHER</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Herman Melville</h2> + +<h3>In Two Volumes</h3> + +<h3>Vol. II.</h3> + +<h4>1864</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001">MARDI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I. — Maramma</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II. — They land</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III. — They pass through the Woods</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV. — Hivohitee MDCCCXLVIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V. — They visit the great Morai</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI. — They discourse of the Gods of Mardi, and Braid-Beard tells of one Foni</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII. — They visit the Lake of Yammo</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII. — They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX. — They discourse of Alma</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X. — Mohi tells of one Ravoo, and they land to visit Hevaneva, a flourishing Artisan</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI. — A Nursery-tale of Babbalanja’s</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII. — Landing to visit Hivohitee the Pontiff, they encounter an extraordinary old +Hermit; with whom Yoomy has a confidential Interview, but learns little</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII. — Babbalanja endeavors to explain the Mystery</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV. — Taji receives Tidings and Omens</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER XV. — Dreams</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER XVI. — Media and Babbalanja discourse</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER XVII. — They regale themselves with their Pipes</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER XVIII. — They visit an extraordinary old Antiquary</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER XIX. — They go down into the Catacombs</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER XX. — Babbalanja quotes from an antique Pagan; and earnestly presses it upon the Company, that what he recites is not his but another’s</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">CHAPTER XXI. — They visit a wealthy old Pauper</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0022">CHAPTER XXII. — Yoomy sings some odd Verses, and Babbalanja quotes from the old Authors right and left</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0023">CHAPTER XXIII. — What manner of Men the Tapparians were</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0024">CHAPTER XXIV. — Their adventures upon landing at Pimminee</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0025">CHAPTER XXV. — A, I, and O</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0026">CHAPTER XXVI. — A Reception-day at Pimminee</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0027">CHAPTER XXVII. — Babbalanja falleth upon Pimminee Tooth and Nail</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0028">CHAPTER XXVIII. — Babbalanja regales the Company with some Sandwiches</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0029">CHAPTER XXIX. — They still remain upon the Rock</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0030">CHAPTER XXX. — Behind and Before</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0031">CHAPTER XXXI. — Babbalanja discourses in the Dark</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0032">CHAPTER XXXII. — My Lord Media summons Mohi to the Stand</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0033">CHAPTER XXXIII. — Wherein Babbalanja and Yoomy embrace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0034">CHAPTER XXXIV. — Of the Isle of Diranda</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0035">CHAPTER XXXV. — They visit the Lords Piko and Hello</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0036">CHAPTER XXXVI. — They attend the Games</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0037">CHAPTER XXXVII. — Taji still hunted, and beckoned</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0038">CHAPTER XXXVIII. — They embark from Diranda</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0039">CHAPTER XXXIX. — Wherein Babbalanja discourses of himself</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0040">CHAPTER XL. — Of the Sorcerers in the Isle of Minda</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0041">CHAPTER XLI. — Chiefly of Sing Bello</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0042">CHAPTER XLII. — Dominora and Vivenza</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0043">CHAPTER XLIII. — They land at Dominora</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0044">CHAPTER XLIV. — Through Dominora, they wander after Yillah</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0045">CHAPTER XLV. — They behold King Bello’s State Canoe</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0046">CHAPTER XLVI. — Wherein Babbalanja bows thrice</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0047">CHAPTER XLVII. — Babbalanja philosophizes, and my Lord Media passes round the Calabashes</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0048">CHAPTER XLVIII. — They sail round an Island without landing; and talk round a Subject without getting at it</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0049">CHAPTER XLIX. — They draw nigh to Porpheero; where they behold a terrific Eruption</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0050">CHAPTER L. — Wherein King Media celebrates the Glories of Autumn, the Minstrel, the Promise of Spring</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0051">CHAPTER LI. — In which Azzageddi seems to use Babbalanja for a Mouth-Piece</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0052">CHAPTER LII. — The charming Yoomy sings</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0053">CHAPTER LIII. — They draw nigh unto Land</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0054">CHAPTER LIV. — They visit the great central Temple of Vivenza</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0055">CHAPTER LV. — Wherein Babbalanja comments upon the Speech of Alanno</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0056">CHAPTER LVI. — A Scene in the Land of Warwicks, or King-Makers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0057">CHAPTER LVII. — They hearken unto a Voice from the Gods</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0058">CHAPTER LVIII. — They visit the extreme South of Vivenza</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0059">CHAPTER LIX. — They converse of the Mollusca, Kings, Toad-Stools and other Matters</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0060">CHAPTER LX. — Wherein, that gallant Gentleman and Demi-God, King Media, Scepter in Hand, throws himself into the Breach</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0061">CHAPTER LXI. — They round the stormy Cape of Capes</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0062">CHAPTER LXII. — They encounter Gold-Hunters</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0063">CHAPTER LXIII. — They seek through the Isles of Palms; and pass the Isles of Myrrh</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0064">CHAPTER LXIV. — Concentric, inward, with Mardi’s Reef, they leave their Wake around the World</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0065">CHAPTER LXV. — Sailing on</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0066">CHAPTER LXVI. — A flight of Nightingales from Yoomy’s Mouth</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0067">CHAPTER LXVII. — They visit one Doxodox</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0068">CHAPTER LXVIII. — King Media dreams</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0069">CHAPTER LXIX. — After a long Interval, by Night they are becalmed</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0070">CHAPTER LXX. — They land at Hooloomooloo</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0071">CHAPTER LXXI. — A Book from the “Ponderings of old Bardianna”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0072">CHAPTER LXXII. — Babbalanja starts to his Feet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0073">CHAPTER LXXIII. — At last, the last Mention is made of old Bardianna; and His last Will and Testament is recited at Length</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0074">CHAPTER LXXIV. — A Death-cloud sweeps by them, as they sail</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0075">CHAPTER LXXV. — They visit the palmy King Abrazza</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0076">CHAPTER LXXVI. — Some pleasant, shady Talk in the Groves, between my Lords Abrazza and Media, Babbalanja, Mohi, and Yoomy</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0077">CHAPTER LXXVII. — They sup</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0078">CHAPTER LXXVIII. — They embark</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0079">CHAPTER LXXIX. — Babbalanja at the Full of the Moon</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0080">CHAPTER LXXX. — Morning</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0081">CHAPTER LXXXI. — L’ultima sera</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0082">CHAPTER LXXXII. — They sail from Night to Day</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0083">CHAPTER LXXXIII. — They land</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0084">CHAPTER LXXXIV. — Babbalanja relates to them a Vision</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0085">CHAPTER LXXXV. — They depart from Serenia</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0086">CHAPTER LXXXVI. — They meet the Phantoms</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0087">CHAPTER LXXXVII. — They draw nigh to Flozella</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0088">CHAPTER LXXXVIII. — They land</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0089">CHAPTER LXXXIX. — They enter the Bower of Hautia</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0090">CHAPTER XC. — Taji with Hautia</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0091">CHAPTER XCI. — Mardi behind: an Ocean before</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0001"></a> +MARDI</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I.<br/> +Maramma</h2> + +<p> +We were now voyaging straight for Maramma; where lived and reigned, in mystery, +the High Pontiff of the adjoining isles: prince, priest, and god, in his own +proper person: great lord paramount over many kings in Mardi; his hands full of +scepters and crosiers. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, rounding a lofty and insulated shore, the great central peak of the +island came in sight; domineering over the neighboring hills; the same aspiring +pinnacle, descried in drawing near the archipelago in the Chamois. +</p> + +<p> +“Tall Peak of Ofo!” cried Babbalanja, “how comes it that thy +shadow so broods over Mardi; flinging new shades upon spots already shaded by +the hill-sides; shade upon shade!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, so it is,” said Yoomy, sadly, “that where that shadow +falls, gay flowers refuse to spring; and men long dwelling therein become shady +of face and of soul. ‘Hast thou come from out the shadows of Ofo?’ +inquires the stranger, of one with a clouded brow.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was by this same peak,” said Mohi, “that the nimble god +Roo, a great sinner above, came down from the skies, a very long time ago. +Three skips and a jump, and he landed on the plain. But alas, poor Roo! though +easy the descent, there was no climbing back.” +</p> + +<p> +“No wonder, then,” said Babbalanja, “that the peak is +inaccessible to man. Though, with a strange infatuation, many still make +pilgrimages thereto; and wearily climb and climb, till slipping from the rocks, +they fall headlong backward, and oftentimes perish at its base.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Mohi, “in vain, on all sides of the Peak, various +paths are tried; in vain new ones are cut through the cliffs and the +brambles:— Ofo yet remains inaccessible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said Babbalanja, “by some it is believed, +that those, who by dint of hard struggling climb so high as to become invisible +from the plain; that these have attained the summit; though others much doubt, +whether their becoming invisible is not because of their having fallen, and +perished by the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“And wherefore,” said Media, “do you mortals undertake the +ascent at all? why not be content on the plain? and even if attainable, what +would you do upon that lofty, clouded summit? Or how can you hope to breathe +that rarefied air, unfitted for your human lungs?” +</p> + +<p> +“True, my lord,” said Babbalanja; “and Bardianna asserts that +the plain alone was intended for man; who should be content to dwell under the +shade of its groves, though the roots thereof descend into the darkness of the +earth. But, my lord, you well know, that there are those in Mardi, who secretly +regard all stories connected with this peak, as inventions of the people of +Maramma. They deny that any thing is to be gained by making a pilgrimage +thereto. And for warranty, they appeal to the sayings of the great prophet +Alma.” +</p> + +<p> +Cried Mohi, “But Alma is also quoted by others, in vindication of the +pilgrimages to Ofo. They declare that the prophet himself was the first pilgrim +that thitherward journeyed: that from thence he departed to the skies.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, excepting this same peak, Maramma is all rolling hill and dale, like the +sea after a storm; which then seems not to roll, but to stand still, poising +its mountains. Yet the landscape of Maramma has not the merriness of meadows; +partly because of the shadow of Ofo, and partly because of the solemn groves in +which the Morais and temples are buried. +</p> + +<p> +According to Mohi, not one solitary tree bearing fruit, not one esculent root, +grows in all the isle; the population wholly depending upon the large tribute +remitted from the neighboring shores. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not that the soil is unproductive,” said Mohi, “that +these things are so. It is extremely fertile; but the inhabitants say that it +would be wrong to make a Bread-fruit orchard of the holy island.” +</p> + +<p> +“And hence, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “while others are +charged with the business of their temporal welfare, these Islanders take no +thought of the morrow; and broad Maramma lies one fertile waste in the +lagoon.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II.<br/> +They Land</h2> + +<p> +Coming close to the island, the pennons and trappings of our canoes were +removed; and Vee-Vee was commanded to descend from the shark’s mouth; and +for a time to lay aside his conch. In token of reverence, our paddlers also +stripped to the waist; an example which even Media followed; though, as a king, +the same homage he rendered, was at times rendered himself. +</p> + +<p> +At every place, hitherto visited, joyous crowds stood ready to hail our +arrival; but the shores of Maramma were silent, and forlorn. +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, “It looks not as if the lost one were here.” +</p> + +<p> +At length we landed in a little cove nigh a valley, which Mohi called Uma; and +here in silence we beached our canoes. +</p> + +<p> +But presently, there came to us an old man, with a beard white as the mane of +the pale horse. He was clad in a midnight robe. He fanned himself with a fan of +faded leaves. A child led him by the hand, for he was blind, wearing a green +plantain leaf over his plaited brow. +</p> + +<p> +Him, Media accosted, making mention who we were, and on what errand we came: to +seek out Yillah, and behold the isle. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Pani, for such was his name, gave us a courteous reception; and +lavishly promised to discover sweet Yillah; declaring that in Maramma, if any +where, the long-lost maiden must be found. He assured us, that throughout the +whole land he would lead us; leaving no place, desirable to be searched, +unexplored. +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, he conducted us to his dwelling, for refreshment and repose. +</p> + +<p> +It was large and lofty. Near by, however, were many miserable hovels, with +squalid inmates. But the old man’s retreat was exceedingly comfortable; +especially abounding in mats for lounging; his rafters were bowed down by +calabashes of good cheer. +</p> + +<p> +During the repast which ensued, blind Pani, freely partaking, enlarged upon the +merit of abstinence; declaring that a thatch overhead, and a cocoanut tree, +comprised all that was necessary for the temporal welfare of a Mardian. More +than this, he assured us was sinful. +</p> + +<p> +He now made known, that he officiated as guide in this quarter of the country; +and that as he had renounced all other pursuits to devote himself to showing +strangers the island; and more particularly the best way to ascend lofty Ofo; +he was necessitated to seek remuneration for his toil. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” then whispered Mohi to Media “the great prophet +Alma always declared, that, without charge, this island was free to all.” +</p> + +<p> +“What recompense do you desire, old man?” said Media to Pani. +</p> + +<p> +“What I seek is but little:—twenty rolls of fine tappa; two score +mats of best upland grass; one canoe-load of bread-fruit and yams; ten gourds +of wine; and forty strings of teeth;—you are a large company, but my +requisitions are small.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very small,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“You are extortionate, good Pani,” said Media. “And what +wants an aged mortal like you with all these things?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought superfluities were worthless; nay, sinful,” said +Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Is not this your habitation already more than abundantly supplied with +all desirable furnishings?” asked Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“I am but a lowly laborer,” said the old man, meekly crossing his +arms, “but does not the lowliest laborer ask and receive his reward? and +shall I miss mine?—But I beg charity of none. What I ask, I demand; and +in the dread name of great Alma, who appointed me a guide.” And to and +fro he strode, groping as he went. +</p> + +<p> +Marking his blindness, whispered Babbalanja to Media, “My lord, methinks +this Pani must be a poor guide. In his journeys inland, his little child leads +him; why not, then, take the guide’s guide?” +</p> + +<p> +But Pani would not part with the child. +</p> + +<p> +Then said Mohi in a low voice, “My lord Media, though I am no appointed +guide; yet, will I undertake to lead you aright over all this island; for I am +an old man, and have been here oft by myself; though I can not undertake to +conduct you up the peak of Ofo, and to the more secret temples.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Pani said: “and what mortal may this be, who pretends to thread the +labyrinthine wilds of Maramma? Beware!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is one with eyes that see,” made answer Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow him not,” said Pani, “for he will lead thee astray; +no Yillah will he find; and having no warrant as a guide, the curses of Alma +will accompany him.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, this was not altogether without effect; for Pani and his fathers before +him had always filled the office of guide. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Media at last decided, that, this time, Mohi should conduct us; +which being communicated to Pani, he desired us to remove from his roof. So +withdrawing to the skirt of a neighboring grove, we lingered awhile, to refresh +ourselves for the journey in prospect. +</p> + +<p> +As we here reclined, there came up from the sea-side a party of pilgrims, but +newly arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Apprised of their coming, Pani and his child went out to meet them; and +standing in the path he cried, “I am the appointed guide; in the name of +Alma I conduct all pilgrims to the temples.” +</p> + +<p> +“This must be the worthy Pani,” said one of the strangers, turning +upon the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us take him, then, for our guide,” cried they; and all drew +near. +</p> + +<p> +But upon accosting him; they were told, that he guided none without recompense. +</p> + +<p> +And now, being informed, that the foremost of the pilgrims was one Divino, a +wealthy chief of a distant island, Pani demanded of him his requital. +</p> + +<p> +But the other demurred; and by many soft speeches at length abated the +recompense to three promissory cocoanuts, which he covenanted to send Pani at +some future day. +</p> + +<p> +The next pilgrim accosted, was a sad-eyed maiden, in decent but scanty raiment; +who without seeking to diminish Pani’s demands promptly placed in his +hands a small hoard of the money of Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it, holy guide,” she said, “it is all I have.” +</p> + +<p> +But the third pilgrim, one Fanna, a hale matron, in handsome apparel, needed no +asking to bestow her goods. Calling upon her attendants to advance with their +burdens, she quickly unrolled them; and wound round and round Pani, fold after +fold of the costliest tappas; and filled both his hands with teeth; and his +mouth with some savory marmalade; and poured oil upon his head; and knelt and +besought of him a blessing. +</p> + +<p> +“From the bottom of my heart I bless thee,” said Pani; and still +holding her hands exclaimed, “Take example from this woman, oh Divino; +and do ye likewise, ye pilgrims all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-day,” said Divino. +</p> + +<p> +“We are not rich, like unto Fauna,” said the rest. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the next pilgrim was a very old and miserable man; stone-blind, covered +with rags; and supporting his steps with a staff. +</p> + +<p> +“My recompense,” said Pani. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! I have naught to give. Behold my poverty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can not see,” replied Pani; but feeling of his garments, he +said, “Thou wouldst deceive me; hast thou not this robe, and this +staff?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Merciful Pani, take not my all!” wailed the pilgrim. But his +worthless gaberdine was thrust into the dwelling of the guide. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the matron was still enveloping Pani in her interminable tappas. +</p> + +<p> +But the sad-eyed maiden, removing her upper mantle, threw it over the naked +form of the beggar. +</p> + +<p> +The fifth pilgrim was a youth of an open, ingenuous aspect; and with an eye, +full of eyes; his step was light. +</p> + +<p> +“Who art thou?” cried Pani, as the stripling touched him in +passing. +</p> + +<p> +“I go to ascend the Peak,” said the boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Then take me for guide.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am strong and lithesome. Alone must I go.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how knowest thou the way?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are many ways: the right one I must seek for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, poor deluded one,” sighed Pani; “but thus is it ever +with youth; and rejecting the monitions of wisdom, suffer they must. Go on, and +perish!” +</p> + +<p> +Turning, the boy exclaimed—“Though I act counter to thy counsels, +oh Pani, I but follow the divine instinct in me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor youth!” murmured Babbalanja. “How earnestly he +struggles in his bonds. But though rejecting a guide, still he clings to that +legend of the Peak.” +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the pilgrims now tarried with the guide, preparing for their +journey inland. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III.<br/> +They Pass Through The Woods</h2> + +<p> +Refreshed by our stay in the grove, we rose, and placed ourselves under the +guidance of Mohi; who went on in advance. +</p> + +<p> +Winding our way among jungles, we came to a deep hollow, planted with one +gigantic palm-shaft, belted round by saplings, springing from its roots. But, +Laocoon-like, sire and sons stood locked in the serpent folds of gnarled, +distorted banians; and the banian-bark, eating into their vital wood, corrupted +their veins of sap, till all those palm-nuts were poisoned chalices. +</p> + +<p> +Near by stood clean-limbed, comely manchineels, with lustrous leaves and golden +fruit. You would have deemed them Trees of Life; but underneath their branches +grew no blade of grass, no herb, nor moss; the bare earth was scorched by +heaven’s own dews, filtrated through that fatal foliage. +</p> + +<p> +Farther on, there frowned a grove of blended banian boughs, thick-ranked +manchineels, and many a upas; their summits gilded by the sun; but below, deep +shadows, darkening night-shade ferns, and mandrakes. Buried in their midst, and +dimly seen among large leaves, all halberd-shaped, were piles of stone, +supporting falling temples of bamboo. Thereon frogs leaped in dampness, +trailing round their slime. Thick hung the rafters with lines of pendant +sloths; the upas trees dropped darkness round; so dense the shade, nocturnal +birds found there perpetual night; and, throve on poisoned air. Owls hooted +from dead boughs; or, one by one, sailed by on silent pinions; cranes stalked +abroad, or brooded, in the marshes; adders hissed; bats smote the darkness; +ravens croaked; and vampires, fixed on slumbering lizards, fanned the sultry +air. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV.<br/> +Hivohitee MDCCCXLVIII</h2> + +<p> +Now, those doleful woodlands passed, straightway converse was renewed, and much +discourse took place, concerning Hivohitee, Pontiff of the isle. +</p> + +<p> +For, during our first friendly conversation with Pani, Media had inquired for +Hivohitee, and sought to know in what part of the island he abode. +</p> + +<p> +Whereto Pani had replied, that the Pontiff would be invisible for several days +to come; being engaged with particular company. +</p> + +<p> +And upon further inquiry, as to who were the personages monopolizing his +hospitalities, Media was dumb when informed, that they were no other than +certain incorporeal deities from above, passing the Capricorn Solstice at +Maramma. +</p> + +<p> +As on we journeyed, much curiosity being expressed to know more of the Pontiff +and his guests, old Mohi, familiar with these things, was commanded to +enlighten the company. He complied; and his recital was not a little +significant, of the occasional credulity of chroniclers. +</p> + +<p> +According to his statement, the deities entertained by Hivohitee belonged to +the third class of immortals. These, however, were far elevated above the +corporeal demi-gods of Mardi. Indeed, in Hivohitee’s eyes, the greatest +demi-gods were as gourds. Little wonder, then, that their superiors were +accounted the most genteel characters on his visiting list. +</p> + +<p> +These immortals were wonderfully fastidious and dainty as to the atmosphere +they breathed; inhaling no sublunary air, but that of the elevated interior; +where the Pontiff had a rural lodge, for the special accommodation of +impalpable guests; who were entertained at very small cost; dinners being +unnecessary, and dormitories superfluous. +</p> + +<p> +But Hivohitee permitted not the presence of these celestial grandees, to +interfere with his own solid comfort. Passing his mornings in highly +intensified chat, he thrice reclined at his ease; partaking of a fine +plantain-pudding, and pouring out from a calabash of celestial old wine; +meanwhile, carrying on the flow of soul with his guests. And truly, the sight +of their entertainer thus enjoying himself in the flesh, while they themselves +starved on the ether, must have been exceedingly provoking to these +aristocratic and aerial strangers. +</p> + +<p> +It was reported, furthermore, that Hivohitee, one of the haughtiest of +Pontiffs, purposely treated his angelical guests thus cavalierly; in order to +convince them, that though a denizen of earth; a sublunarian; and in respect of +heaven, a mere provincial; he (Hivohitee) accounted himself full as good as +seraphim from the capital; and that too at the Capricorn Solstice, or any other +time of the year. Strongly bent was Hivohitee upon humbling their supercilious +pretensions. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, was he not accounted a great god in the land? supreme? having power of +life and death? essaying the deposition of kings? and dwelling in moody state, +all by himself, in the goodliest island of Mardi? Though here, be it said, that +his assumptions of temporal supremacy were but seldom made good by express +interference with the secular concerns of the neighboring monarchs; who, by +force of arms, were too apt to argue against his claims to authority; however, +in theory, they bowed to it. And now, for the genealogy of Hivohitee; for +eighteen hundred and forty-seven Hivohitees were alleged to have gone before +him. He came in a right line from the divine Hivohitee I.: the original grantee +of the empire of men’s souls and the first swayer of a crosier. The +present Pontiff’s descent was unquestionable; his dignity having been +transmitted through none but heirs male; the whole procession of High Priests +being the fruit of successive marriages between uterine brother and sister. A +conjunction deemed incestuous in some lands; but, here, held the only fit +channel for the pure transmission of elevated rank. +</p> + +<p> +Added to the hereditary appellation, Hivohitee, which simply denoted the +sacerdotal station of the Pontiffs, and was but seldom employed in current +discourse, they were individualized by a distinctive name, bestowed upon them +at birth. And the degree of consideration in which they were held, may be +inferred from the fact, that during the lifetime of a Pontiff, the leading +sound in his name was banned to ordinary uses. Whence, at every new accession +to the archiepiscopal throne, it came to pass, that multitudes of words and +phrases were either essentially modified, or wholly dropped. Wherefore, the +language of Maramma was incessantly fluctuating; and had become so full of +jargonings, that the birds in the groves were greatly puzzled; not knowing +where lay the virtue of sounds, so incoherent. +</p> + +<p> +And, in a good measure, this held true of all tongues spoken throughout the +Archipelago; the birds marveling at mankind, and mankind at the birds; +wondering how they could continually sing; when, for all man knew to the +contrary, it was impossible they could be holding intelligent discourse. And +thus, though for thousands of years, men and birds had been dwelling together +in Mardi, they remained wholly ignorant of each other’s secrets; the +Islander regarding the fowl as a senseless songster, forever in the clouds; and +the fowl him, as a screeching crane, destitute of pinions and lofty +aspirations. +</p> + +<p> +Over and above numerous other miraculous powers imputed to the Pontiffs as +spiritual potentates, there was ascribed to them one special privilege of a +secular nature: that of healing with a touch the bites of the ravenous sharks, +swarming throughout the lagoon. With these they were supposed to be upon the +most friendly terms; according to popular accounts, sociably bathing with them +in the sea; permitting them to rub their noses against their priestly thighs; +playfully mouthing their hands, with all their tiers of teeth. +</p> + +<p> +At the ordination of a Pontiff, the ceremony was not deemed complete, until +embarking in his barge, he was saluted High Priest by three sharks drawing +near; with teeth turned up, swimming beside his canoe. +</p> + +<p> +These monsters were deified in Maramma; had altars there; it was deemed worse +than homicide to kill one. “And what if they destroy human life?” +say the Islanders, “are they not sacred?” +</p> + +<p> +Now many more wonderful things were related touching Hivohitee; and though one +could not but doubt the validity of many prerogatives ascribed to him, it was +nevertheless hard to do otherwise, than entertain for the Pontiff that sort of +profound consideration, which all render to those who indisputably possess the +power of quenching human life with a wish. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V.<br/> +They Visit The Great Morai</h2> + +<p> +As garrulous guide to the party, Braid-Beard soon brought us nigh the great +Morai of Maramma, the burial-place of the Pontiffs, and a rural promenade, for +certain idols there inhabiting. +</p> + +<p> +Our way now led through the bed of a shallow water-course; Mohi observing, as +we went, that our feet were being washed at every step; whereas, to tread the +dusty earth would be to desecrate the holy Morai, by transferring thereto, the +base soil of less sacred ground. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there, thatched arbors were thrown over the stream, for the +accommodation of devotees; who, in these consecrated waters, issuing from a +spring in the Morai, bathed their garments, that long life might ensue. Yet, as +Braid-Beard assured us, sometimes it happened, that divers feeble old men +zealously donning their raiment immediately after immersion became afflicted +with rheumatics; and instances were related of their falling down dead, in this +their pursuit of longevity. +</p> + +<p> +Coming to the Morai, we found it inclosed by a wall; and while the rest were +surmounting it, Mohi was busily engaged in the apparently childish occupation +of collecting pebbles. Of these, however, to our no small surprise, he +presently made use, by irreverently throwing them at all objects to which he +was desirous of directing attention. In this manner, was pointed out a black +boar’s head, suspended from a bough. Full twenty of these sentries were +on post in the neighboring trees. +</p> + +<p> +Proceeding, we came to a hillock of bone-dry sand, resting upon the otherwise +loamy soil. Possessing a secret, preservative virtue, this sand had, ages ago, +been brought from a distant land, to furnish a sepulcher for the Pontiffs; who +here, side by side, and sire by son, slumbered all peacefully in the fellowship +of the grave. Mohi declared, that were the sepulcher to be opened, it would be +the resurrection of the whole line of High Priests. “But a resurrection +of bones, after all,” said Babbalanja, ever osseous in his allusions to +the departed. +</p> + +<p> +Passing on, we came to a number of Runic-looking stones, all over +hieroglyphical inscriptions, and placed round an elliptical aperture; where +welled up the sacred spring of the Morai, clear as crystal, and showing through +its waters, two tiers of sharp, tusk-like stones; the mouth of Oro, so called; +and it was held, that if any secular hand should be immersed in the spring, +straight upon it those stony jaws would close. +</p> + +<p> +We next came to a large image of a dark-hued stone, representing a burly man, +with an overgrown head, and abdomen hollowed out, and open for inspection; +therein, were relics of bones. Before this image we paused. And whether or no +it was Mohi’s purpose to make us tourists quake with his recitals, his +revelations were far from agreeable. At certain seasons, human beings were +offered to the idol, which being an epicure in the matter of sacrifices, would +accept of no ordinary fare. To insure his digestion, all indirect routes to the +interior were avoided; the sacrifices being packed in the ventricle itself. +</p> + +<p> +Near to this image of Doleema, so called, a solitary forest-tree was pointed +out; leafless and dead to the core. But from its boughs hang numerous baskets, +brimming over with melons, grapes, and guavas. And daily these baskets were +replenished. +</p> + +<p> +As we here stood, there passed a hungry figure, in ragged raiment: hollow +cheeks, and hollow eyes. Wistfully he eyed the offerings; but retreated; +knowing it was sacrilege to touch them. There, they must decay, in honor of the +god Ananna; for so this dead tree was denominated by Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as we were thus strolling about the Morai, the old chronicler elucidating +its mysteries, we suddenly spied Pani and the pilgrims approaching the image of +Doleema; his child leading the guide. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” began Pani, pointing to the idol of stone, “is the +holy god Ananna who lives in the sap of this green and flourishing tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou meanest not, surely, this stone image we behold?” said +Divino. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean the tree,” said the guide. “It is no stone +image.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strange,” muttered the chief; “were it not a guide that +spoke, I would deny it. As it is, I hold my peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mystery of mysteries!” cried the blind old pilgrim; “is it, +then, a stone image that Pani calls a tree? Oh, Oro, that I had eyes to see, +that I might verily behold it, and then believe it to be what it is not; that +so I might prove the largeness of my faith; and so merit the blessing of +Alma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thrice sacred Ananna,” murmured the sad-eyed maiden, falling upon +her knees before Doleema, “receive my adoration. Of thee, I know nothing, +but what the guide has spoken. I am but a poor, weak-minded maiden, judging not +for myself, but leaning upon others that are wiser. These things are above me. +I am afraid to think. In Alma’s name, receive my homage.” +</p> + +<p> +And she flung flowers before the god. +</p> + +<p> +But Fauna, the hale matron, turning upon Pani, exclaimed, “Receive more +gifts, oh guide.” And again she showered them upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Upon this, the willful boy who would not have Pani for his guide, entered the +Morai; and perceiving the group before the image, walked rapidly to where they +were. And beholding the idol, he regarded it attentively, and +said:—“This must be the image of Doleema; but I am not sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” cried the blind pilgrim, “it is the holy tree Ananna, +thou wayward boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“A tree? whatever it may be, it is not that; thou art blind, old +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“But though blind, I have that which thou lackest.” +</p> + +<p> +Then said Pani, turning upon the boy, “Depart from the holy Morai, and +corrupt not the hearts of these pilgrims. Depart, I say; and, in the sacred +name of Alma, perish in thy endeavors to climb the Peak.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may perish there in truth,” said the boy, with sadness; +“but it shall be in the path revealed to me in my dream. And think not, +oh guide, that I perfectly rely upon gaining that lofty summit. I will climb +high Ofo with hope, not faith; Oh, mighty Oro, help me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Be not impious,” said Pani; “pronounce not Oro’s +sacred name too lightly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oro is but a sound,” said the boy. “They call the supreme +god, Ati, in my native isle; it is the soundless thought of him, oh guide, that +is in me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark to his rhapsodies! Hark, how he prates of mysteries, that not even +Hivohitee can fathom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor he, nor thou, nor I, nor any; Oro, to all, is Oro the +unknown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why claim to know Oro, then, better than others?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so vain; and I have little to substitute for what I can not +receive. I but feel Oro in me, yet can not declare the thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proud boy! thy humility is a pretense; at heart, thou deemest thyself +wiser than Mardi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not near so wise. To believe is a haughty thing; my very doubts +humiliate me. I weep and doubt; all Mardi may be light; and I too simple to +discern.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is mad,” said the chief Divino; “never before heard I +such words.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are thoughts,” muttered the guide. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fool!” cried Fauna. +</p> + +<p> +“Lost youth!” sighed the maiden. +</p> + +<p> +“He is but a child,” said the beggar. These whims will soon depart; +once I was like him; but, praise be to Alma, in the hour of sickness I +repented, feeble old man that I am!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is because I am young and in health,” said the boy, “that +I more nourish the thoughts, that are born of my youth and my health. I am +fresh from my Maker, soul and body unwrinkled. On thy sick couch, old man, they +took thee at advantage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Turn from the blasphemer,” cried Pani. “Hence! thou evil +one, to the perdition in store.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go my ways,” said the boy, “but Oro will shape the +end.” +</p> + +<p> +And he quitted the Morai. +</p> + +<p> +After conducting the party round the sacred inclosure, assisting his way with +his staff, for his child had left him, Pani seated himself on a low, mossy +stone, grimly surrounded by idols; and directed the pilgrims to return to his +habitation; where, ere long he would rejoin them. +</p> + +<p> +The pilgrims departed, he remained in profound meditation; while, backward and +forward, an invisible ploughshare turned up the long furrows on his brow. +</p> + +<p> +Long he was silent; then muttered to himself, “That boy, that wild, wise +boy, has stabbed me to the heart. His thoughts are my suspicions. But he is +honest. Yet I harm none. Multitudes must have unspoken meditations as well as +I. Do we then mutually deceive? Off masks, mankind, that I may know what +warranty of fellowship with others, my own thoughts possess. Why, upon this one +theme, oh Oro! must all dissemble? Our thoughts are not our own. Whate’er +it be, an honest thought must have some germ of truth. But we must set, as +flows the general stream; I blindly follow, where I seem to lead; the crowd of +pilgrims is so great, they see not there is none to guide.—It hinges upon +this: Have we angelic spirits? But in vain, in vain, oh Oro! I essay to live +out of this poor, blind body, fit dwelling for my sightless soul. Death, +death:—blind, am I dead? for blindness seems a consciousness of death. +Will my grave be more dark, than all is now?— From dark to +dark!—What is this subtle something that is in me, and eludes me? Will it +have no end? When, then, did it begin? All, all is chaos! What is this shining +light in heaven, this sun they tell me of? Or, do they lie? Methinks, it might +blaze convictions; but I brood and grope in blackness; I am dumb with doubt; +yet, ’tis not doubt, but worse: I doubt my doubt. Oh, ye all-wise spirits +in the air, how can ye witness all this woe, and give no sign? Would, would +that mine were a settled doubt, like that wild boy’s, who without faith, +seems full of it. The undoubting doubter believes the most. Oh! that I were he. +Methinks that daring boy hath Alma in him, struggling to be free. But those +pilgrims: that trusting girl.—What, if they saw me as I am? Peace, peace, +my soul; on, mask, again.” +</p> + +<p> +And he staggered from the Morai. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI.<br/> +They Discourse Of The Gods Of Mardi, And Braid-Beard Tells Of One Foni</h2> + +<p> +Walking from the sacred inclosure, Mohi discoursed of the plurality of gods in +the land, a subject suggested by the multitudinous idols we had just been +beholding. +</p> + +<p> +Said Mohi, “These gods of wood and of stone are nothing in number to the +gods in the air. You breathe not a breath without inhaling, you touch not a +leaf without ruffling a spirit. There are gods of heaven, and gods of earth; +gods of sea and of land; gods of peace and of war; gods of rook and of fell; +gods of ghosts and of thieves; of singers and dancers; of lean men and of +house-thatchers. Gods glance in the eyes of birds, and sparkle in the crests of +the waves; gods merrily swing in the boughs of the trees, and merrily sing in +the brook. Gods are here, and there, and every where; you are never alone for +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“If this be so, Braid-Beard,” said Babbalanja, “our inmost +thoughts are overheard; but not by eaves-droppers. However, my lord, these gods +to whom he alludes, merely belong to the semi-intelligibles, the divided +unities in unity, thin side of the First Adyta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Semi-intelligible, say you, philosopher?” cried Mohi. “Then, +prithee, make it appear so; for what you say, seems gibberish to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja,” said Media, “no more of your abstrusities; what +know you mortals of us gods and demi-gods? But tell me, Mohi, how many of your +deities of rock and fen think you there are? Have you no statistical +table?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, at the lowest computation, there must be at least three billion +trillion of quintillions.” +</p> + +<p> +“A mere unit!” said Babbalanja. “Old man, would you express +an infinite number? Then take the sum of the follies of Mardi for your +multiplicand; and for your multiplier, the totality of sublunarians, that never +have been heard of since they became no more; and the product shall exceed your +quintillions, even though all their units were nonillions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have done, Babbalanja!” cried Media; “you are showing the +sinister vein in your marble. Have done. Take a warm bath, and make tepid your +cold blood. But come, Mohi, tell us of the ways of this Maramma; something of +the Morai and its idols, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +And straightway Braid-Beard proceeded with a narration, in substance as +follows:— +</p> + +<p> +It seems, there was a particular family upon the island, whose members, for +many generations, had been set apart as sacrifices for the deity called +Doleema. They were marked by a sad and melancholy aspect, and a certain +involuntary shrinking, when passing the Morai. And, though, when it came to the +last, some of these unfortunates went joyfully to their doom, declaring that +they gloried to die in the service of holy Doleema; still, were there others, +who audaciously endeavored to shun their fate; upon the approach of a festival, +fleeing to the innermost wilderness of the island. But little availed their +flight. For swift on their track sped the hereditary butler of the insulted +god, one Xiki, whose duty it was to provide the sacrifices. And when crouching +in some covert, the fugitive spied Xiki’s approach, so fearful did he +become of the vengeance of the deity he sought to evade, that renouncing all +hope of escape, he would burst from his lair, exclaiming, “Come on, and +kill!” baring his breast for the javelin that slew him. +</p> + +<p> +The chronicles of Maramma were full of horrors. +</p> + +<p> +In the wild heart of the island, was said still to lurk the remnant of a band +of warriors, who, in the days of the sire of the present pontiff, had risen in +arms to dethrone him, headed by Foni, an upstart prophet, a personage +distinguished for the uncommon beauty of his person. With terrible carnage, +these warriors had been defeated; and the survivors, fleeing into the interior, +for thirty days were pursued by the victors. But though many were overtaken and +speared, a number survived; who, at last, wandering forlorn and in despair, +like demoniacs, ran wild in the woods. And the islanders, who at times +penetrated into the wilderness, for the purpose of procuring rare herbs, often +scared from their path some specter, glaring through the foliage. Thrice had +these demoniacs been discovered prowling about the inhabited portions of the +isle; and at day-break, an attendant of the holy Morai once came upon a +frightful figure, doubled with age, helping itself to the offerings in the +image of Doleema. The demoniac was slain; and from his ineffaceable tatooing, +it was proved that this was no other than Foni, the false prophet; the splendid +form he had carried into the rebel fight, now squalid with age and misery. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII.<br/> +They Visit The Lake Of Yammo</h2> + +<p> +From the Morai, we bent our steps toward an unoccupied arbor; and here, +refreshing ourselves with the viands presented by Borabolla, we passed the +night. And next morning proceeded to voyage round to the opposite quarter of +the island; where, in the sacred lake of Yammo, stood the famous temple of Oro, +also the great gallery of the inferior deities. +</p> + +<p> +The lake was but a portion of the smooth lagoon, made separate by an arm of +wooded reef, extending from the high western shore of the island, and curving +round toward a promontory, leaving a narrow channel to the sea, almost +invisible, however, from the land-locked interior. +</p> + +<p> +In this lake were many islets, all green with groves. Its main-shore was a +steep acclivity, with jutting points, each crowned with mossy old altars of +stone, or ruinous temples, darkly reflected in the green, glassy water; while, +from its long line of stately trees, the low reef-side of the lake looked one +verdant bluff. +</p> + +<p> +Gliding in upon Yammo, its many islets greeted us like a little Mardi; but ever +and anon we started at long lines of phantoms in the water, reflections of the +long line of images on the shore. +</p> + +<p> +Toward the islet of Dolzono we first directed our way; and there we beheld the +great gallery of the gods; a mighty temple, resting on one hundred tall pillars +of palm, each based, below the surface, on the buried body of a man; its nave +one vista of idols; names carved on their foreheads: Ogre, Tripoo, +Indrimarvoki, Parzillo, Vivivi, Jojijojorora, Jorkraki, and innumerable others. +</p> + +<p> +Crowds of attendants were new-grouping the images. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, you behold one of their principal occupations,” said +Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Said Media: “I have heard much of the famed image of Mujo, the Nursing +Mother;—can you point it out, Braid-Beard?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, when last here, I saw Mujo at the head of this file; but they +must have removed it; I see it not now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do these attendants, then,” said Babbalanja, “so continually +new-marshal the idols, that visiting the gallery to-day, you are at a loss +to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” said Braid-Beard. “But behold, my lord, this image +is Mujo.” +</p> + +<p> +We stood before an obelisk-idol, so towering, that gazing at it, we were fain +to throw back our heads. According to Mohi, winding stairs led up through its +legs; its abdomen a cellar, thick-stored with gourds of old wine; its head, a +hollow dome; in rude alto-relievo, its scores of hillock-breasts were carved +over with legions of baby deities, frog-like sprawling; while, within, were +secreted whole litters of infant idols, there placed, to imbibe divinity from +the knots of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +As we stood, a strange subterranean sound was heard, mingled with a gurgling as +of wine being poured. Looking up, we beheld, through arrow-slits and +port-holes, three masks, cross-legged seated in the abdomen, and holding stout +wassail. But instantly upon descrying us, they vanished deeper into the +interior; and presently was heard a sepulchral chant, and many groans and +grievous tribulations. +</p> + +<p> +Passing on, we came to an image, with a long anaconda-like posterior +development, wound round and round its own neck. +</p> + +<p> +“This must be Oloo, the god of Suicides,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mohi, “you perceive, my lord, how he lays violent +tail upon himself.” +</p> + +<p> +At length, the attendants having, in due order, new-deposed the long lines of +sphinxes and griffins, and many limbed images, a band of them, in long flowing +robes, began their morning chant. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Awake Rarni! awake Foloona!<br/> +Awake unnumbered deities!” +</p> + +<p> +With many similar invocations, to which the images made not the slightest +rejoinder. Not discouraged, however, the attendants now separately proceeded to +offer up petitions on behalf of various tribes, retaining them for that +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +One prayed for abundance of rain, that the yams of Valapee might not wilt in +the ground; another for dry sunshine, as most favorable for the present state +of the Bread-fruit crop in Mondoldo. +</p> + +<p> +Hearing all this, Babbalanja thus spoke:—“Doubtless, my lord Media, +besides these petitions we hear, there are ten thousand contradictory prayers +ascending to these idols. But methinks the gods will not jar the eternal +progression of things, by any hints from below; even were it possible to +satisfy conflicting desires.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “But I would pray, nevertheless, Babbalanja; for prayer draws +us near to our own souls, and purifies our thoughts. Nor will I grant that our +supplications are altogether in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +Still wandering among the images, Mohi had much to say, concerning their +respective claims to the reverence of the devout. +</p> + +<p> +For though, in one way or other, all Mardians bowed to the supremacy of Oro, +they were not so unanimous concerning the inferior deities; those supposed to +be intermediately concerned in sublunary things. Some nations sacrificed to one +god; some to another; each maintaining, that their own god was the most +potential. +</p> + +<p> +Observing that all the images were more or less defaced, Babbalanja sought the +reason. +</p> + +<p> +To which, Braid-Beard made answer, that they had been thus defaced by hostile +devotees; who quarreling in the great gallery of the gods, and getting beside +themselves with rage, often sought to pull down, and demolish each +other’s favorite idols. +</p> + +<p> +“But behold,” cried Babbalanja, “there seems not a single +image unmutilated. How is this, old man?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is thus. While one faction defaces the images of its adversaries, its +own images are in like manner assailed; whence it comes that no idol +escapes.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more, no more, Braid-Beard,” said Media. “Let us depart, +and visit the islet, where the god of all these gods is enshrined.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro</h2> + +<p> +Deep, deep, in deep groves, we found the great temple of Oro, +Spreader-of-the-Sky, and deity supreme. +</p> + +<p> +While here we silently stood eyeing this Mardi-renowned image, there entered +the fane a great multitude of its attendants, holding pearl- shells on their +heads, filled with a burning incense. And ranging themselves in a crowd round +Oro, they began a long-rolling chant, a sea of sounds; and the thick smoke of +their incense went up to the roof. +</p> + +<p> +And now approached Pani and the pilgrims; followed, at a distance, by the +willful boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold great Oro,” said the guide. +</p> + +<p> +“We see naught but a cloud,” said the chief Divino. +</p> + +<p> +“My ears are stunned by the chanting,” said the blind pilgrim. +</p> + +<p> +“Receive more gifts, oh guide!” cried Fanna the matron. “Oh +Oro! invisible Oro! I kneel,” slow murmured the sad-eyed maid. +</p> + +<p> +But now, a current of air swept aside the eddying incense; and the willful boy, +all eagerness to behold the image, went hither and thither; but the gathering +of attendants was great; and at last he exclaimed, “Oh Oro! I can not see +thee, for the crowd that stands between thee and me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is this babbler?” cried they with the censers, one and all +turning upon the pilgrims; “let him speak no more; but bow down, and +grind the dust where he stands; and declare himself the vilest creature that +crawls. So Oro and Alma command.” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel nothing in me so utterly vile,” said the boy, “and I +cringe to none. But I would as lief <i>adore</i> your image, as that in my +heart, for both mean the same; but more, how can I? I love great Oro, though I +comprehend him not. I marvel at his works, and feel as nothing in his sight; +but because he is thus omnipotent, and I a mortal, it follows not that I am +vile. Nor so doth he regard me. We do ourselves degrade ourselves, not Oro us. +Hath not Oro made me? And therefore am I not worthy to stand erect before him? +Oro is almighty, but no despot. I wonder; I hope; I love; I weep; I have in me +a feeling nigh to fear, that is not fear; but wholly vile I am not; nor can we +love and cringe. But Oro knows my heart, which I can not speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impious boy,” cried they with the censers, “we will offer +thee up, before the very image thou contemnest. In the name of Alma, seize +him.” +</p> + +<p> +And they bore him away unresisting. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus perish the ungodly,” said Pani to the shuddering pilgrims. +</p> + +<p> +And they quitted the temple, to journey toward the Peak of Ofo. +</p> + +<p> +“My soul bursts!” cried Yoomy. “My lord, my lord, let us save +the boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak not,” said Media. “His fate is fixed. Let Mardi +stand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us away from hence, my lord; and join the pilgrims; for, in +these inland vales, the lost one may be found, perhaps at the very base of +Ofo.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not there; not there;” cried Babbalanja, “Yillah may have +touched these shores; but long since she must have fled.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX.<br/> +They Discourse Of Alma</h2> + +<p> +Sailing to and fro in the lake, to view its scenery, much discourse took place +concerning the things we had seen; and far removed from the censer-bearers, the +sad fate that awaited the boy was now the theme of all. +</p> + +<p> +A good deal was then said of Alma, to whom the guide, the pilgrims, and the +censer-bearers had frequently alluded, as to some paramount authority. +</p> + +<p> +Called upon to reveal what his chronicles said on this theme, Braid-Beard +complied; at great length narrating, what now follows condensed. +</p> + +<p> +Alma, it seems, was an illustrious prophet, and teacher divine; who, ages ago, +at long intervals, and in various islands, had appeared to the Mardians under +the different titles of Brami, Manko, and Alma. Many thousands of moons had +elasped since his last and most memorable avatar, as Alma on the isle of +Maramma. Each of his advents had taken place in a comparatively dark and +benighted age. Hence, it was devoutly believed, that he came to redeem the +Mardians from their heathenish thrall; to instruct them in the ways of truth, +virtue, and happiness; to allure them to good by promises of beatitude +hereafter; and to restrain them from evil by denunciations of woe. Separated +from the impurities and corruptions, which in a long series of centuries had +become attached to every thing originally uttered by the prophet, the maxims, +which as Brami he had taught, seemed similar to those inculcated by Manko. But +as Alma, adapting his lessons to the improved condition of humanity, the divine +prophet had more completely unfolded his scheme; as Alma, he had made his last +revelation. +</p> + +<p> +This narration concluded, Babbalanja mildly observed, “Mohi: without +seeking to accuse you of uttering falsehoods; since what you relate rests not +upon testimony of your own; permit me, to question the fidelity of your account +of Alma. The prophet came to dissipate errors, you say; but superadded to many +that have survived the past, ten thousand others have originated in various +constructions of the principles of Alma himself. The prophet came to do away +all gods but one; but since the days of Alma, the idols of Maramma have more +than quadrupled. The prophet came to make us Mardians more virtuous and happy; +but along with all previous good, the same wars, crimes, and miseries, which +existed in Alma’s day, under various modifications are yet extant. Nay: +take from your chronicles, Mohi, the history of those horrors, one way or +other, resulting from the doings of Alma’s nominal followers, and your +chronicles would not so frequently make mention of blood. The prophet came to +guarantee our eternal felicity; but according to what is held in Maramma, that +felicity rests on so hard a proviso, that to a thinking mind, but very few of +our sinful race may secure it. For one, then, I wholly reject your Alma; not so +much, because of all that is hard to be understood in his histories; as because +of obvious and undeniable things all round us; which, to me, seem at war with +an unreserved faith in his doctrines as promulgated here in Maramma. Besides; +every thing in this isle strengthens my incredulity; I never was so thorough a +disbeliever as now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let the winds be laid,” cried Mohi, “while your rash +confession is being made in this sacred lake.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “Philosopher; remember the boy, and they that seized +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I do indeed remember him. Poor youth! in his agony, how my heart +yearned toward his. But that very prudence which you deny me, my lord, +prevented me from saying aught in his behalf. Have you not observed, that until +now, when we are completely by ourselves, I have refrained from freely +discoursing of what we have seen in this island? Trust me, my lord, there is no +man, that bears more in mind the necessity of being either a believer or a +hypocrite in Maramma, and the imminent peril of being honest here, than I, +Babbalanja. And have I not reason to be wary, when in my boyhood, my own sire +was burnt for his temerity; and in this very isle? Just Oro! it was done in the +name of Alma,—what wonder then, that, at times, I almost hate that sound. +And from those flames, they devoutly swore he went to others,—horrible +fable!” +</p> + +<p> +Said Mohi: “Do you deny, then, the everlasting torments?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis not worth a denial. Nor by formally denying it, will I run +the risk of shaking the faith of, thousands, who in that pious belief find +infinite consolation for all they suffer in Mardi.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” said Media; “are there those who soothe themselves +with the thought of everlasting flames?” +</p> + +<p> +“One would think so, my lord, since they defend that dogma more +resolutely than any other. Sooner will they yield you the isles of Paradise, +than it. And in truth, as liege followers of Alma, they would seem but right in +clinging to it as they do; for, according to all one hears in Maramma, the +great end of the prophet’s mission seems to have been the revealing to us +Mardians the existence of horrors, most hard to escape. But better we were all +annihilated, than that one man should be damned.” +</p> + +<p> +Rejoined Media: “But think you not, that possibly, Alma may have been +misconceived? Are you certain that doctrine is his?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing more than that such is the belief in this land. And in +these matters, I know not where else to go for information. But, my lord, had I +been living in those days when certain men are said to have been actually +possessed by spirits from hell, I had not let slip the opportunity—as our +forefathers did—to cross-question them concerning the place they came +from.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” said Media, “your Alma’s faith concerns +not me: I am a king, and a demi-god; and leave vulgar torments to the +commonality.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it concerns me,” muttered Mohi; “yet I know not what to +think.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me,” said Yoomy, “I reject it. Could I, I would not +believe it. It is at variance with the dictates of my heart instinctively my +heart turns from it, as a thirsty man from gall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush; say no more,” said Mohi; “again we approach the +shore.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X.<br/> +Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo, And They Land To Visit Hevaneva, A Flourishing +Artisan</h2> + +<p> +Having seen all worth viewing in Yammo, we departed, to complete the +circumnavigation of the island, by returning to Uma without reversing our +prows. As we glided along, we passed many objects of interest, concerning +which, Mohi, as usual, was very diffuse. +</p> + +<p> +Among other things pointed out, were certain little altars, like mile- stones, +planted here and there upon bright bluffs, running out into the lagoon. +Dedicated respectively to the guardian spirits of Maramma, these altars formed +a chain of spiritual defenses; and here were presumed to stand post the most +vigilant of warders; dread Hivohitee, all by himself, garrisoning the +impregnable interior. +</p> + +<p> +But these sentries were only subalterns, subject to the beck of the Pontiff; +who frequently sent word to them, concerning the duties of their watch. His +mandates were intrusted to one Ravoo, the hereditary pontifical messenger; a +long-limbed varlet, so swift of foot, that he was said to travel like a +javelin. “Art thou Ravoo, that thou so pliest thy legs?” say these +islanders, to one encountered in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +Hivohitee’s postman held no oral communication with the sentries. +Dispatched round the island with divers bits of tappa, hieroglyphically +stamped, he merely deposited one upon each altar; superadding a stone, to keep +the missive in its place; and so went his rounds. +</p> + +<p> +Now, his route lay over hill and over dale, and over many a coral rock; and to +preserve his feet from bruises, he was fain to wear a sort of buskin, or boot, +fabricated of a durable tappa, made from the thickest and toughest of fibers. +As he never wore his buskins except when he carried the mail, Ravoo sorely +fretted with his Hessians; though it would have been highly imprudent to travel +without them. To make the thing more endurable, therefore, and, at intervals, +to cool his heated pedals, he established a series of stopping-places, or +stages; at each of which a fresh pair of buskins, hanging from a tree, were +taken down and vaulted into by the ingenious traveler. Those relays of boots +were exceedingly convenient; next, indeed, to being lifted upon a fresh pair of +legs. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, to what purpose that anecdote?” demanded Babbalanja of Mohi, +who in substance related it. +</p> + +<p> +“Marry! ’tis but the simple recital of a fact; and I tell it to +entertain the company.” +</p> + +<p> +“But has it any meaning you know of?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art wise, find out,” retorted Braid-Beard. “But what +comes of it?” persisted Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Beshrew me, this senseless catechising of thine,” replied Mohi; +“naught else, it seems, save a grin or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pray, what may you be driving at, philosopher?” interrupted +Media. +</p> + +<p> +“I am intent upon the essence of things; the mystery that lieth beyond; +the elements of the tear which much laughter provoketh; that which is beneath +the seeming; the precious pearl within the shaggy oyster. I probe the +circle’s center; I seek to evolve the inscrutable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seek on; and when aught is found, cry out, that we may run to +see.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord the king is merry upon me. To him my more subtle cogitations +seem foolishness. But believe me, my lord, there is more to be thought of than +to be seen. There is a world of wonders insphered within the spontaneous +consciousness; or, as old Bardianna hath it, a mystery within the obvious, yet +an obviousness within the mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did I ever deny that?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“As plain as my hand in the dark,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“I dreamed a dream,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“They banter me; but enough; I am to blame for discoursing upon the deep +world wherein I live. I am wrong in seeking to invest sublunary sounds with +celestial sense. Much that is in me is incommunicable by this ether we breathe. +But I blame ye not.” And wrapping round him his mantle, Babbalanja +retired into its most private folds. +</p> + +<p> +Ere coming in sight of Uma, we put into a little bay, to pay our respects to +Hevaneva, a famous character there dwelling; who, assisted by many journeymen, +carried on the lucrative business of making idols for the surrounding isles. +</p> + +<p> +Know ye, that all idols not made in Maramma, and consecrated by Hivohitee; and, +what is more, in strings of teeth paid down for to Hevaneva; are of no more +account, than logs, stocks, or stones. Yet does not the cunning artificer +monopolize the profits of his vocation; for Hevaneva being but the vassal of +the Pontiff, the latter lays claim to King Leo’s share of the spoils, and +secures it. +</p> + +<p> +The place was very prettily lapped in a pleasant dell, nigh to the margin of +the water; and here, were several spacious arbors; wherein, prostrate upon +their sacred faces, were all manner of idols, in every imaginable stage of +statuary development. +</p> + +<p> +With wonderful industry the journeymen were plying their tools;—some +chiseling noses; some trenching for mouths; and others, with heated flints, +boring for ears: a hole drilled straight through the occiput, representing the +auricular organs. +</p> + +<p> +“How easily they are seen through,” said Babbalanja, taking a sight +through one of the heads. +</p> + +<p> +The last finish is given to their godships, by rubbing them all over with dried +slips of consecrated shark-skin, rough as sand paper, tacked over bits of wood. +</p> + +<p> +In one of the farther arbors, Hevaneva pointed out a goodly array of idols, all +complete and ready for the market. They were of every variety of pattern; and +of every size; from that of a giant, to the little images worn in the ears of +the ultra devout. +</p> + +<p> +“Of late,” said the artist, “there has been a lively demand +for the image of Arbino the god of fishing; the present being the principal +season for that business. For Nadams (Nadam presides over love and wine), there +has also been urgent call; it being the time of the grape; and the maidens +growing frolicsome withal, and devotional.” +</p> + +<p> +Seeing that Hevaneva handled his wares with much familiarity, not to say +irreverence, Babbalanja was minded to learn from him, what he thought of his +trade; whether the images he made were genuine or spurious; in a word, whether +he believed in his gods. +</p> + +<p> +His reply was curious. But still more so, the marginal gestures wherewith he +helped out the text. +</p> + +<p> +“When I cut down the trees for my idols,” said he, “they are +nothing but logs; when upon those logs, I chalk out the figures of, my images, +they yet remain logs; when the chisel is applied, logs they are still; and when +all complete, I at last stand them up in my studio, even then they are logs. +Nevertheless, when I handle the pay, they are as prime gods, as ever were +turned out in Maramma.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must make a very great variety,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“All sorts, all sorts.” +</p> + +<p> +“And from the same material, I presume.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, ay, one grove supplies them all. And, on an average, each tree +stands us in full fifty idols. Then, we often take second-hand images in part +pay for new ones. These we work over again into new patterns; touching up their +eyes and ears; resetting their noses; and more especially new-footing their +legs, where they always decay first.” +</p> + +<p> +Under sanction of the Pontiff, Hevaneva, in addition to his large commerce in +idols, also carried on the highly lucrative business of canoe-building; the +profits whereof, undivided, he dropped into his private exchequer. But Mohi +averred, that the Pontiff often charged him with neglecting his images, for his +canoes. Be that as it may, Hevaneva drove a thriving trade at both avocations. +And in demonstration of the fact, he directed our attention to three long rows +of canoes, upheld by wooden supports. They were in perfect order; at a +moment’s notice, ready for launching; being furnished with paddles, +out-riggers, masts, sails, and a human skull, with a short handle thrust +through one of its eyes, the ordinary bailer of Maramma; besides other +appurtenances, including on the prow a duodecimo idol to match. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to a superstitious preference bestowed upon the wood and work of the +sacred island, Hevaneva’s canoes were in as high repute as his idols; and +sold equally well. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, in several ways one trade helped the other. The larger images being +dug out of the hollow part of the canoes; and all knotty odds and ends reserved +for the idol ear-rings. +</p> + +<p> +“But after all,” said the artificer, “I find a readier sale +for my images, than for my canoes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so it will ever be,” said Babbalanja.—“Stick to +thy idols, man! a trade, more reliable than the baker’s.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI.<br/> +A Nursery-Tale Of Babbalanja’s</h2> + +<p> +Having taken to our canoes once again, we were silently sailing along, when +Media observed, “Babbalanja; though I seldom trouble myself with such +thoughts, I have just been thinking, how difficult it must be, for the more +ignorant sort of people, to decide upon what particular image to worship as a +guardian deity, when in Maramma, it seems, there exists such a multitude of +idols, and a thousand more are to be heard of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, your highness. The more ignorant the better. The multitude +of images distracts them not. But I am in no mood for serious discourse; let me +tell you a story.” +</p> + +<p> +“A story! hear him: the solemn philosopher is desirous of regaling us +with a tale! But pray, begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once upon a time, then,” said Babbalanja, indifferently adjusting +his girdle, “nine blind men, with uncommonly long noses, set out on their +travels to see the great island on which they were born.” +</p> + +<p> +“A precious beginning,” muttered Mohi. “Nine blind men +setting out to see sights.” +</p> + +<p> +Continued Babbalanja, “Staff in hand, they traveled; one in advance of +the other; each man with his palm upon the shoulder next him; and he with the +longest nose took the lead of the file. Journeying on in this manner, they came +to a valley, in which reigned a king called Tammaro. Now, in a certain +inclosure toward the head of the valley, there stood an immense wild banian +tree; all over moss, and many centuries old, and forming quite a wood in +itself: its thousand boughs striking into the earth, and fixing there as many +gigantic trunks. With Tammaro, it had long been a question, which of those many +trunks was the original and true one; a matter that had puzzled the wisest +heads among his subjects; and in vain had a reward been offered for the +solution of the perplexity. But the tree was so vast, and its fabric so +complex; and its rooted branches so similar in appearance; and so numerous, +from the circumstance that every year had added to them, that it was quite +impossible to determine the point. Nevertheless, no sooner did the nine blind +men hear that there was a reward offered for discovering the trunk of a tree, +standing all by itself, than, one and all, they assured Tammaro, that they +would quickly settle that little difficulty of his; and loudly inveighed +against the stupidity of his sages, who had been so easily posed. So, being +conducted into the inclosure, and assured that the tree was somewhere within, +they separated their forces, so as at wide intervals to surround it at a +distance; when feeling their way, with their staves and their noses, they +advanced to the search, crying out—‘Pshaw! make room there; let us +wise men feel of the mystery.’ Presently, striking with his nose one of +the rooted branches, the foremost blind man quickly knelt down; and feeling +that it struck into the earth, gleefully shouted: Here it is! here it +is!’ But almost in the same breath, his companions, also, each striking a +branch with his staff or his nose, cried out in like manner, ‘Here it is! +here it is!’ Whereupon they were all confounded: but directly, the man +who first cried out, thus addressed the rest: Good friends, surely you’re +mistaken. There is but one tree in the place, and here it is.’ +‘Very true,’ said the others, ‘all together; there is only +<i>one</i> tree; but <i>here</i> it is.’ ‘Nay,’ said the +others, ‘it is <i>here!</i>’ and so saying, each blind man +triumphantly felt of the branch, where it penetrated into the earth. Then again +said the first speaker: Good friends, if you will not believe what I say, come +hither, and feel for yourselves.’ ‘Nay, nay,’ replied they, +why seek further? <i>here</i> it is; and nowhere else can it be.’ +‘You blind fools, you, you contradict yourselves,’ continued the +first speaker, waxing wroth; ‘how can you each have hold of a separate +trunk, when there is but one in the place?’ Whereupon, they redoubled +their cries, calling each other all manner of opprobrious names, and presently +they fell to beating each other with their staves, and charging upon each other +with their noses. But soon after, being loudly called upon by Tammaro and his +people; who all this while had been looking on; being loudly called upon, I +say, to clap their hands on the trunk, they again rushed for their respective +branches; and it so happened, that, one and all, they changed places; but still +cried out, ‘<i>Here</i> it is; <i>here</i> it is!’ ‘Peace! +peace! ye silly blind men,’ said Tammaro. ‘Will ye without eyes +presume to see more sharply than those who have them? The tree is too much for +us all. Hence! depart from the valley.’” +</p> + +<p> +“An admirable story,” cried Media. “I had no idea that a mere +mortal, least of all a philosopher, could acquit himself so well. By my +scepter, but it is well done! Ha, ha! blind men round a banian! Why, +Babbalanja, no demi-god could surpass it. Taji, could you?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Babbalanja, what under the sun, mean you by your blind +story!” cried Mohi. “Obverse, or reverse, I can make nothing out of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Others may,” said Babbalanja. “It is a polysensuum, old +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“A pollywog!” said Mohi. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII.<br/> +Landing To Visit Hivohitee The Pontiff, They Encounter An Extraordinary Old +Hermit; With Whom Yoomy Has A Confidential Interview, But Learns Little</h2> + +<p> +Gliding on, suddenly we spied a solitary Islander putting out in his canoe from +a neighboring cove. +</p> + +<p> +Drawing near, the stranger informed us, that he was just from the face of the +great Pontiff, Hivohitee, who, having dismissed his celestial guests, had +retired to his private sanctuary. Upon this, Media resolved to land forthwith, +and under the guidance of Mohi, proceed inland, and pay a visit to his +Holiness. +</p> + +<p> +Quitting the beach, our path penetrated into the solitudes of the groves. +Skirting the way were tall Casaurinas, a species of cypress, standing +motionless in the shadows, as files of mutes at a funeral. But here and there, +they were overrun with the adventurous vines of the Convolvulus, the +Morning-glory of the Tropics, whose tendrils, bruised by the twigs, dropped +milk upon the dragon-like scales of the trees. +</p> + +<p> +This vine is of many varieties. Lying perdu, and shunning the garish sun +through the day, one species rises at night with the stars; bursting forth in +dazzling constellations of blossoms, which close at dawn. Others, slumbering +through the darkness, are up and abroad with their petals, by peep of morn; and +after inhaling its breath, again drop their lids in repose. While a third +species, more capricious, refuse to expand at all, unless in the most brilliant +sunshine, and upon the very tops of the loftiest trees. Ambitious flowers! that +will not blow, unless in high places, with the bright day looking on and +admiring. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there, we passed open glades in the woods, delicious with the incense +of violets. Balsamic ferns, stirred by the breeze, fanned all the air with +aromas. These glades were delightful. +</p> + +<p> +Journeying on, we at length came to a dark glen so deftly hidden by the +surrounding copses, that were it not for the miasma thence wafted, an ignorant +wayfarer might pass and repass it, time and again, never dreaming of its +vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +Down into the gloom of this glen we descended. Its sides were mantled with +noxious shrubs, whose exhalations, half way down, unpleasantly blended with the +piny breeze from the uplands. Through its bed ran a brook, whose incrusted +margin had a strange metallic luster, from the polluted waters here flowing; +their source a sulphur spring, of vile flavor and odor, where many invalid +pilgrims resorted. +</p> + +<p> +The woods all round were haunted by the dismal cawings of crows; tap, tap, the +black hawk whetted his bill on the boughs; each trunk stalked a ghost; and from +those trunks, Hevaneva procured the wood for his idols. +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly crossing this place, Yoomy’s hands to his ears, old Mohi’s +to his nostrils, and Babbalanja vainly trying to walk with closed eyes, we +toiled among steep, flinty rocks, along a wild, zigzag pathway; like a +mule-track in the Andes, not so much onward as upward; Yoomy above Babbalanja, +my lord Media above him, and Braid-Beard, our guide, in the air, above all. +</p> + +<p> +Strown over with cinders, the vitreous marl seemed tumbled together, as if +belched from a volcano’s throat. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, we came to a tall, slender structure, hidden among the scenic +projections of the cliffs, like a monument in the dark, vaulted ways of an +abbey. Surrounding it, were five extinct craters. The air was sultry and still, +as if full of spent thunderbolts. +</p> + +<p> +Like a Hindoo pagoda, this bamboo edifice rose story above story; its many +angles and points decorated with pearl-shells suspended by cords. But the +uppermost story, some ten toises in the air, was closely thatched from apex to +floor; which summit was gained by a series of ascents. +</p> + +<p> +What eremite dwelleth here, like St. Stylites at the top of his column?—a +question which Mohi seemed all eagerness to have answered. +</p> + +<p> +Dropping upon his knees, he gave a peculiar low call: no response. Another: all +was silent. Marching up to the pagoda, and again dropping upon his knees, he +shook the bamboos till the edifice rocked, and its pearl-shells jingled, as if +a troop of Andalusian mules, with bells round their necks, were galloping along +the defile. +</p> + +<p> +At length the thatch aloft was thrown open, and a head was thrust forth. It was +that of an old, old man; with steel-gray eyes, hair and beard, and a horrible +necklace of jaw-bones. +</p> + +<p> +Now, issuing from the pagoda, Mohi turned about to gain a view of the ghost he +had raised; and no sooner did he behold it, than with King Media and the rest, +he made a marked salutation. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, the eremite pointed to where Yoomy was standing; and waved his hand +upward; when Mohi informed the minstrel, that it was St. Stylites’ +pleasure, that he should pay him a visit. +</p> + +<p> +Wondering what was to come, Yoomy proceeded to mount; and at last arriving +toward the top of the pagoda, was met by an opening, from which an encouraging +arm assisted him to gain the ultimate landing. +</p> + +<p> +Here, all was murky enough; for the aperture from which the head of the +apparition had been thrust, was now closed; and what little twilight there was, +came up through the opening in the floor. +</p> + +<p> +In this dismal seclusion, silently the hermit confronted the minstrel; his gray +hair, eyes, and beard all gleaming, as if streaked with phosphorus; while his +ghastly gorget grinned hideously, with all its jaws. +</p> + +<p> +Mutely Yoomy waited to be addressed; but hearing no sound, and becoming alive +to the strangeness of his situation, he meditated whether it would not be well +to subside out of sight, even as he had come—through the floor. An +intention which the eremite must have anticipated; for of a sudden, something +was slid over the opening; and the apparition seating itself thereupon, the +twain were in darkness complete. +</p> + +<p> +Shut up thus, with an inscrutable stranger posted at the only aperture of +escape, poor Yoomy fell into something like a panic; hardly knowing what step +to take next. As for endeavoring to force his way out, it was alarming to think +of; for aught he knew, the eremite, availing himself of the gloom, might be +bristling all over with javelin points. +</p> + +<p> +At last, the silence was broken. +</p> + +<p> +“What see you, mortal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Chiefly darkness,” said Yoomy, wondering at the audacity of the +question. +</p> + +<p> +“I dwell in it. But what else see you, mortal?” +</p> + +<p> +“The dim gleaming of thy gorget.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is not me. What else dost thou see?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thou hast found me out, and seen all! Descend.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that, the passage-way opened, and groping through the twilight, Yoomy +obeyed the mandate, and retreated; full of vexation at his enigmatical +reception. +</p> + +<p> +On his alighting, Mohi inquired whether the hermit was not a wonderful +personage. +</p> + +<p> +But thinking some sage waggery lurked in the question; and at present too +indignant to enter into details, the minstrel made some impatient reply; and +winding through a defile, the party resumed its journey. +</p> + +<p> +Straggling behind, to survey the strange plants and flowers in his path, Yoomy +became so absorbed, as almost to forget the scene in the pagoda; yet every +moment expected to be nearing the stately abode of the Pontiff. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly, the scene around grew familiar; the path seemed that which had +been followed just after leaving the canoes; and at length, the place of +debarkation was in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Surprised that the object of our visit should have been thus abandoned, the +minstrel ran forward, and sought an explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon, Mohi lifted his hands in amazement; exclaiming at the blindness of +the eyes, which had beheld the supreme Pontiff of Maramma, without knowing it. +</p> + +<p> +The old hermit was no other than the dread Hivohitee; the pagoda, the inmost +oracle of the isle. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +Babbalanja Endeavors To Explain The Mystery</h2> + +<p> +This Great Mogul of a personage, then; this woundy Aliasuerus; this man of men; +this same Hivohitee, whose name rumbled among the mountains like a peal of +thunder, had been seen face to face, and taken for naught, but a bearded old +hermit, or at best, some equivocal conjuror. +</p> + +<p> +So great was his wonderment at the time, that Yoomy could not avoid expressing +it in words. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon thus discoursed Babbalanja: +</p> + +<p> +“Gentle Yoomy, be not astounded, that Hivohitee is so far behind your +previous conceptions. The shadows of things are greater than themselves; and +the more exaggerated the shadow, the more unlike to the substance.” +</p> + +<p> +“But knowing now, what manner of person Hivohitee is,” said Yoomy, +“much do I long to behold him again.” +</p> + +<p> +But Mohi assured him it was out of the question; that the Pontiff always acted +toward strangers as toward him (Yoomy); and that but one dim blink at the +eremite was all that mortal could obtain. +</p> + +<p> +Debarred thus from a second and more satisfactory interview with one, +concerning whom his curiosity had been violently aroused, the minstrel again +turned to Mohi for enlightenment; especially touching that magnate’s +Egyptian reception of him in his aerial den. +</p> + +<p> +Whereto, the chronicler made answer, that the Pontiff affected darkness because +he liked it: that he was a ruler of few words, but many deeds; and that, had +Yoomy been permitted to tarry longer with him in the pagoda, he would have been +privy to many strange attestations of the divinity imputed to him. Voices would +have been heard in the air, gossiping with Hivohitee; noises inexplicable +proceeding from him; in brief, light would have flashed out of his darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“But who has seen these things, Mohi?” said Babbalanja, “have +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who then?—Media?—Any one you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay: but the whole Archipelago has.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus,” exclaimed Babbalanja, “does Mardi, blind though it be +in many things, collectively behold the marvels, which one pair of eyes sees +not.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +Taji Receives Tidings And Omens</h2> + +<p> +Slowly sailing on, we were overtaken by a shallop; whose inmates grappling to +the side of Media’s, said they came from Borabolla. +</p> + +<p> +Dismal tidings!—My faithful follower’s death. +</p> + +<p> +Absent over night, that morning early, he had been discovered lifeless in the +woods, three arrows in his heart. And the three pale strangers were nowhere to +be found. But a fleet canoe was missing from the beach. +</p> + +<p> +Slain for me! my soul sobbed out. Nor yet appeased Aleema’s manes; nor +yet seemed sated the avengers’ malice; who, doubtless, were on my track. +</p> + +<p> +But I turned; and instantly the three canoes had been reversed; and full soon, +Jarl’s dead hand in mine, had not Media interposed. +</p> + +<p> +“To death, your presence will not bring life back.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we must on,” said Babbalanja. “We seek the living, not +the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus they overruled me; and Borabolla’s messengers departed. +</p> + +<p> +Soon evening came, and in its shades, three shadows,—Hautia’s +heralds. +</p> + +<p> +Their shallop glided near. +</p> + +<p> +A leaf tri-foiled was first presented; then another, arrow-shaped. +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “Still I swiftly follow, behind revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +Then were showered faded, pallid daffodils. +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “Thy hopes are blighted all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not dead, but living with the life of life. Sirens! I heed ye +not.” +</p> + +<p> +They would have showered more flowers; but crowding sail we left them. +</p> + +<p> +Much converse followed. Then, beneath the canopy all sought repose. And ere +long slouched sleep drew nigh, tending dreams innumerable; silent dotting all +the downs a shepherd with his flock. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER XV.<br/> +Dreams</h2> + +<p> +Dreams! dreams! golden dreams: endless, and golden, as the flowery prairies, +that stretch away from the Rio Sacramento, in whose waters Danae’s shower +was woven;—prairies like rounded eternities: jonquil leaves beaten out; +and my dreams herd like buffaloes, browsing on to the horizon, and browsing on +round the world; and among them, I dash with my lance, to spear one, ere they +all flee. +</p> + +<p> +Dreams! dreams! passing and repassing, like Oriental empires in history; and +scepters wave thick, as Bruce’s pikes at Bannockburn; and crowns are +plenty as marigolds in June. And far in the background, hazy and blue, their +steeps let down from the sky, loom Andes on Andes, rooted on Alps; and all +round me, long rushing oceans, roll Amazons and Oronocos; waves, mounted +Parthians; and, to and fro, toss the wide woodlands: all the world an elk, and +the forests its antlers. +</p> + +<p> +But far to the South, past my Sicily suns and my vineyards, stretches the +Antarctic barrier of ice: a China wall, built up from the sea, and nodding its +frosted towers in the dun, clouded sky. Do Tartary and Siberia lie beyond? +Deathful, desolate dominions those; bleak and wild the ocean, beating at that +barrier’s base, hovering ’twixt freezing and foaming; and freighted +with navies of ice-bergs,—warring worlds crossing orbits; their long +icicles, projecting like spears to the charge. Wide away stream the floes of +drift ice, frozen cemeteries of skeletons and bones. White bears howl as they +drift from their cubs; and the grinding islands crush the skulls of the peering +seals. +</p> + +<p> +But beneath me, at the Equator, the earth pulses and beats like a +warrior’s heart; till I know not, whether it be not myself. And my soul +sinks down to the depths, and soars to the skies; and comet-like reels on +through such boundless expanses, that methinks all the worlds are my kin, and I +invoke them to stay in their course. Yet, like a mighty three-decker, towing +argosies by scores, I tremble, gasp, and strain in my flight, and fain would +cast off the cables that hamper. +</p> + +<p> +And like a frigate, I am full with a thousand souls; and as on, on, on, I scud +before the wind, many mariners rush up from the orlop below, like miners from +caves; running shouting across my decks; opposite braces are pulled; and this +way and that, the great yards swing round on their axes; and boisterous +speaking-trumpets are heard; and contending orders, to save the good ship from +the shoals. Shoals, like nebulous vapors, shoreing the white reef of the Milky +Way, against which the wrecked worlds are dashed; strewing all the strand, with +their Himmaleh keels and ribs. +</p> + +<p> +Ay: many, many souls are in me. In my tropical calms, when my ship lies tranced +on Eternity’s main, speaking one at a time, then all with one voice: an +orchestra of many French bugles and horns, rising, and falling, and swaying, in +golden calls and responses. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, when these Atlantics and Pacifics thus undulate round me, I lie +stretched out in their midst: a land-locked Mediterranean, knowing no ebb, nor +flow. Then again, I am dashed in the spray of these sounds: an eagle at the +world’s end, tossed skyward, on the horns of the tempest. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, again, I descend, and list to the concert. +</p> + +<p> +Like a grand, ground swell, Homer’s old organ rolls its vast volumes +under the light frothy wave-crests of Anacreon and Hafiz; and high over my +ocean, sweet Shakespeare soars, like all the larks of the spring. Throned on my +seaside, like Canute, bearded Ossian smites his hoar harp, wreathed with +wild-flowers, in which warble my Wallers; blind Milton sings bass to my +Petrarchs and Priors, and laureate crown me with bays. +</p> + +<p> +In me, many worthies recline, and converse. I list to St. Paul who argues the +doubts of Montaigne; Julian the Apostate cross-questions Augustine; and +Thomas-a-Kempis unrolls his old black letters for all to decipher. Zeno murmurs +maxims beneath the hoarse shout of Democritus; and though Democritus laugh loud +and long, and the sneer of Pyrrho be seen; yet, divine Plato, and Proclus, and, +Verulam are of my counsel; and Zoroaster whispered me before I was born. I walk +a world that is mine; and enter many nations, as Mingo Park rested in African +cots; I am served like Bajazet: Bacchus my butler, Virgil my minstrel, Philip +Sidney my page. My memory is a life beyond birth; my memory, my library of the +Vatican, its alcoves all endless perspectives, eve-tinted by cross-lights from +Middle-Age oriels. +</p> + +<p> +And as the great Mississippi musters his watery nations: Ohio, with all his +leagued streams; Missouri, bringing down in torrents the clans from the +highlands; Arkansas, his Tartar rivers from the plain;—so, with all the +past and present pouring in me, I roll down my billow from afar. +</p> + +<p> +Yet not I, but another: God is my Lord; and though many satellites revolve +around me, I and all mine revolve round the great central Truth, sun-like, +fixed and luminous forever in the foundationless firmament. +</p> + +<p> +Fire flames on my tongue; and though of old the Bactrian prophets were stoned, +yet the stoners in oblivion sleep. But whoso stones me, shall be as Erostratus, +who put torch to the temple; though Genghis Khan with Cambyses combine to +obliterate him, his name shall be extant in the mouth of the last man that +lives. And if so be, down unto death, whence I came, will I go, like Xenophon +retreating on Greece, all Persia brandishing her spears in his rear. +</p> + +<p> +My cheek blanches white while I write; I start at the scratch of my pen; my own +mad brood of eagles devours me; fain would I unsay this audacity; but an +iron-mailed hand clenches mine in a vice, and prints down every letter in my +spite. Fain would I hurl off this Dionysius that rides me; my thoughts crush me +down till I groan; in far fields I hear the song of the reaper, while I slave +and faint in this cell. The fever runs through me like lava; my hot brain burns +like a coal; and like many a monarch, I am less to be envied, than the veriest +hind in the land. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +Media And Babbalanja Discourse</h2> + +<p> +Our visiting the Pontiff at a time previously unforeseen, somewhat altered our +plans. All search in Maramma for the lost one proving fruitless, and nothing of +note remaining to be seen, we returned not to Uma; but proceeded with the tour +of the lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +When day came, reclining beneath the canopy, Babbalanja would fain have +seriously discussed those things we had lately been seeing, which, for all the +occasional levity he had recently evinced, seemed very near his heart. +</p> + +<p> +But my lord Media forbade; saying that they necessarily included a topic which +all gay, sensible Mardians, who desired to live and be merry, invariably +banished from social discourse. +</p> + +<p> +“Meditate as much as you will, Babbalanja, but say little aloud, unless +in a merry and mythical way. Lay down the great maxims of things, but let +inferences take care of themselves. Never be special; never, a partisan. In +safety, afar off, you may batter down a fortress; but at your peril you essay +to carry a single turret by escalade. And if doubts distract you, in vain will +you seek sympathy from your fellow men. For upon this one theme, not a few of +you free-minded mortals, even the otherwise honest and intelligent, are the +least frank and friendly. Discourse with them, and it is mostly formulas, or +prevarications, or hollow assumption of philosophical indifference, or urbane +hypocrisies, or a cool, civil deference to the dominant belief; or still worse, +but less common, a brutality of indiscriminate skepticism. Furthermore, +Babbalanja, on this head, final, last thoughts you mortals have none; nor can +have; and, at bottom, your own fleeting fancies are too often secrets to +yourselves; and sooner may you get another’s secret, than your own. Thus +with the wisest of you all; you are ever unfixed. Do you show a tropical calm +without? then, be sure a thousand contrary currents whirl and eddy within. The +free, airy robe of your philosophy is but a dream, which seems true while it +lasts; but waking again into the orthodox world, straightway you resume the old +habit. And though in your dreams you may hie to the uttermost Orient, yet all +the while you abide where you are. Babbalanja, you mortals dwell in Mardi, and +it is impossible to get elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, “My lord, you school me. But though I dissent from some +of your positions, I am willing to confess, that this is not the first time a +philosopher has been instructed by a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“A demi-god, sir; and therefore I the more readily discharge my mind of +all seriousness, touching the subject, with which you mortals so vex and +torment yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence ensued. And seated apart, on both sides of the barge, solemnly swaying, +in fixed meditation, to the roll of the waves, Babbalanja, Mohi, and Yoomy, +drooped lower and lower, like funeral plumes; and our gloomy canoe seemed a +hearse. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +They Regale Themselves With Their Pipes</h2> + +<p> +“Ho! mortals! mortals!” cried Media. “Go we to bury our dead? +Awake, sons of men! Cheer up, heirs of immortality! Ho, Vee-Vee! bring forth +our pipes: we’ll smoke off this cloud.” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing so beguiling as the fumes of tobacco, whether inhaled through hookah, +narghil, chibouque, Dutch porcelain, pure Principe, or Regalia. And a great +oversight had it been in King Media, to have omitted pipes among the appliances +of this voyage that we went. Tobacco in rouleaus we had none; cigar nor +cigarret; which little the company esteemed. Pipes were preferred; and pipes we +often smoked; testify, oh! Vee-Vee, to that. But not of the vile clay, of which +mankind and Etruscan vases were made, were these jolly fine pipes of ours. But +all in good time. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the leaf called tobacco is of divers species and sorts. Not to dwell upon +vile Shag, Pig-tail, Plug, Nail-rod, Negro-head, Cavendish, and misnamed +Lady’s-twist, there are the following varieties:—Gold- leaf, +Oronoco, Cimaroza, Smyrna, Bird’s-eye, James-river, Sweet-scented, +Honey-dew, Kentucky, Cnaster, Scarfalati, and famed Shiraz, or Persian. Of all +of which, perhaps the last is the best. +</p> + +<p> +But smoked by itself, to a fastidious wight, even Shiraz is not gentle enough. +It needs mitigation. And the cunning craft of so mitigating even the mildest +tobacco was well understood in the dominions of Media. There, in plantations +ever covered with a brooding, blue haze, they raised its fine leaf in the +utmost luxuriance; almost as broad as the broad fans of the broad-bladed +banana. The stalks of the leaf withdrawn, the remainder they cut up, and mixed +with soft willow-bark, and the aromatic leaves of the Betel. +</p> + +<p> +“Ho! Vee-Vee, bring forth the pipes,” cried Media. And forth they +came, followed by a quaint, carved cocoa-nut, agate-lidded, containing +ammunition sufficient for many stout charges and primings. +</p> + +<p> +Soon we were all smoking so hard, that the canopied howdah, under which we +reclined, sent up purple wreaths like a Michigan wigwam. There we sat in a +ring, all smoking in council—every pipe a halcyon pipe of peace. +</p> + +<p> +And among those calumets, my lord Media’s showed like the turbaned Grand +Turk among his Bashaws. It was an extraordinary pipe, be sure; of right royal +dimensions. Its mouth-piece an eagle’s beak; its long stem, a bright, +red-barked cherry-tree branch, partly covered with a close network of purple +dyed porcupine quills; and toward the upper end, streaming with pennons, like a +Versailles flag-staff of a coronation day. These pennons were managed by +halyards; and after lighting his prince’s pipe, it was little +Vee-Vee’s part to run them up toward the mast-head, or mouthpiece, in +token that his lord was fairly under weigh. +</p> + +<p> +But Babbalanja’s was of a different sort; an immense, black, serpentine +stem of ebony, coiling this way and that, in endless convolutions, like an +anaconda round a traveler in Brazil. Smoking this hydra, Babbalanja looked as +if playing upon the trombone. +</p> + +<p> +Next, gentle Yoomy’s. Its stem, a slender golden reed, like musical +Pan’s; its bowl very merry with tassels. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, old Mohi the chronicler’s. Its Death’s-head bowl forming +its latter end, continually reminding him of his own. Its shank was an +ostrich’s leg, some feathers still waving nigh the mouth-piece. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, Vee-Vee! fill me up again,” cried Media, through the blue +vapors sweeping round his great gonfalon, like plumed Marshal Ney, waving his +baton in the smoke of Waterloo; or thrice gallant Anglesea, crossing his wooden +leg mid the reek and rack of the Apsley House banquet. +</p> + +<p> +Vee-Vee obeyed; and quickly, like a howitzer, the pipe-owl was reloaded to the +muzzle, and King Media smoked on. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! this is pleasant indeed,” he cried. “Look, it’s a +calm on the waters, and a calm in our hearts, as we inhale these sedative +odors.” +</p> + +<p> +“So calm,” said Babbalanja; “the very gods must be smoking +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“And thus,” said Media, “we demi-gods hereafter shall +cross-legged sit, and smoke out our eternities. Ah, what a glorious puff! +Mortals, methinks these pipe-bowls of ours must be petrifactions of roses, so +scented they seem. But, old Mohi, you have smoked this many a long year; +doubtless, you know something about their material—the Froth-of-the-Sea +they call it, I think—ere my handicraft subjects obtain it, to work into +bowls. Tell us the tale.” +</p> + +<p> +“Delighted to do so, my lord,” replied Mohi, slowly disentangling +his mouth-piece from the braids of his beard. “I have devoted much time +and attention to the study of pipe-bowls, and groped among many learned +authorities, to reconcile the clashing opinions concerning the origin of the +so-called Farnoo, or Froth-of-the-Sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, my old centenarian, give us the result of your +investigations. But smoke away: a word and a puff go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“May it please you, then, my right worshipful lord, this Farnoo is an +unctuous, argillaceous substance; in its natural state, soft, malleable, and +easily worked as the cornelian-red clay from the famous pipe-quarries of the +wild tribes to the North. But though mostly found buried in terra-firma, +especially in the isles toward the East, this Farnoo, my lord, is sometimes +thrown up by the ocean; in seasons of high sea, being plentifully found on the +reefs. But, my lord, like amber, the precise nature and origin of this Farnoo +are points widely mooted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop there!” cried Media; “our mouth-pieces are of amber; +so, not a word more of the Froth-of-the-Sea, until something be said to clear +up the mystery of amber. What is amber, old man?” +</p> + +<p> +“A still more obscure thing to trace than the other, my worshipful lord. +Ancient Plinnee maintained, that originally it must be a juice, exuding from +balsam firs and pines; Borhavo, that, like camphor, it is the crystalized oil +of aromatic ferns; Berzilli, that it is the concreted scum of the lake +Cephioris; and Vondendo, against scores of antagonists, stoutly held it a sort +of bituminous gold, trickling from antediluvian smugglers’ caves, nigh +the sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, old Braid-Beard,” cried Media, placing his pipe in rest, +“you are almost as erudite as our philosopher here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much more so, my lord,” said Babbalanja; “for Mohi has +somehow picked up all my worthless forgettings, which are more than my valuable +rememberings.” +</p> + +<p> +“What say you, wise one?” cried Mohi, shaking his braids, like an +enraged elephant with many trunks. +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy: “My lord, I have heard that amber is nothing less than the +congealed tears of broken-hearted mermaids.” +</p> + +<p> +“Absurd, minstrel,” cried Mohi. “Hark ye; I know what it is. +All other authorities to the contrary, amber is nothing more than +gold-fishes’ brains, made waxy, then firm, by the action of the +sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Braid-Beard, waving his pipe, this thing is just as +I say. Imbedded in amber, do we not find little fishes’ fins, +porpoise-teeth, sea-gulls’ beaks and claws; nay, butterflies’ +wings, and sometimes a topaz? And how could that be, unless the substance was +first soft? Amber is gold-fishes’ brains, I say.” +</p> + +<p> +“For one,” said Babbalanja, “I’ll not believe that, +till you prove to me, Braid-Beard, that ideas themselves are found imbedded +therein.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another of your crazy conceits, philosopher,” replied Mohi, +disdainfully; “yet, sometimes plenty of strange black-letter characters +have been discovered in amber.” And throwing back his hoary old head, he +jetted forth his vapors like a whale. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” cried Babbalanja. “Then, my lord Media, it may be +earnestly inquired, whether the gentle laws of the tribes before the flood, +were not sought to be embalmed and perpetuated between transparent and sweet +scented tablets of amber.” +</p> + +<p> +“That, now, is not so unlikely,” said Mohi; “for old King +Rondo the Round once set about getting him a coffin-lid of amber; much desiring +a famous mass of it owned by the ancestors of Donjalolo of Juam. But no navies +could buy it. So Rondo had himself urned in a crystal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that immortalized Rondo, no doubt,” said Babbalanja. +“Ha! ha! pity he fared not like the fat porpoise frozen and tombed in an +iceberg; its icy shroud drifting south, soon melted away, and down, out of +sight, sunk the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, so much for amber,” cried Media. “Now, Mohi, go on +about Farnoo.” +</p> + +<p> +“Know, then, my lord, that Farnoo is more like ambergris than +amber.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it? then, pray, tell us something on that head. You know all about +ambergris, too, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Every thing about all things, my lord. Ambergris is found both on land +and at sea. But especially, are lumps of it picked up on the spicy coasts of +Jovanna; indeed, all over the atolls and reefs in the eastern quarter of +Mardi.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what is this ambergris? Braid-Beard,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Aquovi, the chymist, pronounced it the fragments of mushrooms growing at +the bottom of the sea; Voluto held, that like naptha, it springs from fountains +down there. But it is neither.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard,” said Yoomy, “that it is the honey-comb of +bees, fallen from flowery cliffs into the brine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing of the kind,” said Mohi. “Do I not know all about +it, minstrel? Ambergris is the petrified gall-stones of crocodiles.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried Babbalanja, “comes sweet scented ambergris from +those musky and chain-plated river cavalry? No wonder, then, their flesh is so +fragrant; their upper jaws as the visors of vinaigrettes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, you are all wrong,” cried King Media. +</p> + +<p> +Then, laughing to himself:—“It’s pleasant to sit by, a +demi-god, and hear the surmisings of mortals, upon things they know nothing +about; theology, or amber, or ambergris, it’s all the same. But then, did +I always out with every thing I know, there would be no conversing with these +comical creatures. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, old Mohi; ambergris is a morbid secretion of the Spermaceti +whale; for like you mortals, the whale is at times a sort of hypochondriac and +dyspeptic. You must know, subjects, that in antediluvian times, the Spermaceti +whale was much hunted by sportsmen, that being accounted better pastime, than +pursuing the Behemoths on shore. Besides, it was a lucrative diversion. Now, +sometimes upon striking the monster, it would start off in a dastardly fright, +leaving certain fragments in its wake. These fragments the hunters picked up, +giving over the chase for a while. For in those days, as now, a quarter-quintal +of ambergris was more valuable than a whole ton of spermaceti.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “would it have been wise to +kill the fish that dropped such treasures: no more than to murder the noddy +that laid the golden eggs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beshrew me! a noddy it must have been,” gurgled Mohi through his +pipe-stem, “to lay golden eggs for others to hatch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, no more of that now,” cried Media. “Mohi, how long +think you, may one of these pipe-bowls last?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, like one’s cranium, it will endure till broken. I have +smoked this one of mine more than half a century.” +</p> + +<p> +“But unlike our craniums, stocked full of concretions,” said +Babbalanja, our pipe-bowls never need clearing out.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” said Mohi, “they absorb the oil of the smoke, instead +of allowing it offensively to incrust.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, the older the better,” said Media, “and the more +delicious the flavor imparted to the fumes inhaled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farnoos forever! my lord,” cried Yoomy. “By much smoking, +the bowl waxes russet and mellow, like the berry-brown cheek of a sunburnt +brunette.” +</p> + +<p> +“And as like smoked hams,” cried Braid-Beard, “we veteran old +smokers grow browner and browner; hugely do we admire to see our jolly noses +and pipe-bowls mellowing together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well said, old man,” cried Babbalanja; “for, like a good +wife, a pipe is a friend and companion for life. And whoso weds with a pipe, is +no longer a bachelor. After many vexations, he may go home to that faithful +counselor, and ever find it full of kind consolations and suggestions. But not +thus with cigars or cigarrets: the acquaintances of a moment, chatted with in +by-places, whenever they come handy; their existence so fugitive, uncertain, +unsatisfactory. Once ignited, nothing like longevity pertains to them. They +never grow old. Why, my lord, the stump of a cigarret is an abomination; and +two of them crossed are more of a <i>memento-mori</i>, than a brace of +thigh-bones at right angles.” +</p> + +<p> +“So they are, so they are,” cried King Media. “Then, mortals, +puff we away at our pipes. Puff, puff, I say. Ah! how we puff! But thus we +demi-gods ever puff at our ease.” +</p> + +<p> +“Puff; puff, how we puff,” cried Babbalanja. “but life itself +is a puff and a wheeze. Our lungs are two pipes which we constantly +smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“Puff, puff! how we puff,” cried old Mohi. “All thought is a +puff.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Babbalanja, “not more smoke in that skull-bowl of +yours than in the skull on your shoulders: both ends alike.” +</p> + +<p> +“Puff! puff! how we puff,” cried Yoomy. “But in every puff, +there hangs a wreath. In every puff, off flies a care.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, there they go,” cried Mohi, “there goes +another—and, there, and there;—this is the way to get rid of them +my worshipful lord; puff them aside.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yoomy,” said Media, “give us that pipe song of thine. Sing +it, my sweet and pleasant poet. We’ll keep time with the flageolets of +ours.” +</p> + +<p> +“So with pipes and puffs for a chorus, thus Yoomy sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Care is all stuff:—<br/> + Puff! Puff:<br/> +To puff is enough:—<br/> + Puff! Puff!<br/> +More musky than snuff,<br/> +And warm is a puff:—<br/> + Puff! Puff!<br/> +Here we sit mid our puffs,<br/> +Like old lords in their ruffs,<br/> +Snug as bears in their muffs:—<br/> + Puff! Puff!<br/> +Then puff, puff, puff;<br/> +For care is all stuff,<br/> +Puffed off in a puff:—<br/> + Puff! Puff! +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, puff away,” cried Babbalanja, “puff; puff, so we are +born, and so die. Puff, puff, my volcanos: the great sun itself will yet go out +in a snuff, and all Mardi smoke out its last wick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Puffs enough,” said King Media, “Vee-Vee! haul down my flag. +There, lie down before me, oh Gonfalon! and, subjects, hear,—when I die, +lay this spear on my right, and this pipe on my left, its colors at half mast; +so shall I be ambidexter, and sleep between eloquent symbols.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018"></a> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +They Visit An Extraordinary Old Antiquary</h2> + +<p> +“About prows there, ye paddlers,” cried Media. “In this fog +we’ve been raising, we have sailed by Padulla, our destination.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Padulla, was but a little island, tributary to a neighboring king; its +population embracing some hundreds of thousands of leaves, and flowers, and +butterflies, yet only two solitary mortals; one, famous as a venerable +antiquarian: a collector of objects of Mardian vertu; a cognoscenti, and +dilettante in things old and marvelous; and for that reason, very choice of +himself. +</p> + +<p> +He went by the exclamatory cognomen of “Oh-Oh;” a name bestowed +upon him, by reason of the delighted interjections, with which he welcomed all +accessions to his museum. +</p> + +<p> +Now, it was to obtain a glimpse of this very museum, that Media was anxious to +touch at Padulla. +</p> + +<p> +Landing, and passing through a grove, we were accosted by Oh-Oh himself; who, +having heard the shouts of our paddlers, had sallied forth, staff in hand. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was a sight to see; especially his nose; a remarkable one. And all +Mardi over, a remarkable nose is a prominent feature: an ever obvious passport +to distinction. For, after all, this gaining a name, is but the individualizing +of a man; as well achieved by an extraordinary nose, as by an extraordinary +epic. Far better, indeed; for you may pass poets without knowing them. Even a +hero, is no hero without his sword; nor Beelzebub himself a lion, minus that +lasso-tail of his, wherewith he catches his prey. Whereas, he who is famous +through his nose, it is impossible to overlook. He is a celebrity without +toiling for a name. Snugly ensconced behind his proboscis, he revels in its +shadow, receiving tributes of attention wherever he goes. +</p> + +<p> +Not to enter at large upon the topography of Oh-Oh’s nasal organ, all +must be content with this; that it was of a singular magnitude, and boldly +aspiring at the end; an exclamation point in the face of the wearer, forever +wondering at the visible universe. The eyes of Oh-Oh were like the +creature’s that the Jew abhors: placed slanting in his head, and +converging their rays toward the mouth; which was no Mouth, but a gash. +</p> + +<p> +I mean not to be harsh, or unpleasant upon thee, Oh-Oh; but I must paint thee +as thou wert. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of his person was crooked, and dwarfed, and surmounted by a hump, that +sat on his back like a burden. And a weary load is a hump, Heaven knows, only +to be cast off in the grave. +</p> + +<p> +Thus old, and antiquated, and gable-ended, was the tabernacle of Oh-Oh’s +soul. But his person was housed in as curious a structure. Built of old boughs +of trees blown down in the groves, and covered over with unruly thatching, it +seemed, without, some ostrich nest. But within, so intricate, and grotesque, +its brown alleys and cells, that the interior of no walnut was more +labyrinthine. +</p> + +<p> +And here, strewn about, all dusty and disordered, were the precious antiques, +and curios, and obsoletes, which to Oh-Oh were dear as the apple of his eye, or +the memory of departed days. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was exceedingly importunate, in directing attention to his relics; +concerning each of which, he had an endless story to tell. Time would fail; +nay, patience, to repeat his legends. So, in order, here follow the most +prominent of his rarities:— +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p> +The identical Canoe, in which, ages back, the god Unja came from the bottom of +the sea. (Very ponderous; of lignum-vitae wood). +</p> + +<p> +A stone Flower-pot, containing in the original soil, Unja’s last +footprints, when he embarked from Mardi for parts unknown. (One foot-print +unaccountably reversed). +</p> + +<p> +The Jaw-bones of Tooroorooloo, a great orator in the days of Unja. (Somewhat +twisted). +</p> + +<p> +A quaint little Fish-hook. (Made from the finger-bones of Kravi the Cunning). +</p> + +<p> +The mystic Gourd; carved all over with cabalistic triangles, and hypogrifs; by +study of which a reputed prophet, was said to have obtained his inspiration. +(Slightly redolent of vineyards). +</p> + +<p> +The complete Skeleton of an immense Tiger-shark; the bones of a +Pearl-shell-diver’s leg inside. (Picked off the reef at low tide). +</p> + +<p> +An inscrutable, shapeless block of a mottled-hued, smoke-dried wood. (Three +unaccountable holes drilled through the middle). +</p> + +<p> +A sort of ecclesiastical Fasces, being the bony blades of nine sword- fish, +basket-hilted with shark’s jaws, braided round and tasseled with cords of +human hair. (Now obsolete). +</p> + +<p> +The mystic Fan with which Unja fanned himself when in trouble. (Woven from the +leaves of the Water-Lily). +</p> + +<p> +A Tripod of a Stork’s Leg, supporting a nautilus shell, containing the +fragments of a bird’s egg; into which, was said to have been magically +decanted the soul of a deceased chief. (Unfortunately crushed in by atmospheric +pressure). +</p> + +<p> +Two clasped Right Hands, embalmed; being those of twin warriors, who thus died +on a battle-field. (Impossible to sunder). +</p> + +<p> +A curious Pouch, or Purse, formed from the skin of an Albatross’ foot, +and decorated with three sharp claws, naturally pertaining to it. (Originally +the property of a notorious old Tooth-per-Tooth). +</p> + +<p> +A long tangled lock of Mermaid’s Hair, much resembling the curling silky +fibres of the finer sea-weed. (Preserved between fins of the dolphin). +</p> + +<p> +A Mermaid’s Comb for the toilet. The stiff serrated crest of a Cook +Storm-petrel (Oh-Oh was particularly curious concerning Mermaids). +</p> + +<p> +Files, Rasps, and Pincers, all bone, the implements of an eminent Chiropedist, +who flourished his tools before the flood. (Owing to the excessive unevenness +of the surface in those times, the diluvians were peculiarly liable to pedal +afflictions). +</p> + +<p> +The back Tooth, that Zozo the Enthusiast, in token of grief, recklessly knocked +out at the decease of a friend. (Worn to a stump and quite useless). +</p> +</div> + +<p> +These wonders inspected, Oh-Oh conducted us to an arbor, to show us the famous +telescope, by help of which, he said he had discovered an ant-hill in the moon. +It rested in the crotch of a Bread-fruit tree; and was a prodigiously long and +hollow trunk of a Palm; a scale from a sea-kraken its lens. +</p> + +<p> +Then returning to his cabinet, he pointed to a bamboo microscope, which had +wonderfully assisted him in his entomological pursuits. +</p> + +<p> +“By this instrument, my masters,” said he, “I have satisfied +myself, that in the eye of a dragon-fly there are precisely twelve thousand +five hundred and forty-one triangular lenses; and in the leg of a flea, scores +on scores of distinct muscles. Now, my masters, how far think you a flea may +leap at one spring? Why, two hundred times its own length; I have often +measured their leaps, with a small measure I use for scientific +purposes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, Oh-Oh,” said Babbalanja, “your discoveries must ere +long result in something grand; since you furnish such invaluable data for +theorists. Pray, attend, my lord Media. If, at one spring, a flea leaps two +hundred times its own length, then, with the like proportion of muscles in his +calves, a bandit might pounce upon the unwary traveler from a quarter of a mile +off. Is it not so, Oh-Oh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, but it is, my masters. And one of the greatest consolations I +draw from these studies, is the ever-strengthening conviction of the beneficent +wisdom that framed our Mardi. For did men possess thighs in proportion to +fleas, verily, the wicked would grievously leap about, and curvet in the +isles.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Oh-Oh,” said Babbalanja, “what other discoveries have +you made? Hast yet put a usurer under your lens, to find his conscience? or a +libertine, to find his heart? Hast yet brought your microscope to bear upon a +downy peach, or a rosy cheek?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” said Oh-Oh, mournfully; “and from the moment I so +did, I have had no heart to eat a peach, or salute a cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then dash your lens!” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Well said, my lord. For all the eyes we get beyond our own, but minister +to infelicity. The microscope disgusts us with our Mardi; and the telescope +sets us longing for some other world.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0019"></a> +CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +They Go Down Into The Catacombs</h2> + +<p> +With a dull flambeau, we now descended some narrow stone steps, to view +Oh-Oh’s collection of ancient and curious manuscripts, preserved in a +vault. +</p> + +<p> +“This way, this way, my masters,” cried Oh-Oh, aloft, swinging his +dim torch. “Keep your hands before you; it’s a dark road to +travel.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it seems,” said Babbalanja, wide-groping, as he descended lower +and lower. “My lord this is like going down to posterity.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon gaining the vault, forth flew a score or two of bats, extinguishing the +flambeau, and leaving us in darkness, like Belzoni deserted by his Arabs in the +heart of a pyramid. The torch at last relumed, we entered a tomb-like +excavation, at every step raising clouds of dust; and at last stood before long +rows of musty, mummyish parcels, so dingy-red, and so rolled upon sticks, that +they looked like stiff sausages of Bologna; but smelt like some fine old +Stilton or Cheshire. +</p> + +<p> +Most ancient of all, was a hieroglyphical Elegy on the Dumps, consisting of one +thousand and one lines; the characters,—herons, weeping-willows, and +ravens, supposed to have been traced by a quill from the sea-noddy. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were plenty of rare old ballads:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“King Kroko, and the Fisher Girl.”<br/> +“The Fight at the Ford of Spears.”<br/> +“The Song of the Skulls.” +</p> + +<p> +And brave old chronicles, that made Mohi’s mouth water:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The Rise and Setting of the Dynasty of Foofoo.”<br/> +“The Heroic History of the Noble Prince Dragoni; showing how he killed +ten Pinioned Prisoners with his Own Hand.”<br/> +“The whole Pedigree of the King of Kandidee, with that of his famous +horse, Znorto.” +</p> + +<p> +And Tarantula books:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Sour Milk for the Young, by a Dairyman.”<br/> +“The Devil adrift, by a Corsair.”<br/> +“Grunts and Groans, by a Mad Boar.”<br/> +“Stings, by a Scorpion.” +</p> + +<p> +And poetical productions:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Suffusions of a Lily in a Shower.”<br/> +“Sonnet on the last Breath of an Ephemera.”<br/> +“The Gad-fly, and Other Poems.” +</p> + +<p> +And metaphysical treatises:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Necessitarian not Predestinarian.”<br/> +“Philosophical Necessity and Predestination One Thing and The +Same.”<br/> +“Whatever is not, is.”<br/> +“Whatever is, is not.” +</p> + +<p> +And scarce old memoirs:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The One Hundred Books of the Biography of the Great and Good King +Grandissimo.”<br/> +“The Life of old Philo, the Philanthropist, in one Chapter.” +</p> + +<p> +And popular literature:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“A most Sweet, Pleasant, and Unctuous Account of the Manner in which +Five-and-Forty Robbers were torn asunder by Swiftly-Going Canoes.” +</p> + +<p> +And books by chiefs and nobles:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The Art of Making a Noise in Mardi.”<br/> +“On the Proper Manner of Saluting a Bosom Friend.”<br/> +“Letters from a Father to a Son, inculcating the Virtue of +Vice.”<br/> +“Pastorals by a Younger Son.”<br/> +“A Catalogue of Chieftains who have been Authors, by a Chieftain, who +disdains to be deemed an Author.”<br/> +“A Canto on a Cough caught by my Consort.”<br/> +“The Philosophy of Honesty, by a late Lord, who died in disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +And theological works:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Pepper for the Perverse.”<br/> +“Pudding for the Pious.”<br/> +“Pleas for Pardon.”<br/> +“Pickles for the Persecuted.” +</p> + +<p> +And long and tedious romances with short and easy titles:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The Buck.”<br/> +“The Belle.”<br/> +“The King and the Cook, or the Cook and the King.” +</p> + +<p> +And books of voyages:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“A Sojourn among the Anthropophagi, by One whose Hand was eaten off at +Tiffin among the Savages.”<br/> +“Franko: its King, Court, and Tadpoles.”<br/> +“Three Hours in Vivenza, containing a Full and Impartial Account of that +Whole Country: by a Subject of King Bello.” +</p> + +<p> +And works of nautical poets:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Sky-Sail-Pole Lyrics.” +</p> + +<p> +And divers brief books, with panic-striking titles:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Are you safe?”<br/> +“A Voice from Below.”<br/> +“Hope for none.”<br/> +“Fire for all.” +</p> + +<p> +And pamphlets by retired warriors:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“On the Best Gravy for Wild Boar’s Meat.”<br/> +“Three Receipts for Bottling New Arrack.”<br/> +“To Brown Bread Fruit without Burning.”<br/> +“Advice to the Dyspeptic.”<br/> +“On Starch for Tappa.” +</p> + +<p> +All these MSS. were highly prized by Oh-Oh. He averred, that they spoke of the +mighty past, which he reverenced more than the paltry present, the dross and +sediment of what had been. +</p> + +<p> +Peering into a dark crypt, Babbalanja drew forth a few crumbling, illegible, +black-letter sheets of his favorite old essayist, brave Bardianna. They seemed +to have formed parts of a work, whose title only +remained—“Thoughts, by a Thinker.” +</p> + +<p> +Silently Babbalanja pressed them to his heart. Then at arm’s length held +them, and said, “And is all this wisdom lost? Can not the divine cunning +in thee, Bardianna, transmute to brightness these sullied pages? Here, perhaps, +thou didst dive into the deeps of things, treating of the normal forms of +matter and of mind; how the particles of solids were first molded in the +interstices of fluids; how the thoughts of men are each a soul, as the +lung-cells are each a lung; how that death is but a mode of life; while +mid-most is the Pharzi.— But all is faded. Yea, here the Thinker’s +thoughts lie cheek by jowl with phrasemen’s words. Oh Bardianna! these +pages were offspring of thee, thought of thy thought, soul of thy soul. +Instinct with mind, they once spoke out like living voices; now, they’re +dust; and would not prick a fool to action. Whence then is this? If the fogs of +some few years can make soul linked to matter naught; how can the unhoused +spirit hope to live when mildewed with the damps of death.” +</p> + +<p> +Piously he folded the shreds of manuscript together, kissed them, and laid them +down. +</p> + +<p> +Then approaching Oh-Oh, he besought him for one leaf, one shred of those most +precious pages, in memory of Bardianna, and for the love of him. +</p> + +<p> +But learning who he was, one of that old Ponderer’s commentators, Oh-Oh +tottered toward the manuscripts; with trembling fingers told them over, one by +one, and said—“Thank Oro! all are here.—Philosopher, ask me +for my limbs, my life, my heart, but ask me not for these. Steeped in wax, +these shall be my cerements.” +</p> + +<p> +All in vain; Oh-Oh was an antiquary. +</p> + +<p> +Turning in despair, Babbalanja spied a heap of worm-eaten parchment covers, and +many clippings and parings. And whereas the rolls of manuscripts did smell like +unto old cheese; so these relics did marvelously resemble the rinds of the +same. +</p> + +<p> +Turning over this pile, Babbalanja lighted upon something that restored his +good humor. Long he looked it over delighted; but bethinking him, that he must +have dragged to day some lost work of the collection, and much desirous of +possessing it, he made bold again to ply Oh-Oh; offering a tempting price for +his discovery. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing at the title—“A Happy Life”—the old man +cried—“Oh, rubbish! rubbish! take it for nothing.” And +Babbalanja placed it in his vestment. +</p> + +<p> +The catacombs surveyed, and day-light gained, we inquired the way to +Ji-Ji’s, also a collector, but of another sort; one miserly in the matter +of teeth, the money of Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of his name, Oh-Oh flew out into scornful philippics upon the +insanity of that old dotard, who hoarded up teeth, as if teeth were of any use, +but to purchase rarities. Nevertheless, he pointed out our path; following +which, we crossed a meadow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0020"></a> +CHAPTER XX.<br/> +Babbalanja Quotes From An Antique Pagan; And Earnestly Presses It Upon The +Company, That What He Recites Is Not His But Another’s</h2> + +<p> +Journeying on, we stopped by a gurgling spring, in a beautiful grove; and here, +we stretched out on the grass, and our attendants unpacked their hampers, to +provide us a lunch. +</p> + +<p> +But as for that Babbalanja of ours, he must needs go and lunch by himself, and, +like a cannibal, feed upon an author; though in other respects he was not so +partial to bones. +</p> + +<p> +Bringing forth the treasure he had buried in his bosom, he was soon buried in +it; and motionless on his back, looked as if laid out, to keep an appointment +with his undertaker. +</p> + +<p> +“What, ho! Babbalanja!” cried Media from under a tree, +“don’t be a duck, there, with your bill in the air; drop your +metaphysics, man, and fall to on the solids. Do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, philosopher,” said Mohi, handling a banana, “you will +weigh more after you have eaten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, list, Babbalanja,” cried Yoomy, “I am going to +sing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Up! up! I say,” shouted Media again. “But go, old man, and +wake him: rap on his head, and see whether he be in.” +</p> + +<p> +Mohi, obeying, found him at home; and Babbalanja started up. +</p> + +<p> +“In Oro’s name, what ails you, philosopher? See you Paradise, that +you look so wildly?” +</p> + +<p> +“A Happy Life! a Happy Life!” cried Babbalanja, in an ecstasy. +“My lord, I am lost in the dream of it, as here recorded. Marvelous book! +its goodness transports me. Let me read:—‘I would bear the same +mind, whether I be rich or poor, whether I get or lose in the world. I will +reckon benefits well placed as the fairest part of my possession, not valuing +them by number or weight, but by the profit and esteem of the receiver; +accounting myself never the poorer for any thing I give. What I do shall be +done for conscience, not ostentation. I will eat and drink, not to gratify my +palate, but to satisfy nature. I will be cheerful to my friends, mild and +placable to my enemies. I will prevent an honest request, if I can foresee it; +and I will grant it, without asking. I will look upon the whole world as my +country; and upon Oro, both as the witness and the judge of my words and my +deeds. I will live and die with this testimony: that I loved a good conscience; +that I never invaded another man’s liberty; and that I preserved my own. +I will govern my life and my thoughts, as if the whole world were to see the +one, and to read the other; for what does it signify, to make any thing a +secret to my neighbor, when to Oro all our privacies are open.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Very fine,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“The very spirit of the first followers of Alma, as recorded in the +legends,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Inimitable,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, “Listen again:—‘Righteousness is sociable +and gentle; free, steady, and fearless; full of inexhaustible delights.’ +And here again, and here, and here:—The true felicity of life is to +understand our duty to Oro.’—‘True joy is a serene and sober +motion.’ And here, and here,—my lord, ’tis hard quoting from +this book;—but listen—‘A peaceful conscience, honest +thoughts, and righteous actions are blessings without end, satiety, or measure. +The poor man wants many things; the covetous man, all. It is not enough to know +Oro, unless we obey him.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Alma all over,” cried Mohi; “sure, you read from his +sayings?” +</p> + +<p> +“I read but odd sentences from one, who though he lived ages ago, never +saw, scarcely heard of Alma. And mark me, my lord, this time I improvise +nothing. What I have recited, Is here. Mohi, this book is more marvelous than +the prophecies. My lord, that a mere man, and a heathen, in that most +heathenish time, should give utterance to such heavenly wisdom, seems more +wonderful than that an inspired prophet should reveal it. And is it not more +divine in this philosopher, to love righteousness for its own sake, and in view +of annihilation, than for pious sages to extol it as the means of everlasting +felicity?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” sighed Yoomy, “and does he not promise us any good +thing, when we are dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“He speaks not by authority. He but woos us to goodness and happiness +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Babbalanja,” said Media, “keep your treasure to +yourself. Without authority, and a full right hand, Righteousness better be +silent. Mardi’s religion must seem to come direct from Oro, and the mass +of you mortals endeavor it not, except for a consideration, present or to +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“And call you that righteousness, my lord, which is but the price paid +down for something else?” +</p> + +<p> +“I called it not righteousness; it is religion so called. But let us +prate no more of these things; with which I, a demi-god, have but little in +common. It ever impairs my digestion. No more, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord! my lord! out of itself, Religion has nothing to bestow. Nor +will she save us from aught, but from the evil in ourselves. Her one grand end +is to make us wise; her only manifestations are reverence to Oro and love to +man; her only, but ample reward, herself. He who has this, has all. He who has +this, whether he kneel to an image of wood, calling it Oro; or to an image of +air, calling it the same; whether he fasts or feasts; laughs or +weeps;—that man can be no richer. And this religion, faith, virtue, +righteousness, good, whate’er you will, I find in this book I hold. No +written page can teach me more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you that, then, of which you speak, Babbalanja? Are you content, +there where you stand?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, you drive me home. I am not content. The mystery of mysteries +is still a mystery. How this author came to be so wise, perplexes me. How he +led the life he did, confounds me. Oh, my lord, I am in darkness, and no broad +blaze comes down to flood me. The rays that come to me are but faint cross +lights, mazing the obscurity wherein I live. And after all, excellent as it is, +I can be no gainer by this book. For the more we learn, the more we unlearn; we +accumulate not, but substitute; and take away, more than we add. We dwindle +while we grow; we sally out for wisdom, and retreat beyond the point whence we +started; we essay the Fondiza, and get but the Phe. Of all simpletons, the +simplest! Oh! that I were another sort of fool than I am, that I might restore +my good opinion of myself. Continually I stand in the pillory, am broken on the +wheel, and dragged asunder by wild horses. Yes, yes, Bardianna, all is in a +nut, as thou sayest; but all my back teeth can not crack it; I but crack my own +jaws. All round me, my fellow men are new-grafting their vines, and dwelling in +flourishing arbors; while I am forever pruning mine, till it is become but a +stump. Yet in this pruning will I persist; I will not add, I will diminish; I +will train myself down to the standard of what is unchangeably true. Day by day +I drop off my redundancies; ere long I shall have stripped my ribs; when I die, +they will but bury my spine. Ah! where, where, where, my lord, is the +everlasting Tekana? Tell me, Mohi, where the Ephina? I may have come to the +Penultimate, but where, sweet Yoomy, is the Ultimate? Ah, companions! I faint, +I am wordless:- -something, nothing, riddles,—does Mardi hold her?” +</p> + +<p> +“He swoons!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Water! water!” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Away:” said Babbalanja serenely, “I revive.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0021"></a> +CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +They Visit A Wealthy Old Pauper</h2> + +<p> +Continuing our route to Jiji’s, we presently came to a miserable hovel. +Half projecting from the low, open entrance, was a bald overgrown head, intent +upon an upright row of dark-colored bags:— pelican pouches—prepared +by dropping a stone within, and suspending them, when moist. +</p> + +<p> +Ever and anon, the great head shook with a tremulous motion, as one by one, to +a clicking sound from the old man’s mouth, the strings of teeth were +slowly drawn forth, and let fall, again and again, with a rattle. +</p> + +<p> +But perceiving our approach, the old miser suddenly swooped his pouches out of +sight; and, like a turtle into its shell, retreated into his den. But soon he +decrepitly emerged upon his knees, asking what brought us thither?—to +steal the teeth, which lying rumor averred he possessed in abundance? And +opening his mouth, he averred he had none; not even a sentry in his head. +</p> + +<p> +But Babbalanja declared, that long since he must have drawn his own dentals, +and bagged them with the rest. +</p> + +<p> +Now this miserable old miser must have been idiotic; for soon forgetting what +he had but just told us of his utter toothlessness, he was so smitten with the +pearly mouth of Hohora, one of our attendants (the same for whose pearls, +little King Peepi had taken such a fancy), that he made the following overture +to purchase its contents: namely: one tooth of the buyer’s, for every +three of the seller’s. A proposition promptly rejected, as involving a +mercantile absurdity. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” said Babbalanja. “Doubtless, because that proposed to +be given, is less than that proposed to be received. Yet, says a philosopher, +this is the very principle which regulates all barterings. For where the sense +of a simple exchange of quantities, alike in value?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, indeed?” said Hohora with open eyes, “though I never +heard it before, that’s a staggering question. I beseech you, who was the +sage that asked it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Vivo, the Sophist,” said Babbalanja, turning aside. +</p> + +<p> +In the hearing of Jiji, allusion was made to Oh-Oh, as a neighbor of his. +Whereupon he vented much slavering opprobrium upon that miserable old +hump-back; who accumulated useless monstrosities; throwing away the precious +teeth, which otherwise might have sensibly rattled in his own pelican pouches. +</p> + +<p> +When we quitted the hovel, Jiji, marking little Vee-Vee, from whose shoulder +hung a calabash of edibles, seized the hem of his garment and besought him for +one mouthful of food; for nothing had he tasted that day. +</p> + +<p> +The boy tossed him a yam. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0022"></a> +CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +Yoomy Sings Some Odd Verses, And Babbalanja Quotes From The Old Authors Right +And Left</h2> + +<p> +Sailing from Padulla, after many pleasant things had been said concerning the +sights there beheld; Babbalanja thus addressed Yoomy— “Warbler, the +last song you sung was about moonlight, and paradise, and fabulous pleasures +evermore: now, have you any hymns about earthly felicity?” +</p> + +<p> +“If so, minstrel,” said Media, “jet it forth, my fountain, +forthwith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just now, my lord,” replied Yoomy, “I was singing to myself, +as I often do, and by your leave, I will continue aloud.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better begin at the beginning, I should think,” said the +chronicler, both hands to his chin, beginning at the top to new braid his +beard. +</p> + +<p> +“No: like the roots of your beard, old Mohi, all beginnings are +stiff,” cried Babbalanja. “We are lucky in living midway in +eternity. So sing away, Yoomy, where you left off,” and thus saying he +unloosed his girdle for the song, as Apicius would for a banquet. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I continue aloud, then, my lord?” +</p> + +<p> +My lord nodded, and Yoomy sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Full round, full soft, her dewy arms,—<br/> +Sweet shelter from all Mardi’s harms!” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose arms?” cried Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Sang Yoomy:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Diving deep in the sea,<br/> + She takes sunshine along:<br/> +Down flames in the sea,<br/> + As of dolphins a throng. +</p> + +<p> +“What mermaid is this?” cried Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Sang Yoomy:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Her foot, a falling sound,<br/> +That all day long might bound.<br/> + Over the beach,<br/> + The soft sand beach,<br/> + And none would find<br/> + A trace behind. +</p> + +<p> +“And why not?” demanded Media, “why could no trace be +found?” +</p> + +<p> +Said Braid-Beard, “Perhaps owing, my lord, to the flatness of the +mermaid’s foot. But no; that can not be; for mermaids are all vertebrae +below the waist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your fragment is pretty good, I dare say, Yoomy,” observed Media, +“but as Braid-Beard hints, rather flat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flat as the foot of a man with his mind made up,” cried +Braid-Beard. “Yoomy, did you sup on flounders last night?” +</p> + +<p> +But Yoomy vouchsafed no reply, he was ten thousand leagues off in a reverie: +somewhere in the Hyades perhaps. +</p> + +<p> +Conversation proceeding, Braid-Beard happened to make allusion to one Rotato, a +portly personage, who, though a sagacious philosopher, and very ambitious to be +celebrated as such, was only famous in Mardi as the fattest man of his tribe. +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “Then, Mohi, Rotato could not pick a quarrel with Fame, since +she did not belie him. Fat he was, and fat she published him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “for Fame is not always so +honest. Not seldom to be famous, is to be widely known for what you are not, +says Alla-Malolla. Whence it comes, as old Bardianna has it, that for years a +man may move unnoticed among his fellows; but all at once, by some chance +attitude, foreign to his habit, become a trumpet-full for fools; though, in +himself, the same as ever. Nor has he shown himself yet; for the entire merit +of a man can never be made known; nor the sum of his demerits, if he have them. +We are only known by our names; as letters sealed up, we but read each +other’s superscriptions. +</p> + +<p> +“So with the commonalty of us Mardians. How then with those beings who +every way are but too apt to be riddles. In many points the works of our great +poet Vavona, now dead a thousand moons, still remain a mystery. Some call him a +mystic; but wherein he seems obscure, it is, perhaps, we that are in fault; not +by premeditation spoke he those archangel thoughts, which made many declare, +that Vavona, after all, was but a crack-pated god, not a mortal of sound mind. +But had he been less, my lord, he had seemed more. Saith Fulvi, ‘Of the +highest order of genius, it may be truly asserted, that to gain the reputation +of superior power, it must partially disguise itself; it must come down, and +then it will be applauded for soaring.’ And furthermore, that there are +those who falter in the common tongue, because they think in another; and these +are accounted stutterers and stammerers.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! how true!” cried the Warbler. +</p> + +<p> +“And what says the archangel Vavona, Yoomy, in that wonderful drama of +his, ‘The Souls of the Sages?’—‘Beyond most barren +hills, there are landscapes ravishing; with but one eye to behold; which no +pencil can portray.’ What wonder then, my lord, that Mardi itself is so +blind. ‘Mardi is a monster,’ says old Bardianna, ‘whose eyes +are fixed in its head, like a whale’s; it can see but two ways, and those +comprising but a small arc of a perfect vision. Poets, heroes, and men of +might, are all around this monster Mardi. But stand before me on stilts, or I +will behold you not, says the monster; brush back your hair; inhale the wind +largely; lucky are all men with dome-like foreheads; luckless those with +pippin-heads; loud lungs are a blessing; a lion is no lion that can not +roar.’ Says Aldina, ‘There are those looking on, who know +themselves to be swifter of foot than the racers, but are confounded with the +simpletons that stare.’” +</p> + +<p> +“The mere carping of a disappointed cripple,” cried Mold. His +biographer states, that Aldina had only one leg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Braid-Beard, you are witty,” said Babbbalanja, adjusting his robe. +“My lord, there are heroes without armies, who hear martial music in +their souls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not blow their trumpets louder, then,” cried Media, that all +Mardi may hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Media, too, is witty, Babbalanja,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Breathed Yoomy, “There are birds of divinest plumage, and most glorious +song, yet singing their lyrics to themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “The lark soars high, cares for no auditor, yet its sweet +notes are heard here below. It sings, too, in company with myriads of mates. +Your soliloquists, Yoomy, are mostly herons and owls.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, “Very clever, my lord; but think you not, there are men +eloquent, who never babble in the marketplace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, and arrant babblers at home. In few words, Babbalanja, you espouse a +bad cause. Most of you mortals are peacocks; some having tails, and some not; +those who have them will be sure to thrust their plumes in your face; for the +rest, they will display their bald cruppers, and still screech for admiration. +But when a great genius is born into Mardi, he nods, and is known.” +</p> + +<p> +“More wit, but, with deference, perhaps less truth, my lord. Say what you +will, Fame is an accident; merit a thing absolute. But what matter? Of what +available value reputation, unless wedded to power, dentals, or place? To those +who render him applause, a poet’s may seem a thing tangible; but to the +recipient, ’tis a fantasy; the poet never so stretches his imagination, +as when striving to comprehend what it is; often, he is famous without knowing +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the sacred games of Lazella,” said Yoomy, “slyly crowned +from behind with a laurel fillet, for many hours, the minstrel Jarmi wandered +about ignorant of the honors he bore. But enlightened at last, he doffed the +wreath; then, holding it at arm’s length, sighed forth—Oh, ye +laurels! to be visible to me, ye must be removed from my brow!” +</p> + +<p> +“And what said Botargo,” cried Babbalanja, “hearing that his +poems had been translated into the language of the remote island of +Bertranda?— ‘It stirs me little; already, in merry fancies, have I +dreamed of their being trilled by the blessed houris in paradise; I can only +imagine the same of the damsels of Bertranda.’ Says Boldo, the +Materialist,—‘Substances alone are satisfactory.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And so thought the mercenary poet, Zenzi,” said Yoomy. “Upon +receiving fourteen ripe yams for a sonnet, one for every line, he said to me, +Yoomy, I shall make a better meal upon these, than upon so many +compliments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” cried Babbalanja, “‘Bravos,’ saith old +Bardianna, but induce flatulency.’” +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “And do you famous mortals, then, take no pleasure in hearing +your bravos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Much, my good lord; at least such famous mortals, so enamored of a +clamorous notoriety, as to bravo for themselves, when none else will huzza; +whose whole existence is an unintermitting consciousness of self; whose very +persons stand erect and self-sufficient as their infallible index, the capital +letter I; who relish and comprehend no reputation but what attaches to the +carcass; who would as lief be renowned for a splendid mustache, as for a +splendid drama: who know not how it was that a personage, to posterity so +universally celebrated as the poet Vavona, ever passed through the crowd +unobserved; who deride the very thunder for making such a noise in Mardi, and +yet disdain to manifest itself to the eye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wax not so warm, Babbalanja; but tell us, if to his contemporaries +Vavona’s person was almost unknown, what satisfaction did he derive from +his genius?” +</p> + +<p> +“Had he not its consciousness?—an empire boundless as the West. +What to him were huzzas? Why, my lord, from his privacy, the great and good +Logodora sent liniment to the hoarse throats without. But what said Bardianna, +when they dunned him for autographs?—‘Who keeps the register of +great men? who decides upon noble actions? and how long may ink last? Alas! +Fame has dropped more rolls than she displays; and there are more lost +chronicles, than the perished books of the historian Livella.’ But what +is lost forever, my lord, is nothing to what is now unseen. There are more +treasures in the bowels of the earth, than on its surface.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! no gold,” cried Yoomy, “but that comes from dark +mines.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, “Bear witness, ye gods! cries fervent old Bardianna, +that besides disclosures of good and evil undreamed of now, there will be +other, and more astounding revelations hereafter, of what has passed in Mardi +unbeheld.” +</p> + +<p> +“A truce to your everlasting pratings of old Bardianna,” said King +Media; why not speak your own thoughts, Babbalanja? then would your discourse +possess more completeness; whereas, its warp and woof are of all +sorts,—Bardianna, Alla-Malolla, Vavona, and all the writers that ever +have written. Speak for yourself, mortal!” +</p> + +<p> +“May you not possibly mistake, my lord? for I do not so much quote +Bardianna, as Bardianna quoted me, though he flourished before me; and no +vanity, but honesty to say so. The catalogue of true thoughts is but small; +they are ubiquitous; no man’s property; and unspoken, or bruited, are the +same. When we hear them, why seem they so natural, receiving our spontaneous +approval? why do we think we have heard them before? Because they but reiterate +ourselves; they were in us, before we were born. The truest poets are but +mouth-pieces; and some men are duplicates of each other; I see myself in +Bardianna.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there, for Oro’s sake, let it rest, Babbalanja; Bardianna in +you, and you in Bardianna forever!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0023"></a> +CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +What Manner Of Men The Tapparians Were</h2> + +<p> +The canoes sailed on. But we leave them awhile. For our visit to Jiji, the last +visit we made, suggests some further revelations concerning the dental money of +Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +Ere this, it should have been mentioned, that throughout the Archipelago, there +was a restriction concerning incisors and molars, as ornaments for the person; +none but great chiefs, brave warriors, and men distinguished by rare +intellectual endowments, orators, romancers, philosophers, and poets, being +permitted to sport them as jewels. Though, as it happened, among the poets +there were many who had never a tooth, save those employed at their repasts; +which, coming but seldom, their teeth almost corroded in their mouths. Hence, +in commerce, poets’ teeth were at a discount. +</p> + +<p> +For these reasons, then, many mortals blent with the promiscuous mob of +Mardians, who, by any means, accumulated teeth, were fain to assert their +dental claims to distinction, by clumsily carrying their treasures in pelican +pouches slung over their shoulders; which pouches were a huge burden to carry +about, and defend. Though, in good truth, from any of these porters, it was +harder to wrench his pouches, than his limbs. It was also a curious +circumstance that at the slightest casual touch, these bags seemed to convey a +simultaneous thrill to the owners. +</p> + +<p> +Besides these porters, there were others, who exchanged their teeth for richly +stained calabashes, elaborately carved canoes, and more especially, for costly +robes, and turbans; in which last, many outshone the noblest-born nobles. +Nevertheless, this answered not the end they had in view; some of the crowd +only admiring what they wore, and not them; breaking out into laudation of the +inimitable handiwork of the artisans of Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +And strange to relate, these artisans themselves often came to be men of teeth +and turbans, sporting their bravery with the best. A circumstance, which +accounted for the fact, that many of the class above alluded to, were +considered capital judges of tappa and tailoring. +</p> + +<p> +Hence, as a general designation, the whole tribe went by the name of +Tapparians; otherwise, Men of Tappa. +</p> + +<p> +Now, many moons ago, according to Braid-Beard, the Tapparians of a certain +cluster of islands, seeing themselves hopelessly confounded with the plebeian +race of mortals; such as artificers, honest men, bread-fruit bakers, and the +like; seeing, in short, that nature had denied them every inborn mark of +distinction; and furthermore, that their external assumptions were derided by +so many in Mardi, these selfsame Tapparians, poor devils, resolved to secede +from the rabble; form themselves into a community of their own; and +conventionally pay that homage to each other, which universal Mardi could not +be prevailed upon to render to them. +</p> + +<p> +Jointly, they purchased an island, called Pimminee, toward the extreme west of +the lagoon; and thither they went; and framing a code of laws- -amazingly +arbitrary, considering they themselves were the framers— solemnly took +the oath of allegiance to the commonwealth thus established. Regarded section +by section, this code of laws seemed exceedingly trivial; but taken together, +made a somewhat imposing aggregation of particles. +</p> + +<p> +By this code, the minutest things in life were all ordered after a specific +fashion. More especially one’s dress was legislated upon, to the last +warp and woof. All girdles must be so many inches in length, and with such a +number of tassels in front. For a violation of this ordinance, before the face +of all Mardi, the most dutiful of sons would cut the most affectionate of +fathers. +</p> + +<p> +Now, though like all Mardi, kings and slaves included, the people of Pimminee +had dead dust for grandsires, they seldom reverted to that fact; for, like all +founders of families, they had no family vaults. Nor were they much encumbered +by living connections; connections, some of them appeared to have none. Like +poor Logan the last of his tribe, they seemed to have monopolized the blood of +their race, having never a cousin to own. +</p> + +<p> +Wherefore it was, that many ignorant Mardians, who had not pushed their +investigations into the science of physiology, sagely divined, that the +Tapparians must have podded into life like peas, instead of being otherwise +indebted for their existence. Certain it is, they had a comical way of backing +up their social pretensions. When the respectability of his clan was mooted, +Paivai, one of their bucks, disdained all reference to the Dooms-day Book, and +the ancients. More reliable evidence was had. He referred the anxious world to +a witness, still alive and hearty,—his contemporary tailor; the varlet +who cut out his tappa doublets, and rejoiced his soul with good fits. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” sighed Babbalanja, “how it quenches in one the thought +of immortality, to think that these Tapparians too, will hereafter claim each a +niche!” +</p> + +<p> +But we rove. Our visit to Pimminee itself, will best make known the ways of its +denizens. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0024"></a> +CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +Their Adventures Upon Landing At Pimminee</h2> + +<p> +A long sail over, the island of Pimminee came in sight; one dead fiat, wreathed +in a thin, insipid vapor. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, why land?” said Babbalanja; “no Yillah is +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis my humor, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “Taji would leave no isle unexplored.” +</p> + +<p> +As we neared the beach, the atmosphere became still closer and more languid. +Much did we miss the refreshing balm which breathed in the fine breezy air of +the open lagoon. Of a slender and sickly growth seemed the trees; in the +meadows, the grass grew small and mincing. +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “Taji, from the accounts which Braid-Beard gives, there must +be much to amuse, in the ways of these Tapparians.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Babbalanja, “their lives are a continual farce, +gratuitously performed for the diversion of Mardi. My lord, perhaps we had best +doff our dignity, and land among them as persons of lowly condition; for then, +we shall receive more diversion, though less hospitality.” +</p> + +<p> +“A good proposition,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, he put off his robe for one less pretentious. +</p> + +<p> +All followed suit; Yoomy doffing turban and sash; and, at last, completely +metamorphosed, we looked like Hungarian gipsies. +</p> + +<p> +Voyaging on, we entered a bay, where numbers of menials were standing in the +water, engaged in washing the carved work of certain fantastic canoes, +belonging to the Tapparians, their masters. +</p> + +<p> +Landing at some distance, we followed a path that soon conducted us to a +betwisted dwelling of bamboos, where, gently, we knocked for admittance. So +doing, we were accosted by a servitor, his portliness all in his calves. +Marking our appearance, he monopolized the threshold, and gruffly demanded what +was wanted. +</p> + +<p> +“Strangers, kind sir, fatigued with travel, and in need of refreshment +and repose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then hence with ye, vagabonds!” and with an emphasis, he closed +the portal in our face. +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, turning, “You perceive, my lord Media, that these +varlets take after their masters; who feed none but the well-fed, and house +none but the well-housed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Faith! but they furnish most rare entertainment, nevertheless,” +cried Media. “Ha! ha! Taji, we had missed much, had we missed +Pimminee.” +</p> + +<p> +As this was said, we observed, at a distance, three menials running from +seaward, as if conveying important intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +Halting here and there, vainly seeking admittance at other habitations, and +receiving nothing but taunts for our pains, we still wandered on; and at last +came upon a village, toward which, those from the sea-side had been running. +</p> + +<p> +And now, to our surprise, we were accosted by an eager and servile throng. +</p> + +<p> +“Obsequious varlets,” said Media, “where tarry your +masters?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right royal, and thrice worshipful Lord of Odo, do you take us for our +domestics? We are Tapparians, may it please your illustrious Highness; your +most humble and obedient servants. We beseech you, supereminent Sir, condescend +to visit our habitations, and partake of our cheer.” +</p> + +<p> +Then turning upon their attendants, “Away with ye, hounds! and set our +dwellings in order.” +</p> + +<p> +“How know ye me to be king?” asked Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not in your serene Highness’s regal port, and eye?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Twas their menials,” muttered Mohi, “who from the +paddlers in charge of our canoes must have learned who my lord was, and +published the tidings.” +</p> + +<p> +After some further speech, Media made a social surrender of himself to the +foremost of the Tapparians, one Nimni; who, conducting us to his abode, with +much deference introduced us to a portly old Begum, and three slender damsels; +his wife and daughters. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, refreshments appeared:—green and yellow compounds, and divers +enigmatical dainties; besides vegetable liqueurs of a strange and alarming +flavor served in fragile little leaves, folded into cups, and very troublesome +to handle. +</p> + +<p> +Excessively thirsty, Babbalanja made bold to inquire for water; which called +forth a burst of horror from the old Begum, and minor shrieks from her +daughters; who declared, that the beverage to which remote reference had been +made, was far too widely diffused in Mardi, to be at all esteemed in Pimminee. +</p> + +<p> +“But though we seldom imbibe it,” said the old Begum, ceremoniously +adjusting her necklace of cowrie-shells, “we occasionally employ it for +medicinal purposes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, indeed?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“But oh! believe me; even then, we imbibe not the ordinary fluid of the +springs and streams; but that which in afternoon showers softly drains from our +palm-trees into the little hollow or miniature reservoir beneath its compacted +roots.” +</p> + +<p> +A goblet of this beverage was now handed Babbalanja; but having a curious, +gummy flavor, it proved any thing but palatable. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, in came a company of young men, relatives of Nimni. They were +slender as sky-sail-poles; standing in a row, resembled a picket-fence; and +were surmounted by enormous heads of hair, combed out all round, variously +dyed, and evened by being singed with a lighted wisp of straw. Like +milliners’ parcels, they were very neatly done up; wearing redolent +robes. +</p> + +<p> +“How like the woodlands they smell,” whispered Yoomy. “Ay, +marvelously like sap,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +One part of their garniture consisted of numerous tasseled cords, like those of +an aigulette, depending from the neck, and attached here and there about the +person. A separate one, at a distance, united their ankles. These served to +measure and graduate their movements; keeping their gestures, paces, and +attitudes, within the prescribed standard of Tapparian gentility. When they +went abroad, they were preceded by certain footmen; who placed before them +small, carved boards, whereon their masters stepped; thus avoiding contact with +the earth. The simple device of a shoe, as a fixture for the foot, was unknown +in Pimminee. +</p> + +<p> +Being told, that Taji was lately from the sun, they manifested not the +slightest surprise; one of them incidentally observing, however, that the +eclipses there, must be a sad bore to endure. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0025"></a> +CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +A, I, AND O</h2> + +<p> +The old Begum went by the euphonious appellation of Ohiro-Moldona-Fivona; a +name, from its length, deemed highly genteel; though scandal averred, that it +was nothing more than her real name transposed; the appellation by which she +had been formerly known, signifying a “Getterup-of-Fine-Tappa.” But +as this would have let out an ancient secret, it was thought wise to disguise +it. +</p> + +<p> +Her daughters respectively reveled in the pretty diminutives of A, I, and O; +which, from their brevity, comical to tell, were considered equally genteel +with the dame’s. +</p> + +<p> +The habiliments of the three Vowels must not be omitted. Each damsel garrisoned +an ample, circular farthingale of canes, serving as the frame-work, whereon to +display a gayly dyed robe. Perhaps their charms intrenched themselves in these +impregnable petticoats, as feeble armies fly to fortresses, to hide their +weakness, and better resist an onset. +</p> + +<p> +But polite and politic it is, to propitiate your hostess. So seating himself by +the Begum, Taji led off with earnest inquiries after her welfare. But the Begum +was one of those, who relieve the diffident from the embarrassment of talking; +all by themselves carrying on conversation for two. Hence, no wonder that my +Lady was esteemed invaluable at all assemblies in the groves of Pimminee; +contributing so largely to that incessant din, which is held the best test of +the enjoyment of the company, as making them deaf to the general nonsense, +otherwise audible. +</p> + +<p> +Learning that Taji had been making the tour of certain islands in Mardi, the +Begum was surprised that he could have thus hazarded his life among the +barbarians of the East. She desired to know whether his constitution was not +impaired by inhaling the unrefined atmosphere of those remote and barbarous +regions. For her part, the mere thought of it made her faint in her innermost +citadel; nor went she ever abroad with the wind at East, dreading the contagion +which might lurk in the air. +</p> + +<p> +Upon accosting the three damsels, Taji very soon discovered that the tongue +which had languished in the presence of the Begum, was now called into active +requisition, to entertain the Polysyllables, her daughters. So assiduously were +they occupied in silent endeavors to look sentimental and pretty, that it +proved no easy task to sustain with them an ordinary chat. In this dilemma, +Taji diffused not his remarks among all three; but discreetly centered them +upon O. Thinking she might be curious concerning the sun, he made some remote +allusion to that luminary as the place of his nativity. Upon which, O inquired +where that country was, of which mention was made. +</p> + +<p> +“Some distance from here; in the air above; the sun that gives light to +Pimminee, and Mardi at large.” +</p> + +<p> +She replied, that if that were the case, she had never beheld it; for such was +the construction of her farthingale, that her head could not be thrown back, +without impairing its set. Wherefore, she had always abstained from +astronomical investigations. +</p> + +<p> +Hereupon, rude Mohi laughed out. And that lucky laugh happily relieved Taji +from all further necessity of entertaining the Vowels. For at so vulgar, and in +Pimminee, so unwonted a sound, as a genuine laugh, the three startled nymphs +fainted away in a row, their round farthingales falling over upon each other, +like a file of empty tierces. But they presently revived. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, without stirring from their mats, the polite young bucks in the +aigulettes did nothing but hold semi-transparent leaves to their eyes, by the +stems; which leaves they directed downward, toward the disordered hems of the +farthingales; in wait, perhaps, for the revelation of an ankle, and its +accompaniments. What the precise use of these leaves could have been, it would +be hard to say, especially as the observers invariably peeped over and under +them. +</p> + +<p> +The calamity of the Vowels was soon followed by the breaking up of the party; +when, evening coming on, and feeling much wearied with the labor of seeing +company in Pimminee, we retired to our mats; there finding that repose which +ever awaits the fatigued. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0026"></a> +CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> +A Reception-Day At Pimminee</h2> + +<p> +Next morning, Nimni apprized us, that throughout the day he proposed keeping +open house, for the purpose of enabling us to behold whatever of beauty, rank, +and fashion, Pimminee could boast; including certain strangers of note from +various quarters of the lagoon, who doubtless would honor themselves with a +call. +</p> + +<p> +As inmates of the mansion, we unexpectedly had a rare opportunity of witnessing +the final toilets of the Begum and her daughters, preparatory to receiving +their guests. +</p> + +<p> +Their four farthingales were placed standing in the middle of the dwelling; +when their future inmates, arrayed in rudimental vestments, went round and +round them, attaching various articles of finery, dyed scarfs, ivory trinkets, +and other decorations. Upon the propriety of this or that adornment, the three +Vowels now and then pondered apart, or together consulted. They talked and they +laughed; they were silent and sad; now merry at their bravery; now pensive at +the thought of the charms to be hidden. +</p> + +<p> +It was O who presently suggested the expediency of an artful fold in their +draperies, by the merest accident in Mardi, to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of +their ankles, which were thought to be pretty. +</p> + +<p> +But the old Begum was more active than any; by far the most disinterested in +the matter of advice. Her great object seemed to be to pile on the finery at +all hazards; and she pointed out many as yet vacant and unappropriated spaces, +highly susceptible of adornment. +</p> + +<p> +At last, all was in readiness; when, taking a valedictory glance, at their +intrenchments, the Begum and damsels simultaneously dipped their heads, +directly after emerging from the summit, all ready for execution. +</p> + +<p> +And now to describe the general reception that followed. In came the Roes, the +Fees, the Lol-Lols, the Hummee-Hums, the Bidi-Bidies, and the Dedidums; the +Peenees, the Yamoyamees, the Karkies, the Fanfums, the Diddledees, and the +Fiddlefies; in a word, all the aristocracy of Pimminee; people with exceedingly +short names; and some all name, and nothing else. It was an imposing array of +sounds; a circulation of ciphers; a marshaling of tappas; a getting together of +grimaces and furbelows; a masquerade of vapidities. +</p> + +<p> +Among the crowd was a bustling somebody, one Gaddi, arrayed in much apparel to +little purpose; who, singling out Babbalanja, for some time adhered to his +side, and with excessive complaisance, enlightened him as to the people +assembled. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>That</i> is rich Marmonora, accounted a mighty man in Pimminee; his +bags of teeth included, he is said to weigh upwards of fourteen stone; and is +much sought after by tailors for his measure, being but slender in the region +of the heart. His riches are great. And that old vrow is the widow Roo; very +rich; plenty of teeth; but has none in her head. And <i>this</i> is Finfi; said +to be not very rich, and a maid. Who would suppose she had ever beat tappa for +a living?” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, Gaddi sauntered off; his place by Babbalanja’s side being +immediately supplied by the damsel Finfi. That vivacious and amiable nymph at +once proceeded to point out the company, where Gaddi had left off; beginning +with Gaddi himself, who, she insinuated, was a mere parvenu, a terrible +infliction upon society, and not near so rich as he was imagined to be. +</p> + +<p> +Soon we were accosted by one Nonno, a sour, saturnine personage. “I know +nobody here; not a soul have I seen before; I wonder who they all are.” +And just then he was familiarly nodded to by nine worthies abreast. Whereupon +Nonno vanished. But after going the rounds of the company, and paying court to +many, he again sauntered by Babbalanja, saying, “Nobody, nobody; nobody +but nobodies; I see nobody I know.” +</p> + +<p> +Advancing, Nimni now introduced many strangers of distinction, parading their +titles after a fashion, plainly signifying that he was bent upon convincing us, +that there were people present at this little affair of his, who were men of +vast reputation; and that we erred, if we deemed him unaccustomed to the +society of the illustrious. +</p> + +<p> +But not a few of his magnates seemed shy of Media and their laurels. Especially +a tall robustuous fellow, with a terrible javelin in his hand, much notched and +splintered, as if it had dealt many a thrust. His left arm was gallanted in a +sling, and there was a patch upon his sinister eye. Him Nimni made known as a +famous captain, from King Piko’s island (of which anon) who had been all +but mortally wounded somewhere, in a late desperate though nameless encounter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Media as this redoubtable withdrew, Fofi is a cunning +knave; a braggart, driven forth, by King Piko for his cowardice. He has blent +his tattooing into one mass of blue, and thus disguised, must have palmed +himself off here in Pimminee, for the man he is not. But I see many more like +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh ye Tapparians,” said Babbalanja, “none so easily +humbugged as humbugs. Taji: to behold this folly makes one wise. Look, look; it +is all round us. Oh Pimminee, Pimminee!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0027"></a> +CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> +Babbalanja Falleth Upon Pimminee Tooth And Nail</h2> + +<p> +The levee over, waiving further civilities, we took courteus leave of the Begum +and Nimni, and proceeding to the beach, very soon were embarked. +</p> + +<p> +When all were pleasantly seated beneath the canopy, pipes in full blast, +calabashes revolving, and the paddlers quietly urging us along, Media proposed +that, for the benefit of the company, some one present, in a pithy, whiffy +sentence or two, should sum up the character of the Tapparians; and ended by +nominating Babbalanja to that office. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, philosopher: let us see in how few syllables you can put the brand +on those Tapparians.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, my lord, but you must permit me to ponder awhile; nothing +requires more time, than to be brief. An example: they say that in conversation +old Bardianna dealt in nothing but trisyllabic sentences. His talk was thunder +peals: sounding reports, but long intervals.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil take old Bardianna. And would that the grave-digger had buried +his Ponderings, along with his other remains. Can none be in your company, +Babbalanja, but you must perforce make them hob-a-nob with that old prater? A +brand for the Tapparians! that is what we seek.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have it, my lord. Full to the brim of themselves, for that +reason, the Tapparians are the emptiest of mortals.” +</p> + +<p> +“A good blow and well planted, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“In sooth, a most excellent saying; it should be carved upon his +tombstone,” said Mohi, slowly withdrawing his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“What! would you have my epitaph read thus:—‘Here lies the +emptiest of mortals, who was full of himself?’ At best, your words are +exceedingly ambiguous, Mohi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now have I the philosopher,” cried Yoomy, with glee. “What +did some one say to me, not long since, Babbalanja, when in the matter of that +sleepy song of mine, Braid-Beard bestowed upon me an equivocal compliment? Was +I not told to wrest commendation from it, though I tortured it to the +quick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take thy own pills, philosopher,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Then would he be a great original,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Yoomy,” said Babbalanja, “are you not in fault? +Because I sometimes speak wisely, you must not imagine that I should always act +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never imagined that,” said Yoomy, “and, if I did, the +truth would belie me. It is you who are in fault, Babbalanja; not I, craving +your pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“The minstrel’s sides are all edges to-day,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“This, then, thrice gentle Yoomy, is what I would say;” resumed +Babbalanja, “that since we philosophers bestow so much wisdom upon +others, it is not to be wondered at, if now and then we find what is left in us +too small for our necessities. It is from our very abundance that we +want.” +</p> + +<p> +“And from the fool’s poverty,” said Media, “that he is +opulent; for his very simplicity, is sometimes of more account than the wisdom +of the sage. But we were discoursing of the Tapparians. Babbalanja: +sententiously you have acquitted yourself to admiration; now amplify, and tell +us more of the people of Pimminee.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I might amplify forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, my worshipful lord, let him not begin,” interposed +Braid-Beard. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean,” said Babbalanja, “that all subjects are +inexhaustible, however trivial; as the mathematical point, put in motion, is +capable of being produced into an infinite line.” +</p> + +<p> +“But forever extending into nothing,” said Media. “A very bad +example to follow. Do you, Babbalanja, come to the point, and not travel off +with it, which is too much your wont.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since my lord insists upon it then, thus much for the Tapparians, though +but a thought or two of many in reserve. They ignore the rest of Mardi, while +they themselves are but a rumor in the isles of the East; where the business of +living and dying goes on with the same uniformity, as if there were no +Tapparians in existence. They think themselves Mardi in full; whereas, by the +mass, they are stared at as prodigies; exceptions to the law, ordaining that no +Mardian shall undertake to live, unless he set out with at least the average +quantity of brains. For these Tapparians have no brains. In lieu, they carry in +one corner of their craniums, a drop or two of attar of roses; charily used, +the supply being small. They are the victims of two incurable maladies: stone +in the heart, and ossification of the head. They are full of fripperies, +fopperies, and finesses; knowing not, that nature should be the model of art. +Yet, they might appear less silly than they do, were they content to be the +plain idiots which at bottom they are. For there be grains of sense in a +simpleton, so long as he be natural. But what can be expected from them? They +are irreclaimable Tapparians; not so much fools by contrivance of their own, as +by an express, though inscrutable decree of Oro’s. For one, my lord, I +can not abide them.” +</p> + +<p> +Nor could Taji. +</p> + +<p> +In Pimminee were no hilarious running and shouting: none of the royal good +cheer of old Borabolla; none of the mysteries of Maramma; none of the sentiment +and romance of Donjalolo; no rehearsing of old legends: no singing of old +songs; no life; no jolly commotion: in short, no men and women; nothing but +their integuments; stiff trains and farthingales. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0028"></a> +CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/> +Babbalanja Regales The Company With Some Sandwiches</h2> + +<p> +It was night. But the moon was brilliant, far and near illuminating the lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +Over silvery billows we glided. +</p> + +<p> +“Come Yoomy,” said Media, “moonlight and music for +aye—a song! a song! my bird of paradise.” +</p> + +<p> +And folding his arms, and watching the sparkling waters, thus Yoomy +sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A ray of the moon on the dancing waves<br/> + Is the step, light step of that beautiful maid:<br/> +Mardi, with music, her footfall paves,<br/> + And her voice, no voice, but a song in the glade. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold!” cried Media, “yonder is a curious rock. It looks +black as a whale’s hump in blue water, when the sun shines.” +</p> + +<p> +“That must be the Isle of Fossils,” said Mohi. “Ay, my lord, +it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us land, then,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +And none dissenting, the canoes were put about, and presently we debarked. +</p> + +<p> +It was a dome-like surface, here and there fringed with ferns, sprouting from +clefts. But at every tide the thin soil seemed gradually washing into the +lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +Like antique tablets, the smoother parts were molded in strange +devices:—Luxor marks, Tadmor ciphers, Palenque inscriptions. In long +lines, as on Denderah’s architraves, were bas-reliefs of beetles, +turtles, ant-eaters, armadilloes, guanos, serpents, tongueless +crocodiles:—a long procession, frosted and crystalized in stone, and +silvered by the moon. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange sight!” cried Media. “Speak, antiquarian +Mohi.” +</p> + +<p> +But the chronicler was twitching his antiquarian beard, nonplussed by these +wondrous records. The cowled old father, Piaggi, bending over his calcined +Herculanean manuscripts, looked not more at fault than he. +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “Expound you, then, sage Babbalanja.” Muffling his face +in his mantle, and his voice in sepulchral tones, Babbalanja thus:— +</p> + +<p> +“These are the leaves of the book of Oro. Here we read how worlds are +made; here read the rise and fall of Nature’s kingdoms. From where this +old man’s furthest histories start, these unbeginning records end. These +are the secret memoirs of times past; whose evidence, at last divulged, gives +the grim lie to Mohi’s gossipings, and makes a rattling among the +dry-bone relics of old Maramma.” +</p> + +<p> +Braid-Beard’s old eyes flashed fire. With bristling beard, he cried, +“Take back the lie you send!” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace! everlasting foes,” cried Media, interposing, with both arms +outstretched. “Philosopher, probe not too deep. All you say is very fine, +but very dark. I would know something more precise. But, prithee, ghost, +unmuffle! chatter no more! wait till you’re buried for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, death’s cold ague will set us all shivering, my lord. +We’ll swear our teeth are icicles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you quit driving your sleet upon us? have done expound these +rocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, if you desire, I’ll turn over these stone tablets till +they’re dog-eared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven and Mardi!—Go on, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Twas thus. These were tombs burst open by volcanic throes; and +hither hurled from the lowermost vaults of the lagoon. All Mardi’s rocks +are one wide resurrection. But look. Here, now, a pretty story’s told. +Ah, little thought these grand old lords, that lived and roared before the +flood, that they would come to this. Here, King Media, look and learn.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked; and saw a picture petrified, and plain as any on the pediments of +Petra. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed a stately banquet of the dead, where lords in skeletons were ranged +around a board heaped up with fossil fruits, and flanked with vitreous vases, +grinning like empty skulls. There they sat, exchanging rigid courtesies. +One’s hand was on his stony heart; his other pledged a lord who held a +hollow beaker. Another sat, with earnest face beneath a mitred brow. He seemed +to whisper in the ear of one who listened trustingly. But on the chest of him +who wore the miter, an adder lay, close-coiled in flint. +</p> + +<p> +At the further end, was raised a throne, its canopy surmounted by a crown, in +which now rested the likeness of a raven on an egg. +</p> + +<p> +The throne was void. But half-concealed by drapery, behind the goodliest lord, +sideway leaned a figure diademed, a lifted poniard in its hand:—a monarch +fossilized in very act of murdering his guest. +</p> + +<p> +“Most high and sacred majesty!” cried Babbalanja, bowing to his +feet. +</p> + +<p> +While all stood gazing on this sight, there came two servitors of +Media’s, who besought of Babbalanja to settle a dispute, concerning +certain tracings upon the islet’s other side. +</p> + +<p> +Thither we followed them. +</p> + +<p> +Upon a long layer of the slaty stone were marks of ripplings of some now +waveless sea; mid which were tri-toed footprints of some huge heron, or wading +fowl. +</p> + +<p> +Pointing to one of which, the foremost disputant thus spoke:—“I +maintain that these are three toes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, that it is one foot,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“And now decide between us,” joined the twain. +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, starting, “Is not this the very question concerning +which they made such dire contention in Maramma, whose tertiary rocks are +chisseled all over with these marks? Yes; this it is, concerning which they +once shed blood. This it is, concerning which they still divide.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which of us is right?” again demanded the impatient twain. +</p> + +<p> +“Unite, and both are right; divide, and both are wrong. Every unit is +made up of parts, as well as every plurality. Nine is three threes; a unit is +as many thirds; or, if you please, a thousand thousandths; no special need to +stop at thirds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away, ye foolish disputants!” cried Media. “Full before you +is the thing disputed.” +</p> + +<p> +Strolling on, many marvels did we mark; and Media +said:—“Babbalanja, you love all mysteries; here’s a fitting +theme. You have given us the history of the rock; can your sapience tell the +origin of all the isles? how Mardi came to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that once mooted point is settled. Though hard at first, it proved a +bagatelle. Start not my lord; there are those who have measured Mardi by perch +and pole, and with their wonted lead sounded its utmost depths. Listen: it is a +pleasant story. The coral wall which circumscribes the isles but continues +upward the deep buried crater of the primal chaos. In the first times this +crucible was charged with vapors nebulous, boiling over fires volcanic. Age by +age, the fluid thickened; dropping, at long intervals, heavy sediment to the +bottom; which layer on layer concreted, and at length, in crusts, rose toward +the surface. Then, the vast volcano burst; rent the whole mass; upthrew the +ancient rocks; which now in divers mountain tops tell tales of what existed ere +Mardi was completely fashioned. Hence many fossils on the hills, whose kith and +kin still lurk beneath the vales. Thus Nature works, at random warring, chaos a +crater, and this world a shell.” +</p> + +<p> +Mohi stroked his beard. +</p> + +<p> +Yoomy yawned. +</p> + +<p> +Media cried, “Preposterous!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, then take another theory—which you will—the +celebrated sandwich System. Nature’s first condition was a soup, wherein +the agglomerating solids formed granitic dumplings, which, wearing down, +deposited the primal stratum made up of series, sandwiching strange shapes of +mollusks, and zoophytes; then snails, and periwinkles:— marmalade to sip, +and nuts to crack, ere the substantials came. +</p> + +<p> +“And next, my lord, we have the fine old time of the Old Red Sandstone +sandwich, clapped on the underlying layer, and among other dainties, imbedding +the first course of fish,—all quite in rule,—sturgeon- forms, +cephalaspis, glyptolepis, pterichthys; and other finny things, of flavor rare, +but hard to mouth for bones. Served up with these, were sundry +greens,—lichens, mosses, ferns, and fungi. +</p> + +<p> +“Now comes the New Red Sandstone sandwich: marly and magnesious, spread +over with old patriarchs of crocodiles and alligators,—hard carving +these,—and prodigious lizards, spine-skewered, tails tied in bows, and +swimming in saffron saucers.” +</p> + +<p> +“What next?” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“The Ool, or Oily sandwich:—rare gormandizing then; for oily it was +called, because of fat old joints, and hams, and rounds, and barons of +sea-beeves and walrusses, which then crowned the stratum-board. All piled +together, glorious profusion!—fillets and briskets, rumps, and saddles, +and haunches; shoulder to shoulder, loin ’gainst sirloin, ribs rapping +knuckles, and quarter to none. And all these sandwiched right over all that +went before. Course after course, and course on course, my lord; no time to +clear the wreck; no stop nor let; lay on and slash; cut, thrust, and come. +</p> + +<p> +“Next the Chalk, or Coral sandwich; but no dry fare for that; made up of +rich side-courses,—eocene, miocene, and pliocene. The first was wild game +for the delicate,—bantam larks, curlews, quails, and flying weazels; with +a slight sprinkling of pilaus,—capons, pullets, plovers, and garnished +with petrels’ eggs. Very savory, that, my lord. The second +side-course—miocene—was out of course, flesh after fowl: marine +mammalia,—seals, grampuses, and whales, served up with sea-weed on their +flanks, hearts and kidneys deviled, and fins and flippers friccasied. All very +thee, my lord. The third side-course, the pliocene, was goodliest of +all:—whole-roasted elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippopotamuses, stuffed +with boiled ostriches, condors, cassowaries, turkeys. Also barbacued mastodons +and megatheriums, gallantly served up with fir-trees in their mouths, and tails +cock-billed. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus fared the old diluvians: arrant gormandizers and beef-bolters. We +Mardians famish on the superficial strata of deposits; cracking our jaws on +walnuts, filberts, cocoa-nuts, and clams. My lord, I’ve done.” +</p> + +<p> +“And bravely done it is. Mohi tells us, that Mardi was made in six days; +but you, Babbalanja, have built it up from the bottom in less than six +minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing for us geologists, my lord. At a word we turn you out whole +systems, suns, satellites, and asteroids included. Why, my good lord, my friend +Annonimo is laying out a new Milky Way, to intersect with the old one, and +facilitate cross-cuts among the comets.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, Babbalanja turned aside. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0029"></a> +CHAPTER XXIX.<br/> +They Still Remain Upon The Rock</h2> + +<p> +“Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum,” so hummed to himself +Babbalanja, slowly pacing over the fossils. “Is he crazy again?” +whispered Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you crazy, Babbalanja?” asked Media. +</p> + +<p> +“From my very birth have I been so, my lord; am I not possessed by a +devil?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll e’en interrogate him,” cried Media. +“—Hark ye, sirrah;— why rave you thus in this poor +mortal?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis he, not I. I am the mildest devil that ever entered man; in +propria persona, no antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at last +your Mardian lions lose their caudal horns.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very sing-song devil this. But, prithee, who are you, sirrah?” +</p> + +<p> +“The mildest devil that ever entered man; in propria persona, no antlers +do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at last your Mardian lions lose their +caudal horns.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very iterating devil this. Sirrah! mock me not. Know you aught yet +unrevealed by Babbalanja?” +</p> + +<p> +“Many things I know, not good to tell; whence they call me +Azzageddi.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very confidential devil, this; that tells no secrets. Azzageddi, can I +drive thee out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only with this mortal’s ghost:—together we came in, together +we depart.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very terse, and ready devil, this. Whence come you, Azzageddi?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither my catechist must go—a torrid clime, cut by a hot +equator.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very keen, and witty devil, this. Azzageddi, whom have you +there?” +</p> + +<p> +“A right down merry, jolly set, that at a roaring furnace sit and toast +their hoofs for aye; so used to flames, they poke the fire with their horns, +and light their tails for torches.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very funny devil, this. Azzageddi, is not Mardi a place far +pleasanter, than that from whence you came?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, home! sweet, sweet, home! would, would that I were home +again!” +</p> + +<p> +“A very sentimental devil, this. Azzageddi, would you had a hand, +I’d shake it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so with us; who, rear to rear, shake each other’s tails, and +courteously inquire, ‘Pray, worthy sir, how now stands the great +thermometer?’” +</p> + +<p> +“The very prince of devils, this.” +</p> + +<p> +“How mad our Babbalanja is,” cried Mohi. My lord, take heed; +he’ll bite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! alas!” sighed Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark ye, Babbalanja,” cried Media, “enough of this: doff +your devil, and be a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I can not doff him; but I’ll down him for a time: +Azzageddi! down, imp; down, down, down! so: now, my lord, I’m only +Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I test his sanity, my lord?” cried Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Do, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Philosopher, our great reef is surrounded by an ocean; what think you +lies beyond?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” sighed Yoomy, “the very subject to renew his +madness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, minstrel!” said Media. “Answer, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, my lord. Fear not, sweet Yoomy; you see how calm I am. Braid- +Beard, those strangers, that came to Mondoldo prove isles afar, as a +philosopher of old surmised, but was hooted at for his surmisings. Nor is it at +all impossible, Braid-Beard, that beyond their land may exist other regions, of +which those strangers know not; peopled with races something like us Mardians; +but perhaps with more exalted faculties, and organs that we lack. They may have +some better seeing sense than ours; perhaps, have fins or wings for +arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“This seems not like sanity,” muttered Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“A most crazy hypothesis, truly,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“And are all inductions vain?” cried Babbalanja. “Have we +mortals naught to rest on, but what we see with eyes? Is no faith to be reposed +in that inner microcosm, wherein we see the charted universe in little, as the +whole horizon is mirrored in the iris of a gnat? Alas! alas! my lord, is there +no blest Odonphi? no Astrazzi?” +</p> + +<p> +“His devil’s uppermost again, my lord,” cried Braid-Beard. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s stark, stark mad!” sighed Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, the moon’s at full,” said Media. “Ho, paddlers! we +depart.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0030"></a> +CHAPTER XXX.<br/> +Behind And Before</h2> + +<p> +It was yet moonlight when we pushed from the islet. But soon, the sky grew dun; +the moon went into a cavern among the clouds; and by that secret sympathy +between our hearts and the elements, the thoughts of all but Media became +overcast. +</p> + +<p> +Again discourse was had of that dark intelligence from Mondoldo,—the fell +murder of Taji’s follower. +</p> + +<p> +Said Mohi, “Those specter sons of Aleema must have been the +assassins.” +</p> + +<p> +“They harbored deadly malice,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Which poor Jarl’s death must now have sated,” sighed Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Then all the happier for Taji,” said Media. “But away with +gloom! because the sky is clouded, why cloud your brows? Babbalanja, I grieve +the moon is gone. Yet start some paradox, that we may laugh. Say a woman is a +man, or you yourself a stork.” +</p> + +<p> +At this they smiled. When hurtling came an arrow, which struck our stern, and +quivered. Another! and another! Grazing the canopy, they darted by, and +hissing, dived like red-hot bars beneath the waves. +</p> + +<p> +Starting, we beheld a corruscating wake, tracking the course of a low canoe, +far flying for a neighboring mountain. The next moment it was lost within the +mountain’s shadow and pursuit was useless. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us fly!” cried Yoomy +</p> + +<p> +“Peace! What murderers these?” said Media, calmly; “whom can +they seek?—you, Taji?” +</p> + +<p> +“The three avengers fly three bolts,” said Babbalanja. “See +if the arrow yet remain astern,” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +They brought it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“By Oro! Taji on the barb!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it missed its aim. But I will not mine. And whatever arrows follow, +still will I hunt on. Nor does the ghost, that these pale specters would +avenge, at all disquiet me. The priest I slew, but to gain her, now lost; and I +would slay again, to bring her back. Ah, Yillah! Yillah.” +</p> + +<p> +All started. +</p> + +<p> +Then said Babbalanja, “Aleema’s sons raved not; ’tis true, +then, Taji, that an evil deed gained you your Yillah: no wonder she is +lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, unconcernedly, “Perhaps better, Taji, to have kept your +secret; but tell no more; I care not to be your foe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Taji! I had shrank from you,” cried Yoomy, “but for the +mark upon your brow. That undoes the tenor of your words. But look, the stars +come forth, and who are these? A waving Iris! ay, again they come:— +Hautia’s heralds!” +</p> + +<p> +They brought a black thorn, buried in withered rose-balm blossoms, red and +blue. +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “For that which stings, there is no cure,” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, who is Hautia, that she stabs me thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“And this wild sardony mocks your misery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away! ye fiends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again a Venus car; and lo! a wreath of strawberries!—Yet fly to +me, and be garlanded with joys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let the wild witch laugh. She moves me not. Neither hurtling arrows nor +Circe flowers appall.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “They wait reply.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your Hautia, that I know her not; nor care to know. I defy her +incantations; she lures in vain. Yillah! Yillah! still I hope!” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly they departed; heeding not my cries no more to follow. +</p> + +<p> +Silence, and darkness fell. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0031"></a> +CHAPTER XXXI.<br/> +Babbalanja Discourses In The Dark</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Some remedies applied, and the company grown composed, Babbalanja +thus:—“My lord Media, was there any human necessity for that +accident?” +</p> + +<p> +“None that I know, or care to tell, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“Vee-Vee,” said Babbalanja, “did you fall on purpose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I,” sobbed little Vee-Vee, slinging his ailing arm in its +mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Woe! woe to us all, then,” cried Babbalanja; “for what +direful events may be in store for us which we can not avoid.” +</p> + +<p> +“How now, mortal?” cried Media; “what now?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was that owing to, my lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Vee-Vee himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, my lord, what brought such a careless being into Mardi?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Many thanks then to your highness; for you establish the doctrine of +Philosophical Necessity.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I establish nothing; I but answer your questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“All one, my lord: you are a Necessitarian; in other words, you hold that +every thing takes place through absolute necessity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you take me, then, for a fool, and a Fatalist? Pardie! a bad creed +for a monarch, the distributor of rewards and punishments.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, Babbalanja, I grant it all. Go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“On high authority, we are told that in times past the fall of certain +nations in Mardi was prophesied of seers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most true, my lord,” said Mohi; “it is all down in the +chronicles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! ha!” cried Media. “Go on, philosopher.” +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, Babbalanja,” said Media. “Of course those nations +could not have resisted their doom. Go on, then: vault over your +premises.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it be, then, my lord, that—” +</p> + +<p> +“My very worshipful lord,” interposed Mohi, “is not our +philosopher getting off soundings; and may it not be impious to meddle with +these things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Were it so, old man, he should have known it. The king of Odo is +something more than you mortals.” +</p> + +<p> +“But are we the great gods themselves,” cried Yoomy, “that we +discourse of these things.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“So you mortals teach, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“But so do they <i>mean</i>, my lord. Often do we Mardians stick to terms +for ages, yet truly apply not their meanings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Oro is every where. What now?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 <i>in</i> all things, and himself <i>is</i> 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! his fit is coming upon him again,” whispered Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, my lord, in these things wise men are spectators, not actors; wise +men look on, and say ‘ay.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not say so yourself, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, because I have often told you, that I am a fool, and not +wise.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay?” said Media, “what say you to that, now, +Babbalanja?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be even so, my lord. Shall I tell you a story?” +</p> + +<p> +“Azzageddi’s stirring now,” muttered Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“A curious story that,” said Media; “whence came it?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, where every thing, but one, is to be had:—within.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are charged to the muzzle, then,” said Braid-Beard. +“Yes, Mohi; and my talk is my overflowing, not my fullness.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what may you be so full of?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it seems,” said Mohi, whisking away a fly with his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, Babbalanja slowly drooped, and fell reclining; then lay motionless +as the marble Gladiator, that for centuries has been dying. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0032"></a> +CHAPTER XXXII.<br/> +My Lord Media Summons Mohi To The Stand</h2> + +<p> +While slowly the night wore on, and the now scudding clouds flown past, +revealed again the hosts in heaven, few words were uttered save by Media; who, +when all others were most sad and silent, seemed but little moved, or not +stirred a jot. +</p> + +<p> +But that night, he filled his flagon fuller than his wont, and drank, and +drank, and pledged the stars. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to thee, old Arcturus! To thee, old Aldebaran! who ever +poise your wine-red, fiery spheres on high. A health to <i>thee</i>, my regal +friend, Alphacca, in the constellation of the Crown: Lo! crown to crown, I +pledge thee! I drink to <i>ye</i>, too, Alphard! Markab! Denebola! +Capella!—to <i>ye</i>, too, sailing Cygnus! Aquila soaring!—All +round, a health to all your diadems! May they never fade! nor mine!” +</p> + +<p> +At last, in the shadowy east, the Dawn, like a gray, distant sail before the +wind, was descried; drawing nearer and nearer, till her gilded prow was +perceived. +</p> + +<p> +And as in tropic gales, the winds blow fierce, and more fierce, with the advent +of the sun; so with King Media; whose mirth now breezed up afresh. But, as at +sunrise, the sea-storm only blows harder, to settle down at last into a steady +wind; even so, in good time, my lord Media came to be more decorous of mood. +And Babbalanja abated his reveries. +</p> + +<p> +For who might withstand such a morn! +</p> + +<p> +As on the night-banks of the far-rolling Ganges, the royal bridegroom sets +forth for his bride, preceded by nymphs, now this side, now that, lighting up +all the flowery flambeaux held on high as they pass; so came the Sun, to his +nuptials with Mardi:—the Hours going on before, touching all the peaks, +till they glowed rosy-red. +</p> + +<p> +By reflex, the lagoon, here and there, seemed on fire; each curling wave-crest +a flame. +</p> + +<p> +Noon came as we sailed. +</p> + +<p> +And now, citrons and bananas, cups and calabashes, calumets and tobacco, were +passed round; and we were all very merry and mellow indeed. Smacking our lips, +chatting, smoking, and sipping. Now a mouthful of citron to season a repartee; +now a swallow of wine to wash down a precept; now a fragrant whiff to puff away +care. Many things did beguile. From side to side, we turned and grazed, like +Juno’s white oxen in clover meads. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, we drew nigh to a charming cliff, overrun with woodbines, on high +suspended from flowering Tamarisk and Tamarind-trees. The blossoms of the +Tamarisks, in spikes of small, red bells; the Tamarinds, wide-spreading their +golden petals, red-streaked as with streaks of the dawn. Down sweeping to the +water, the vines trailed over to the crisp, curling waves,—little pages, +all eager to hold up their trains. +</p> + +<p> +Within, was a bower; going behind it, like standing inside the sheet of the +falls of the Genesee. +</p> + +<p> +In this arbor we anchored. And with their shaded prows thrust in among the +flowers, our three canoes seemed baiting by the way, like wearied steeds in a +hawthorn lane. +</p> + +<p> +High midsummer noon is more silent than night. Most sweet a siesta then. And +noon dreams are day-dreams indeed; born under the meridian sun. Pale Cynthia +begets pale specter shapes; and her frigid rays best illuminate white nuns, +marble monuments, icy glaciers, and cold tombs. +</p> + +<p> +The sun rolled on. And starting to his feet, arms clasped, and wildly staring, +Yoomy exclaimed—“Nay, nay, thou shalt not depart, thou +maid!—here, here I fold thee for aye!—Flown?—A dream! Then +siestas henceforth while I live. And at noon, every day will I meet thee, sweet +maid! And, oh Sun! set not; and poppies bend over us, when next we +embrace!” +</p> + +<p> +“What ails that somnambulist?” cried Media, rising. “Yoomy, I +say! what ails thee?” +</p> + +<p> +“He must have indulged over freely in those citrons,” said Mohi, +sympathetically rubbing his fruitery. “Ho, Yoomy! a swallow of brine will +help thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas,” cried Babbalanja, “do the fairies then wait on +repletion? Do our dreams come from below, and not from the skies? Are we +angels, or dogs? Oh, Man, Man, Man! thou art harder to solve, than the Integral +Calculus—yet plain as a primer; harder to find than the +philosopher’s-stone—yet ever at hand; a more cunning compound, than +an alchemist’s—yet a hundred weight of flesh, to a penny weight of +spirit; soul and body glued together, firm as atom to atom, seamless as the +vestment without joint, warp or woof—yet divided as by a river, spirit +from flesh; growing both ways, like a tree, and dropping thy topmost branches +to earth, like thy beard or a banian!—I give thee up, oh Man! thou art +twain—yet indivisible; all things—yet a poor unit at best.” +</p> + +<p> +“Philosopher you seem puzzled to account for the riddles of your +race,” cried Media, sideways reclining at his ease. “Now, do thou, +old Mohi, stand up before a demi-god, and answer for all.—Draw nigh, so I +can eye thee. What art thou, mortal?” +</p> + +<p> +“My worshipful lord, a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are men?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, before thee is a specimen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear me, my lord will get nothing out of that witness,” said +Babbalanja. “Pray you, King Media, let another inquisitor cross- +question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed; take the divan.” +</p> + +<p> +“A pace or two farther off, there, Mohi; so I can garner thee all in at a +glance.—Attention! Rememberest thou, fellow-being, when thou wast +born?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I. Old Braid-Beard had no memory then.” +</p> + +<p> +“When, then, wast thou first conscious of being?” +</p> + +<p> +“What time I was teething: my first sensation was an ache.” +</p> + +<p> +“What dost thou, fellow-being, here in Mardi?” +</p> + +<p> +“What doth Mardi here, fellow-being, under me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Philosopher, thou gainest but little by thy questions,” cried +Yoomy advancing. “Let a poet endeavor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I abdicate in your favor, then, gentle Yoomy; let me smooth the divan +for you;—there: be seated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mohi, who art thou?” said Yoomy, nodding his bird-of-paradise +plume. +</p> + +<p> +“The sole witness, it seems, in this case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try again minstrel,” cried Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, what art thou, Mohi?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even what thou art, Yoomy.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is too sharp or too blunt for us all,” cried King Media. +“His devil is even more subtle than yours, Babbalanja. Let him go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I adjourn the court then, my lord?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All mortals having business at this court, know ye, +that it is adjourned till sundown of the day, which hath no to-morrow.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0033"></a> +CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/> +Wherein Babbalanja And Yoomy Embrace</h2> + +<p> +“How the isles grow and multiply around us!” cried Babbalanja, as +turning the bold promontory of an uninhabited shore, many distant lands bluely +loomed into view. “Surely, our brief voyage, may not embrace all Mardi +like its reef?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Media, “much must be left unseen. Nor every where +can Yillah be sought, noble Taji.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Yoomy, “We are as birds, with pinions clipped, that in unfathomable +and endless woods, but flit from twig to twig of one poor tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“More isles! more isles!” cried Babbalanja, erect, and gazing +abroad. “And lo! round all is heaving that infinite ocean. Ah! gods! what +regions lie beyond?” +</p> + +<p> +“But whither now?” he cried, as in obedience to Media, the paddlers +suddenly altered our course. +</p> + +<p> +“To the bold shores of Diranda,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay; the land of clubs and javelins, where the lord seigniors Hello and +Piko celebrate their famous games,” cried Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Your clubs and javelins,” said Media, “remind me of the +great battle- chant of Narvi—Yoomy!”—turning to the minstrel, +gazing abstractedly into the water;—“awake, Yoomy, and give us the +lines.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Media, ’tis but a rude, clanging thing; dissonant as if +the north wind blew through it. Methinks the company will not fancy lines so +inharmonious. Better sing you, perhaps, one of my sonnets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better sit and sob in our ears, silly Yoomy that thou art!—no! no! +none of your sentiment now; my soul is martially inclined; I want clarion +peals, not lute warblings. So throw out your chest, Yoomy: lift high your +voice; and blow me the old battle-blast.—Begin, sir minstrel.” +</p> + +<p> +And warning all, that he himself had not composed the odious chant, Yoomy +thus:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Our clubs! our clubs!<br/> +The thousand clubs of Narvi!<br/> +Of the living trunk of the Palm-tree made;<br/> +Skull breakers! Brain spatterers!<br/> +Wielded right, and wielded left;<br/> +Life quenchers! Death dealers!<br/> +Causing live bodies to run headless!<br/> +<br/> +Our bows! our bows!<br/> +The thousand bows of Narvi!<br/> +Ribs of Tara, god of War!<br/> +Fashioned from the light Tola their arrows;<br/> +Swift messengers! Heart piercers!<br/> +Barbed with sharp pearl shells;<br/> +Winged with white tail-plumes;<br/> +To wild death-chants, strung with the hair of wild maidens!<br/> +<br/> +Our spears! our spears!<br/> +The thousand spears of Narvi!<br/> +Of the thunder-riven Moo-tree made<br/> +Tall tree, couched on the long mountain Lana!<br/> +No staves for gray-beards! no rods for fishermen!<br/> +Tempered by fierce sea-winds,<br/> +Splintered into lances by lightnings,<br/> +Long arrows! Heart seekers!<br/> +Toughened by fire their sharp black points!<br/> +<br/> +Our slings! our slings!<br/> +The thousand slings of Narvi!<br/> +All tasseled, and braided, and gayly bedecked.<br/> +In peace, our girdles; in war, our war-nets;<br/> +Wherewith catch we heads as fish from the deep!<br/> +The pebbles they hurl, have been hurled before,—<br/> +Hurled up on the beach by the stormy sea!<br/> +Pebbles, buried erewhile in the head of the shark:<br/> +To be buried erelong in the heads of our foes!<br/> +Home of hard blows, our pouches!<br/> +Nest of death-eggs! How quickly they hatch!<br/> +<br/> +Uplift, and couch we our spears, men!<br/> +Ring hollow on the rocks our war clubs!<br/> +Bend we our bows, feel the points of our arrows:<br/> +Aloft, whirl in eddies our sling-nets;<br/> +To the fight, men of Narvi!<br/> +Sons of battle! Hunters of men!<br/> +Raise high your war-wood!<br/> +Shout Narvi! her groves in the storm! +</p> + +<p> +“By Oro!” cried Media, “but Yoomy has well nigh stirred up +all Babbalanja’s devils in me. Were I a mortal, I could fight now on a +pretense. And did any man say me nay, I would charge upon him like a +spear-point. Ah, Yoomy, thou and thy tribe have much to answer for; ye stir up +all Mardi with your lays. Your war chants make men fight; your drinking songs, +drunkards; your love ditties, fools. Yet there thou sittest, Yoomy, gentle as a +dove.—What art thou, minstrel, that thy soft, singing soul should so +master all mortals? Yoomy, like me, you sway a scepter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou honorest my calling overmuch,” said Yoomy, we minstrels but +sing our lays carelessly, my lord Media.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay: and the more mischief they make.” +</p> + +<p> +“But sometimes we poets are didactic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didactic and dull; many of ye are but too apt to be prosy unless +mischievous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet in our verses, my lord Media, but few of us purpose harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“But when all harmless to yourselves, ye may be otherwise to +Mardi.” +</p> + +<p> +“And are not foul streams often traced to pure fountains, my lord?” +said Babbalanja. “The essence of all good and all evil is in us, not out +of us. Neither poison nor honey lodgeth in the flowers on which, side by side, +bees and wasps oft alight. My lord, nature is an immaculate virgin, forever +standing unrobed before us. True poets but paint the charms which all eyes +behold. The vicious would be vicious without them.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Media,” impetuously resumed Yoomy, “I am sensible of +a thousand sweet, merry fancies, limpid with innocence; yet my enemies account +them all lewd conceits.” +</p> + +<p> +“There be those in Mardi,” said Babbalanja, “who would never +ascribe evil to others, did they not find it in their own hearts; believing +none can be different from themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, my lord!” cried Yoomy. “The air that breathes my +music from me is a mountain air! Purer than others am I; for though not a +woman, I feel in me a woman’s soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, have done, silly Yoomy,” said Media. “Thou art becoming +flighty, even as Babbalanja, when Azzageddi is uppermost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus ever: ever thus!” sighed Yoomy. “They comprehend us +not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor me,” said Babbalanja. “Yoomy: poets both, we differ but +in seeming; thy airiest conceits are as the shadows of my deepest ponderings; +though Yoomy soars, and Babbalanja dives, both meet at last. Not a song you +sing, but I have thought its thought; and where dull Mardi sees but your rose, +I unfold its petals, and disclose a pearl. Poets are we, Yoomy, in that we +dwell without us; we live in grottoes, palms, and brooks; we ride the sea, we +ride the sky; poets are omnipresent.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0034"></a> +CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/> +Of The Isle Of Diranda</h2> + +<p> +In good time the shores of Diranda were in sight. And, introductory to landing, +Braid-Beard proceeded to give us some little account of the island, and its +rulers. +</p> + +<p> +As previously hinted, those very magnificent and illustrious lord seigniors, +the lord seigniors Hello and Piko, who between them divided Diranda, delighted +in all manner of public games, especially warlike ones; which last were +celebrated so frequently, and were so fatal in their results, that, +not-withstanding the multiplicity of nuptials taking place in the isle, its +population remained in equilibrio. But, strange to relate, this was the very +object which the lord seigniors had in view; the very object they sought to +compass, by instituting their games. Though, for the most part, they wisely +kept the secret locked up. +</p> + +<p> +But to tell how the lord seigniors Hello and Piko came to join hands in this +matter. +</p> + +<p> +Diranda had been amicably divided between them ever since the day they were +crowned; one reigning king in the East, the other in the West. But King Piko +had been long harassed with the thought, that the unobstructed and indefinite +increase of his browsing subjects might eventually denude of herbage his +portion of the island. Posterity, thought he, is marshaling her generations in +squadrons, brigades, and battalions, and ere long will be down upon my devoted +empire. Lo! her locust cavalry darken the skies; her light-troop pismires cover +the earth. Alas! my son and successor, thou wilt inhale choke-damp for air, and +have not a private corner to say thy prayers. +</p> + +<p> +By a sort of arithmetical progression, the probability, nay, the certainty of +these results, if not in some way averted, was proved to King Piko; and he was +furthermore admonished, that war—war to the haft with King +Hello—was the only cure for so menacing an evil. +</p> + +<p> +But so it was, that King Piko, at peace with King Hello, and well content with, +the tranquillity of the times, little relished the idea of picking a quarrel +with his neighbor, and running its risks, in order to phlebotomize his +redundant population. +</p> + +<p> +“Patience, most illustrious seignior,” said another of his +sagacious Ahithophels, “and haply a pestilence may decimate the +people.” +</p> + +<p> +But no pestilence came. And in every direction the young men and maidens were +recklessly rushing into wedlock; and so salubrious the climate, that the old +men stuck to the outside of the turf, and refused to go under. +</p> + +<p> +At last some Machiavel of a philosopher suggested, that peradventure the object +of war might be answered without going to war; that peradventure King Hello +might be brought to acquiesce in an arrangement, whereby the men of Diranda +might be induced to kill off one another voluntarily, in a peaceable manner, +without troubling their rulers. And to this end, the games before mentioned +were proposed. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad! my wise ones, you have hit it,” cried Piko; “but will +Hello say ay?” +</p> + +<p> +“Try him, most illustrious seignior,” said Machiavel. +</p> + +<p> +So to Hello went embassadors ordinary and extraordinary, and ministers +plenipotentiary and peculiar; and anxiously King Piko awaited their return. +</p> + +<p> +The mission was crowned with success. +</p> + +<p> +Said King Hello to the ministers, in confidence:—“The very thing, +Dons, the very thing I have wanted. My people are increasing too fast. They +keep up the succession too well. Tell your illustrious master it’s a +bargain. The games! the games! by all means.” +</p> + +<p> +So, throughout the island, by proclamation, they were forthwith established; +succeeding to a charm. +</p> + +<p> +And the lord seigniors, Hello and Piko, finding their interests the same, came +together like bride and bridegroom; lived in the same palace; dined off the +same cloth; cut from the same bread-fruit; drank from the same calabash; wore +each other’s crowns; and often locking arms with a charming frankness, +paced up and down in their dominions, discussing the prospect of the next +harvest of heads. +</p> + +<p> +In his old-fashioned way, having related all this, with many other particulars, +Mohi was interrupted by Babbalanja, who inquired how the people of Diranda +relished the games, and how they fancied being coolly thinned out in that +manner. +</p> + +<p> +To which in substance the chronicler replied, that of the true object of the +games, they had not the faintest conception; but hammered away at each other, +and fought and died together, like jolly good fellows. +</p> + +<p> +“Right again, immortal old Bardianna!” cried Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“And what has the sage to the point this time?” asked Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my lord, in his chapter on “Cracked Crowns,” Bardianna, +after many profound ponderings, thus concludes: In this cracked sphere we live +in, then, cracked skulls would seem the inevitable allotments of many. Nor will +the splintering thereof cease, till this pugnacious animal we treat of be +deprived of his natural maces: videlicet, his arms. And right well doth man +love to bruise and batter all occiputs in his vicinity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to me, our old friend must have been on his stilts that +time,” interrupted Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Braid-Beard. But by way of apologizing for the unusual rigidity of +his style in that chapter, he says in a note, that it was written upon a +straight-backed settle, when he was ill of a lumbago, and a crick in the +neck.” +</p> + +<p> +“That incorrigible Azzageddi again,” said Media, “Proceed +with your quotation, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where was I, Braid-Beard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Battering occiputs at the last accounts,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes. And right well doth man love to bruise and batter all occiputs +in his vicinity; he but follows his instincts; he is but one member of a +fighting world. Spiders, vixens, and tigers all war with a relish; and on every +side is heard the howls of hyenas, the throttlings of mastiffs, the din of +belligerant beetles, the buzzing warfare of the insect battalions: and the +shrill cries of lady Tartars rending their lords. And all this existeth of +necessity. To war it is, and other depopulators, that we are beholden for +elbow-room in Mardi and for all our parks an gardens, wherein we are wont to +expatiate. Come on, then, plague, war, famine and viragos! Come on, I say, for +who shall stay ye? Come on, and healthfulize the census! And more especially, +oh War! do thou march forth with thy bludgeon! Cracked are, our crowns by +nature, and henceforth forever, cracked shall they be by hard raps.” +</p> + +<p> +“And hopelessly cracked the skull, that hatched such a tirade of +nonsense,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“And think you not, old Bardianna knew that?” asked Babbalanja. +“He wrote an excellent chapter on that very subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, on the cracks in his own pate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely. And expressly asserts, that to those identical cracks, was he +indebted for what little light he had in his brain.” +</p> + +<p> +“I yield, Babbalanja; your old Ponderer is older than I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, ay, Braid-Beard; his crest was a tortoise; and this was the +motto:—‘I bite, but am not to be bitten.’” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0035"></a> +CHAPTER XXXV.<br/> +They Visit The Lords Piko And Hello</h2> + +<p> +In good time, we landed at Diranda. And that landing was like landing at +Greenwich among the Waterloo pensioners. The people were docked right and left; +some without arms; some without legs; not one with a tail; but to a man, all +had heads, though rather the worse for wear; covered with lumps and contusions. +</p> + +<p> +Now, those very magnificent and illustrious lord seigniors, the lord seigniors +Hello and Piko, lived in a palace, round which was a fence of the cane called +Malacca, each picket helmed with a skull, of which there were fifty, one to +each cane. Over the door was the blended arms of the high and mighty houses of +Hello and Piko: a Clavicle crossed over an Ulna. +</p> + +<p> +Escorted to the sign of the Skull-and-Cross-Bones, we received the very best +entertainment which that royal inn could afford. We found our hosts Hello and +Piko seated together on a dais or throne, and now and then drinking some +claret-red wine from an ivory bowl, too large to have been wrought from an +elephant’s tusk. They were in glorious good spirits, shaking ivory coins +in a skull. +</p> + +<p> +“What says your majesty?” said Piko. “Heads or tails?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, heads, your majesty,” said Hello. +</p> + +<p> +“And heads say I,” said Piko. +</p> + +<p> +And heads it was. But it was heads on both sides, so both were sure to win. +</p> + +<p> +And thus they were used to play merrily all day long; beheading the gourds of +claret by one slicing blow with their sickle-shaped scepters. Wide round them +lay empty calabashes, all feathered, red dyed, and betasseled, trickling red +wine from their necks, like the decapitated pullets in the old baronial barn +yard at Kenilworth, the night before Queen Bess dined with my lord Leicester. +</p> + +<p> +The first compliments over; and Media and Taji having met with a reception +suitable to their rank, the kings inquired, whether there were any good +javelin-flingers among us: for if that were the case, they could furnish them +plenty of sport. Informed, however, that none of the party were professional +warriors, their majesties looked rather glum, and by way of chasing away the +blues, called for some good old stuff, that was red. +</p> + +<p> +It seems, this soliciting guests, to keep their spears from decaying, by cut +and thrust play with their subjects, was a very common thing with their +illustrious majesties. +</p> + +<p> +But if their visitors could not be prevailed upon to spear a subject or so, our +hospitable hosts resolved to have a few speared, and otherwise served up for +our special entertainment. In a word, our arrival furnished a fine pretext for +renewing their games; though, we learned, that only ten days previous, upward +of fifty combatants had been slain at one of these festivals. +</p> + +<p> +Be that as it might, their joint majesties determined upon another one; and +also upon our tarrying to behold it. We objected, saying we must depart. +</p> + +<p> +But we were kindly assured, that our canoes had been dragged out of the water, +and buried in a wood; there to remain till the games were over. +</p> + +<p> +The day fixed upon, was the third subsequent to our arrival; the interval being +devoted to preparations; summoning from their villages and valleys the warriors +of the land; and publishing the royal proclamations, whereby the unbounded +hospitality of the kings’ household was freely offered to all heroes +whatsoever, who for the love of arms, and the honor of broken heads, desired to +cross battle-clubs, hurl spears, or die game in the royal valley of Deddo. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, the whole island was in a state of uproarious commotion, and +strangers were daily arriving. +</p> + +<p> +The spot set apart for the festival, was a spacious down, mantled with white +asters; which, waving in windrows, lay upon the land, like the cream-surf +surging the milk of young heifers. But that whiteness, here and there, was +spotted with strawberries; tracking the plain, as if wounded creatures had been +dragging themselves bleeding from some deadly encounter. All round the down, +waved scarlet thickets of sumach, moaning in the wind, like the gory ghosts +environing Pharsalia the night after the battle; scaring away the peasants, who +with bushel-baskets came to the jewel-harvest of the rings of Pompey’s +knights. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath the heaped turf of this down, lay thousands of glorious corpses of +anonymous heroes, who here had died glorious deaths. +</p> + +<p> +Whence, in the florid language of Diranda, they called this field “The +Field of Glory.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0036"></a> +CHAPTER XXXVI.<br/> +They Attend The Games</h2> + +<p> +At last the third day dawned; and facing us upon entering the plain, was a +throne of red log-wood, canopied by the foliage of a red-dyed Pandannus. Upon +this throne, purple-robed, reclined those very magnificent and illustrious +lords seigniors, the lord seigniors Hello and Piko. Before them, were many +gourds of wine; and crosswise, staked in the sod, their own royal spears. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle of the down, as if by a furrow, a long, oval space was margined +of about which, a crowd of spectators were seated. Opposite the throne, was +reserved a clear passage to the arena, defined by air-lines, indefinitely +produced from the leveled points of two spears, so poised by a brace of +warriors. +</p> + +<p> +Drawing near, our party was courteously received, and assigned a commodious +lounge. +</p> + +<p> +The first encounter was a club-fight between two warriors. Nor casque of steel, +nor skull of Congo could have resisted their blows, had they fallen upon the +mark; for they seemed bent upon driving each other, as stakes, into the earth. +Presently, one of them faltered; but his adversary rushing in to cleave him +down, slipped against a guavarind; when the falterer, with one lucky blow, high +into the air sent the stumbler’s club, which descended upon the crown of +a spectator, who was borne from the plain. +</p> + +<p> +“All one,” muttered Pike. +</p> + +<p> +“As good dead as another,” muttered Hello. +</p> + +<p> +The second encounter was a hugging-match; wherein two warriors, masked in +Grisly-bear skins, hugged each other to death. +</p> + +<p> +The third encounter was a bumping-match between a fat warrior and a dwarf. +Standing erect, his paunch like a bass-drum before a drummer, the fat man was +run at, head-a-tilt by the dwarf, and sent spinning round on his axis. +</p> + +<p> +The fourth encounter was a tussle between two-score warriors, who all in a +mass, writhed like the limbs in Sebastioni’s painting of Hades. After +obscuring themselves in a cloud of dust, these combatants, uninjured, but +hugely blowing, drew off; and separately going among the spectators, rehearsed +their experience of the fray. +</p> + +<p> +“Braggarts!” mumbled Piko. +</p> + +<p> +“Poltroons!” growled Hello. +</p> + +<p> +While the crowd were applauding, a sober-sided observer, trying to rub the dust +out of his eyes, inquired of an enthusiastic neighbor, “Pray, what was +all that about?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool! saw you not the dust?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I did,” said Sober-Sides, again rubbing his eyes, “But +I can raise a dust myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The fifth encounter was a fight of single sticks between one hundred warriors, +fifty on a side. +</p> + +<p> +In a line, the first fifty emerged from the sumachs, their weapons interlocked +in a sort of wicker-work. In advance marched a priest, bearing an idol with a +cracked cocoanut for a head,—Krako, the god of Trepans. Preceded by +damsels flinging flowers, now came on the second fifty, gayly appareled, +weapons poised, and their feet nimbly moving in a martial measure. +</p> + +<p> +Midway meeting, both parties touched poles, then retreated. Very courteous, +this; but tantamount to bowing each other out of Mardi; for upon Pike’s +tossing a javelin, they rushed in, and each striking his man, all fell to the +ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done!” cried Piko. +</p> + +<p> +“Brave fellows!” cried Hello. +</p> + +<p> +“But up and at it again, my heroes!” joined both. “Lo! we +kings look on, and there stand the bards!” +</p> + +<p> +These bards were a row of lean, sallow, old men, in thread-bare robes, and +chaplets of dead leaves. +</p> + +<p> +“Strike up!” cried Piko. +</p> + +<p> +“A stave!” cried Hello. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon, the old croakers, each with a quinsy, sang thus in cracked +strains:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Quack! Quack! Quack!<br/> +With a toorooloo whack;<br/> +Hack away, merry men, hack away.<br/> +Who would not die brave,<br/> +His ear smote by a stave?<br/> +Thwack away, merry men, thwack away!<br/> +’Tis glory that calls,<br/> +To each hero that falls,<br/> +Hack away, merry men, hack away!<br/> +Quack! Quack! Quack!<br/> +Quack! Quack!<br/> +Quack! +</p> + +<p> +Thus it tapered away. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha!” cried Piko, “how they prick their ears at +that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark ye, my invincibles!” cried Hello. “That pean is for the +slain. So all ye who have lives left, spring to it! Die and be glorified! +Now’s the time!—Strike up again, my ducklings!” +</p> + +<p> +Thus incited, the survivors staggered to their feet; and hammering away at each +others’ sconces, till they rung like a chime of bells going off with a +triple-bob-major, they finally succeeded in immortalizing themselves by +quenching their mortalities all round; the bards still singing. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind your music now,” cried Piko. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all over,” said Hello. +</p> + +<p> +“What valiant fellows we have for subjects,” cried Piko. +</p> + +<p> +“Ho! grave-diggers, clear the field,” cried Hello. +</p> + +<p> +“Who else is for glory?” cried Piko. +</p> + +<p> +“There stand the bards!” cried Hello. +</p> + +<p> +But now there rushed among the crowd a haggard figure, trickling with blood, +and wearing a robe, whose edges were burned and blacked by fire. Wielding a +club, it ran to and fro, with loud yells menacing all. +</p> + +<p> +A noted warrior this; who, distracted at the death of five sons slain in recent +games, wandered from valley to valley, wrestling and fighting. +</p> + +<p> +With wild cries of “The Despairer! The Despairer!” the appalled +multitude fled; leaving the two kings frozen on their throne, quaking and +quailing, their teeth rattling like dice. +</p> + +<p> +The Despairer strode toward them; when, recovering their senses, they ran; for +a time pursued through the woods by the phantom. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0037"></a> +CHAPTER XXXVII.<br/> +Taji Still Hunted, And Beckoned</h2> + +<p> +Previous to the kings’ flight, we had plunged into the neighboring woods; +and from thence emerging, entered brakes of cane, sprouting from morasses. Soon +we heard a whirring, as if three startled partridges had taken wing; it proved +three feathered arrows, from three unseen hands. +</p> + +<p> +Gracing us, two buried in the ground, but from Taji’s arm, the third drew +blood. +</p> + +<p> +On all sides round we turned; but none were seen. “Still the avengers +follow,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Lo! the damsels three!” cried Yoomy. “Look where they +come!” +</p> + +<p> +We joined them by the sumach-wood’s red skirts; and there, they waved +their cherry stalks, and heavy bloated cactus leaves, their crimson blossoms +armed with nettles; and before us flung shining, yellow, tiger-flowers spotted +red. +</p> + +<p> +“Blood!” cried Yoomy, starting, “and leopards on your +track!” +</p> + +<p> +And now the syrens blew through long reeds, tasseled with their panicles, and +waving verdant scarfs of vines, came dancing toward us, proffering clustering +grapes. +</p> + +<p> +“For all now yours, Taji; and all that yet may come,” cried Yoomy, +“fly to me! I will dance away your gloom, and drown it in +inebriation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away! woe is its own wine. What may be mine, that will I endure, in its +own essence to the quick. Let me feel the poniard if it stabs.” +</p> + +<p> +They vanished in the wood; and hurrying on, we soon gained sun-light, and the +open glade. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0038"></a> +CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/> +They Embark From Diranda</h2> + +<p> +Arrived at the Sign of the Skulls, we found the illustrious lord seigniors at +rest from their flight, and once more, quaffing their claret, all thoughts of +the specter departed. Instead of rattling their own ivory iii the heads on +their shoulders, they were rattling their dice in the skulls in their hands. +And still “Heads,” was the cry, and “Heads,” was the +throw. +</p> + +<p> +That evening they made known to my lord Media that an interval of two days must +elapse ere the games were renewed, in order to reward the victors, bury their +dead, and provide for the execution of an Islander, who under the provocation +of a blow, had killed a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +As this suspension of the festivities had been wholly unforeseen, our hosts +were induced to withdraw the embargo laid upon our canoes. Nevertheless, they +pressed us to remain; saying, that what was to come would far exceed in +interest, what had already taken place. The games in prospect being of a naval +description, embracing certain hand-to-hand contests in the water between +shoals of web-footed warriors. +</p> + +<p> +However, we decided to embark on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the cool of the early morning, at that hour when a man’s face +can be known, that we set sail from Diranda; and in the ghostly twilight, our +thoughts reverted to the phantom that so suddenly had cleared the plain. With +interest we hearkened to the recitals of Mohi; who discoursing of the sad end +of many brave chieftains in Mardi, made allusion to the youthful Adondo, one of +the most famous of the chiefs of the chronicles. In a canoe-fight, after +performing prodigies of valor; he was wounded in the head, and sunk to the +bottom of the lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a noble monody upon the death of Adondo,” said Yoomy. +“Shall I sing it, my lord? It. is very beautiful; nor could I ever repeat +it without a tear.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will dispense with your tears, minstrel,” said Media, +“but sing it, if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +And Yoomy sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Departed the pride and the glory of Mardi:<br/> +The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea,<br/> + That rolls o’er his corpse with a hush.<br/> + His warriors bend over their spears,<br/> + His sisters gaze upward and mourn.<br/> + Weep, weep, for Adondo, is dead!<br/> + The sun has gone down in a shower;<br/> + Buried in clouds in the face of the moon;<br/> +Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies,<br/> + And stand in the eyes of the flowers;<br/> +And streams of tears are the trickling brooks,<br/> + Coursing adown the mountains.—<br/> +Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:<br/> +The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea.<br/> +Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that sobs.—<br/> + Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro. +</p> + +<p> +“A dismal time it must have been,” yawned Media, “not a dry +brook then in Mardi, not a lake that was not moist. Lachrymose rivulets, and +inconsolable lagoons! Call you this poetry, minstrel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi has something like a tear in his eye,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“False!” cried Mohi, brushing it aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Who composed that monody?” said Babbalanja. “I have often +heard it before.” +</p> + +<p> +“None know, Babbalanja but the poet must be still singing to himself; his +songs bursting through the turf in the flowers over his grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“But gentle Yoomy, Adondo is a legendary hero, indefinitely dating back. +May not his monody, then, be a spontaneous melody, that has been with us since +Mardi began? What bard composed the soft verses that our palm boughs sing at +even? Nay, Yoomy, that monody was not written by man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Would that I had been the poet, Babbalanja; for then had I been +famous indeed; those lines are chanted through all the isles, by prince and +peasant. Yes, Adondo’s monody will pervade the ages, like the low +under-tone you hear, when many singers do sing.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, my lord,” cried Babbalanja, “but this were to be +truly immortal;—to be perpetuated in our works, and not in our names. Let +me, oh Oro! be anonymously known!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0039"></a> +CHAPTER XXXIX.<br/> +Wherein Babbalanja Discourses Of Himself</h2> + +<p> +An interval of silence was at last broken by Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +Pointing to the sun, just gaining the horizon, he exclaimed, “As old +Bardianna says—shut your eyes, and believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what may Bardianna have to do with yonder orb?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +This much, my lord, the astronomers maintain that Mardi moves round the sun; +which I, who never formally investigated the matter for myself, can by no means +credit; unless, plainly seeing one thing, I blindly believe another. Yet even +thus blindly does all Mardi subscribe to an astronomical system, which not one +in fifty thousand can astronomically prove. And not many centuries back, my +lord, all Mardi did equally subscribe to an astronomical system, precisely the +reverse of that which they now believe. But the mass of Mardians have not as +much reason to believe the first system, as the exploded one; for all who have +eyes must assuredly see, that the sun seems to move, and that Mardi seems a +fixture, eternally <i>here</i>. But doubtless there are theories which may be +true, though the face of things belie them. Hence, in such cases, to the +ignorant, disbelief would seem more natural than faith; though they too often +reject the testimony of their own senses, for what to them, is a mere +hypothesis. And thus, my lord, is it, that the mass of Mardians do not believe +because they know, but because they know not. And they are as ready to receive +one thing as another, if it comes from a canonical source. My lord, Mardi is as +an ostrich, which will swallow augh you offer, even a bar of iron, if placed +endwise. And though the iron be indigestible, yet it serves to fill: in +feeding, the end proposed. For Mardi must have something to exercise its +digestion, though that something be forever indigestible. And as fishermen for +sport, throw two lumps of bait, united by a cord, to albatrosses floating on +the sea; which are greedily attempted to be swallowed, one lump by this fowl, +the other by that; but forever are 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha,” cried Media, “methinks this must be Azzageddi who +speaks.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very curious speculation,” said Media. But Babbalanja, have you +mortals no moral sense, as they call it?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you never come to the mark, Babbalanja? Tell me something direct of +the stranger. Who, what is he? Introduce him.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I can not. He is locked up in me. In a mask, he dodges me. He +prowls about in me, hither and thither; he peers, and I stare. This is he who +talks in my sleep, revealing my secrets; and takes me to unheard of realms, +beyond the skies of Mardi. So present is he always, that I seem not so much to +live of myself, as to be a mere apprehension of the unaccountable being that is +in me. Yet all the time, this being is I, myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja,” said Media, “you have fairly turned yourself +inside out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my lord,” said Mohi, “and he has so unsettled me, that +I begin to think all Mardi a square circle.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is that, Babbalanja,” said Media, “is a circle +square?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my lord, but ever since Mardi began, we Mardians have been essaying +our best to square it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cleverly retorted. Now, Babbalanja, do you not imagine, that you may do +harm by disseminating these sophisms of yours; which like your devil theory, +would seem to relieve all Mardi from moral accountability?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, at bottom, men wear no bonds that other men can strike off; and +have no immunities, of which other men can deprive them. Tell a good man that +he is free to commit murder,—will he murder? Tell a murderer that at the +peril of his soul he indulges in murderous thoughts,—will that make him a +saint?” +</p> + +<p> +“Again on the verge, Babbalanja? Take not the leap, I say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can leap no more, my lord. Already I am down, down, down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Philosopher,” said Media, “what with Azzageddi, and the +mysterious indweller you darkly hint of, I marvel not that you are puzzled to +decide upon your identity. But when do you seem most yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“When I sleep, and dream not, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then, a fool’s cap might be put on you, and you would not know +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The very turban he ought to wear,” muttered Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, my lord, I live while consciousness is not mine, while to all +appearances I am a clod. And may not this same state of being, though but +alternate with me, be continually that of many dumb, passive objects we so +carelessly regard? Trust me, there are more things alive than those that crawl, +or fly, or swim. Think you, my lord, there is no sensation in being a tree? +feeling the sap in one’s boughs, the breeze in one’s foliage? think +you it is nothing to be a world? one of a herd, bison-like, wending its way +across boundless meadows of ether? In the sight of a fowl, that sees not our +souls, what are our own tokens of animation? That we move, make a noise, have +organs, pulses, and are compounded of fluids and solids. And all these are in +this Mardi as a unit. Daily the slow, majestic throbbings of its heart are +perceptible on the surface in the tides of the la-goon. Its rivers are its +veins; when agonized, earthquakes are its throes; it shouts in the thunder, and +weeps in the shower; and as the body of a bison is covered with hair, so Mardi +is covered with grasses and vegetation, among which, we parasitical things do +but crawl, vexing and tormenting the patient creature to which we cling. Nor +yet, hath it recovered from the pain of the first foundation that was laid. +Mardi is alive to its axis. When you pour water, does it not gurgle? When you +strike a pearl shell, does it not ring? Think you there is no sensation in +being a rock?—To exist, is to be; to be, is to be something: to be +something, is—” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is it, to be something?” said Yoomy artlessly. +“Bethink yourself of what went before,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Lose not the thread,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“It has snapped,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“I breathe again,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“But what a stepping-off place you came to then, philosopher,” said +Media. “By the way, is it not old Bardianna who says, that no Mardian +should undertake to walk, without keeping one foot foremost?” +</p> + +<p> +“To return to the vagueness of the notion I have of myself,” said +Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“An appropriate theme,” said Media, “proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” murmured Mohi, “Is not this philosopher like a +centipede? Cut off his head, and still he crawls.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are times when I fancy myself a lunatic,” resumed +Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, now he’s beginning to talk sense,” whispered Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely you forget, Babbalanja,” said Media. “How many more +theories have you? First, you are possessed by a devil; then rent yourself out +to the indweller; and now turn yourself into a mad-house. You are +inconsistent.” +</p> + +<p> +“And for that very reason, my lord, not inconsistent; for the sum of my +inconsistencies makes up my consistency. And to be consistent to one’s +self, is often to be inconsistent to Mardi. Common consistency implies +unchangeableness; but much of the wisdom here below lives in a state of +transition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” murmured Mold, “my head goes round again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Azzageddi aside, then, my lord, and also, for the nonce, the mysterious +indweller, I come now to treat of myself as a lunatic. But this last conceit is +not so much based upon the madness of particular actions, as upon the whole +drift of my ordinary and hourly ones; those, in which I most resemble all other +Mardians. It seems like going through with some nonsensical whim-whams, +destitute of fixed purpose. For though many of my actions seem to have objects, +and all of them somehow run into each other; yet, where is the grand result? To +what final purpose, do I walk about, eat, think, dream? To what great end, does +Mohi there, now stroke his beard?” +</p> + +<p> +“But I was doing it unconsciously,” said Mohi, dropping his hand, +and lifting his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I would be at, old man. ‘What we do, we do +blindly,’ says old Bardianna. Many things we do, we do without +knowing,—as with you and your beard, Mohi. And many others we know not, +in their true bearing at least, till they are past. Are not half our lives +spent in reproaches for foregone actions, of the true nature and consequences +of which, we were wholly ignorant at the time? Says old Bardianna, ‘Did I +not so often feel an appetite for my yams, I should think every thing a +dream;’—so puzzling to him, seemed the things of this Mardi. But +Alla-Malolla goes further. Says he, ‘Let us club together, +fellow-riddles:—Kings, clowns, and intermediates. We are bundles of +comical sensations; we bejuggle ourselves into strange phantasies: we are air, +wind, breath, bubbles; our being is told in a tick.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, then, Babbalanja,” said Media, “what have you come to +in all this rhapsody? You everlastingly travel in a circle.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so does the sun in heaven, my lord; like me, it goes round, and +gives light as it goes. Old Bardianna, too, revolved. He says so himself. In +his roundabout chapter on Cycles and Epicycles, with Notes on the Ecliptic, he +thus discourseth:—‘All things revolve upon some center, to them, +fixed; for the centripetal is ever too much for the centrifugal. Wherefore, it +is a perpetual cycling with us, without progression; and we fly round, whether +we will or no. To stop, were to sink into space. So, over and over we go, and +round and round; double-shuffle, on our axis, and round the sun.’ In an +another place, he says:—‘There is neither apogee nor perigee, north +nor south, right nor left; what to-night is our zenith, to-morrow is our nadir; +stand as we will, we stand on our heads; essay to spring into the air, and down +we come; here we stick; our very bones make glue.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, enough, Babbalanja,” cried Media. “You are a very +wise Mardian; but the wisest Mardians make the most consummate fools.” +</p> + +<p> +“So they do, my lord; but I was interrupted. I was about to say, that +there is no place but the universe; no limit but the limitless; no bottom but +the bottomless.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0040"></a> +CHAPTER XL.<br/> +Of The Sorcerers In The Isle Of Minda</h2> + +<p> +“Tiffin! tiffin!” cried Media; “time for tiffin! Up, +comrades! and while the mat is being spread, walk we to the bow, and inhale the +breeze for an appetite. Hark ye, Vee-Vee! forget not that calabash with the +sea-blue seal, and a round ring for a brand. Rare old stuff, that, Mohi; older +than you: the circumnavigator, I call it. My sire had a canoe launched for the +express purpose of carrying it thrice round Mardi for a flavor. It was many +moons on the voyage; the mariners never sailed faster than three knots. Ten +would spoil the best wine ever floated.” +</p> + +<p> +Tiffin over, and the blue-sealed calabash all but hid in the great cloud raised +by our pipes, Media proposed to board it in the smoke. So, goblet in hand, we +all gallantly charged, and came off victorious from the fray. +</p> + +<p> +Then seated again, and serenely puffing in a circle, the circumnavigator +meanwhile pleasantly going the rounds, Media called upon Mohi for something +entertaining. +</p> + +<p> +Now, of all the old gossips in Mardi, surely our delightful old Diodorus was +furnished with the greatest possible variety of histories, chronicles, +anecdotes, memoirs, legends, traditions, and biographies. There was no end to +the library he carried. In himself, he was the whole history of Mardi, +amplified, not abridged, in one volume. +</p> + +<p> +In obedience, then, to King Media’s command, Mohi regaled the company +with a narrative, in substance as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +In a certain quarter of the Archipelago was an island called Minda; and in +Minda were many sorcerers, employed in the social differences and animosities +of the people of that unfortunate land. If a Mindarian deemed himself aggrieved +or insulted by a countryman, he forthwith repaired to one of these sorcerers; +who, for an adequate consideration, set to work with his spells, keeping +himself in the dark, and directing them against the obnoxious individual. And +full soon, by certain peculiar sensations, this individual, discovering what +was going on, would straightway hie to his own professor of the sable art, who, +being well feed, in due time brought about certain counter-charms, so that in +the end it sometimes fell out that neither party was gainer or loser, save by +the sum of his fees. +</p> + +<p> +But the worst of it was, that in some cases all knowledge of these spells were +at the outset hidden from the victim; who, hearing too late of the mischief +brewing, almost always fell a prey to his foe; which calamity was held the +height of the art. But as the great body of sorcerers were about matched in +point of skill, it followed that the parties employing them were so likewise. +Hence arose those interminable contests, in which many moons were spent, both +parties toiling after their common destruction. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, to say nothing of the obstinacy evinced by their employers, it was +marvelous, the pertinacity of the sorcerers themselves. To the very last tooth +in their employer’s pouches, they would stick to their spells; never +giving over till he was financially or physically defunct. +</p> + +<p> +But much as they were vilified, no people in Minda were half so disinterested +as they. Certain indispensable conditions secured, some of them were as ready +to undertake the perdition of one man as another; good, bad, or indifferent, it +made little matter. +</p> + +<p> +What wonder, then, that such abominable mercenaries should cause a mighty deal +of mischief in Minda; privately going about, inciting peaceable folks to +enmities with their neighbors; and with marvelous alacrity, proposing +themselves as the very sorcerers to rid them of the annoyances suggested as +existing. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, it even happened that a sorcerer would be secretly retained to work +spells upon a victim, who, from his bodily sensations, suspecting something +wrong, but knowing not what, would repair to that self-same sorcerer, engaging +him to counteract any mischief that might be brewing. And this worthy would at +once undertake the business; when, having both parties in his hands, he kept +them forever in suspense; meanwhile seeing to it well, that they failed not in +handsomely remunerating him for his pains. +</p> + +<p> +At one time, there was a prodigious excitement about these sorcerers, growing +out of some alarming revelations concerning their practices. In several +villages of Minda, they were sought to be put down. But fruitless the attempt; +it was soon discovered that already their spells were so spread abroad, and +they themselves so mixed up with the everyday affairs of the isle, that it was +better to let their vocation alone, than, by endeavoring to suppress it, breed +additional troubles. Ah! they were a knowing and a cunning set, those +sorcerers; very hard to overcome, cajole, or circumvent. +</p> + +<p> +But in the name of the Magi, what were these spells of theirs, so potent and +occult? On all hands it was agreed, that they derived their greatest virtue +from the fumes of certain compounds, whose ingredients—horrible to +tell—were mostly obtained from the human heart; and that by variously +mixing these ingredients, they adapted their multifarious enchantments. +</p> + +<p> +They were a vain and arrogant race. Upon the strength of their dealing in the +dark, they affected even more mystery than belonged to them; when interrogated +concerning their science, would confound the inquirer by answers couched in an +extraordinary jargon, employing words almost as long as anacondas. But all this +greatly prevailed with the common people. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was it one of the least remarkable things, that oftentimes two sorcerers, +contrarily employed upon a Mindarian,—one to attack, the other to +defend,—would nevertheless be upon the most friendly terms with each +other; which curious circumstance never begat the slightest suspicions in the +mind of the victim. +</p> + +<p> +Another phenomenon: If from any cause, two sorcerers fell out, they seldom +exercised their spells upon each other; ascribable to this, perhaps,—that +both being versed in the art, neither could hope to get the advantage. +</p> + +<p> +But for all the opprobrium cast upon these sorcerers, part of which they +deserved, the evils imputed to them were mainly, though indirectly, ascribable +to the very persons who abused them; nay, to the very persons who employed +them; the latter being by far the loudest in their vilifyings; for which, +indeed, they had excellent reason. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was it to be denied, that in certain respects, the sorcerers were +productive of considerable good. The nature of their pursuits leading them deep +into the arcana of mind, they often lighted upon important discoveries; along +with much that was cumbersome, accumulated valuable examples concerning the +inner working of the hearts of the Mindarians; and often waxed eloquent in +elucidating the mysteries of iniquity. +</p> + +<p> +Yet was all this their lore graven upon so uncouth, outlandish, and antiquated +tablets, that it was all but lost to the mass of their countrymen; and some old +sachem of a wise man is quoted as having said, that their treasures were locked +up after such a fashion, that for old iron, the key was worth more than the +chest and its contents. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0041"></a> +CHAPTER XLI.<br/> +Chiefly Of Sing Bello</h2> + +<p> +“Now Taji,” said Media, “with old Bello of the Hump whose +island of Dominora is before us, I am at variance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! How so?” +</p> + +<p> +“A dull recital, but you shall have it.” +</p> + +<p> +And forthwith his Highness began. +</p> + +<p> +This princely quarrel originated, it seems, in a slight jostling concerning the +proprietorship of a barren islet in a very remote quarter of the lagoon. At the +outset the matter might have been easily adjusted, had the parties but +exchanged a few amicable words. But each disdaining to visit the other, to +discuss so trivial an affair, the business of negotiating an understanding was +committed to certain plenipos, men with lengthy tongues, who scorned to utter a +word short of a polysyllable. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the more these worthies penetrated into the difficulty, the wider became +the breach; till what was at first a mere gap, became a yawning gulf. +</p> + +<p> +But that which had perhaps tended more than any thing else to deepen the +variance of the kings, was hump-backed Bello’s dispatching to Odo, as his +thirtieth plenipo, a diminutive little negotiator, who all by himself, in a +solitary canoe, sailed over to have audience of Media; into whose presence he +was immediately ushered. +</p> + +<p> +Darting one glance at him, the king turned to his chieftains, and +said:—“By much straining of your eyes, my lords, can you perceive +this insignificant manikin? What! are there no tall men in Dominora, that King +Bello must needs send this dwarf hither?” +</p> + +<p> +And charging his attendents to feed the embassador extraordinary with the soft +pap of the cocoanut, and provide nurses during his stay, the monarch retired +from the arbor of audience. +</p> + +<p> +“As I am a man,” shouted the despised plenipo, raising himself on +his toes, “my royal master will resent this affront!—A dwarf, +forsooth!— Thank Oro, I am no long-drawn giant! There is as much stuff in +me, as in others; what is spread out in their clumsy carcasses, in me is +condensed. I am much in little! And that much, thou shalt know full soon, +disdainful King of Odo!” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak not against our lord the king,” cried the attendants. +</p> + +<p> +“And speak not ye to me, ye headless spear poles!” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, under sufferance of being small, the plenipo was permitted to +depart unmolested; for all his bravadoes, fobbing his credentials and affronts. +</p> + +<p> +Apprized of his servant’s ignoble reception, the choleric Bello burst +forth in a storm of passion; issuing orders for, one thousand conch shells to +be blown, and his warriors to assemble by land and by sea. +</p> + +<p> +But bethinking him of the hostilities that might ensue, the sagacious Media hit +upon an honorable expedient to ward off an event for which he was then +unprepared. With all haste he dispatched to the hump-backed king a little dwarf +of his own; who voyaging over to Dominora in a canoe, sorry and solitary as +that of Bello’s plenipo, in like manner, received the same insults. The +effect whereof, was, to strike a balance of affronts; upon the principle, that +a blow given, heals one received. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, these proceedings but amounted to a postponement of hostilities; +for soon after, nothing prevented the two kings from plunging into war, but the +following judicious considerations. First: Media was almost afraid of being +beaten. Second: Bello was almost afraid to conquer. Media, because he was +inferior in men and arms; Bello, because, his aggrandizement was already a +subject of warlike comment among the neighboring kings. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, did the old chronicler Braid-Beard speak truth, there were some tribes +in Mardi, that accounted this king of Dominora a testy, quarrelsome, rapacious +old monarch; the indefatigable breeder of contentions and wars; the elder +brother of this household of nations, perpetually essaying to lord it over the +juveniles; and though his patrimonial dominions were situated to the north of +the lagoon, not the slightest misunderstanding took place between the rulers of +the most distant islands, than this doughty old cavalier on a throne, forthwith +thrust his insolent spear into the matter, though it in no wise concerned him, +and fell to irritating all parties by his gratuitous interference. +</p> + +<p> +Especially was he officious in the concerns of Porpheero, a neighboring island, +very large and famous, whose numerous broad valleys were divided among many +rival kings:—the king of Franko, a small-framed, poodle-haired, fine, +fiery gallant; finical in his tatooing; much given to the dance and +glory;—the king of Ibeereea, a tall and stately cavalier, proud, +generous, punctilious, temperate in wine; one hand forever on his javelin, the +other, in superstitious homage, lifted to his gods; his limbs all over marks of +stakes and crosses;—the king of Luzianna; a slender, dark-browed thief; +at times wrapped in a moody robe, beneath which he fumbled something, as if it +were a dagger; but otherwise a sprightly troubadour, given to serenades and +moonlight;—-the many chiefs of sunny Latianna; minstrel monarchs, full of +song and sentiment; fiercer in love than war; glorious bards of freedom; but +rendering tribute while they sang;—the priest-king of Vatikanna; his +chest marked over with antique tatooings; his crown, a cowl; his rusted scepter +swaying over falling towers, and crumbling mounds; full of the superstitious +past; askance, eyeing the suspicious time to come;—the king of Hapzaboro; +portly, pleasant; a lover of wild boar’s meat; a frequent quaffer from +the can; in his better moods, much fancying solid comfort;—the +eight-and-thirty banded kings, chieftains, seigniors, and oligarchies of the +broad hill and dale of Tutoni; clubbing together their domains, that none might +wrest his neighbor’s; an earnest race; deep thinkers, deeper drinkers; +long pipes, long heads; their wise ones given to mystic cogitations, and +consultations with the devil;—the twin kings of Zandinavia; hardy, frugal +mountaineers; upright of spine and heart; clad in skins of bears;—the +king of Jutlanda; much like their Highnesses of Zandinavia; a seal-skin cap his +crown; a fearless sailor of his frigid seas;—the king of Muzkovi; a +shaggy, icicled White-bear of a despot in the north; said to reign over +millions of acres of glaciers; had vast provinces of snow-drifts, and many +flourishing colonies among the floating icebergs. Absolute in his rule as +Predestination in metaphysics, did he command all his people to give up the +ghost, it would be held treason to die last. Very precise and foppish in his +imperial tastes was this monarch. Disgusted with the want of uniformity in the +stature of his subjects, he was said to nourish thoughts of killing off all +those below his prescribed standard—six feet, long measure. Immortal +souls were of no account in his fatal wars; since, in some of his serf-breeding +estates, they were daily manufactured to order. +</p> + +<p> +Now, to all the above-mentioned monarchs, old Bello would frequently dispatch +heralds; announcing, for example, his unalterable resolution, to espouse the +cause of this king, against that; at the very time, perhaps, that their Serene +Superfluities, instead of crossing spears, were touching flagons. And upon +these occasions, the kings would often send back word to old Bello, that +instead of troubling himself with their concerns, he might far better attend to +his own; which, they hinted, were in a sad way, and much needed reform. +</p> + +<p> +The royal old warrior’s pretext for these and all similar proceedings, +was the proper adjustment in Porpheero, of what he facetiously styled the +“Equipoise of Calabashes;” which he stoutly swore was essential to +the security of the various tribes in that country. +</p> + +<p> +“But who put the balance into thy hands, King Bello?” cried the +indignant nations. +</p> + +<p> +“Oro!” shouted the hump-backed king, shaking his javelin. +</p> + +<p> +Superadded to the paternal interest which Bello betrayed in the concerns of the +kings of Porpheero, according to our chronicler, he also manifested no less +interest in those of the remotest islands. Indeed, where he found a rich +country, inhabited by a people, deemed by him barbarous and incapable of wise +legislation, he sometimes relieved them from their political anxieties, by +assuming the dictatorship over them. And if incensed at his conduct, they flew +to their spears, they were accounted rebels, and treated accordingly. But as +old Mohi very truly observed,—herein, Bello was not alone; for throughout +Mardi, all strong nations, as well as all strong men, loved to govern the weak. +And those who most taunted King Bello for his political rapacity, were open to +the very same charge. So with Vivenza, a distant island, at times very loud in +denunciations of Bello, as a great national brigand. Not yet wholly extinct in +Vivenza, were its aboriginal people, a race of wild Nimrods and hunters, who +year by year were driven further and further into remoteness, till as one of +their sad warriors said, after continual removes along the log, his race was on +the point of being remorselessly pushed off the end. +</p> + +<p> +Now, Bello was a great geographer, and land surveyor, and gauger of the seas. +Terraqueous Mardi, he was continually exploring in quest of strange empires. +Much he loved to take the altitude of lofty mountains, the depth of deep +rivers, the breadth of broad isles. Upon the highest pinnacles of commanding +capes and promontories, he loved to hoist his flag. He circled Mardi with his +watch-towers: and the distant voyager passing wild rocks in the remotest +waters, was startled by hearing the tattoo, or the reveille, beating from +hump-backed Bello’s omnipresent drum. Among Antartic glaciers, his shrill +bugle calls mingled with the scream of the gulls; and so impressed seemed +universal nature with the sense of his dominion, that the very clouds in heaven +never sailed over Dominora without rendering the tribute of a shower; whence +the air of Dominora was more moist than that of any other clime. +</p> + +<p> +In all his grand undertakings, King Bello was marvelously assisted by his +numerous fleets of war-canoes; his navy being the largest in Mardi. Hence his +logicians swore that the entire Lagoon was his; and that all prowling whales, +prowling keels, and prowling sharks were invaders. And with this fine conceit +to inspire them, his poets-laureat composed some glorious old saltwater odes, +enough to make your very soul sing to hear them. +</p> + +<p> +But though the rest of Mardi much delighted to list to such noble minstrelsy, +they agreed not with Bello’s poets in deeming the lagoon their old +monarch’s hereditary domain. +</p> + +<p> +Once upon a time, the paddlers of the hump-backed king, meeting upon the broad +lagoon certain canoes belonging to the before-mentioned island of Vivenza; +these paddlers seized upon several of their occupants; and feeling their +pulses, declared them born men of Dominora; and therefore, not free to go +whithersoever they would; for, unless they could somehow get themselves born +over again, they must forever remain subject to Bello. Shed your hair; nay, +your skin, if you will, but shed your allegiance you can not; while you have +bones, they are Bello’s. So, spite of all expostulations and attempts to +prove alibis, these luckless paddlers were dragged into the canoes of Dominora, +and commanded to paddle home their captors. +</p> + +<p> +Whereof hearing, the men of Vivenza were thrown into a great ferment; and after +a mighty pow-wow over their council fire, fitting out several double-keeled +canoes, they sallied out to sea, in quest of those, whom they styled the +wholesale corsairs of Dominora. +</p> + +<p> +But lucky perhaps it was, that at this juncture, in all parts of Mardi, the +fleets of the hump-backed king, were fighting, gunwale and gunwale, alongside +of numerous foes; else there had borne down upon the canoes of the men of +Vivenza so tremendous an armada, that the very swell under its thousand prows +might have flooded their scattered proas forever out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +As it was, Bello dispatched a few of his smaller craft to seek out, and +incidentally run down the enemy; and without returning home, straightway +proceed upon more important enterprises. +</p> + +<p> +But it so chanced, that Bello’s crafts, one by one meeting the foe, in +most cases found the canoes of Vivenza much larger than their own; and manned +by more men, with hearts bold as theirs; whence, in the ship-duels that ensued, +they were worsted; and the canoes of Vivenza, locking their yard-arms into +those of the vanquished, very courteously gallanted them into their coral +harbors. +</p> + +<p> +Solely imputing these victories to their superior intrepidity and skill, the +people of Vivenza were exceedingly boisterous in their triumph; raising such +obstreperous peans, that they gave themselves hoarse throats; insomuch, that +according to Mohi, some of the present generation are fain to speak through +their noses. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0042"></a> +CHAPTER XLII.<br/> +Dominora And Vivenza</h2> + +<p> +The three canoes still gliding on, some further particulars were narrated +concerning Dominora; and incidentally, of other isles. +</p> + +<p> +It seems that his love of wide dominion sometimes led the otherwise sagacious +Bello into the most extravagant actions. If the chance accumulation of soil and +drift-wood about any detached shelf of coral in the lagoon held forth the +remotest possibility of the eventual existence of an islet there, with all +haste he dispatched canoes to the spot, to take prospective possession of the +as yet nearly submarine territory; and if possible, eject the zoophytes. +</p> + +<p> +During an unusually low tide, here and there baring the outer reef of the +Archipelago, Bello caused his royal spear to be planted upon every place thus +exposed, in token of his supreme claim thereto. +</p> + +<p> +Another anecdote was this: that to Dominora there came a rumor, that in a +distant island dwelt a man with an uncommonly large nose; of most portentous +dimensions, indeed; by the soothsayers supposed to foreshadow some dreadful +calamity. But disregarding these superstitious conceits, Bello forthwith +dispatched an agent, to discover whether this huge promontory of a nose was +geographically available; if so, to secure the same, by bringing the proprietor +back. +</p> + +<p> +Now, by sapient old Mohi, it was esteemed a very happy thing for Mardi at +large, that the subjects whom Bello sent to populate his foreign acquisitions, +were but too apt to throw off their vassalage, so soon as they deemed +themselves able to cope with him. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, a fine country in the western part of Mardi, in this very manner, +became a sovereign—nay, a republican state. It was the nation to which +Mohi had previously alluded—Vivenza. But in the flush and pride of having +recently attained their national majority, the men of Vivenza were perhaps too +much inclined to carry a vauntful crest. And because intrenched in their +fastnesses, after much protracted fighting, they had eventually succeeded in +repelling the warriors dispatched by Bello to crush their insurrection, they +were unanimous in the opinion, that the hump-backed king had never before been +so signally chastised. Whereas, they had not so much vanquished Bello, as +defended their shores; even as a young lion will protect its den against +legions of unicorns, though, away from home, he might be torn to pieces. In +truth, Braid-Beard declared, that at the time of this war, Dominora couched ten +long spears for every short javelin Vivenza could dart; though the javelins +were stoutly hurled as the spears. +</p> + +<p> +But, superior in men and arms, why, at last, gave over King Bello the hope of +reducing those truculent men of Vivenza? One reason was, as Mohi said, that +many of his fighting men were abundantly occupied in other quarters of Mardi; +nor was he long in discovering that fight he never so valiantly, +Vivenza—not yet its inhabitants—was wholly unconquerable. Thought +Bello, Mountains are sturdy foes; fate hard to dam. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, the men of Vivenza were no dastards; not to lie, coming from lion-like +loins, they were a lion-loined race. Did not their bards pronounce them a fresh +start in the Mardian species; requiring a new world for their full development? +For be it known, that the great land of Kolumbo, no inconsiderable part of +which was embraced by Vivenza, was the last island discovered in the +Archipelago. +</p> + +<p> +In good round truth, and as if an impartialist from Arcturus spoke it, Vivenza +was a noble land. Like a young tropic tree she stood, laden down with +greenness, myriad blossoms, and the ripened fruit thick-hanging from one bough. +She was promising as the morning. +</p> + +<p> +Or Vivenza might be likened to St. John, feeding on locusts and wild honey, and +with prophetic voice, crying to the nations from the wilderness. Or, +child-like, standing among the old robed kings and emperors of the Archipelago, +Vivenza seemed a young Messiah, to whose discourse the bearded Rabbis bowed. +</p> + +<p> +So seemed Vivenza in its better aspect. Nevertheless, Vivenza was a braggadocio +in Mardi; the only brave one ever known. As an army of spurred and crested +roosters, her people chanticleered at the resplendent rising of their sun. For +shame, Vivenza! Whence thy undoubted valor? Did ye not bring it with ye from +the bold old shores of Dominora, where there is a fullness of it left? What +isle but Dominora could have supplied thee with that stiff spine of +thine?— That heart of boldest beat? Oh, Vivenza! know that true grandeur +is too big for a boast; and nations, as well as men, may be too clever to be +great. +</p> + +<p> +But what more of King Bello? Notwithstanding his territorial acquisitiveness, +and aversion to relinquishing stolen nations, he was yet a glorious old king; +rather choleric—a word and a blow—but of a right royal heart. Rail +at him as they might, at bottom, all the isles were proud of him. And almost in +spite of his rapacity, upon the whole, perhaps, they were the better for his +deeds. For if sometimes he did evil with no very virtuous intentions, he had +fifty, ways of accomplishing good with the best; and a thousand ways of doing +good without meaning it. According to an ancient oracle, the hump-backed +monarch was but one of the most conspicuous pieces on a board, where the gods +played for their own entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +But here it must not be omitted, that of late, King Bello had somewhat abated +his efforts to extend his dominions. Various causes were assigned. Some thought +it arose from the fact that already he found his territories too extensive for +one scepter to rule; that his more remote colonies largely contributed to his +tribulations, without correspondingly contributing to his revenues. Others +affirmed that his hump was getting too mighty for him to carry; others still, +that the nations were waving too strong for him. With prophetic solemnity, +head-shaking sages averred that he was growing older and older had passed his +grand climacteric; and though it was a hale old age with him, yet it was not +his lusty youth; that though he was daily getting rounder, and rounder in +girth, and more florid of face, that these, howbeit, were rather the symptoms +of a morbid obesity, than of a healthful robustness. These wise ones predicted +that very soon poor Bello would go off in an apoplexy. +</p> + +<p> +But in Vivenza there were certain blusterers, who often thus prated: “The +Hump-back’s hour is come; at last the old teamster will be gored by the +nations he’s yoked; his game is done,—let him show his hand and +throw up his scepter; he cumbers Mardi,—let him be cut down and burned; +he stands in the way of his betters,—let him sheer to one side; he has +shut up many eyes, and now himself grows blind; he hath committed horrible +atrocities during his long career, the old sinner! —now, let him quickly +say his prayers and be beheaded.” +</p> + +<p> +Howbeit, Bello lived on; enjoying his dinners, and taking his jorums as of +yore. Ah, I have yet a jolly long lease of life, thought he over his wine; and +like unto some obstinate old uncle, he persisted in flourishing, in spite of +the prognostications of the nephew nations, which at his demise, perhaps hoped +to fall heir to odd parts of his possessions: Three streaks of fat valleys to +one of lean mountains! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0043"></a> +CHAPTER XLIII.<br/> +They Land At Dominora</h2> + +<p> +As erewhile recounted, not being on the best terms in Mardi with the King of +Dominora, Media saw fit to draw nigh unto his dominions in haughty state; he +(Media) being upon excellent terms with himself. Our sails were set, our +paddles paddling, streamers streaming, and Vee-Vee in the shark’s mouth, +clamorous with his conch. The din was soon heard; and sweeping into a fine +broad bay we beheld its margin seemingly pebbled in the distance with heads; so +populous the land. +</p> + +<p> +Winding through a noble valley, we presently came to Bello’s palace, +couchant and bristling in a grove. The upright canes composing its front +projected above the eaves in a long row of spear-heads fluttering with scarlet +pennons; while below, from the intervals of the canes, were slantingly thrust +three tiers of decorated lances. A warlike aspect! The entire structure looking +like the broadside of the Macedonian phalanx, advancing to the charge, helmeted +with a roof. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Bello,” said Media, “thou dwellest among thy quills like +the porcupine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel a prickly heat coming over me,” cried Mohi, “my lord +Media, let us enter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Babbalanja, “safer the center of peril, than the +circumference.” +</p> + +<p> +Passing under an arch, formed by two pikes crossed, we found ourselves targets +in prospective, for certain flingers of javelins, with poised weapons, +occupying the angles of the palace. +</p> + +<p> +Fronting us, stood a portly old warrior, spear in hand, hump on back, and fire +in eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it war?” he cried, pointing his pike, “or peace?” +reversing it. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon advancing, King Bello courteously welcomed us. +</p> + +<p> +He was an arsenal to behold: Upon his head the hereditary crown of +Dominora,—a helmet of the sea-porcupine’s hide, bristling all over +with spikes, in front displaying a river-horse’s horn, leveled to the +charge; thrust through his ears were barbed arrows; and from his dyed +shark-skin girdle, depended a kilt of strung javelins. +</p> + +<p> +The broad chest of Bello was the chart of Mardi. Tattooed in sea-blue were all +the groups and clusters of the Archipelago; and every time he breathed, rose +and fell the isles, as by a tide: Dominora full upon his heart. +</p> + +<p> +His sturdy thighs were his triumphal arch; whereon in numerous medallions, +crests, and shields, were blazoned all his victories by sea and land. +</p> + +<p> +His strong right arm was Dominora’s scroll of Fame, where all her heroes +saw their names recorded.—An endless roll! +</p> + +<p> +Our chronicler avouched, that on the sole of Bello’s dexter foot was +stamped the crest of Franko’s king, his hereditary foe. “Thus, +thus,” cried Bello, stamping, “thus I hourly crush him.” +</p> + +<p> +In stature, Bello was a mountaineer; but, as over some tall tower impends the +hill-side cliff, so Bello’s Athos hump hung over him. Could it be, as +many of his nobles held, that the old monarch’s hump was his sensorium +and source of strength; full of nerves, muscles, ganglions and tendons? Yet, +year by year it grew, ringed like the bole of his palms. The toils of war +increased it. But another skirmish with the isles, said the wiseacres of +Porpheero, and Bello’s mount will crush him. +</p> + +<p> +Against which calamity to guard, his medicos and Sangredos sought the +hump’s reduction. But down it would not come. Then by divers mystic +rites, his magi tried. Making a deep pit, many teeth they dropped therein. But +they could not fill it. Hence, they called it the Sinking Pit, for bottom it +had none. Nevertheless, the magi said, when this pit is filled, Bello’s +hump you’ll see no more. “Then, hurrah for the hump!” cried +the nobles, “for he will never hurl it off. Long life to the hump! By the +hump we will rally and die! Cheer up, King Bello! Stand up, old king!” +</p> + +<p> +But these were they, who when their sovereign went abroad, with that Athos on +his back, followed idly in its shade; while Bello leaned heavily upon his +people, staggering as they went. +</p> + +<p> +Ay, sorely did Bello’s goodly stature lean; but though many swore he soon +must fall; nevertheless, like Pisa’s Leaning Tower, he may long lean +over, yet never nod. +</p> + +<p> +Visiting Dominora in a friendly way, in good time, we found King Bello very +affable; in hospitality, almost exceeding portly Borabolla: October-plenty +reigned throughout his palace borders. +</p> + +<p> +Our first reception over, a sumptuous repast was served, at which much lively +talk was had. +</p> + +<p> +Of Taji, Bello sought to know, whether his solar Majesty had yet made a +province of the moon; whether the Astral hosts were of much account as +territories, or mere Motoos, as the little tufts of verdure are denominated, +here and there clinging to Mardi’s circle reef; whether the people in the +sun vilified, him (Bello) as they did in Mardi; and what they thought of an +event, so ominous to the liberties of the universe, as the addition to his navy +of three large canoes. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long, so fused in social love we grew, that Bello, filling high his can, +and clasping Media’s palm, drank everlasting amity with Odo. +</p> + +<p> +So over their red cups, the two kings forgot their differences, and concerning +the disputed islet nothing more was ever heard; especially, as it so turned +out, that while they were most hot about it, it had suddenly gone out of sight, +being of volcanic origin. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0044"></a> +CHAPTER XLIV.<br/> +Through Dominora, They Wander After Yillah</h2> + +<p> +At last, withdrawing from the presence of King Bello, we went forth, still +intent on our search. +</p> + +<p> +Many brave sights we saw. Fair fields; the whole island a garden; green hedges +all round; neat lodges, thick as white mice in the landscape; old oak woods, +hale and hearty as ever; old temples buried in ivy; old shrines of old heroes, +deep buried in broad groves of bay trees; old rivers laden down with +heavy-freighted canoes; humped hills, like droves of camels, piled up with +harvests; every sign and token of a glorious abundance, every sign and token of +generations of renown. Rare sight! fine sight! none rarer, none finer in Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +But roving on through this ravishing region, we passed through a corn- field in +full beard, where a haggard old reaper laid down his hook, beseeching charity +for the sake of the gods.—“Bread, bread! or I die mid these +sheaves!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thrash out your grain, and want not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, masters, this grain is not mine; I plough, I sow, I reap, I bind, +I stack,—Lord Primo garners.” +</p> + +<p> +Rambling on, we came to a hamlet, hidden in a hollow; and beneath weeping +willows saw many mournful maidens seated on a bank; beside each, a wheel that +was broken. “Lo, we starve,” they cried, “our distaffs are +snapped; no more may we weave and spin!” +</p> + +<p> +Then forth issued from vaults clamorous crowds of men, hands tied to their +backs.—“Bread! Bread!” they cried. “The magician hath +turned us out from our glen, where we labored of yore in the days of the merry +Green Queen. He has pinioned us hip and arm that we starve. Like sheep we die +off with the rot.—Curse on the magician. A curse on his spell.” +</p> + +<p> +Bending our steps toward the glen, roaring down the rocks we descried a stream +from the mountains. But ere those waters gained the sea, vassal tribute they +rendered. Conducted through culverts and moats, they turned great wheels, +giving life to ten thousand fangs and fingers, whose gripe no power could +withstand, yet whose touch was soft as the velvet paw of a kitten. With brute +force, they heaved down great weights, then daintily wove and spun; like the +trunk of the elephant, which lays lifeless a river-horse, and counts the pulses +of a moth. On all sides, the place seemed alive with its spindles. Round and +round, round and round; throwing off wondrous births at every revolving; +ceaseless as the cycles that circle in heaven. Loud hummed the loom, flew the +shuttle like lightning, red roared the grim forge, rung anvil and sledge; yet +no mortal was seen. +</p> + +<p> +“What ho, magician! Come forth from thy cave!” +</p> + +<p> +But all deaf were the spindles, as the mutes, that mutely wait on the Sultan. +</p> + +<p> +“Since we are born, we will live!” so we read on a crimson banner, +flouting the crimson clouds, in the van of a riotous red-bonneted mob, racing +by us as we came from the glen. Many more followed: black, or +blood-stained:—. +</p> + +<p> +“Mardi is man’s!” +</p> + +<p> +“Down with landholders!” +</p> + +<p> +“Our turn now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Up rights! Down wrongs!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bread! Bread!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take the tide, ere it turns!” +</p> + +<p> +Waving their banners, and flourishing aloft clubs, hammers, and sickles, with +fierce yells the crowd ran on toward the palace of Bello. Foremost, and +inciting the rest by mad outcries and gestures, were six masks; “This +way! This way!” they cried,—“by the wood; by the dark +wood!” Whereupon all darted into the groves; when of a sudden, the masks +leaped forward, clearing a long covered trench, into which fell many of those +they led. But on raced the masks; and gaining Bello’s palace, and raising +the alarm, there sallied from thence a woodland of spears, which charged upon +the disordered ranks in the grove. A crash as of icicles against icebergs round +Zembla, and down went the hammers and sickles. The host fled, hotly pursued. +Meanwhile brave heralds from Bello advanced, and with chaplets crowned the six +masks.—“Welcome, heroes! worthy and valiant!” they cried. +“Thus our lord Bello rewards all those, who to do him a service, for hire +betray their kith and their kin.” +</p> + +<p> +Still pursuing our quest, wide we wandered through all the sun and shade of +Dominora; but nowhere was Yillah found. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0045"></a> +CHAPTER XLV.<br/> +They Behold King Bello’s State Canoe</h2> + +<p> +At last, bidding adieu to King Bello; and in the midst of the lowing of oxen, +breaking away from his many hospitalities, we departed for the beach. But ere +embarking, we paused to gaze at an object, which long fixed our attention. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as all bold cavaliers have ever delighted in special chargers, gayly +caparisoned, whereon upon grand occasions to sally forth upon the plains: even +so have maritime potentates ever prided themselves upon some holiday galley, +splendidly equipped, wherein to sail over the sea. +</p> + +<p> +When of old, glory-seeking Jason, attended by his promising young lieutenants, +Castor and Pollux, embarked on that hardy adventure to Colchis, the brave +planks of the good ship Argos he trod, its model a swan to behold. +</p> + +<p> +And when Trojan Aeneas wandered West, and discovered the pleasant land of +Latium, it was in the fine craft Bis Taurus that he sailed: its stern +gloriously emblazoned, its prow a leveled spear. +</p> + +<p> +And to the sound of sackbut and psaltery, gliding down the Nile, in the +pleasant shade of its pyramids to welcome mad Mark, Cleopatra was throned on +the cedar quarter-deck of a glorious gondola, silk and satin hung; its silver +plated oars, musical as flutes. So, too, Queen Bess was wont to disport on old +Thames. +</p> + +<p> +And tough Torf-Egill, the Danish Sea-king, reckoned in his stud, a slender +yacht; its masts young Zetland firs; its prow a seal, dog-like holding a +sword-fish blade. He called it the Grayhound, so swift was its keel; the +Sea-hawk, so blood-stained its beak. +</p> + +<p> +And groping down his palace stairs, the blind old Doge Dandolo, oft embarked in +his gilded barge, like the lord mayor setting forth in civic state from +Guildhall in his chariot. But from another sort of prow leaped Dandolo, when at +Constantinople, he foremost sprang ashore, and with a right arm ninety years +old, planted the standard of St. Mark full among the long chin-pennons of the +long-bearded Turks. +</p> + +<p> +And Kumbo Sama, Emperor of Japan, had a dragon-beaked junk, a floating +Juggernaut, wherein he burnt incense to the sea-gods. +</p> + +<p> +And Kannakoko, King of New Zealand; and the first Tahitian Pomaree; and the +Pelew potentate, each possessed long state canoes; sea-snakes, all; carved over +like Chinese card-cases, and manned with such scores of warriors, that dipping +their paddles in the sea, they made a commotion like shoals of herring. +</p> + +<p> +What wonder then, that Bello of the Hump, the old sea-king of Mardi, should +sport a brave ocean-chariot? +</p> + +<p> +In a broad arbor by the water-side, it was housed like Alp Arsian’s +war-horse, or the charger Caligula deified; upon its stern a wilderness of +sculpture:—shell-work, medal-lions, masques, griffins, gulls, ogres, +finned-lions, winged walruses; all manner of sea-cavalry, crusading centaurs, +crocodiles, and sharks; and mermen, and mermaids, and Neptune only knows all. +</p> + +<p> +And in this craft, Doge-like, yearly did King Bello stand up and wed with the +Lagoon. But the custom originated not in the manner of the Doge’s, which +was as follows; so, at least, saith Ghibelli, who tells all about it:— +</p> + +<p> +When, in a stout sea-fight, Ziani defeated Barbarossa’s son Otho, sending +his feluccas all flying, like frightened water-fowl from a lake, then did his +Holiness, the Pope, present unto him a ring; saying, “Take this, oh +Ziani, and with it, the sea for thy bride; and every year wed her again.” +</p> + +<p> +So the Doge’s tradition; thus Bello’s:— +</p> + +<p> +Ages ago, Dominora was circled by a reef, which expanding in proportion to the +extension of the isle’s naval dominion, in due time embraced the entire +lagoon; and this marriage ring zoned all the world. +</p> + +<p> +But if the sea was King Bello’s bride, an Adriatic Tartar he wedded; who, +in her mad gales of passions, often boxed about his canoes, and led his navies +a very boisterous life indeed. +</p> + +<p> +And hostile prognosticators opined, that ere long she would desert her old +lord, and marry again. Already, they held, she had made advances in the +direction of Vivenza. +</p> + +<p> +But truly, should she abandon old Bello, he would straight-way after her with +all his fleets; and never rest till his queen was regained. +</p> + +<p> +Now, old sea-king! look well to thy barge of state: for, peradventure, the +dry-rot may be eating into its keel; and the wood-worms exploring into its +spars. +</p> + +<p> +Without heedful tending, any craft will decay; yet, for ever may its first, +fine model be preserved, though its prow be renewed every spring, like the +horns of the deer, if, in repairing, plank be put for plank, rib for rib, in +exactest similitude. Even so, then, oh Bello! do thou with thy barge. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0046"></a> +CHAPTER XLVI.<br/> +Wherein Babbalanja Bows Thrice</h2> + +<p> +The next morning’s twilight found us once more afloat; and yielding to +that almost sullen feeling, but too apt to prevail with some mortals at that +hour, all but Media long remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +But now, a bright mustering is seen among the myriad white Tartar tents in the +Orient; like lines of spears defiling upon some upland plain, the sunbeams +thwart the sky. And see! amid the blaze of banners, and the pawings of ten +thousand thousand golden hoofs, day’s mounted Sultan, Xerxes-like, moves +on: the Dawn his standard, East and West his cymbals. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, morning life!” cried Yoomy, with a Persian air; “would +that all time were a sunrise, and all life a youth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! but these striplings whimper of youth,” said Mohi, caressing +his braids, “as if they wore this beard.” +</p> + +<p> +“But natural, old man,” said Babbalanja. “We Mardians never +seem young to ourselves; childhood is to youth what manhood is to +age:—something to be looked back upon, with sorrow that it is past. But +childhood reeks of no future, and knows no past; hence, its present passes in a +vapor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi, how’s your appetite this morning?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, thus, ye gods,” sighed Yoomy, “is feeling ever +scouted. Yet, what might seem feeling in me, I can not express.” +</p> + +<p> +“A good commentary on old Bardianna, Yoomy,” said Babbalanja, +“who somewhere says, that no Mardian can out with his heart, for his +unyielding ribs are in the way. And indeed, pride, or something akin thereto, +often holds check on sentiment. My lord, there are those who like not to be +detected in the possession of a heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very true, Babbalanja; and I suppose that pride was at the bottom of +your old Ponderer’s heartless, unsentimental, bald-pated style.” +</p> + +<p> +“Craving pardon, my lord is deceived. Bardianna was not at all proud; +though he had a queer way of showing the absence of pride. In his essay, +entitled,—“On the Tendency to curl in Upper Lips,” he thus +discourses. “We hear much of pride and its sinfulness in this Mardi +wherein we dwell: whereas, I glory in being brimmed with it;—my sort of +pride. In the presence of kings, lords, palm-trees, and all those who deem +themselves taller than myself, I stand stiff as a pike, and will abate not one +vertebra of my stature. But accounting no Mardian my superior, I account none +my inferior; hence, with the social, I am ever ready to be sociable.” +</p> + +<p> +“An agrarian!” said Media; “no doubt he would have made the +headsman the minister of equality.” +</p> + +<p> +“At bottom we are already equal, my honored lord,” said Babbalanja, +profoundly bowing—“One way we all come into Mardi, and one way we +withdraw. Wanting his yams a king will starve, quick as a clown; and smote on +the hip, saith old Bardianna, he will roar as loud as the next one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Roughly worded, that, Babbalanja.—Vee-Vee! my crown!—So; +now, Babbalanja, try if you can not polish Bardianna’s style in that last +saying you father upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, my ever honorable lord,” said Babbalanja, salaming. +“Thus we’ll word it, then: In their merely Mardian nature, the +sublimest demi-gods are subject to infirmities; for struck by some keen shaft, +even a king ofttimes dons his crown, fearful of future darts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha!—well done, Babbalanja; but I bade you polish, not sharpen +the arrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“All one, my thrice honored lord;—to polish is not to blunt.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0047"></a> +CHAPTER XLVII.<br/> +Babbalanja Philosophizes, And My Lord Media Passes Round The Calabashes</h2> + +<p> +An interval of silence passed; when Media cried, “Out upon thee, Yoomy! +curtail that long face of thine.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can he, my lord,” said Mohi, “when he is thinking of +furlongs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fathoms you mean, Mohi; see you not he is musing over the gunwale? And +now, minstrel, a banana for thy thoughts. Come, tell me how you poets spend so +many hours in meditation.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, it is because, that when we think, we think so little of +ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought as much,” said Mohi, “for no sooner do I undertake +to be sociable with myself, than I am straightway forced to beat a +retreat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, old man,” said Babbalanja, “many of us Mardians are but +sorry hosts to ourselves. Some hearts are hermits.” +</p> + +<p> +“If not of yourself, then, Yoomy, of whom else do you think?” asked +Media. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I seldom think,” said Yoomy, “I but give ear to the +voices in my calm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did Babbalanja speak?” said Media. “But no more of your +reveries;” and so saying Media gradually sunk into a reverie himself. +</p> + +<p> +The rest did likewise; and soon, with eyes enchanted, all reclined: gazing at +each other, witless of what we did. +</p> + +<p> +It was Media who broke the spell; calling for Vee-Vee our page, his calabashes +and cups, and nectarines for all. +</p> + +<p> +Eyeing his goblet, Media at length threw himself back, and said: +“Babbalanja, not ten minutes since, we were all absent-minded; now, how +would you like to step out of your body, in reality; and, as a spirit, haunt +some shadowy grove?” +</p> + +<p> +“But our lungs are not wholly superfluous, my lord,” said +Babbalanja, speaking loud. +</p> + +<p> +“No, nor our lips,” said Mohi, smacking his over his wine. +</p> + +<p> +“But could you really be disembodied here in Mardi, Babbalanja, how would +you fancy it?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Babbalanja, speaking through half of a nectarine, +“defer putting that question, I beseech, till after my appetite is +satisfied; for, trust me, no hungry mortal would forfeit his palate, to be +resolved into the impalpable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet pure spirits we must all become at last, Babbalanja,” said +Yoomy, “even the most ignoble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, so they say, Yoomy; but if all boors be the immortal sires of +endless dynasties of immortals, how little do our pious patricians bear in mind +their magnificent destiny, when hourly they scorn their companionship. And if +here in Mardi they can not abide an equality with plebeians, even at the altar; +how shall they endure them, side by side, throughout eternity? But since the +prophet Alma asserts, that Paradise is almost entirely made up of the poor and +despised, no wonder that many aristocrats of our isles pursue a career, which, +according to some theologies, must forever preserve the social distinctions so +sedulously maintained in Mardi. And though some say, that at death every thing +earthy is removed from the spirit, so that clowns and lords both stand on a +footing; yet, according to the popular legends, it has ever been observed of +the ghosts of boors when revisiting Mardi, that invariably they rise in their +smocks. And regarding our intellectual equality here, how unjust, my lord, that +after whole years of days end nights consecrated to the hard gaining of wisdom, +the wisest Mardian of us all should in the end find the whole sum of his +attainments, at one leap outstripped by the veriest dunce, suddenly inspired by +light divine. And though some hold, that all Mardian lore is vain, and that at +death all mysteries will be revealed; yet, none the less, do they toil and +ponder now. Thus, their tongues have one mind, and their understanding +another.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Mohi, “we have come to the lees; your pardon, +Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Vee-Vee, another calabash! Fill up, Mohi; wash down wine with +wine. Your cup, Babbalanja; any lees?” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty, my lord; we philosophers come to the lees very soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flood them over, then; but cease not discoursing; thanks be to the gods, +your mortal palates and tongues can both wag together; fill up, I say, +Babbalanja; you are no philosopher, if you stop at the tenth cup; endurance is +the test of philosophy all Mardi over; drink, I say, and make us wise by +precept and example.—Proceed, Yoomy, you look as if you had something to +say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, my lord. Just now, Babbalanja, you flew from the subject;— +you spoke of boors; but has not the lowliest peasant an eye that can take in +the vast horizon at a sweep: mountains, vales, plains, and oceans? Is such a +being nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“But can that eye see itself, Yoomy?” said Babbalanja, winking. +“Taken out of its socket, will it see at all? Its connection with the +body imparts to it its virtue.” +</p> + +<p> +“He questions every thing,” cried Mohi. “Philosopher, have +you a head?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” said Babbalanja, feeling for it; “I am finished off +at the helm very much as other Mardians, Mohi.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, the first yea that ever came from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Mohi,” said Media, “the discourse waxes heavy. I fear me +we have again come to the lees. Ho, Vee-Vee, a fresh calabash; and with it we +will change the subject. Now, Babbalanja, I have this cup to drink, and then a +question to propound. Ah, Mohi, rare old wine this; it smacks of the cork. But +attention, Philosopher. Supposing you had a wife—which, by the way, you +have not—would you deem it sensible in her to imagine you no more, +because you happened to stroll out of her sight?” +</p> + +<p> +“However that might be,” murmured Yoomy, “young Nina bewailed +herself a widow, whenever Arhinoo, her lord, was absent from her side.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Media,” said Babbalanja, “During my absence, my wife +would have more reason to conclude that I was not living, than that I was. To +the former supposition, every thing tangible around her would tend; to the +latter, nothing but her own fond fancies. It is this imagination of ours, my +lord, that is at the bottom of these things. When I am in one place, there +exists no other. Yet am I but too apt to fancy the reverse. Nevertheless, when +I am in Odo, talk not to me of Ohonoo. To me it is not, except when I am there. +If it be, prove it. To prove it, you carry me thither but you only prove, that +to its substantive existence, as cognizant to me, my presence is indispensable. +I say that, to me, all Mardi exists by virtue of my sovereign pleasure; and +when I die, the universe will perish with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come you of a long-lived race,” said Mohi, “one free from +apoplexies? I have many little things to accomplish yet, and would not be left +in the lurch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heed him not, Babbalanja,” said Media. “Dip your beak again, +my eagle, and soar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us be eagles, then, indeed, my lord: eagle-like, let us look at this +red wine without blinking; let us grow solemn, not boisterous, with good +cheer.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, lifting his cup, “My lord, serenely do I pity all who are stirred +one jot from their centers by ever so much drinking of this fluid. Ply him hard +as you will, through the live-long polar night, a wise man can not be made +drunk. Though, toward sunrise, his body may reel, it will reel round its +center; and though he make many tacks in going home, he reaches it at last; +while scores of over-plied fools are foundering by the way. My lord, when wild +with much thought, ’tis to wine I fly, to sober me; its magic fumes +breathe over me like the Indian summer, which steeps all nature in repose. To +me, wine is no vulgar fire, no fosterer of base passions; my heart, ever open, +is opened still wider; and glorious visions are born in my brain; it is then +that I have all Mardi under my feet, and the constellations of the firmament in +my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“Superb!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh, pooh!” said Mohi, “who does not see stars at such +times? I see the Great Bear now, and the little one, its cub; and Andromeda, +and Perseus’ chain-armor, and Cassiopea in her golden chair, and the +bright, scaly Dragon, and the glittering Lyre, and all the jewels in +Orion’s sword-hilt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” cried Media, “the study of astronomy is wonderfully +facilitated by wine. Fill up, old Ptolemy, and tell us should you discover a +new planet. Methinks this fluid needs stirring. Ho, Vee-Vee, my scepter! be we +sociable. But come, Babbalanja, my gold-headed aquila, return to your +theme;—the imagination, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, my lord, I was about to say, that the imagination is the +Voli-Donzini; or, to speak plainer, the unical, rudimental, and all- +comprehending abstracted essence of the infinite remoteness of things. Without +it, we were grass-hoppers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with it, you mortals are little else; do you not chirp all over, +Mohi? By my demi-god soul, were I not what I am, this wine would almost get the +better of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without it—” continued Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Without what?” demanded Media, starting to his feet. “This +wine? Traitor, I’ll stand by this to the last gasp, you are inebriated, +Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so, my lord; but I was treating of the imagination, may it +please you.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” added Mohi, “of the unical, and rudimental +fundament of things, you remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! there’s none of them sober; proceed, proceed, +Azzageddi!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord waves his hand like a banner,” murmured Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Without imagination, I say, an armless man, born, blind, could not be +made to believe, that he had a head of hair, since he could neither see it, nor +feel it, nor has hair any feeling of itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Methinks though,” said Mohi, “if the cripple had a Tartar +for a wife, he would not remain skeptical long.” +</p> + +<p> +“You all fly off at tangents,” cried Media, “but no wonder: +your mortal brains can not endure much quaffing. Return to your subject, +Babbalanja. Assume now, Babbalanja,—assume, my dear prince—assume +it, assume it, I say!—Why don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am willing to assume any thing you please, my lord: what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! yes!—Assume that—that upon returning home, you should +find your wife had newly wedded, under the—the—the metaphysical +presumption, that being no longer visible, you—<i>you</i> Azzageddi, had +departed this life; in other words, out of sight, out of mind; what then, my +dear prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then, my lord, I would demolish my rival in a trice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you?—then—then so much for your metaphysics, +Bab—Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +Babbalanja rose to his feet, muttering to himself—“Is this assumed, +or real?—Can a demi-god be mastered by wine? Yet, the old mythologies +make bacchanals of the gods. But he was wondrous keen! He felled me, ere he +fell himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yoomy, my lord Media is in a very merry mood to-day,” whispered +Mohi, “but his counterfeit was not well done. No, no, a bacchanal is not +used to be so logical in his cups.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0048"></a> +CHAPTER XLVIII.<br/> +They Sail Round An Island Without Landing; And Talk Round A Subject Without +Getting At It</h2> + +<p> +Purposing a visit to Kaleedoni, a country integrally united to Dominora, our +course now lay northward along the western white cliffs of the isle. But +finding the wind ahead, and the current too strong for our paddlers, we were +fain to forego our destination; Babbalanja observing, that since in Dominora we +had not found Yillah, then in Kaleedoni the maiden could not be lurking. +</p> + +<p> +And now, some conversation ensued concerning the country we were prevented from +visiting. Our chronicler narrated many fine things of its people; extolling +their bravery in war, their amiability in peace, their devotion in religion, +their penetration in philosophy, their simplicity and sweetness in song, their +loving-kindness and frugality in all things domestic:—running over a long +catalogue of heroes, meta-physicians, bards, and good men. +</p> + +<p> +But as all virtues are convertible into vices, so in some cases did the best +traits of these people degenerate. Their frugality too often became parsimony; +their devotion grim bigotry; and all this in a greater degree perhaps than +could be predicated of the more immediate subjects of King Bello. +</p> + +<p> +In Kaleedoni was much to awaken the fervor of its bards. Upland and lowland +were full of the picturesque; and many unsung lyrics yet lurked in her glens. +Among her blue, heathy hills, lingered many tribes, who in their wild and +tattooed attire, still preserved the garb of the mightiest nation of old times. +They bared the knee, in token that it was honorable as the face, since it had +never been bent. +</p> + +<p> +While Braid-Beard was recounting these things, the currents were sweeping us +over a strait, toward a deep green island, bewitching to behold. +</p> + +<p> +Not greener that midmost terrace of the Andes, which under a torrid meridian +steeps fair Quito in the dews of a perpetual spring;—not greener the nine +thousand feet of Pirohitee’s tall peak, which, rising from out the warm +bosom of Tahiti, carries all summer with it into the clouds;—nay, not +greener the famed gardens of Cyrus,—than the vernal lawn, the knoll, the +dale of beautiful Verdanna. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, sweet isle! Thy desolation is overrun with vines,” sighed +Yoomy, gazing. +</p> + +<p> +“Land of caitiff curs!” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Isle, whose future is in its past. Hearth-stone, from which its children +run,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“I can not read thy chronicles for blood, Verdanna,” murmured Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Gliding near, we would have landed, but the rolling surf forbade. Then thrice +we circumnavigated the isle for a smooth, clear beach; but it was not found. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile all still conversed. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Yoomy, “while we tarried with King Bello, I +heard much of the feud between Dominora and this unhappy shore. Yet is not +Verdanna as a child of King Bello’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, minstrel, a step-child,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“By way of enlarging his family circle,” said Babbalanja, “an +old lion once introduced a deserted young stag to his den; but the stag never +became domesticated, and would still charge upon his foster-brothers. +—Verdanna is not of the flesh and blood of Dominora, whence, in good +part, these dissensions.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Babbalanja, is there no way of reconciling these foes?” +</p> + +<p> +“But one way, Yoomy:—By filling up this strait with dry land; for, +divided by water, we Mardians must ever remain more or less divided at heart. +Though Kaleedoni was united to Dominora long previous to the union of Verdanna, +yet Kaleedoni occasions Bello no disquiet; for, geographically one, the two +populations insensibly blend at the point of junction. No hostile strait flows +between the arms, that to embrace must touch.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Babbalanja,” said Yoomy, “what asks Verdanna of +Dominora, that Verdanna so clamors at the denial?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are arrant cannibals, Yoomy,” said Media, “and desire +the privilege of eating each other up.” +</p> + +<p> +“King Bello’s idea,” said Babbalanja; “but, in these +things, my lord, you demi-gods are ever unanimous. But, whatever be +Verdanna’s demands, Bello persists in rejecting them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not grant every thing she asks, even to renouncing all claim upon +the isle,” said Mohi; “for thus, Bello would rid himself of many +perplexities.” +</p> + +<p> +“And think you, old man,” said Media, “that, bane or +blessing, Bello will yield his birthright? Will a tri-crowned king resign his +triple diadem? And even did Bello what you propose he would only breed still +greater perplexities. For if granted, full soon would Verdanna be glad to +surrender many things she demands. And all she now asks, she has had in times +past; but without turning it to advantage:—and is she wiser now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she not demand her harvests, my lord?” said Yoomy, “and +has not the reaper a right to his sheaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cant! cant! Yoomy. If you reap for me, the sheaf is mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if the reaper reaps on his own harvest-field, whose then the sheaf, +my lord?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“His for whom he reaps—his lord’s!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let the reaper go with sickle and with sword,” said Yoomy, +“with one hand, cut down the bearded grain; and with the other, smite his +bearded lords.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou growest fierce, in thy lyric moods, my warlike dove,” said +‘Media, blandly. “But for thee, philosopher, know thou, that +Verdanna’s men are of blood and brain inferior to Bello’s native +race; and the better Mardian must ever rule.” +</p> + +<p> +“Verdanna inferior to Dominora, my lord!—Has she produced no bards, +no orators, no wits, no patriots? Mohi, unroll thy chronicles! Tell me, if +Verdanna may not claim full many a star along King Bello’s tattooed arm +of Fame? +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” said Mohi. “Many chapters bear you out.” +</p> + +<p> +“But my lord,” said Babbalanja, “as truth, omnipresent, lurks +in all things, even in lies: so, does some germ of it lurk in the calumnies +heaped on the people of this land. For though they justly boast of many +lustrous names, these jewels gem no splendid robe. And though like a bower of +grapes, Verdanna is full of gushing juices, spouting out in bright sallies of +wit, yet not all her grapes make wine; and here and there, hang goodly clusters +mildewed; or half devoured by worms, bred in their own tendrils.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop, drop your grapes and metaphors!” cried Media. “Bring +forth your thoughts like men; let them come naked into Mardi.—What do you +mean, Babbalanja?” +</p> + +<p> +“This, my lord, Verdanna’s worst evils are her own, not of +another’s giving. Her own hand is her own undoer. She stabs herself with +bigotry, superstition, divided councils, domestic feuds, ignorance, temerity; +she wills, but does not; her East is one black storm-cloud, that never bursts; +her utmost fight is a defiance; she showers reproaches, where she should rain +down blows. She stands a mastiff baying at the moon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tropes on tropes!” said. Media. “Let me tell the +tale,—straight- forward like a line. Verdanna is a lunatic—” +</p> + +<p> +“A trope! my lord,” cried Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“My tropes are not tropes,” said Media, “but yours +are.—Verdanna is a lunatic, that after vainly striving to cut +another’s throat, grimaces before a standing pool and threatens to cut +his own. And is such a madman to be intrusted with himself? No; let another +govern him, who is ungovernable to himself Ay, and tight hold the rein; and +curb, and rasp the bit. Do I exaggerate?—Mohi, tell me, if, save one +lucid interval, Verdanna, while independent of Dominora, ever discreetly +conducted her affairs? Was she not always full of fights and factions? And what +first brought her under the sway of Bello’s scepter? Did not her own +Chief Dermoddi fly to Bello’s ancestor for protection against his own +seditious subjects? And thereby did not her own king unking himself? What +wonder, then, and where the wrong, if Henro, Bello’s conquering sire, +seized the diadem?” +</p> + +<p> +“What my lord cites is true,” said Mohi, “but cite no more, I +pray; lest, you harm your cause.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet for all this, Babbalanja,” said Media, “Bello but holds +lunatic Verdanna’s lands in trust.” +</p> + +<p> +“And may the guardian of an estate also hold custody of the ward, my +lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, if he can. What <i>can</i> be done, may be: that’s the Greed +of demi- gods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, alas!” cried Yoomy, “why war with words over this +poor, suffering land. See! for all her bloom, her people starve; perish her +yams, ere taken from the soil; the blight of heaven seems upon them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” said Media. “Heaven sends no blights. Verdanna will +not learn. And if from one season’s rottenss, rottenness they sow again, +rottenness must they reap. But Yoomy, you seem earnest in this +matter;—come: on all hands it is granted that evils exist in Verdanna; +now sweet Sympathizer, what must the royal Bello do to mend them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am no sage,” said Yoomy, “what would my lord Media +do?” +</p> + +<p> +“What would <i>you</i> do, Babbalanja,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi, what you?” asked the philosopher. +</p> + +<p> +“And what would the company do?” added Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, though these evils pose us all,” said Babbalanja, +“there lately died in Verdanna, one, who set about curing them in a +humane and peaceable way, waving war and bloodshed. That man was Konno. Under a +huge caldron, he kept a roaring fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Azzageddi, how could that answer his purpose?” asked Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing better, my lord. His fire boiled his bread-fruit; and so +convinced were his countrymen, that he was well employed, that they almost +stripped their scanty orchards to fill his caldron.” +</p> + +<p> +“Konno was a knave,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, old man, but that is only known to his ghost, not to us. At +any rate he was a great man; for even assuming he cajoled his country, no +common man could have done it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja,” said Mohi, “my lord has been pleased to +pronounce Verdanna crazy; now, may not her craziness arise from the irritating, +tantalizing practices of Dominora?” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, Braid-Beard, many of the extravagances of Verdanna, are in +good part to be ascribed to the cause you mention; but, to be impartial, none +the less does Verdanna essay to taunt and provoke Dominora; yet not with the +like result. Perceive you, Braid-Beard, that the trade-wind blows dead across +this strait from Dominora, and not from Verdanna? Hence, when King +Bello’s men fling gibes and insults, every missile hits; but those of +Verdanna are blown back in its teeth: her enemies jeering her again and +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“King Bello’s men are dastards for that,” cried Yoomy. +“It shows neither sense, nor spirit, nor humanity,” said +Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“All wide of the mark,” cried Media. “What is to be done for +Verdanna?” +</p> + +<p> +“What will she do for herself?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Philosopher, you are an extraordinary sage; and since sages should be +seers, reveal Verdanna’s future.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, you will ever find true prophets, prudent; nor will any prophet +risk his reputation upon predicting aught concerning this land. The isles are +Oro’s. Nevertheless, he who doctors Verdanna aright, will first medicine +King Bello; who in some things is, himself a patient, though he would fain be a +physician. However, my lord, there is a demon of a doctor in Mardi, who at last +deals with these desperate cases. He employs only pills, picked off the +Conroupta Quiancensis tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what sort of a vegetable is that?” asked Mohi. “Consult +the botanists,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0049"></a> +CHAPTER XLIX.<br/> +They Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption</h2> + +<p> +Gliding away from Verdanna at the turn of the tide, we cleared the strait, and +gaining the more open lagoon, pointed our prows for Porpheero, from whose +magnificent monarchs my lord Media promised himself a glorious reception. +</p> + +<p> +“They are one and all demi-gods,” he cried, “and have the old +demi-god feeling. We have seen no great valleys like theirs:—their +scepters are long as our spears; to their sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo’s +are but inns:—their banquetting halls are as vistas; no generations run +parallel to theirs:—their pedigrees reach back into chaos. +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:—the whole land +checkered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, manners, and mind. +Here you will find science and sages; manuscripts in miles; bards singing in +choirs. +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi! here you will flag over your page; in Porpheero the ages have +hived all their treasures: like a pyramid, the past shadows over the land. +</p> + +<p> +“Yoomy! here you will find stuff for your songs:—blue rivers +flowing through forest arches, and vineyards; velvet meads, soft as ottomans: +bright maidens braiding the golden locks of the harvest; and a background of +mountains, that seem the end of the world. Or if nature will not content you, +then turn to the landscapes of art. See! mosaic walls, tattooed like our faces; +paintings, vast as horizons; and into which, you feel you could rush: See! +statues to which you could off turban; cities of columns standing thick as +mankind; and firmanent domes forever shedding their sunsets of gilding: See! +spire behind spire, as if the land were the ocean, and all Bello’s great +navy were riding at anchor. +</p> + +<p> +“Noble Taji! you seek for your Yillah;—give over despair! +Porpheero’s such a scene of enchantment, that there, the lost maiden must +lurk.” +</p> + +<p> +“A glorious picture!” cried Babbalanja, but turn the medal, my +lord;— what says the reverse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cynic! have done.—But bravo! we’ll ere long be in Franko, +the goodliest vale of them all; how I long to take her old king by the +hand!” +</p> + +<p> +The sun was now setting behind us, lighting up the white cliffs of Dominora, +and the green capes of Verdanna; while in deep shade lay before us the long +winding shores of Porpheero. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sunset serene. +</p> + +<p> +“How the winds lowly warble in the dying day’s ear,” murmured +Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“A mild, bright night, we’ll have,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“See you not those clouds over Franko, my lord,” said Mohi, shaking +his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, aged and weather-wise as ever, sir chronicler;—I predict a +fair night, and many to follow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Patience needs no prophet,” said Babbalanja. “The night, is +at hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto the lagoon had been smooth: but anon, it grew black, and stirred; and +out of the thick darkness came clamorous sounds. Soon, there shot into the air +a vivid meteor, which bursting at the zenith, radiated down the firmament in +fiery showers, leaving treble darkness behind. +</p> + +<p> +Then as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted an eruption, which +seemed to plant all Mardi in the foreground. +</p> + +<p> +As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept surges in +Naples’ bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed Franko’s +multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch’s palace +blazed, fast by the burning mountain. +</p> + +<p> +“By my eternal throne!” cried Media, starting, “the old +volcano has burst forth again!” +</p> + +<p> +“But a new vent, my lord,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“More fierce this, than the eruption which happened in my youth,” +said Mohi—“methinks that Franko’s end has come.” +</p> + +<p> +“You look pale, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “while all other +faces glow;—Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of a king.” +</p> + +<p> +Over the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the din of warfare, and +thwarted by showers of embers that fell not, for the whirling blasts. +</p> + +<p> +“Off shore! off shore!” cried Media; and with all haste we gained a +place of safety. +</p> + +<p> +Down the valley now poured Rhines and Rhones of lava, a fire-freshet, flooding +the forests from their fastnesses, and leaping with them into the seething sea. +</p> + +<p> +The shore was lined with multitudes pushing off wildly in canoes. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, the fiery storm from Franko, kindled new flames in the distant +valleys of Porpheero; while driven over from Verdanna came frantic shouts, and +direful jubilees. Upon Dominora a baleful glare was resting. +</p> + +<p> +“Thrice cursed flames!” cried Media. “Is Mardi to be one +conflagration? How it crackles, forks, and roars!—Is this our funeral +pyre?” +</p> + +<p> +“Recline, recline, my lord,” said Babbalanja. “Fierce flames +are ever brief—a song, sweet Yoomy! Your pipe, old Mohi! Greater fires +than this have ere now blazed in Mardi. Let us be calm;—the isles were +made to burn;—Braid-Beard! hereafter, in some quiet cell, of this whole +scene you will but make one chapter;—come, digest it now.” +</p> + +<p> +“My face is scorched,” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“The last, last day!” cried Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, old man,” said Babbalanja, “when that day dawns, +’twill dawn serene. Be calm, be calm, my potent lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Talk not of calm brows in storm-time!” cried Media fiercely. +“See! how the flames blow over upon Dominora!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet the fires they kindle there are soon extinguished,” said +Babbalanja. “No, no; Dominora ne’er can burn with Franko’s +fires; only those of her own kindling may consume her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away! Away!” cried Media. “We may not touch Porpheero +now.—Up sails! and westward be our course.” +</p> + +<p> +So dead before the blast, we scudded. +</p> + +<p> +Morning broke, showing no sign of land. +</p> + +<p> +“Hard must it go with Franko’s king,” said Media, “when +his people rise against him with the red volcanoes. Oh, for a foot to crush +them! Hard, too, with all who rule in broad Porpheero. And may she we seek, +survive this conflagration!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Babbalanja, “where’ere she hide, +ne’er yet did Yillah lurk in this Porpheero; nor have we missed the +maiden, noble Taji! in not touching at its shores.” +</p> + +<p> +“This fire must make a desert of the land,” said Mohi; “burn +up and bury all her tilth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, Mohi, vineyards flourish over buried villages,” murmured +Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“True, minstrel,” said Babbalanja, “and prairies are purified +by fire. Ashes breed loam. Nor can any skill make the same surface forever +fruitful. In all times past, things have been overlaid; and though the first +fruits of the marl are wild and poisonous, the palms at last spring forth; and +once again the tribes repose in shade. My lord, if calms breed storms, so +storms calms; and all this dire commotion must eventuate in peace. It may be, +that Perpheero’s future has been cheaply won.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0050"></a> +CHAPTER L.<br/> +Wherein King Media Celebrates The Glories Of Autumn, The Minstrel, The Promise +Of Spring</h2> + +<p> +“Ho, now!” cried Media, “across the wide waters, for that New +Mardi, Vivenza! Let us indeed see, whether she who eludes us elsewhere, he at +last found in Vivenza’s vales.” +</p> + +<p> +“There or nowhere, noble Taji,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not too sanguine, gentle Yoomy,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Does Yillah choose rather to bower in the wild wilderness of Vivenza, +than in the old vineyards of Porpheero?” said Braid-Beard. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Sang Yoomy:—<br/> +Her bower is not of the vine,<br/> +But the wild, wild eglantine!<br/> +Not climbing a moldering arch,<br/> +But upheld by the fir-green larch.<br/> + Old ruins she flies:<br/> + To new valleys she hies:—<br/> + Not the hoar, moss-wood,<br/> + Ivied trees each a rood—<br/> + Not in Maramma she dwells,<br/> + Hollow with hermit cells.<br/> +<br/> + ’Tis a new, new isle!<br/> + An infant’s its smile,<br/> + Soft-rocked by the sea.<br/> + Its bloom all in bud;<br/> + No tide at its flood,<br/> + In that fresh-born sea!<br/> +<br/> +Spring! Spring! where she dwells,<br/> +In her sycamore dells,<br/> +Where Mardi is young and new:<br/> +Its verdure all eyes with dew.<br/> +<br/> +There, there! in the bright, balmy morns,<br/> +The young deer sprout their horns,<br/> +Deep-tangled in new-branching groves,<br/> +Where the Red-Rover Robin roves,—<br/> +<br/> + Stooping his crest,<br/> + To his molting breast—<br/> + Rekindling the flambeau there!<br/> + Spring! Spring! where she dwells,<br/> + In her sycamore dells:—<br/> + Where, fulfilling their fates,<br/> + All creatures seek mates—<br/> + The thrush, the doe, and the hare! +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art most musical, sweet Yoomy,” said Media. “concerning +this spring-land Vivenza. But are not the old autumnal valleys of Porpheero +more glorious than those of vernal Vivenza? Vivenza shows no trophies of the +summer time, but Dominora’s full-blown rose hangs blushing on her garden +walls; her autumn groves are glory-dyed.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, autumn soon merges in winter, but the spring has all the +seasons before. The full-blown rose is nearer withering than the bud. The faint +morn is a blossom: the crimson sunset the flower.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0051"></a> +CHAPTER LI.<br/> +In Which Azzageddi Seems To Use Babbalanja For A Mouth-Piece</h2> + +<p> +Porpheero far astern, the spirits of the company rose. Once again, old Mohi +serenely unbraided, and rebraided his beard; and sitting Turk-wise on his mat, +my lord Media smoking his gonfalon, diverted himself with the wild songs of +Yoomy, the wild chronicles of Mohi, or the still wilder speculations of +Babbalanja; now and then, as from pitcher to pitcher, pouring royal old wine +down his soul. +</p> + +<p> +Among other things, Media, who at times turned over Babbalanja for an +encyclopaedia, however unreliable, demanded information upon the subject of +neap tides and their alleged slavish vassalage to the moon. +</p> + +<p> +When true to his cyclopaediatic nature, Babbalanja quoted from a still older +and better authority than himself; in brief, from no other than eternal +Bardianna. It seems that that worthy essayist had discussed the whole matter in +a chapter thus headed: “On Seeing into Mysteries through +Mill-Stones;“ and throughout his disquisitions he evinced such a +profundity of research, though delivered in a style somewhat equivocal, that +the company were much struck by the erudition displayed. +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja, that Bardianna of yours must have been a wonderful +student,” said Media after a pause, “no doubt he consumed whole +thickets of rush-lights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, my lord.—‘Patience, patience, philosophers,’ +said Bardianna; ‘blow out your tapers, bolt not your dinners, take time, +wisdom will be plenty soon.’” +</p> + +<p> +“A notable hint! Why not follow it, Babbalanja?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, my lord, I have overtaken it, and passed on.” +</p> + +<p> +“True to your nature, Babbalanja; you stay nowhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, keep moving is my motto; but speaking of hard students, did my lord +ever hear of Midni the ontologist and entomologist?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, my lord, you shall hear of him now. Midni was of opinion that +day-light was vulgar; good enough for taro-planting and traveling; but wholly +unadapted to the sublime ends of study. He toiled by night; from sunset to +sunrise poring over the works of the old logicans. Like most philosophers, +Midni was an amiable man; but one thing invariably put him out. He read in the +woods by glow-worm light; insect in hand, tracing over his pages, line by line. +But glow-worms burn not long: and in the midst of some calm intricate thought, +at some imminent comma, the insect often expired, and Midni groped for a +meaning. Upon such an occasion, ‘Ho, Ho,’ he cried; ‘but for +one instant of sun-light to see my way to a period!’ But sun-light there +was none; so Midni sprang to his feet, and parchment under arm, raced about +among the sloughs and bogs for another glow-worm. Often, making a rapid descent +with his turban, he thought he had caged a prize; but nay. Again he tried; yet +with no better succcess. Nevertheless, at last he secured one; but hardly had +he read three lines by its light, when out it went. Again and again this +occurred. And thus he forever went halting and stumbling through his studies, +and plunging through his quagmires after a glim.” +</p> + +<p> +At this ridiculous tale, one of our silliest paddlers burst into uncontrollable +mirth. Offended at which breach of decorum, Media sharply rebuked him. +</p> + +<p> +But he protested he could not help laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Again Media was about to reprimand him, when Babbalanja begged leave to +interfere. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, he is not to blame. Mark how earnestly he struggles to suppress +his mirth; but he can not. It has often been the same with myself. And many a +time have I not only vainly sought to check my laughter, but at some recitals I +have both laughed and cried. But can opposite emotions be simultaneous in one +being? No. I wanted to weep; but my body wanted to smile, and between us we +almost choked. My lord Media, this man’s body laughs; not the man +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But his body is his own, Babbalanja; and he should have it under better +control.” +</p> + +<p> +“The common error, my lord. Our souls belong to our bodies, not our +bodies to our souls. For which has the care of the other? which keeps house? +which looks after the replenishing of the aorta and auricles, and stores away +the secretions? Which toils and ticks while the other sleeps? Which is ever +giving timely hints, and elderly warnings? Which is the most +authoritative?—Our bodies, surely. At a hint, you must move; at a notice +to quit, you depart. Simpletons show us, that a body can get along almost +without a soul; but of a soul getting along without a body, we have no tangible +and indisputable proof. My lord, the wisest of us breathe involuntarily. And +how many millions there are who live from day to day by the incessant operation +of subtle processes in them, of which they know nothing, and care less? Little +ween they, of vessels lacteal and lymphatic, of arteries femoral and temporal; +of pericranium or pericardium; lymph, chyle, fibrin, albumen, iron in the +blood, and pudding in the head; they live by the charity of their bodies, to +which they are but butlers. I say, my lord, our bodies are our betters. A soul +so simple, that it prefers evil to good, is lodged in a frame, whose minutest +action is full of unsearchable wisdom. Knowing this superiority of theirs, our +bodies are inclined to be willful: our beards grow in spite of us; and as every +one knows, they sometimes grow on dead men.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mortals are alive, then, when you are dead, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my lord; but our beards survive us.” +</p> + +<p> +“An ingenious distinction; go on, philosopher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without bodies, my lord, we Mardians would be minus our strongest +motive-passions, those which, in some way or other, root under our every +action. Hence, without bodies, we must be something else than we essentially +are. Wherefore, that saying imputed to Alma, and which, by his very followers, +is deemed the most hard to believe of all his instructions, and the most at +variance with all preconceived notions of immortality, I Babbalanja, account +the most reasonable of his doctrinal teachings. It is this;—that at the +last day, every man shall rise in the flesh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, Babbalanja, talk not of resurrections to a demi-god.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let me rehearse a story, my lord. You will find it in the +‘Very Merry Marvelings’ of the Improvisitor Quiddi; and a quaint +book it is. Fugle-fi is its finis:—fugle-fi, fugle-fo, +fugle-fogle-orum!” +</p> + +<p> +“That wild look in his eye again,” murmured Yoomy. “Proceed, +Azzageddi,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“The philosopher Grando had a sovereign contempt for his carcass. Often +he picked a quarrel with it; and always was flying out in its disparagement. +‘Out upon you, you beggarly body! you clog, drug, drag! You keep me from +flying; I could get along better without you. Out upon you, I say, you vile +pantry, cellar, sink, sewer; abominable body! what vile thing are you not? And +think you, beggar! to have the upper hand of me? Make a leg to that man if you +dare, without my permission. This smell is intolerable; but turn from it, if +you can, unless I give the word. Bolt this yam!—it is done. Carry me +across yon field!—off we go. Stop!—it’s a dead halt. There, +I’ve trained you enough for to-day; now, sirrah, crouch down in the +shade, and be quiet.—I’m rested. So, here’s for a stroll, and +a reverie homeward:— Up, carcass, and march.’ So the carcass +demurely rose and paced, and the philosopher meditated. He was intent upon +squaring the circle; but bump he came against a bough. ‘How now, +clodhopping bumpkin! you would take advantage of my reveries, would you? But +I’ll be even with you;’ and seizing a cudgel, he laid across his +shoulders with right good will. But one of his backhanded thwacks injured his +spinal cord; the philosopher dropped; but presently came to. ‘Adzooks! +I’ll bend or break you! Up, up, and I’ll run you home for +this.’ But wonderful to tell, his legs refused to budge; all sensation +had left them. But a huge wasp happening to sting his foot, not him, for he +felt it not, the leg incontinently sprang into the air, and of itself, cut all +manner of capers. Be still! Down with you!’ But the leg refused. +‘My arms are still loyal,’ thought Grando; and with them he at last +managed to confine his refractory member. But all commands, volitions, and +persuasions, were as naught to induce his limbs to carry him home. It was a +solitary place; and five days after, Grando the philosopher was found dead +under a tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha!” laughed Media, “Azzageddi is full as merry as +ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my lord,” continued Babbalanja, “some creatures have +still more perverse bodies than Grando’s. In the fables of Ridendiabola, +this is to be found. ‘A fresh-water Polyp, despising its marine +existence; longed to live upon air. But all it could do, its tentacles or arms +still continued to cram its stomach. By a sudden preternatural impulse, +however, the Polyp at last turned itself inside out; supposing that after such +a proceeding it would have no gastronomic interior. But its body proved +ventricle outside as well as in. Again its arms went to work; food was tossed +in, and digestion continued.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the literal part of that a fact?” asked Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“True as truth,” said Babbalanja; “the Polyp will live turned +inside out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhat curious, certainly,” said Media.—“But +me-thinks, Babbalanja, that somewhere I have heard something about organic +functions, so called; which may account for the phenomena you mention; and I +have heard too, me-thinks, of what are called reflex actions of the nerves, +which, duly considered, might deprive of its strangeness that story of yours +concerning Grande and his body.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mere substitutions of sounds for inexplicable meanings, my lord. In some +things science cajoles us. Now, what is undeniable of the Polyp some +physiologists analogically maintain with regard to us Mardians; that forasmuch, +as the lining of our interiors is nothing more than a continuation of the +epidermis, or scarf-skin, therefore, that in a remote age, we too must have +been turned wrong side out: an hypothesis, which, indirectly might account for +our moral perversities: and also, for that otherwise nonsensical +term—‘the coat of the stomach;’ for originally it must have +been a surtout, instead of an inner garment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, Azzageddi,” said Media, “are you not a fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“One of a jolly company, my lord; but some creatures besides wearing +their surtouts within, sport their skeletons without: witness the lobster and +turtle, who alive, study their own anatomies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Azzageddi, you are a zany.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, my lord,” said Mohi, “I think him more of a lobster; +it’s hard telling his jaws from his claws.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Braid-Beard, I am a lobster, a mackerel, any thing you please; but +my ancestors were kangaroos, not monkeys, as old Boddo erroneously opined. My +idea is more susceptible of demonstration than his. Among the deepest +discovered land fossils, the relics of kangaroos are discernible, but no relics +of men. Hence, there were no giants in those days; but on the contrary, +kangaroos; and those kangaroos formed the first edition of mankind, since +revised and corrected.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has become of our finises, or tails, then?” asked Mohi, +wriggling in his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“The old question, Mohi. But where are the tails of the tadpoles, after +their gradual metamorphosis into frogs? Have frogs any tails, old man? Our +tails, Mohi, were worn off by the process of civilization; especially at the +period when our fathers began to adopt the sitting posture: the fundamental +evidence of all civilization, for neither apes, nor savages, can be said to +sit; invariably, they squat on their hams. Among barbarous tribes benches and +settles are unknown. But, my lord Media, as your liege and loving subject I can +not sufficiently deplore the deprivation of your royal tail. That stiff and +vertebrated member, as we find it in those rustic kinsmen we have disowned, +would have been useful as a supplement to your royal legs; and whereas my good +lord is now fain to totter on two stanchions, were he only a kangaroo, like the +monarchs of old, the majesty of Odo would be dignified, by standing firm on a +tripod.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very witty conceit! But have a care, Azzageddi; your theory applies +not to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja,” said Mohi, “you must be the last of the +kangaroos.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am, Mohi.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the old fashioned pouch or purse of your grandams?” hinted +Media. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I take it, that must have been transferred; nowadays our sex +carries the purse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, why this mirth? Let us be serious. Although man is no longer a +kangaroo, he may be said to be an inferior species of plant. Plants proper are +perhaps insensible of the circulation of their sap: we mortals are physically +unconscious of the circulation of the blood; and for many ages were not even +aware of the fact. Plants know nothing of their interiors:—three score +years and ten we trundle about ours, and never get a peep at them; plants stand +on their stalks:—we stalk on our legs; no plant flourishes over its dead +root:—dead in the grave, man lives no longer above ground; plants die +without food:—so we. And now for the difference. Plants elegantly inhale +nourishment, without looking it up: like lords, they stand still and are +served; and though green, never suffer from the colic:—whereas, we +mortals must forage all round for our food: we cram our insides; and are loaded +down with odious sacks and intestines. Plants make love and multiply; but excel +us in all amorous enticements, wooing and winning by soft pollens and essences. +Plants abide in one place, and live: we must travel or die. Plants flourish +without us: we must perish without them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough Azzageddi!” cried Media. “Open not thy lips till +to-morrow.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0052"></a> +CHAPTER LII.<br/> +The Charming Yoomy Sings</h2> + +<p> +The morrow came; and three abreast, with snorting prows, we raced along; our +mat-sails panting to the breeze. All present partook of the life of the air; +and unanimously Yoomy was called upon for a song. The canoes were passing a +long, white reef, sparkling with shells, like a jeweler’s case: and thus +Yoomy sang in the same old strain as of yore; beginning aloud, where he had +left off in his soul:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Her sweet, sweet mouth!<br/> + The peach-pearl shell:—<br/> +Red edged its lips,<br/> + That softly swell,<br/> +Just oped to speak,<br/> +With blushing cheek,<br/> + That fisherman<br/> +With lonely spear<br/> + On the reef ken,<br/> +And lift to ear<br/> +Its voice to hear,—<br/> + Soft sighing South!<br/> +Like this, like this,—<br/> +The rosy kiss!—<br/> + That maiden’s mouth.<br/> +A shell! a shell!<br/> +A vocal shell!<br/> + Song-dreaming,<br/> +In its inmost dell!<br/> +<br/> +Her bosom! Two buds half blown, they tell;<br/> +A little valley between perfuming;<br/> + That roves away,<br/> + Deserting the day,—<br/> + The day of her eyes illuming;—<br/> +That roves away, o’er slope and fell,<br/> +Till a soft, soft meadow becomes the dell. +</p> + +<p> +Thus far, old Mohi had been wriggling about in his seat, twitching his beard, +and at every couplet looking up expectantly, as if he desired the company to +think, that he was counting upon that line as the last; But now, starting to +his feet, he exclaimed, “Hold, minstrel! thy muse’s drapery is +becoming disordered: no more!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then no more it shall be,” said Yoomy, “But you have lost a +glorious sequel.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0053"></a> +CHAPTER LIII.<br/> +They Draw Nigh Unto Land</h2> + +<p> +In good time, after many days sailing, we snuffed the land from afar, and came +to a great country, full of inland mountains, north and south stretching far +out of sight. “All hail, Kolumbo!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +Coasting by a portion of it, which Mohi called Kanneeda, a province of King +Bello’s, we perceived the groves rocking in the wind; their flexible +boughs bending like bows; and the leaves flying forth, and darkening the +landscape, like flocks of pigeons. +</p> + +<p> +“Those groves must soon fall,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” said Babbalanja. “My lord, as these violent gusts +are formed by the hostile meeting of two currents, one from over the lagoon, +the other from land; they may be taken as significant of the occasional +variances between Kanneeda and Dominora.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Media, “and as Mohi hints, the breeze from +Dominora must soon overthrow the groves of Kanneeda.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not if the land-breeze holds, my lord;—one breeze oft blows +another home.—Stand up, and gaze! From cape to cape, this whole main we +see, is young and froward. And far southward, past this Kanneeda and Vivenza, +are haughty, overbearing streams, which at their mouths dam back the ocean, and +long refuse to mix their freshness with the foreign brine:—so bold, so +strong, so bent on hurling off aggression is this brave main, +Kolumbo;—last sought, last found, Mardi’s estate, so long kept +back;—pray Oro, it be not squandered foolishly. Here lie plantations, +held in fee by stout hearts and arms; and boundless fields, that may be had for +seeing. Here, your foes are forests, struck down with bloodless +maces.—Ho! Mardi’s Poor, and Mardi’s Strong! ye, who starve +or beg; seventh-sons who slave for earth’s first-born—here is your +home; predestinated yours; Come over, Empire-founders! fathers of the wedded +tribes to come!—abject now, illustrious evermore:—Ho: Sinew, Brawn, +and Thigh!” +</p> + +<p> +“A very fine invocation,” said Media, “now Babbalanja, be +seated; and tell us whether Dominora and the kings of Porpheero do not own some +small portion of this great continent, which just now you poetically pronounced +as the spoil of any vagabonds who may choose to settle therein? Is not +Kanneeda, Dominora’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“And was not Vivenza once Dominora’s also? And what Vivenza now is, +Kanneeda soon must be. I speak not, my lord, as wishful of what I say, but +simply as foreknowing it. The thing must come. Vain for Dominora to claim +allegiance from all the progeny she spawns. As well might the old patriarch of +the flood reappear, and claim the right of rule over all mankind, as descended +from the loins of his three roving sons. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis the old law:—the East peoples the West, the West the +East; flux and reflux. And time may come, after the rise and fall of nations +yet unborn, that, risen from its future ashes, Porpheero shall be the promised +land, and from her surplus hordes Kolumbo people it.” +</p> + +<p> +Still coasting on, next day, we came to Vivenza; and as Media desired to land +first at a point midway between its extremities, in order to behold the +convocation of chiefs supposed to be assembled at this season, we held on our +way, till we gained a lofty ridge, jutting out into the lagoon, a bastion to +the neighboring land. It terminated in a lofty natural arch of solid trap. +Billows beat against its base. But above, waved an inviting copse, wherein was +revealed an open temple of canes, containing one only image, that of a helmeted +female, the tutelar deity of Vivenza. +</p> + +<p> +The canoes drew near. +</p> + +<p> +“Lo! what inscription is that?” cried Media, “there, chiseled +over the arch?” +</p> + +<p> +Studying those immense hieroglyphics awhile, antiquarian Mohi still eyeing +them, said slowly:—“In-this-re-publi-can-land-all-men-are- +born-free-and-equal.” +</p> + +<p> +“False!” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“And how long stay they so?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“But look lower, old man,” cried Media, “methinks +there’s a small hieroglyphic or two hidden away in yonder +angle.—Interpret them, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +After much screwing of his eyes, for those characters were very minute, +Champollion Mohi thus spoke—” Except-the-tribe-of-Hamo.” +</p> + +<p> +“That nullifies the other,” cried Media. “Ah, ye +republicans!” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to have been added for a postscript,” rejoined +Braid-Beard, screwing his eyes again. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so,” said Babbalanja, “but some wag must have done +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Shooting through the arch, we rapidly gained the beach. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0054"></a> +CHAPTER LIV.<br/> +They Visit The Great Central Temple Of Vivenza</h2> + +<p> +The throng that greeted us upon landing were exceedingly boisterous. +</p> + +<p> +“Whence came ye?” they cried. “Whither bound? Saw ye ever +such a land as this? Is it not a great and extensive republic? Pray, observe +how tall we are; just feel of our thighs; Are we not a glorious people? Here, +feel of our beards. Look round; look round; be not afraid; Behold those palms; +swear now, that this land surpasses all others. Old Bello’s mountains are +mole-hills to ours; his rivers, rills; his empires, villages; his palm-trees, +shrubs.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” said Babbalanja. “But great Oro must have had some +hand in making your mountains and streams.—Would ye have been as great in +a desert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your king?” asked Media, drawing himself up in his robe, +and cocking his crown. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, my fine fellow! We are all kings here; royalty breathes in the +common air. But come on, come on. Let us show you our great Temple of +Freedom.” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, irreverently grasping his sacred arm, they conducted us toward a +lofty structure, planted upon a bold hill, and supported by thirty pillars of +palm; four quite green; as if recently added; and beyond these, an almost +interminable vacancy, as if all the palms in Mardi, were at some future time, +to aid in upholding that fabric. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the summit of the temple was a staff; and as we drew nigh, a man with a +collar round his neck, and the red marks of stripes upon his back, was just in +the act of hoisting a tappa standard— correspondingly striped. Other +collared menials were going in and out of the temple. +</p> + +<p> +Near the porch, stood an image like that on the top of the arch we had seen. +Upon its pedestal, were pasted certain hieroglyphical notices; according to +Mohi, offering rewards for missing men, so many hands high. +</p> + +<p> +Entering the temple, we beheld an amphitheatrical space, in the middle of +which, a great fire was burning. Around it, were many chiefs, robed in long +togas, and presenting strange contrasts in their style of tattooing. +</p> + +<p> +Some were sociably laughing, and chatting; others diligently making excavations +between their teeth with slivers of bamboo; or turning their heads into mills, +were grinding up leaves and ejecting their juices. Some were busily inserting +the down of a thistle into their ears. Several stood erect, intent upon +maintaining striking attitudes; their javelins tragically crossed upon their +chests. They would have looked very imposing, were it not, that in rear their +vesture was sadly disordered. Others, with swelling fronts, seemed chiefly +indebted to their dinners for their dignity. Many were nodding and napping. +And, here and there, were sundry indefatigable worthies, making a great show of +imperious and indispensable business; sedulously folding banana leaves into +scrolls, and recklessly placing them into the hands of little boys, in gay +turbans and trim little girdles, who thereupon fled as if with salvation for +the dying. +</p> + +<p> +It was a crowded scene; the dusky chiefs, here and there, grouped together, and +their fantastic tattooings showing like the carved work on quaint old +chimney-stacks, seen from afar. But one of their number overtopped all the +rest. As when, drawing nigh unto old Rome, amid the crowd of sculptured columns +and gables, St. Peter’s grand dome soars far aloft, serene in the upper +air; so, showed one calm grand forehead among those of this mob of chieftains. +That head was Saturnina’s. Gall and Spurzheim! saw you ever such a +brow?—poised like an avalanche, under the shadow of a forest! woe betide +the devoted valleys below! Lavatar! behold those lips,—like mystic +scrolls! Those eyes,— like panthers’ caves at the base of +Popocatepetl! +</p> + +<p> +“By my right hand, Saturnina,” cried Babbalanja, “but thou +wert made in the image of thy Maker! Yet, have I beheld men, to the eye as +commanding as thou; and surmounted by heads globe-like as thine, who never had +thy caliber. We must measure brains, not heads, my lord; else, the sperm whale, +with his tun of an occiput, would transcend us all.” +</p> + +<p> +Near by, were arched ways, leading to subterranean places, whence issued a +savory steam, and an extraordinary clattering of calabashes, and smacking of +lips, as if something were being eaten down there by the fattest of fat +fellows, with the heartiest of appetites, and the most irresistible of +relishes. It was a quaffing, guzzling, gobbling noise. Peeping down, we beheld +a company, breasted up against a board, groaning under numerous viands. In the +middle of all, was a mighty great gourd, yellow as gold, and jolly round like a +pumpkin in October, and so big it must have grown in the sun. Thence flowed a +tide of red wine. And before it, stood plenty of paunches being filled +therewith like portly stone jars at a fountain. Melancholy to tell, before that +fine flood of old wine, and among those portly old topers, was a lean man; who +occasionally ducked in his bill. He looked like an ibis standing in the Nile at +flood tide, among a tongue-lapping herd of hippopotami. +</p> + +<p> +They were jolly as the jolliest; and laughed so uproariously, that their +hemispheres all quivered and shook, like vast provinces in an earthquake. Ha! +ha! ha! how they laughed, and they roared. A deaf man might have heard them; +and no milk could have soured within a forty-two-pounder ball shot of that +place. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the smell of good things is no very bad thing in itself. It is the savor +of good things beyond; proof positive of a glorious good meal. So snuffing up +those zephyrs from Araby the blest, those boisterous gales, blowing from out +the mouths of baked boars, stuffed with bread-fruit, bananas, and sage, we +would fain have gone down and partaken. +</p> + +<p> +But this could not be; for we were told that those worthies below, were a club +in secret conclave; very busy in settling certain weighty state affairs upon a +solid basis, They were all chiefs of immense capacity:—how many gallons, +there was no finding out. +</p> + +<p> +Be sure, now, a most riotous noise came up from those catacombs, which seemed +full of the ghosts of fat Lamberts; and this uproar it was, that heightened the +din above-ground. +</p> + +<p> +But heedless of all, in the midst of the amphitheater, stood a tall, gaunt +warrior, ferociously tattooed, with a beak like a buzzard; long dusty locks; +and his hands full of headless arrows. He was laboring under violent paroxysms; +three benevolent individuals essaying to hold him. But repeatedly breaking +loose, he burst anew into his delirium; while with an absence of sympathy, +distressing to behold, the rest of the assembly seemed wholly engrossed with +themselves; nor did they appear to care how soon the unfortunate lunatic might +demolish himself by his frantic proceedings. +</p> + +<p> +Toward one side of the amphitheatrical space, perched high upon an elevated +dais, sat a white-headed old man with a tomahawk in his hand: earnestly engaged +in overseeing the tumult; though not a word did he say. Occasionally, however, +he was regarded by those present with a mysterious sort of deference; and when +they chanced to pass between him and the crazy man, they invariably did so in a +stooping position; probably to elude the atmospheric grape and cannister, +continually flying from the mouth of the lunatic. +</p> + +<p> +“What mob is this?” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis the grand council of Vivenza,” cried a bystander. +“Hear ye not Alanno?” and he pointed to the lunatic. +</p> + +<p> +Now coming close to Alanno, we found, that with incredible volubility, he was +addressing the assembly upon some all-absorbing subject connected with King +Bello, and his presumed encroachments toward the northwest of Vivenza. +</p> + +<p> +One hand smiting his hip, and the other his head, the lunatic thus proceeded; +roaring like a wild beast, and beating the air like a windmill:— +</p> + +<p> +“I have said it! the thunder is flashing, the lightning is crashing! +already there’s an earthquake in Dominora! Full soon will old Bello +discover that his diabolical machinations against this ineffable land must soon +come to naught. Who dare not declare, that we are not invincible? I repeat it, +we are. Ha! ha! Audacious Bello must bite the dust! Hair by hair, we will trail +his gory gray beard at the end of our spears! Ha, ha! I grow hoarse; but would +mine were a voice like the wild bulls of Bullorom, that I might be heard from +one end of this great and gorgeous land to its farthest zenith; ay, to the +uttermost diameter of its circumference. Awake! oh Vivenza. The signs of the +times are portentous; nay, extraordinary; I hesitate not to add, peculiar! Up! +up! Let us not descend to the bathos, when we should soar to the climax! Does +not all Mardi wink and look on? Is the great sun itself a frigid spectator? +Then let us double up our mandibles to the deadly encounter. Methinks I see it +now. Old Bello is crafty, and his oath is recorded to obliterate us! Across +this wide lagoon he casts his serpent eyes; whets his insatiate bill; mumbles +his barbarous tusks; licks his forked tongues; and who knows when we shall have +the shark in our midst? Yet be not deceived; for though as yet, Bello has +forborn molesting us openly, his emissaries are at work; his infernal sappers, +and miners, and wet-nurses, and midwives, and grave- diggers are busy! His +canoe-yards are all in commotion! In navies his forests are being launched upon +the wave; and ere long typhoons, zephyrs, white-squalls, balmy breezes, +hurricanes, and besoms will be raging round us!” +</p> + +<p> +His philippic concluded, Alanno was conducted from the place; and being now +quite exhausted, cold cobble-stones were applied to his temples, and he was +treated to a bath in a stream. +</p> + +<p> +This chieftain, it seems, was from a distant western valley, called Hio-Hio, +one of the largest and most fertile in Vivenza, though but recently settled. +Its inhabitants, and those of the vales adjoining,— a right sturdy set of +fellows,—were accounted the most dogmatically democratic and ultra of all +the tribes in Vivenza; ever seeking to push on their brethren to the uttermost; +and especially were they bitter against Bello. But they were a fine young +tribe, nevertheless. Like strong new wine they worked violently in becoming +clear. Time, perhaps, would make them all right. +</p> + +<p> +An interval of greater uproar than ever now ensued; during which, with his +tomahawk, the white-headed old man repeatedly thumped and pounded the seat +where he sat, apparently to augment the din, though he looked anxious to +suppress it. +</p> + +<p> +At last, tiring of his posture, he whispered in the ear of a chief, his friend; +who, approaching a portly warrior present, prevailed upon him to rise and +address the assembly. And no sooner did this one do so, than the whole +convocation dispersed, as if to their yams; and with a grin, the little old man +leaped from his seat, and stretched his legs on a mat. +</p> + +<p> +The fire was now extinguished, and the temple deserted. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0055"></a> +CHAPTER LV.<br/> +Wherein Babbalanja Comments Upon The Speech Of Alanno</h2> + +<p> +As we lingered in the precincts of the temple after all others had departed, +sundry comments were made upon what we had seen; and having remarked the +hostility of the lunatic orator toward Dominora, Babbalanja thus addressed +Media:— +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I am constrained to believe, that all Vivenza can not be of the +same mind with the grandiloquent chief from Hio-Hio. Nevertheless, I imagine, +that between Dominora and this land, there exists at bottom a feeling akin to +animosity, which is not yet wholly extinguished; though but the smoldering +embers of a once raging fire. My lord, you may call it poetry if you will, but +there are nations in Mardi, that to others stand in the relation of sons to +sires. Thus with Dominora and Vivenza. And though, its majority attained, +Vivenza is now its own master, yet should it not fail in a reverential respect +for its parent. In man or nation, old age is honorable; and a boy, however +tall, should never take his sire by the beard. And though Dominora did indeed +ill merit Vivenza’s esteem, yet by abstaining from criminations, Vivenza +should ever merit its own. And if in time to come, which Oro forbid, Vivenza +must needs go to battle with King Bello, let Vivenza first cross the old +veteran’s spear with all possible courtesy. On the other hand, my lord, +King Bello should never forget, that whatever be glorious in Vivenza, redounds +to himself. And as some gallant old lord proudly measures the brawn and stature +of his son; and joys to view in his noble young lineaments the likeness of his +own; bethinking him, that when at last laid in his tomb, he will yet survive in +the long, strong life of his child, the worthy inheritor of his valor and +renown; even so, should King Bello regard the generous promise of this young +Vivenza of his own lusty begetting. My lord, behold these two states! Of all +nations in the Archipelago, they alone are one in blood. Dominora is the last +and greatest Anak of Old Times; Vivenza, the foremost and goodliest stripling +of the Present. One is full of the past; the other brims with the future. Ah! +did this sire’s old heart but beat to free thoughts, and back his bold +son, all Mardi would go down before them. And high Oro may have ordained for +them a career, little divined by the mass. Methinks, that as Vivenza will never +cause old Bello to weep for his son; so, Vivenza will not, this many a long +year, be called to weep over the grave of its sire. And though King Bello may +yet lay aside his old-fashioned cocked hat of a crown, and comply with the +plain costume of the times; yet will his, frame remain sturdy as of yore, and +equally grace any habiliments he may don. And those who say, Dominora is old +and worn out, may very possibly err. For if, as a nation, Dominora be +old—her present generation is full as young as the youths in any land +under the sun. Then, Ho! worthy twain! Each worthy the other, join hands on the +instant, and weld them together. Lo! the past is a prophet. Be the future, its +prophecy fulfilled.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0056"></a> +CHAPTER LVI.<br/> +A Scene In The Land Of Warwicks, Or King-Makers</h2> + +<p> +Wending our way from the temple, we were accompanied by a fluent, obstreperous +wight, one Znobbi, a runaway native of Porpheero, but now an enthusiastic +inhabitant of Vivenza. +</p> + +<p> +“Here comes our great chief!” he cried. “Behold him! It was +<i>I</i> that had a hand in making him what he is!” +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, he pointed out a personage, no way distinguished, except by the +tattooing on his forehead—stars, thirty in number; and an uncommonly long +spear in his hand. Freely he mingled with the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold, how familiar I am with him!” cried Znobbi, approaching, +and pitcher-wise taking him by the handle of his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” said the dignitary, “thy salute is peculiar, but +welcome. I reverence the enlightened people of this land.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mean-spirited hound!” muttered Media, “were I him, I had +impaled that audacious plebeian.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a Head-Chief for you, now, my fine fellow!” cried +Znobbi. “Hurrah! Three cheers! Ay, ay! All kings here—all equal. +Every thing’s in common.” +</p> + +<p> +Here, a bystander, feeling something grazing his side, looked down; and +perceived Znobbi’s hand in clandestine vicinity to the pouch at his +girdle-end. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon the crowd shouted, “A thief! a thief!” And with a loud +voice the starred chief cried—“Seize him, people, and tie him to +yonder tree.” +</p> + +<p> +And they seized, and tied him on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Media, “this chief has something to say, after +all; he pinions a king at a word, though a plebeian takes him by the nose. +Beshrew me, I doubt not, that spear of his, though without a tassel, is longer +and sharper than mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s not so much freedom here as these freemen think,” +said Babbalanja, turning; “I laugh and admire.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0057"></a> +CHAPTER LVII.<br/> +They Hearken Unto A Voice From The Gods</h2> + +<p> +Next day we retraced our voyage northward, to visit that section of Vivenza. +</p> + +<p> +In due time we landed. +</p> + +<p> +To look round was refreshing. Of all the lands we had seen, none looked more +promising. The groves stood tall and green; the fields spread flush and broad; +the dew of the first morning seemed hardly vanished from the grass. On all +sides was heard the fall of waters, the swarming of bees, and the rejoicing hum +of a thriving population. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha!” laughed Yoomy, “Labor laughs in this land; and +claps his hands in the jubilee groves! methinks that Yillah will yet be +found.” +</p> + +<p> +Generously entertained, we tarried in this land; till at length, from over the +Lagoon, came full tidings of the eruption we had witnessed in Franko, with many +details. The conflagration had spread through Porpheero and the kings were to +and fro hunted, like malefactors by blood-hounds; all that part of Mardi was +heaving with throes. +</p> + +<p> +With the utmost delight, these tidings were welcomed by many; yet others heard +them with boding concern. +</p> + +<p> +Those, too, there were, who rejoiced that the kings were cast down; but mourned +that the people themselves stood not firmer. A victory, turned to no wise and +enduring account, said they, is no victory at all. Some victories revert to the +vanquished. +</p> + +<p> +But day by day great crowds ran down to the beach, in wait for canoes +periodically bringing further intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +Every hour new cries startled the air. “Hurrah! another, kingdom is burnt +down to the earth’s edge; another demigod is unhelmed; another republic +is dawning. Shake hands, freemen, shake hands! Soon will we hear of Dominora +down in the dust; of hapless Verdanna free as ourselves; all Porpheero’s +volcanoes are bursting! Who may withstand the people? The times tell terrible +tales to tyrants! Ere we die, freemen, all Mardi will be free.” +</p> + +<p> +Overhearing these shouts, Babbalanja thus addressed Media:—“My +lord, I can not but believe, that these men, are far more excited than those +with whom they so ardently sympathize. But no wonder. The single discharges +which are heard in Porpheero; here come condensed in one tremendous report. +Every arrival is a firing off of events by platoons.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, during this tumultuous interval, King Media very prudently kept himself +exceedingly quiet. He doffed his regalia; and in all things carried himself +with a dignified discretion. And many hours he absented himself; none knowing +whither he went, or what his employment. +</p> + +<p> +So also with Babbalanja. But still pursuing our search, at last we all +journeyed into a great valley, whose inhabitants were more than commonly +inflated with the ardor of the times. +</p> + +<p> +Rambling on, we espied a clamorous crowd gathered about a conspicuous palm, +against which, a scroll was fixed. +</p> + +<p> +The people were violently agitated; storming out maledictions against the +insolent knave, who, over night must have fixed there, that scandalous +document. But whoever he may have been, certain it was, he had contrived to +hood himself effectually. +</p> + +<p> +After much vehement discussion, during which sundry inflammatory harangues were +made from the stumps of trees near by, it was proposed, that the scroll should +be read aloud, so that all might give ear. +</p> + +<p> +Seizing it, a fiery youth mounted upon the bowed shoulders of an old man, his +sire; and with a shrill voice, ever and anon interrupted by outcries, read as +follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“Sovereign-kings of Vivenza! it is fit you should hearken to wisdom. But +well aware, that you give ear to little wisdom except of your own; and that as +freemen, you are free to hunt down him who dissents from your majesties; I deem +it proper to address you anonymously. +</p> + +<p> +“And if it please you, you may ascribe this voice to the gods: for never +will you trace it to man. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not unknown, sovereign-kings! that in these boisterous days, the +lessons of history are almost discarded, as superseded by present experiences. +And that while all Mardi’s Present has grown out of its Past, it is +becoming obsolete to refer to what has been. Yet, peradventure, the Past is an +apostle. +</p> + +<p> +“The grand error of this age, sovereign-kings! is the general +supposition, that the very special Diabolus is abroad; whereas, the very +special Diabolus has been abroad ever since Mardi began. +</p> + +<p> +“And the grand error of your nation, sovereign-kings! seems +this:—The conceit that Mardi is now in the last scene of the last act of +her drama; and that all preceding events were ordained, to bring about the +catastrophe you believe to be at hand,—a universal and permanent +Republic. +</p> + +<p> +“May it please you, those who hold to these things are fools, and not +wise. +</p> + +<p> +“Time is made up of various ages; and each thinks its own a novelty. But +imbedded in the walls of the pyramids, which outrun all chronologies, +sculptured stones are found, belonging to yet older fabrics. And as in the +mound-building period of yore, so every age thinks its erections will forever +endure. But as your forests grow apace, sovereign-kings! overrunning the tumuli +in your western vales; so, while deriving their substance from the past, +succeeding generations overgrow it; but in time, themselves decay. +</p> + +<p> +“Oro decrees these vicissitudes. +</p> + +<p> +“In chronicles of old, you read, sovereign kings! that an eagle from the +clouds presaged royalty to the fugitive Taquinoo; and a king, Taquinoo reigned; +No end to my dynasty, thought he. +</p> + +<p> +“But another omen descended, foreshadowing the fall of Zooperbi, his son; +and Zooperbi returning from his camp, found his country a fortress against him. +No more kings would she have. And for five hundred twelve-moons the Regifugium +or King’s-flight, was annually celebrated like your own jubilee day. And +rampant young orators stormed out detestation of kings; and augurs swore that +their birds presaged immortality to freedom. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Romara’s free eagles flew over all Mardi, and perched on the +topmost diadems of the east. +</p> + +<p> +“Ever thus must it be. +</p> + +<p> +“For, mostly, monarchs are as gemmed bridles upon the world, checking the +plungings of a steed from the Pampas. And republics are as vast reservoirs, +draining down all streams to one level; and so, breeding a fullness which can +not remain full, without overflowing. And thus, Romara flooded all Mardi, till +scarce an Ararat was left of the lofty kingdoms which had been. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, also, did Franko, fifty twelve-moons ago. Thus may she do again. +And though not yet, have you, sovereign-kings! in any large degree done +likewise, it is because you overflow your redundancies within your own mighty +borders; having a wild western waste, which many shepherds with their flocks +could not overrun in a day. Yet overrun at last it will be; and then, the +recoil must come. +</p> + +<p> +“And, may it please you, that thus far your chronicles had narrated a +very different story, had your population been pressed and packed, like that of +your old sire-land Dominora. Then, your great experiment might have proved an +explosion; like the chemist’s who, stirring his mixture, was blown by it +into the air. +</p> + +<p> +“For though crossed, and recrossed by many brave quarterings, and +boasting the great Bull in your pedigree; yet, sovereign-kings! you are not +meditative philosophers like the people of a small republic of old; nor +enduring stoics, like their neighbors. Pent up, like them, may it please you, +your thirteen original tribes had proved more turbulent, than so many mutinous +legions. Free horses need wide prairies; and fortunate for you, +sovereign-kings! that you have room enough, wherein to be free. +</p> + +<p> +“And, may it please you, you are free, partly, because you are young. +Your nation is like a fine, florid youth, full of fiery impulses, and hard to +restrain; his strong hand nobly championing his heart. On all sides, freely he +gives, and still seeks to acquire. The breath of his nostrils is like smoke in +spring air; every tendon is electric with generous resolves. The oppressor he +defies to his beard; the high walls of old opinions he scales with a bound. In +the future he sees all the domes of the East. +</p> + +<p> +“But years elapse, and this bold boy is transformed. His eyes open not as +of yore; his heart is shut up as a vice. He yields not a groat; and seeking no +more acquisitions, is only bent on preserving his hoard. The maxims once +trampled under foot, are now printed on his front; and he who hated oppressors, +is become an oppressor himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, often, with men; thus, often, with nations. Then marvel not, +sovereign-kings! that old states are different from yours; and think not, your +own must forever remain liberal as now. +</p> + +<p> +“Each age thinks its own is eternal. But though for five hundred +twelve-moons, all Romara, by courtesy of history, was republican; yet, at last, +her terrible king-tigers came, and spotted themselves with gore. +</p> + +<p> +“And time was, when Dominora was republican, down to her sturdy back- +bone. The son of an absolute monarch became the man Karolus; and his crown and +head, both rolled in the dust. And Dominora had her patriots by thousands; and +lusty Defenses, and glorious Areopagiticas were written, not since surpassed; +and no turban was doffed save in homage of Oro. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, may it please you, to the sound of pipe and tabor, the second King +Karolus returned in good time; and was hailed gracious majesty by high and low. +</p> + +<p> +“Throughout all eternity, the parts of the past are but parts of the +future reversed. In the old foot-prints, up and down, you mortals go, eternally +traveling your Sierras. And not more infallible the ponderings of the +Calculating Machine than the deductions from the decimals of history. +</p> + +<p> +“In nations, sovereign-kings! there is a transmigration of souls; in you, +is a marvelous destiny. The eagle of Romara revives in your own mountain bird, +and once more is plumed for her flight. Her screams are answered by the +vauntful cries of a hawk; his red comb yet reeking with slaughter. And one +East, one West, those bold birds may fly, till they lock pinions in the midmost +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“But, soaring in the sky over the nations that shall gather their broods +under their wings, that bloody hawk may hereafter be taken for the eagle. +</p> + +<p> +“And though crimson republics may rise in constellations, like fiery +Aldebarans, speeding to their culminations; yet, down must they sink at last, +and leave the old sultan-sun in the sky; in time, again to be deposed. +</p> + +<p> +“For little longer, may it please you, can republics subsist now, than in +days gone by. For, assuming that Mardi is wiser than of old; nevertheless, +though all men approached sages in intelligence, some would yet be more wise +than others; and so, the old degrees be preserved. And no exemption would an +equality of knowledge furnish, from the inbred servility of mortal to mortal; +from all the organic causes, which inevitably divide mankind into brigades and +battalions, with captains at their head. +</p> + +<p> +“Civilization has not ever been the brother of equality. Freedom was born +among the wild eyries in the mountains; and barbarous tribes have sheltered +under her wings, when the enlightened people of the plain have nestled under +different pinions. +</p> + +<p> +“Though, thus far, for you, sovereign-kings! your republic has been +fruitful of blessings; yet, in themselves, monarchies are not utterly evil. For +many nations, they are better than republics; for many, they will ever so +remain. And better, on all hands, that peace should rule with a scepter, than +than the tribunes of the people should brandish their broadswords. Better be +the subject of a king, upright and just; than a freeman in Franko, with the +executioner’s ax at every corner. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not the prime end, and chief blessing, to be politically free. And +freedom is only good as a means; is no end in itself Nor, did man fight it out +against his masters to the haft, not then, would he uncollar his neck from the +yoke. A born thrall to the last, yelping out his liberty, he still remains a +slave unto Oro; and well is it for the universe, that Oro’s scepter is +absolute. +</p> + +<p> +“World-old the saying, that it is easier to govern others, than oneself. +And that all men should govern themselves as nations, needs that all men be +better, and wiser, than the wisest of one-man rulers. But in no stable +democracy do all men govern themselves. Though an army be all volunteers, +martial law must prevail. Delegate your power, you leagued mortals must. The +hazard you must stand. And though unlike King Bello of Dominora, your great +chieftain, sovereign-kings! may not declare war of himself; nevertheless, has +he done a still more imperial thing:—gone to war without declaring +intentions. You yourselves were precipitated upon a neighboring nation, ere you +knew your spears were in your hands. +</p> + +<p> +“But, as in stars you have written it on the welkin, sovereign-kings! you +are a great and glorious people. And verily, yours is the best and happiest +land under the sun. But not wholly, because you, in your wisdom, decreed it: +your origin and geography necessitated it. Nor, in their germ, are all your +blessings to be ascribed to the noble sires, who of yore fought in your behalf, +sovereign-kings! Your nation enjoyed no little independence before your +Declaration declared it. Your ancient pilgrims fathered your liberty; and your +wild woods harbored the nursling. For the state that to-day is made up of +slaves, can not to-morrow transmute her bond into free; though lawlessness may +transform them into brutes. Freedom is the name for a thing that is <i>not</i> +freedom; this, a lesson never learned in an hour or an age. By some tribes it +will never be learned. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, if it please you, there may be such a thing as being free under +Caesar. Ages ago, there were as many vital freemen, as breathe vital air +to-day. +</p> + +<p> +“Names make not distinctions; some despots rule without swaying scepters. +Though King Bello’s palace was not put together by yoked men; your +federal temple of freedom, sovereign-kings! was the handiwork of slaves. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not gildings, and gold maces, and crown jewels alone, that make a +people servile. There is much bowing and cringing among you yourselves, +sovereign-kings! Poverty is abased before riches, all Mardi over; any where, it +is hard to be a debtor; any where, the wise will lord it over fools; every +where, suffering is found. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, freedom is more social than political. And its real felicity is +not to be shared. <i>That</i> is of a man’s own individual getting and +holding. It is not, who rules the state, but who rules me. Better be secure +under one king, than exposed to violence from twenty millions of monarchs, +though oneself be of the number. +</p> + +<p> +“But superstitious notions you harbor, sovereign kings! Did you visit +Dominora, you would not be marched straight into a dungeon. And though you +would behold sundry sights displeasing, you would start to inhale such liberal +breezes; and hear crowds boasting of their privileges; as you, of yours. Nor +has the wine of Dominora, a monarchical flavor. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, though far and wide, to keep equal pace with the times, great +reforms, of a verity, be needed; nowhere are bloody revolutions required. +Though it be the most certain of remedies, no prudent invalid opens his veins, +to let out his disease with his life. And though all evils may be assuaged; all +evils can not be done away. For evil is the chronic malady of the universe; and +checked in one place, breaks forth in another. +</p> + +<p> +“Of late, on this head, some wild dreams have departed. +</p> + +<p> +“There are many, who erewhile believed that the age of pikes and javelins +was passed; that after a heady and blustering youth, old Mardi was at last +settling down into a serene old age; and that the Indian summer, first +discovered in your land, sovereign kings! was the hazy vapor emitted from its +tranquil pipe. But it has not so proved. Mardi’s peaces are but truces. +Long absent, at last the red comets have returned. And return they must, though +their periods be ages. And should Mardi endure till mountain melt into +mountain, and all the isles form one table-land; yet, would it but expand the +old battle-plain. +</p> + +<p> +“Students of history are horror-struck at the massacres of old; but in +the shambles, men are being murdered to-day. Could time be reversed, and the +future change places with the past, the past would cry out against us, and our +future, full as loudly, as we against the ages foregone. All the Ages are his +children, calling each other names. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark ye, sovereign-kings! cheer not on the yelping pack too furiously: +Hunters have been torn by their hounds. Be advised; wash your hands. Hold +aloof. Oro has poured out an ocean for an everlasting barrier between you and +the worst folly which other republics have perpetrated. That barrier hold +sacred. And swear never to cross over to Porpheero, by manifesto or army, +unless you traverse dry land. +</p> + +<p> +“And be not too grasping, nearer home. It is not freedom to filch. Expand +not your area too widely, now. Seek you proselytes? Neighboring nations may be +free, without coming under your banner. And if you can not lay your ambition, +know this: that it is best served, by waiting events. +</p> + +<p> +“Time, but Time only, may enable you to cross the equator; and give you +the Arctic Circles for your boundaries.” +</p> + +<p> +So read the anonymous scroll; which straightway, was torn into shreds. +</p> + +<p> +“Old tory, and monarchist!” they shouted, “Preaching over his +benighted sermons in these enlightened times! Fool! does he not know that all +the Past and its graves are being dug over?” +</p> + +<p> +They were furious; so wildly rolling their eyes after victims, that well was it +for King Media, he wore not his crown; and in silence, we moved unnoted from +out the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I am amazed at the indiscretion of a demigod,” said +Babbalanja, as we passed on our way; “I recognized your sultanic style +the very first sentence. This, then, is the result of your hours of +seclusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Philosopher! I am astounded at your effrontery. I detected your +philosophy the very first maxim. Who posted that parchment for you?” +</p> + +<p> +So, each charged the other with its authorship: and there was no finding out, +whether, indeed, either knew aught of its origin. +</p> + +<p> +Now, could it have been Babbalanja? Hardly. For, philosophic as the document +was, it seemed too dogmatic and conservative for him. King Media? But though +imperially absolute in his political sentiments, Media delivered not himself so +boldly, when actually beholding the eruption in Franko. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, the settlement of this question must be left to the commentators on +Mardi, some four or five hundred centuries hence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0058"></a> +CHAPTER LVIII.<br/> +They Visit The Extreme South Of Vivenza</h2> + +<p> +We penetrated further and further into the valleys around; but, though, as +elsewhere, at times we heard whisperings that promised an end to our +wanderings;—we still wandered on; and once again, even Yoomy abated his +sanguine hopes. +</p> + +<p> +And now, we prepared to embark for the extreme south of the land. +</p> + +<p> +But we were warned by the people, that in that portion of Vivenza, whither we +were going, much would be seen repulsive to strangers. Such things, however, +indulgent visitors overlooked. For themselves, they were well aware of those +evils. Northern Vivenza had done all it could to assuage them; but in vain; the +inhabitants of those southern valleys were a fiery, and intractable race; +heeding neither expostulations, nor entreaties. They were wedded to their ways. +Nay, they swore, that if the northern tribes persisted in intermeddlings, they +would dissolve the common alliance, and establish a distinct confederacy among +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Our coasting voyage at an end, our keels grated the beach among many prostrate +palms, decaying, and washed by the billows. Though part and parcel of the shore +we had left, this region seemed another land. Fewer thriving thingswere seen; +fewer cheerful sounds were heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Here labor has lost his laugh!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +It was a great plain where we landed; and there, under a burning sun, hundreds +of collared men were toiling in trenches, filled with the taro plant; a root +most flourishing in that soil. Standing grimly over these, were men unlike +them; armed with long thongs, which descended upon the toilers, and made +wounds. Blood and sweat mixed; and in great drops, fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Who eat these plants thus nourished?” cried Yoomy. “Are +these men?” asked Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Which mean you?” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Heeding him not, Babbalanja advanced toward the fore-most of those with the +thongs,—one Nulli: a cadaverous, ghost-like man; with a low ridge of +forehead; hair, steel-gray; and wondrous eyes;—bright, nimble, as the +twin Corposant balls, playing about the ends of ships’ royal-yards in +gales. +</p> + +<p> +The sun passed under a cloud; and Nulli, darting at Babbalanja those wondrous +eyes, there fell upon him a baleful glare. +</p> + +<p> +“Have they souls?” he asked, pointing to the serfs. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Nulli, “their ancestors may have had; but their +souls have been bred out of their descendants; as the instinct of scent is +killed in pointers.” +</p> + +<p> +Approaching one of the serfs, Media took him by the hand, and felt of it long; +and looked into his eyes; and placed his ear to his side; and exclaimed, +“Surely this being has flesh that is warm; he has Oro in his eye; and a +heart in him that beats. I swear he is a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this our lord the king?” cried Mohi, starting. +</p> + +<p> +“What art thou,” said Babbalanja to the serf. “Dost ever feel +in thee a sense of right and wrong? Art ever glad or sad?—They tell us +thou art not a man:—speak, then, for thyself; say, whether thou beliest +thy Maker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak not of my Maker to me. Under the lash, I believe my masters, and +account myself a brute; but in my dreams, bethink myself an angel. But I am +bond; and my little ones;—their mother’s milk is gall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just Oro!” cried Yoomy, “do no thunders roll,—no +lightnings flash in this accursed land!” +</p> + +<p> +“Asylum for all Mardi’s thralls!” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Incendiaries!” cried he with the wondrous eyes, “come ye, +firebrands, to light the flame of revolt? Know ye not, that here are many +serfs, who, incited to obtain their liberty, might wreak some dreadful +vengeance? Avaunt, thou king! <i>thou</i> horrified at this? Go back to Odo, +and right her wrongs! These serfs are happier than thine; though thine, no +collars wear; more happy as they are, than if free. Are they not fed, clothed, +and cared for? Thy serfs pine for food: never yet did these; who have no +thoughts, no cares.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thoughts and cares are life, and liberty, and immortality!” cried +Babbalanja; “and are their souls, then, blown out as candles?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ranter! they are content,” cried Nulli. “They shed no +tears.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frost never weeps,” said Babbalanja; “and tears are frozen +in those frigid eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh fettered sons of fettered mothers, conceived and born in +manacles,” cried Yoomy; “dragging them through life; and falling +with them, clanking in the grave:—oh, beings as ourselves, how my stiff +arm shivers to avenge you! ’Twere absolution for the matricide, to strike +one rivet from your chains. My heart outswells its home!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oro! Art thou?” cried Babbalanja; “and doth this thing +exist? It shakes my little faith.” Then, turning upon Nulli, “How +can ye abide to sway this curs’d dominion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, fanatic! Who else may till unwholesome fields, but these? And as +these beings are, so shall they remain; ’tis right and righteous! Maramma +champions it!—I swear it! The first blow struck for them, dissolves the +union of Vivenza’s vales. The northern tribes well know it; and know +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Media, “Yet if—” +</p> + +<p> +“No more! another word, and, king as thou art, thou shalt be +dungeoned:—here, there is such a law; thou art not among the northern +tribes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And this is freedom!” murmured Media; “when heaven’s +own voice is throttled. And were these serfs to rise, and fight for it; like +dogs, they would be hunted down by her pretended sons!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, heaven!” cried Yoomy, “they may yet find a way to +loose their bonds without one drop of blood. But hear me, Oro! were there no +other way, and should their masters not relent, all honest hearts must cheer +this tribe of Hamo on; though they cut their chains with blades thrice edged, +and gory to the haft! ’Tis right to fight for freedom, whoever be the +thrall.” +</p> + +<p> +“These South savannahs may yet prove battle-fields,” said Mohi; +gloomily, as we retraced our steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Be it,” said Yoomy. “Oro will van the right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not always has it proved so,” said Babbalanja. “Oft-times, +the right fights single-handed against the world; and Oro champions none. In +all things, man’s own battles, man himself must fight. Yoomy: so far as +feeling goes, your sympathies are not more hot than mine; but for these serfs +you would cross spears; yet, I would not. Better present woes for some, than +future woes for all.” +</p> + +<p> +“No need to fight,” cried Yoomy, “to liberate that tribe of +Hamo instantly; a way may be found, and no irretrievable evil ensue.” +</p> + +<p> +“Point it out, and be blessed, Yoomy.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is for Vivenza; but the head is dull, where the heart is +cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Babbalanja, “you have startled us by your +kingly sympathy for suffering; say thou, then, in what wise manner it shall be +relieved.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is for Vivenza,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi, you are old: speak thou.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let Vivenza speak,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus then we all agree; and weeping all but echo hard-hearted Nulli. +Tears are not swords and wrongs seem almost natural as rights. For the +righteous to suppress an evil, is sometimes harder than for others to uphold +it. Humanity cries out against this vast enormity:— not one man knows a +prudent remedy. Blame not, then, the North; and wisely judge the South. Ere, as +a nation, they became responsible, this thing was planted in their midst. Such +roots strike deep. Place to-day those serfs in Dominora; and with them, all +Vivenza’s Past;— and serfs, for many years, in Dominora, they would +be. Easy is it to stand afar and rail. All men are censors who have lungs. We +can say, the stars are wrongly marshaled. Blind men say the sun is blind. A +thousand muscles wag our tongues; though our tongues were housed, that they +might have a home. Whose is free from crime, let him cross himself—but +hold his cross upon his lips. That he is not bad, is not of him. Potters’ +clay and wax are all, molded by hands invisible. The soil decides the man. And, +ere birth, man wills not to be born here or there. These southern tribes have +grown up with this thing; bond-women were their nurses, and bondmen serve them +still. Nor are all their serfs such wretches as those we saw. Some seem happy: +yet not as men. Unmanned, they know not what they are. And though, of all the +south, Nulli must stand almost alone in his insensate creed; yet, to all +wrong-doers, custom backs the sense of wrong. And if to every Mardian, +conscience be the awarder of its own doom; then, of these tribes, many shall be +found exempted from the least penalty of this sin. But sin it is, no +less;—a blot, foul as the crater-pool of hell; it puts out the sun at +noon; it parches all fertility; and, conscience or no conscience—ere he +die—let every master who wrenches bond-babe from mother, that the nipple +tear; unwreathes the arms of sisters; or cuts the holy unity in twain; till +apart fall man and wife, like one bleeding body cleft:—let that master +thrice shrive his soul; take every sacrament; on his bended knees give up the +ghost;—yet shall he die despairing; and live again, to die forever +damned. The future is all hieroglyphics. Who may read? But, methinks the great +laggard Time must now march up apace, and somehow befriend these thralls. It +can not be, that misery is perpetually entailed; though, in a land proscribing +primogeniture, the first-born and last of Hamo’s tribe must still succeed +to all their sires’ wrongs. Yes. Time—all-healing Time—Time, +great Philanthropist!—Time must befriend these thralls!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oro grant it!” cried Yoomy “and let Mardi say, amen!” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen! amen! amen!” cried echoes echoing echoes. +</p> + +<p> +We traversed many of these southern vales; but as in Dominora,—so, +throughout Vivenza, North and South,—Yillah harbored not. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0059"></a> +CHAPTER LIX.<br/> +They Converse Of The Mollusca, Kings, Toad-Stools And Other Matters</h2> + +<p> +Once more embarking, we gained Vivenza’s southwestern side and there, +beheld vast swarms of laborers discharging from canoes, great loads of earth; +which they tossed upon the beach. +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, then,” said Media “that these freemen are +engaged in digging down other lands, and adding them to their own, piece-meal. +And this, they call extending their dominions agriculturally, and +peaceably.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, they pay a price for every canoe-load,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, old man, holding the spear in one hand, and striking the bargain +with the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet charge it not upon all Vivenza,” said Babbalanja. “Some +of her tribes are hostile to these things: and when their countryman fight for +land, are only warlike in opposing war.” +</p> + +<p> +“And therein, Babbalanja, is involved one of those anomalies in the +condition of Vivenza,” said Media, “which I can hardly comprehend. +How comes it, that with so Many things to divide them, the valley-tribes still +keep their mystic league intact?” +</p> + +<p> +“All plain, it is because the model, whence they derive their union, is +one of nature’s planning. My lord, have you ever observed the mysterious +federation subsisting among the molluscs of the Tunicata order,—in other +words, a species of cuttle-fish, abounding at the bottom of the lagoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes: in clear weather about the reefs, I have beheld them time and +again: but never with an eye to their political condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! my lord king, we should not cut off the nervous communication +between our eyes, and our cerebellums.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were you about to say concerning the Tunicata order of mollusca, +sir philosopher?” +</p> + +<p> +“My very honorable lord, I hurry to conclude. They live in a compound +structure; but though connected by membranous canals, freely communicating +throughout the league—each member has a heart and stomach of its own; +provides and digests its own dinners; and grins and bears its own gripes, +without imparting the same to its neighbors. But if a prowling shark touches +one member, it ruffles all. Precisely thus now with Vivenza. In that +confederacy, there are as many consciences as tribes; hence, if one member on +its own behalf, assumes aught afterwards repudiated, the sin rests on itself +alone; is not participated.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very subtle explanation, Babbalanja. You must allude, then, to those +recreant tribes; which, while in their own eyes presenting a sublime moral +spectacle to Mardi,—in King Bello’s, do but present a hopeless +example of bad debts. And these, the tribes that boast of boundless +wealth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most true, my lord. But Bello errs, when for this thing, he stigmatizes +all Vivenza, as a unity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja, you yourself are made up of members:—then, if you be +sick of a lumbago,—’tis not <i>you</i> that are unwell; but your +spine.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you will, my lord. I have said. But to speak no more on that head +—what sort of a sensation, think you, life is to such creatures as those +mollusca?” +</p> + +<p> +“Answer your own question, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will; but first tell me what sort of a sensation life is to you, +yourself, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray answer that along with the other, Azzageddi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Directly; but tell me, if you will, my lord, what sort of a sensation +life is to a toad-stool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, Babbalanja put all three questions together; and then, do what you +have often done before, pronounce yourself a lunatic.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I beseech you, remind me not of that fact so often. It is true, +but annoying. Nor will any wise man call another a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you take me for a mere man, then, Babbalanja, that you talk to me +thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“My demi-divine lord and master, I was deeply concerned at your +indisposition last night:—may a loving subject inquire, whether his +prince is completely recovered from the effect of those guavas?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have a care, Azzageddi; you are far too courteous, to be civil. But +proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I obey. In kings, mollusca, and toad-stools, life is one thing and the +same. The Philosopher Dumdi pronounces it a certain febral vibration of organic +parts, operating upon the vis inertia of unorganized matter. But Bardianna says +nay. Hear him. ‘Who put together this marvelous mechanism of mine; and +wound it up, to go for three score years and ten; when it runs out, and strikes +Time’s hours no more? And what is it, that daily and hourly renews, and +by a miracle, creates in me my flesh and my blood? What keeps up the perpetual +telegraphic communication between my outpost toes and digits, and that domed +grandee up aloft, my brain?—It is not I; nor you; nor he; nor it. No; +when I place my hand to that king muscle my heart, I am appalled. I feel the +great God himself at work in me. Oro is life.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is death?” demanded Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Death, my lord!—it is the deadest of all things.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0060"></a> +CHAPTER LX.<br/> +Wherein, That Gallant Gentleman And Demi-God, King Media, Scepter In Hand, +Throws Himself Into The Breach</h2> + +<p> +Sailing south from Vivenza, not far from its coast, we passed a cluster of +islets, green as new fledged grass; and like the mouths of floating +cornucopias, their margins brimmed over upon the brine with flowers. On some, +grew stately roses; on others stood twin-pillars; across others, tri-hued +rainbows rested. +</p> + +<p> +Cried Babbalanja, pointing to the last, “Franko’s pledge of peace! +with that, she loudly vaunts she’ll span the reef!—Strike out all +hues but red,—and the token’s nearer truth.” +</p> + +<p> +All these isles were prolific gardens; where King Bello, and the Princes of +Porpheero grew their most delicious fruits,—nectarines and grapes. +</p> + +<p> +But, though hard by, Vivenza owned no garden here; yet longed and lusted; and +her hottest tribes oft roundly swore, to root up all roses the half-reef over; +pull down all pillars; and dissolve all rainbows. “Mardi’s half is +ours;” said they. Stand back invaders! Full of vanity; and mirroring +themselves in the future; they deemed all reflected there, their own. +</p> + +<p> +’Twas now high noon. +</p> + +<p> +“Methinks the sun grows hot,” said Media, retreating deeper under +the canopy. “Ho! Vee-Vee; have you no cooling beverage? none of that +golden wine distilled from torrid grapes, and then sent northward to be +cellared in an iceberg? That wine was placed among our stores. Search, search +the crypt, little Vee-Vee! Ha, I see it!—that yellow gourd!—Come: +drag it forth, my boy. Let’s have the amber cups: so: pass them +round;—fill all! Taji! my demi-god, up heart! Old Mohi, my babe, may you +live ten thousand centuries! Ah! this way you mortals have of dying out at +three score years and ten, is but a craven habit. So, Babbalanja! may you never +die. Yoomy! my sweet poet, may you live to sing to me in Paradise. Ha, ha! +would that we floated in this glorious stuff, instead of this pestilent +brine.—Hark ye! were I to make a Mardi now, I’d have every +continent a huge haunch of venison; every ocean a wine-vat! I’d stock +every cavern with choice old spirits, and make three surplus suns to ripen the +grapes all the year round. Let’s drink to that!—Brimmers! So: may +the next Mardi that’s made, be one entire grape; and mine the +squeezing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look! my lord,” cried Yoomy, “what a glorious shore we +pass.” +</p> + +<p> +Sallying out into the high golden noon, with golden-beaming goblets suspended, +we gazed. +</p> + +<p> +“This must be Kolumbo of the south,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long, hazy reach of land; piled up in terraces, traced here and there +with rushing streams, that worked up gold dust alluvian, and seemed to flash +over pebbled diamonds. Heliotropes, sun-flowers, marigolds gemmed, or starred +the violet meads, and vassal-like, still sunward bowed their heads. The rocks +were pierced with grottoes, blazing with crystals, many-tinted. +</p> + +<p> +It was a land of mints and mines; its east a ruby; west a topaz. Inland, the +woodlands stretched an ocean, bottomless with foliage; its green surges +bursting through cable-vines; like Xerxes’ brittle chains which vainly +sought to bind the Hellespont. Hence flowed a tide of forest sounds; of +parrots, paroquets, macaws; blent with the howl of jaguars, hissing of +anacondas, chattering of apes, and herons screaming. +</p> + +<p> +Out from those depths up rose a stream. +</p> + +<p> +The land lay basking in the world’s round torrid brisket, hot with solar +fire. +</p> + +<p> +“No need here to land,” cried Yoomy, “Yillah lurks not +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heat breeds life, and sloth, and rage,” said Babbalanja. +“Here live bastard tribes and mongrel nations; wrangling and murdering to +prove their freedom.—Refill, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Methinks, Babbalanja, you savor of the mysterious parchment, in Vivenza +read:—Ha? Yes, philosopher, these are the men, who toppled castles to +make way for hovels; these, they who fought for freedom, but find it despotism +to rule themselves. These, Babbalanja, are of the race, to whom a tyrant would +prove a blessing.” So saying he drained his cup. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, that last sentiment decides the authorship of the scroll. But, +with deference, tyrants seldom can prove blessings; inasmuch as evil seldom +eventuates in good. Yet will these people soon have a tyrant over them, if long +they cleave to war. Of many javelins, one must prove a scepter; of many +helmets, one a crown. It is but in the wearing.—Refill, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fools, fools!” cried Media, “these tribes hate us kings; yet +know not, that Peace is War against all kings. We seldom are undone by spears, +which are our ministers.—This wine is strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, now’s the time! In his cups learn king-craft from a king. Ay, +ay, my lord, your royal order will endure, so long as men will fight. Break the +spears, and free the nations. Kings reap the harvests that wave on +battle-fields. And oft you kings do snatch the aloe-flower, whose slow +blossoming mankind watches for a hundred years.—Say on, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“All this I know; and, therefore, rest content. My children’s +children will be kings; though, haply, called by other titles. Mardi grows +fastidious in names: we royalties will humor it. The steers would burst their +yokes, but have not hands. The whole herd rears and plunges, but soon will bow +again: the old, old way!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, in Porpheero, strong scepters have been wrested from anointed +hands. Mankind seems in arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let them arm on. They hate us:—good;—they always have; yet +still we’ve reigned, son after sire. Sometimes they slay us, Babbalanja; +pour out our marrow, as I this wine; but they spill no kinless blood. +’Twas justly held of old, that but to touch a monarch, was to strike at +Oro.—Truth. The palest vengeance is a royal ghost; and regicides but +father slaves. Thrones, not scepters, have been broken. Mohi, what of the past? +Has it not ever proved so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, my lord; the times seem changed. ’Tis held, that demi-gods +no more rule by right divine. In Vivenza’s land, they swear the last +kings now reign in Mardi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the last day at hand, old man? Mohi, your beard is gray; but, Yoomy, +listen. When you die, look around; mark then if any mighty change be seen. Old +kingdoms may be on the wane; but new dynasties advance. Though revolutions rise +to high spring-tide, monarchs will still drown hard;—monarchs survived +the flood!” +</p> + +<p> +“Are all our dreams, then, vain?” sighed Yoomy. “Is this no +dawn of day that streaks the crimson East! Naught but the false and flickering +lights which sometimes mock Aurora in the north! Ah, man, my brother! have all +martyrs for thee bled in vain; in vain we poets sang, and prophets spoken? Nay, +nay; great Mardi, helmed and mailed, strikes at Oppression’s shield, and +challenges to battle! Oro will defend the right, and royal crests must +roll.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, Yoomy, ages since, you mortal poets sang; but the world may not be +moved from out the orbit in which first it rolled. On the map that charts the +spheres, Mardi is marked ‘the world of kings.’ Round centuries on +centuries have wheeled by:—has all this been its nonage? Now, when the +rocks grow gray, does man first sprout his beard? Or, is your golden time, your +equinoctial year, at hand, that your race fast presses toward perfection; and +every hand grasps at a scepter, that kings may be no more?” +</p> + +<p> +“But free Vivenza! Is she not the star, that must, ere long, lead up the +constellations, though now unrisen? No kings are in Vivenza; yet, spite her +thralls, in that land seems more of good than elsewhere. Our hopes are not wild +dreams: Vivenza cheers our hearts. She is a rainbow to the isles!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, truth it is, that in Vivenza they have prospered. But thence it +comes not, that all men may be as they. Are all men of one heart and brain; one +bone and sinew? Are all nations sprung of Dominora’s loins? Or, has +Vivenza yet proved her creed? Yoomy! the years that prove a man, prove not a +nation. But two kings’-reigns have passed since Vivenza was a +monarch’s. Her climacteric is not come; hers is not yet a nation’s +manhood even; though now in childhood, she anticipates her youth, and lusts for +empire like any czar. Yoomy! judge not yet. Time hath tales to tell. Many +books, and many long, long chapters, are wanting to Vivenza’s history; +and whet history but is full of blood?” +</p> + +<p> +“There stop, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “nor aught predict. +Fate laughs at prophets; and of all birds, the raven is a liar!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0061"></a> +CHAPTER LXI.<br/> +They Round The Stormy Cape Of Capes</h2> + +<p> +Long leagues, for weary days, we voyaged along that coast, till we came to +regions where we multiplied our mantles. +</p> + +<p> +The sky grew overcast. Each a night, black storm-clouds swept the wintry sea; +and like Sahara caravans, which leave their sandy wakes— so, thick and +fleet, slanted the scud behind. Through all this rack and mist, ten thousand +foam-flaked dromedary-humps uprose. +</p> + +<p> +Deep among those panting, moaning fugitives, the three canoes raced on. +</p> + +<p> +And now, the air grew nipping cold. The clouds shed off their fleeces; a +snow-hillock, each canoe; our beards, white-frosted. +</p> + +<p> +And so, as seated in our shrouds, we sailed in among great mountain passes of +ice-isles; from icy ledges scaring shivering seals, and white bears, musical +with icicles, jingling from their shaggy ermine. +</p> + +<p> +Far and near, in towering ridges, stretched the glassy Andes; with their own +frost, shuddering through all their domes and pinnacles. Ice-splinters rattled +down the cliffs, and seethed into the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Broad away, in amphitheaters undermined by currents, whole cities of +ice-towers, in crashes, toward one center, fell.—In their earthquakes, +Lisbon and Lima never saw the like. Churned and broken in the boiling tide, +they swept off amain;—over and over rolling; like porpoises to vessels +tranced in calms, bringing down the gale. +</p> + +<p> +At last, rounding an antlered headland, that seemed a moose at bay—ere +long, we launched upon blue lake-like waters, serene as Windermere, or Horicon. +Thus, from the boisterous storms of youth, we glide upon senility. +</p> + +<p> +But as we northward voyaged, another aspect wore the sea. +</p> + +<p> +In far-off, endless vistas, colonnades of water-spouts were seen: all +heaven’s dome upholding on their shafts: and bright forms gliding up and +down within. So at Luz, in his strange vision, Jacob saw the angels. +</p> + +<p> +A boundless cave of stalactites, it seemed; the cloud-born vapors downward +spiraling, till they met the whirlpool-column from the sea; then, uniting, over +the waters stalked, like ghosts of gods. Or midway sundered—down, sullen, +sunk the watery half; and far up into heaven, was drawn the vapory. As, at +death, we mortals part in twain; our earthy half still here abiding; but our +spirits flying whence they came. +</p> + +<p> +In good time, we gained the thither side of great Kolumbo of the South; and +sailing on, long waited for the day; and wondered at the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“What steadfast clouds!” cried Yoomy, “yonder! far aloft: +that ridge, with many points; it fades below, but shows a faint white +crest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not clouds, but mountains,” said Babbalanja, “the vast +spine, that traverses Kolumbo; spurring off in ribs, that nestle loamy valleys, +veined with silver streams, and silver ores.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a long, embattled line of pinnacles. And high posted in the East, those +thousand bucklered peaks stood forth, and breasted back the Dawn. Before their +purple bastions bold, Aurora long arrayed her spears, and clashed her golden +shells. The summons dies away. But now, her lancers charge the steep, and gain +its crest a-glow;—their glittering spears and blazoned shields triumphant +in the morn. +</p> + +<p> +But ere that sight, we glided on for hours in twilight; when, on those +mountains’ farther side, the hunters must have been abroad, morning- +glories all astir. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0062"></a> +CHAPTER LXII.<br/> +They Encounter Gold-Hunters</h2> + +<p> +Now, northward coasting along Kolumbo’s Western shore, whence came the +same wild forest-sounds, as from the Eastern; and where we landed not, to seek +among those wrangling tribes;—after many, many days, we spied prow after +prow, before the wind all northward bound: sails wide-spread, and paddles +plying: scaring the fish from before them. +</p> + +<p> +Their inmates answered not our earnest hail. +</p> + +<p> +But as they sped, with frantic glee, in one long chorus thus they sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + We rovers bold,<br/> + To the land of Gold,<br/> + Over bowling billows are gliding:<br/> + Eager to toil,<br/> + For the golden spoil,<br/> + And every hardship biding.<br/> + See! See!<br/> + Before our prows’ resistless dashes,<br/> + The gold-fish fly in golden flashes!<br/> + ’Neath a sun of gold,<br/> + We rovers bold,<br/> + On the golden land are gaining;<br/> + And every night,<br/> + We steer aright,<br/> + By golden stars unwaning!<br/> + All fires burn a golden glare:<br/> + No locks so bright as golden hair!<br/> + All orange groves have golden gushings:<br/> + All mornings dawn with golden flushings!<br/> +In a shower of gold, say fables old,<br/> +A maiden was won by the god of gold!<br/> + In golden goblets wine is beaming:<br/> + On golden couches kings are dreaming!<br/> + The Golden Rule dries many tears!<br/> + The Golden Number rules the spheres!<br/> +Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations:<br/> +Gold! gold! the center of all rotations!<br/> + On golden axles worlds are turning:<br/> + With phosphorescence seas are burning!<br/> + All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings:<br/> + Gold-hunters’ hearts with golden dreamings!<br/> + With golden arrows kings are slain:<br/> + With gold we’ll buy a freeman’s name!<br/> +In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings,<br/> +At home we’ve slaved, with stifled yearnings:<br/> +No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe!<br/> +When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow.<br/> + But joyful now, with eager eye,<br/> + Fast to the Promised Land we fly:<br/> + Where in deep mines,<br/> + The treasure shines;<br/> + Or down in beds of golden streams,<br/> + The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams!<br/> + How we long to sift,<br/> + That yellow drift!<br/> + Rivers! Rivers! cease your going!<br/> + Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide!<br/> + ’Till we’ve gained the golden flowing;<br/> + And in the golden haven ride! +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, quick, my lord,” cried Yoomy, “let us follow them; +and from the golden waters where she lies, our Yillah may emerge.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Babbalanja,—“no Yillah there!—from +yonder promised-land, fewer seekers will return, than go. Under a gilded guise, +happiness is still their instinctive aim. But vain, Yoomy, to snatch at +Happiness. Of that we may not pluck and eat. It is the fruit of our own +toilsome planting; slow it grows, nourished by many teats, and all our earnest +tendings. Yet ere it ripen, frosts may nip;—and then, we plant again; and +yet again. Deep, Yoomy, deep, true treasure lies; deeper than all Mardi’s +gold, rooted to Mardi’s axis. But unlike gold, it lurks in every +soil,—all Mardi over. With golden pills and potions is sickness warded +off?—the shrunken veins of age, dilated with new wine of youth? Will gold +the heart-ache cure? turn toward us hearts estranged? will gold, on solid +centers empires fix? ’Tis toil world-wasted to toil in mines. Were all +the isles gold globes, set in a quicksilver sea, all Mardi were then a desert. +Gold is the only poverty; of all glittering ills the direst. And that man might +not impoverish himself thereby, Oro hath hidden it, with all other +banes,—saltpeter and explosives, deep in mountain bowels, and river-beds. +But man still will mine for it; and mining, dig his doom.— Yoomy, +Yoomy!—she we seek, lurks not in the Golden Hills!” +</p> + +<p> +“Lo, a vision!” cried Yoomy, his hands wildly passed across his +eyes. “A vast and silent bay, belted by silent villages:—gaunt dogs +howling over grassy thresholds at stark corpses of old age and infancy; gray +hairs mingling with sweet flaxen curls; fields, with turned furrows, choked +with briers; arbor-floors strown over with hatchet-helves, rotting in the iron; +a thousand paths, marked with foot-prints, all inland leading, none +villageward; and strown with traces, as of a flying host. On: over +forest—hill, and dale—and lo! the golden region! After the +glittering spoil, by strange river-margins, and beneath impending cliffs, +thousands delve in quicksands; and, sudden, sink in graves of their own making: +with gold dust mingling their own ashes. Still deeper, in more solid ground, +other thousands slave; and pile their earth so high, they gasp for air, and +die; their comrades mounting on them, and delving still, and dying—grave +pile on grave! Here, one haggard hunter murders another in his pit; and +murdering, himself is murdered by a third. Shrieks and groans! cries and +curses! It seems a golden Hell! With many camels, a sleek stranger comes— +pauses before the shining heaps, and shows <i>his</i> treasures: yams and +bread-fruit. ‘Give, give,’ the famished hunters cry—, +‘a thousand shekels for a yam!—a prince’s ransom for a +meal!—Oh, stranger! on our knees we worship thee:—take, take our +gold; but let us live!’ Yams are thrown them and they fight. Then he who +toiled not, dug not, slaved not, straight loads his caravans with gold; regains +the beach, and swift embarks for home. ‘Home! home!’ the hunters +cry, with bursting eyes. ‘With this bright gold, could we but join our +waiting wives, who wring their hands on distant shores, all then were well. But +we can not fly; our prows lie rotting on the beach. Ah! home! thou only +happiness!—better thy silver earnings than all these golden findings. Oh, +bitter end to all our hopes—we die in golden graves.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0063"></a> +CHAPTER LXIII.<br/> +They Seek Through The Isles Of Palms; And Pass The Isles Of Myrrh</h2> + +<p> +Now, our prows we turned due west, across the blue lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, no land appeared. Far as the eye could sweep, one azure plain; all over +flaked with foamy fleeces:—a boundless flock upon a boundless mead! +</p> + +<p> +Again, all changed. Like stars in multitude, bright islets multiplied around. +Emerald-green, they dotted shapes fantastic: circles, arcs, and +crescents;—atolls all, or coral carcanets, begemmed and flashing in the +sun. +</p> + +<p> +By these we glided, group after group; and through the foliage, spied sweet +forms of maidens, like Eves in Edens ere the Fall, or Proserpines in Ennas. +Artless airs came from the shore; and from the censer-swinging roses, a bloom, +as if from Hebe’s cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, at last, we find sweet Yillah!” murmured Yoomy. “Here +must she lurk in innocence! Quick! Let us land and search.” +</p> + +<p> +“If here,” said Babbalanja, “Yillah will not stay our coming, +but fly before us through the groves. Wherever a canoe is beached, see you not +the palm-trees pine? Not so, where never keel yet smote the strand. In mercy, +let us fly from hence. I know not why, but our breath here, must prove a +blight.” +</p> + +<p> +These regions passed, we came to savage islands, where the glittering coral +seemed bones imbedded, bleaching in the sun. Savage men stood naked on the +strand, and brandished uncouth clubs, and gnashed their teeth like boars. +</p> + +<p> +The full red moon was rising; and, in long review there passed before it, +phantom shapes of victims, led bound to altars through the groves. +Death-rattles filled the air. But a cloud descended, and all was gloom. +</p> + +<p> +Again blank water spread before us; and after many days, there came a gentle +breeze, fraught with all spicy breathings; cinnamon aromas; and in the +rose-flushed evening air, like glow worms, glowed the islets, where this +incense burned. +</p> + +<p> +“Sweet isles of myrh! oh crimson groves,” cried Yoomy. “Woe, +woe’s your fate! your brightness and your bloom, like musky fire-flies, +double-lure to death! On ye, the nations prey like bears that gorge themselves +with honey.” +</p> + +<p> +Swan-like, our prows sailed in among these isles; and oft we landed; but in +vain; and leaving them, we still pursued the setting sun. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0064"></a> +CHAPTER LXIV.<br/> +Concentric, Inward, With Mardi’s Reef, They Leave Their Wake Around The +World</h2> + +<p> +West, West! West, West! Whitherward point Hope and prophet-fingers; +whitherward, at sun-set, kneel all worshipers of fire; whitherward in +mid-ocean, the great whales turn to die; whitherward face all the Moslem dead +in Persia; whitherward lie Heaven and Hell!—West, West! Whitherward +mankind and empires—flocks, caravans, armies, navies; worlds, suns, and +stars all wend!—West, West!—Oh boundless boundary! Eternal goal! +Whitherward rush, in thousand worlds, ten thousand thousand keels! Beacon, by +which the universe is steered!—Like the north-star, attracting all +needles! Unattainable forever; but forever leading to great things this side +thyself!—Hive of all sunsets!— Gabriel’s pinions may not +overtake thee! +</p> + +<p> +Over balmy waves, still westward sailing! From dawn till eve, the bright, +bright days sped on, chased by the gloomy nights; and, in glory dying, lent +their luster to the starry skies. So, long the radiant dolphins fly before the +sable sharks but seized, and torn in flames—die, burning:—their +last splendor left, in sparkling scales that float along the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Cymbals, drums and psalteries! the air beats like a pulse with music! +—High land! high land! and moving lights, and painted +lanterns!—What grand shore is this? +</p> + +<p> +“Reverence we render thee, Old Orienda!” cried Media, with bared +brow, “Original of all empires and emperors!—a crowned king salutes +thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mardi’s father-land!” cried Mohi, “grandsire of the +nations,—hail!” +</p> + +<p> +“All hail!” cried Yoomy. “Kings and sages hither coming, +should come like palmers,—scrip and staff! Oh Orienda! thou wert our +East, where first dawned song and science, with Mardi’s primal mornings! +But now, how changed! the dawn of light become a darkness, which we kindle with +the gleam of spears! On the world’s ancestral hearth, we spill our +brothers’ blood!” +</p> + +<p> +“Herein,” said Babbalanja, “have many distant tribes proved +parricidal. In times gone by, Luzianna hither sent her prom; Franko, her scores +of captains; and the Dykemen, their peddler hosts, with yard-stick spears! But +thou, oh Bello! lord of the empire lineage! Noah of the moderns. Sire of the +long line of nations yet in germ!— thou, Bello, and thy locust armies, +are the present curse of Orienda. Down ancient streams, from holy plains, in +rafts thy murdered float! The pestilence that thins thy armies here, is bred of +corpses, made by thee. Maramma’s priests, thy pious heralds, loud +proclaim that of all pagans, Orienda’s most resist the truth!—ay! +vain all pious voices, that speak from clouds of war! The march of conquest +through wild provinces, may be the march of Mind; but not the march of +Love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou, Bello!” cried Yoomy, “would’st wrest the crook +from Alma’s hand, and place in it a spear. But vain to make a conqueror +of him, who put off the purple when he came to Mardi; and declining gilded +miters, entered the nations meekly on an ass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh curse of commerce!” cried Babbalanja, “that it barters +souls for gold. Bello! with opium, thou wouldst drug this land, and murder it +in sleep!—And what boot thy conquests here? Seed sown by spears but +seldom springs; and harvests reaped thereby, are poisoned by the sickle’s +edge.” +</p> + +<p> +Yet on, and on we coasted; counting not the days. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, folds and flocks of nations! dusky tribes innumerable!” cried +Yoomy, “camped on plains and steppes; on thousand mountains, worshiping +the stars; in thousand valleys, offering up first-fruits, till all the forests +seem in flames;—where, in fire, the widow’s spirit mounts to meet +her lord!—Oh, Orienda, in thee ’tis vain to seek our Yillah!” +</p> + +<p> +“How dark as death the night!” said Mohi, shaking the dew from his +braids, “the Heavens blaze not here with stars, as over Dominora’s +land, and broad Vivenza.” +</p> + +<p> +One only constellation was beheld; but every star was brilliant as the one, +that promises the morning. That constellation was the Crux- +Australis,—the badge, and type of Alma. +</p> + +<p> +And now, southwest we steered, till another island vast, was reached; +—Hamora! far trending toward the Antarctic Pole. +</p> + +<p> +Coasting on by barbarous beaches, where painted men, with spears, charged on +all attempts to land, at length we rounded a mighty bluff, lit by a beacon; and +heard a bugle call:—Bello’s! hurrying to their quarters, the +World-End’s garrison. +</p> + +<p> +Here, the sea rolled high, in mountain surges: mid which, we toiled and +strained, as if ascending cliffs of Caucasus. +</p> + +<p> +But not long thus. As when from howling Rhoetian heights, the traveler spies +green Lombardy below, and downward rushes toward that pleasant plain; so, +sloping from long rolling swells, at last we launched upon the calm lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +But as we northward sailed, once more the storm-trump blew, and charger-like, +the seas ran mustering to the call; and in battalions crouched before a +towering rock, far distant from the main. No moon, eclipsed in Egypt’s +skies, looked half so lone. But from out that darkness, on the loftiest peak, +Bello’s standard waved. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh rifled tomb!” cried Babbalanja. “Wherein lay the Mars and +Moloch of our times, whose constellated crown, was gemmed with diadems. Thou +god of war! who didst seem the devouring Beast of the Apocalypse; casting so +vast a shadow over Mardi, that yet it lingers in old Franko’s vale; where +still they start at thy tremendous ghost; and, late, have hailed a phantom, +King! Almighty hero-spell! that after the lapse of half a century, can so +bewitch all hearts! But one drop of hero-blood will deify a fool. +</p> + +<p> +“Franko! thou wouldst be free; yet thy free homage is to the buried ashes +of a King; thy first choice, the exaltation of his race. In furious fires, thou +burn’st Ludwig’s throne; and over thy new-made chieftain’s +portal, in golden letters print’st—‘The Palace of our +Lord!’ In thy New Dispensation, thou cleavest to the exploded Law. And on +Freedom’s altar—ah, I fear—still, may slay thy hecatombs. But +Freedom turns away; she is sick with burnt blood of offerings. Other rituals +she loves; and like Oro, unseen herself, would be worshiped only by invisibles. +Of long drawn cavalcades, pompous processions, frenzied banners, mystic music, +marching nations, she will none. Oh, may thy peaceful Future, Franko, sanctify +thy bloody Past. Let not history say; ‘To her old gods, she turned +again.’” +</p> + +<p> +This rocky islet passed, the sea went down; once more we neared Hamora’s +western shore. In the deep darkness, here and there, its margin was lit up by +foam-white, breaking billows rolled over from Vivenza’s strand, and down +from northward Dominora; marking places where light was breaking in, upon the +interior’s jungle-gloom. +</p> + +<p> +In heavy sighs, the night-winds from shore came over us. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, vain to seek sweet Yillah here,” cried +Yoomy.—“Poor land! curst of man, not Oro! how thou faintest for thy +children, torn from thy soil, to till a stranger’s. Vivenza! did these +winds not spend their plaints, ere reaching thee, thy every vale would echo +them. Oh, tribe of Hamo! thy cup of woe so brims, that soon it must overflow +upon the land which holds ye thralls. No misery born of crime, but spreads and +poisons wide. Suffering hunteth sin, as the gaunt hound the hare, and tears it +in the greenest brakes.” +</p> + +<p> +Still on we sailed: and after many tranquil days and nights, a storm came down, +and burst its thousand bombs. The lightnings forked and flashed; the waters +boiled; our three prows lifted themselves in supplication; but the billows +smote them as they reared. +</p> + +<p> +Said Babbalanja, bowing to the blast: “Thus, oh Vivenza! retribution +works! Though long delayed, it comes at last—Judgment, with all her +bolts.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, a current seized us, and like three darts, our keels sped eastward, +through a narrow strait, far in, upon a smooth expanse, an inland ocean, +without a throb. +</p> + +<p> +On our left, Porpheero’s southwest point, a mighty rock, long tiers of +galleries within, deck on deck; and flag-staffs, like an admiral’s masts: +a line-of-battle-ship, all purple stone, and anchored in the sea. Here +Bello’s lion crouched; and, through a thousand port-holes, eyed the +world. +</p> + +<p> +On our right, Hamora’s northern shore gleamed thick with crescents; +numerous as the crosses along the opposing strand. +</p> + +<p> +“How vain to say, that progress is the test of truth, my lord,” +said Babbalanja, “when, after many centuries, those crescents yet +unwaning shine, and count a devotee for every worshiper of yonder crosses. +Truth and Merit have other symbols than success; and in this mortal race, all +competitors may enter; and the field is clear for all. Side by side, Lies run +with Truths, and fools with wise; but, like geometric lines, though they pierce +infinity, never may they join.” +</p> + +<p> +Over that tideless sea we sailed; and landed right, and landed left; but the +maiden never found; till, at last, we gained the water’s limit; and +inland saw great pointed masses, crowned with halos. +</p> + +<p> +“Granite continents,” cried Babbalanja, “that seem created +like the planets, not built with human hands. Lo, Landmarks! upon whose flanks +Time leaves its traces, like old tide-rips of diluvian seas.” +</p> + +<p> +As, after wandering round and round some purple dell, deep in a boundless +prairie’s heart, the baffled hunter plunges in; then, despairing, turns +once more to gain the open plain; even so we seekers now curved round our +keels; and from that inland sea emerged. The universe again before us; our +quest, as wide. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0065"></a> +CHAPTER LXV.<br/> +Sailing On</h2> + +<p> +Morning dawned upon the same mild, blue Lagoon as erst; and all the lands that +we had passed, since leaving Piko’s shore of spears, were faded from the +sight. +</p> + +<p> +Part and parcel of the Mardian isles, they formed a cluster by themselves; like +the Pleiades, that shine in Taurus, and are eclipsed by the red splendor of his +fiery eye, and the thick clusterings of the constellations round. +</p> + +<p> +And as in Orion, to some old king-astronomer,—say, King of Rigel, or +Betelguese,—this Earth’s four quarters show but four points afar; +so, seem they to terrestrial eyes, that broadly sweep the spheres. +</p> + +<p> +And, as the sun, by influence divine, wheels through the Ecliptic; threading +Cancer, Leo, Pisces, and Aquarius; so, by some mystic impulse am I moved, to +this fleet progress, through the groups in white-reefed Mardi’s zone. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, reader, list! I’ve chartless voyaged. With compass and the lead, we +had not found these Mardian Isles. Those who boldly launch, cast off all +cables; and turning from the common breeze, that’s fair for all, with +their own breath, fill their own sails. Hug the shore, naught new is seen; and +“Land ho!” at last was sung, when a new world was sought. +</p> + +<p> +That voyager steered his bark through seas, untracked before; ploughed his own +path mid jeers; though with a heart that oft was heavy with the thought, that +he might only be too bold, and grope where land was none. +</p> + +<p> +So I. +</p> + +<p> +And though essaying but a sportive sail, I was driven from my course, by a +blast resistless; and ill-provided, young, and bowed to the brunt of things +before my prime, still fly before the gale;—hard have I striven to keep +stout heart. +</p> + +<p> +And if it harder be, than e’er before, to find new climes, when now our +seas have oft been circled by ten thousand prows,—much more the glory! +</p> + +<p> +But this new world here sought, is stranger far than his, who stretched his +vans from Palos. It is the world of mind; wherein the wanderer may gaze round, +with more of wonder than Balboa’s band roving through the golden Aztec +glades. +</p> + +<p> +But fiery yearnings their own phantom-future make, and deem it present. So, if +after all these fearful, fainting trances, the verdict be, the golden haven was +not gained;—yet, in bold quest thereof, better to sink in boundless +deeps, than float on vulgar shoals; and give me, ye gods, an utter wreck, if +wreck I do. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0066"></a> +CHAPTER LXVI.<br/> +A Flight Of Nightingales From Yoomy’s Mouth</h2> + +<p> +By noon, down came a calm. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh Neeva! good Neeva! kind Neeva! thy sweet breath, dear Neeva!” +</p> + +<p> +So from his shark’s-mouth prayed little Vee-Vee to the god of Fair +Breezes. And along they swept; till the three prows neighed to the blast; and +pranced on their path, like steeds of Crusaders. +</p> + +<p> +Now, that this fine wind had sprung up; the sun riding joyously in the heavens; +and the Lagoon all tossed with white, flying manes; Media called upon Yoomy to +ransack his whole assortment of songs:—warlike, amorous, and +sentimental,—and regale us with something inspiring for too long the +company had been gloomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Thy best,” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Then will I e’en sing you a song, my lord, which is a song-full of songs. +I composed it long, long since, when Yillah yet bowered in Odo. Ere now, some +fragments have been heard. Ah, Taji! in this my lay, live over again your happy +hours. Some joys have thousand lives; can never die; for when they droop, sweet +memories bind them up.—My lord, I deem these verses good; they came +bubbling out of me, like live waters from a spring in a silver mine. And by +your good leave, my lord, I have much faith in inspiration. Whoso sings is a +seer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tingling is the test,” said Babbalanja, “Yoomy, did you +tingle, when that song was composing?” +</p> + +<p> +“All over, Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“From sole to crown?” +</p> + +<p> +“From finger to finger.” +</p> + +<p> +“My life for it! true poetry, then, my lord! For this self-same tingling, +I say, is the test.” +</p> + +<p> +“And infused into a song,” cried Yoomy, “it evermore causes +it so to sparkle, vivify, and irradiate, that no son of man can repeat it +without tingling himself. This very song of mine may prove what I say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Modest youth!” sighed Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Not more so, than sincere,” said Babbalanja. “He who is +frank, will often appear vain, my lord. Having no guile, he speaks as freely of +himself, as of another; and is just as ready to honor his own merits, even if +imaginary, as to lament over undeniable deficiencies. Besides, such men are +prone to moods, which to shallow-minded, unsympathizing mortals, make their +occasional distrust of themselves, appear but as a phase of self-conceit. +Whereas, the man who, in the presence of his very friends, parades a barred and +bolted front,—that man so highly prizes his sweet self, that he cares not +to profane the shrine he worships, by throwing open its portals. He is locked +up; and Ego is the key. Reserve alone is vanity. But all mankind are egotists. +The world revolves upon an I; and we upon ourselves; for we are our own +worlds:—all other men as strangers, from outlandish, distant climes, +going clad in furs. Then, whate’er they be, let us show our worlds; and +not seek to hide from men, what Oro knows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truth, my lord,” said Yoomy, “but all this applies to men in +mass; not specially, to my poor craft. Of all mortals, we poets are most +subject to contrary moods. Now, heaven over heaven in the skies; now layer +under layer in the dust. This, the penalty we pay for being what we are. But +Mardi only sees, or thinks it sees, the tokens of our self-complacency: +whereas, all our agonies operate unseen. Poets are only seen when they +soar.” +</p> + +<p> +“The song! the song!” cried Media. “Never mind the +metaphysics of genius.” +</p> + +<p> +And Yoomy, thus clamorously invoked, hemmed thrice, tuning his voice for the +air. +</p> + +<p> +But here, be it said, that the minstrel was miraculously gifted with three +voices; and, upon occasions, like a mocking-bird, was a concert of sweet sounds +in himself. Had kind friends died, and bequeathed him their voices? But hark! +in a low, mild tenor, he begins:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Half-railed above the hills, yet rosy bright,<br/> + Stands fresh, and fair, the meek and blushing morn!<br/> +So Yillah looks! her pensive eyes the stars,<br/> + That mildly beam from out her cheek’s young dawn!<br/> +<br/> + But the still meek Dawn,<br/> + Is not aye the form<br/> + Of Yillah nor Morn!<br/> + Soon rises the sun,<br/> + Day’s race to run:<br/> + His rays abroad,<br/> + Flash each a sword,—<br/> + And merrily forth they flare!<br/> + Sun-music in the air!<br/> + So Yillah now rises and flashes!<br/> + Rays shooting from ont her long lashes,—<br/> + Sun-music in the air!<br/> +<br/> + Her laugh! How it bounds!<br/> + Bright cascade of sounds!<br/> + Peal after peal, and ringing afar,—<br/> + Ringing of waters, that silvery jar,<br/> + From basin to basin fast falling!<br/> + Fast falling, and shining, and streaming:—<br/> + Yillah’s bosom, the soft, heaving lake,<br/> + Where her laughs at last dimple, and flake!<br/> +<br/> +Oh beautiful Yillah! Thy step so free!—<br/> + Fast fly the sea-ripples,<br/> +Revealing their dimples,<br/> + When forth, thou hi’st to the frolicsome sea!<br/> +<br/> + All the stars laugh,<br/> + When upward she looks:<br/> + All the trees chat<br/> + In their woody nooks:<br/> + All the brooks sing;<br/> + All the caves ring;<br/> + All the buds blossom;<br/> + All the boughs bound;<br/> + All the birds carol;<br/> + And leaves turn round,<br/> + Where Yillah looks!<br/> +<br/> +Light wells from her soul’s deep sun<br/> +Causing many toward her to run!<br/> +Vines to climb, and flowers to spring;<br/> +And youths their love by hundreds bring! +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed, gentle Yoomy,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“The meaning,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“The sequel,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I have ceased in the middle; the end is not yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mysticism!” cried Babbalanja. “What, minstrel; must nothing +ultimate come of all that melody? no final and inexhaustible meaning? nothing +that strikes down into the soul’s depths; till, intent upon itself, it +pierces in upon its own essence, and is resolved into its pervading original; +becoming a thing constituent of the all embracing deific; whereby we mortals +become part and parcel of the gods; our souls to them as thoughts; and we privy +to all things occult, ineffable, and sublime? Then, Yoomy, is thy song nothing +worth. Alla Mollolla saith, ‘That is no true, vital breath, which leaves +no moisture behind.’ I mistrust thee, minstrel! that thou hast not yet +been impregnated by the arcane mysteries; that thou dost not sufficiently +ponder on the Adyta, the Monads, and the Hyparxes; the Dianoias, the Unical +Hypostases, the Gnostic powers of the Psychical Essence, and the Supermundane +and Pleromatic Triads; to say nothing of the Abstract Noumenons.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oro forbid!” cried Yoomy; “the very sound of thy words +affrights me.” Then, whispering to Mohi—“Is he daft +again?” +</p> + +<p> +“My brain is battered,” said Media. “Azzageddi! you must +diet, and be bled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” sighed Babbalanja, turning; “how little they ween of +the Rudimental Quincunxes, and the Hecatic Spherula!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0067"></a> +CHAPTER LXVII.<br/> +They Visit One Doxodox</h2> + +<p> +Next morning, we came to a deep, green wood, slowly nodding over the waves; its +margin frothy-white with foam. A charming sight! +</p> + +<p> +While delighted, all our paddlers gazed, Media, observing Babbalanja plunged in +reveries, called upon him to awake; asking what might so absorb him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my lord! what seraphic sounds have ye driven from me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sounds! Sure, there’s naught heard but yonder murmuring surf; what +other sound heard you?” +</p> + +<p> +“The thrilling of my soul’s monochord, my lord. But prick not your +ears to hear it; that divine harmony is overheard by the rapt spirit alone; it +comes not by the auditory nerves.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more, Azzageddi! No more of that. Look yonder!” +</p> + +<p> +“A most lovely wood, in truth. And methinks it is here the sage Doxodox, +surnamed the Wise One, dwells.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark, I hear the hootings of his owls,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, you must have read of him. He is said to have penetrated from +the zoned, to the unzoned principles. Shall we seek him out, that we may +hearken to his wisdom? Doubtless he knows many things, after which we +pant.” +</p> + +<p> +The lagoon was calm, as we landed; not a breath stirred the plumes of the +trees; and as we entered the voiceless shades, lifting his hand, Babbalanja +whispered:—“This silence is a fit introduction to the portals of +Telestic lore. Somewhere, beneath this moss, lurks the mystic stone Mnizuris; +whereby Doxodox hath attained unto a knowledge of the ungenerated essences. +Nightly, he bathes his soul in archangelical circumlucencies. Oh, Doxodox! whip +me the Strophalunian top! Tell o’er thy Jynges!” +</p> + +<p> +“Down, Azzageddi! down!” cried Media. “Behold: there sits the +Wise One; now, for true wisdom!” +</p> + +<p> +From the voices of the party, the sage must have been aware of our approach: +but seated on a green bank, beneath the shade of a red mulberry, upon the +boughs of which, many an owl was perched, he seemed intent upon describing +divers figures in the air, with a jet-black wand. +</p> + +<p> +Advancing with much deference and humility, Babbalanja saluted him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh wise Doxodox! Drawn hither by thy illustrious name, we seek +admittance to thy innermost wisdom. Of all Mardian, thou alone comprehendest +those arcane combinations, whereby to drag to day the most deftly hidden +things, present and to come. Thou knowest what we are, and what we shall be. We +beseech thee, evoke thy Tselmns!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tetrads; Pentads; Hexads; Heptads; Ogdoads:—meanest thou +those?” +</p> + +<p> +“New terms all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Foiled at thy own weapons,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if thou comprehendest not my nomenclature:—how my science? +But let me test thee in the portico.—Why is it, that as some things +extend more remotely than others; so, Quadammodotatives are larger than +Qualitatives; forasmuch, as Quadammodotatives extend to those things, which +include the Quadammodotatives themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Azzageddi has found his match,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Still posed, Babbalanja?” asked Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“At a loss, most truly! But I beseech thee, wise Doxodox! instruct me in +thy dialectics, that I may embrace thy more recondite lore.” +</p> + +<p> +“To begin then, my child:—all Dicibles reside in the mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what are Dicibles?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Meanest thou, Perfect or Imperfect Dicibles?” Any kind you +please;— but what are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfect Dicibles are of various sorts: Interrogative; Percontative; +Adjurative; Optative; Imprecative; Execrative; Substitutive; Compellative; +Hypothetical; and lastly, Dubious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dubious enough! Azzageddi! forever, hereafter, hold thy peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my children! I must go back to my Axioms.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are they?” said old Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Of various sorts; which, again, are diverse. Thus: my contrary axioms +are Disjunctive, and Subdisjunctive; and so, with the rest. So, too, in degree, +with my Syllogisms.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I not just hint what they were, my child? I repeat, they are of +various sorts: Connex, and Conjunct, for example.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what of them?” persisted Mohi; while Babbalanja, arms folded, +stood serious and mute; a sneer on his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“As with other branches of my dialectics: so, too, in their way, with my +Syllogisms. Thus: when I say,—If it be warm, it is not cold:— +that’s a simple Sumption. If I add, But it is warm:—that’s an +<i>Ass</i>umption.” +</p> + +<p> +“So called from the syllogist himself, doubtless;” said Mohi, +stroking his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor ignorant babe! no. Listen:—if finally, I say,—Therefore +it is not cold that’s the final inference.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a most triumphant one it is!” cried Babbalanja. “Thrice +profound, and sapient Doxodox! Light of Mardi! and Beacon of the Universe! +didst ever hear of the Shark-Syllogism?” +</p> + +<p> +“Though thy epithets be true, my child, I distrust thy sincerity. I have +not yet heard of the syllogism to which thou referrest.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was thus. A shark seized a swimmer by the leg; addressing him: +‘Friend, I will liberate you, if you truly answer whether you think I +purpose harm.’ Well knowing that sharks seldom were magnanimous, he +replied: Kind sir, you mean me harm; now go your ways.’ ‘No, no; my +conscience forbids. Nor will I falsify the words of so veracious a mortal. You +were to answer truly; but you say I mean you harm:—so harm it +is:—here goes your leg.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Profane jester! Would’st thou insult me with thy torn-foolery? +Begone—all of ye! tramp! pack! I say: away with ye!” and into the +woods Doxodox himself disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravely done, Babbalanja!” cried Media. “You turned the +corner to admiration.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have hopes of our Philosopher yet,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Outrageous impostor! fool, dotard, oaf! Did he think to bejuggle me with +his preposterous gibberish? And is this shallow phraseman the renowned Doxodox +whom I have been taught so highly to reverence? Alas, alas—Odonphi there +is none!” +</p> + +<p> +“His fit again,” sighed Yoomy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0068"></a> +CHAPTER LXVIII.<br/> +King Media Dreams</h2> + +<p> +That afternoon was melting down to eve; all but Media broad awake; yet all +motionless, as the slumberer upon the purple mat. Sailing on, with open eyes, +we slept the wakeful sleep of those, who to the body only give repose, while +the spirit still toils on, threading her mountain passes. +</p> + +<p> +King Media’s slumbers were like the helmed sentry’s in the saddle. +From them, he started like an antlered deer, bursting from out a copse. Some +said he never slept; that deep within himself he but intensified the hour; or, +leaving his crowned brow in marble quiet, unseen, departed to far-off councils +of the gods. Howbeit, his lids never closed; in the noonday sun, those crystal +eyes, like diamonds, sparkled with a fixed light. +</p> + +<p> +As motionless we thus reclined, Media turned and muttered:—“Brother +gods, and demi-gods, it is not well. These mortals should have less or more. +Among my subjects is a man, whose genius scorns the common theories of things; +but whose still mortal mind can not fathom the ocean at his feet. His +soul’s a hollow, wherein he raves.” +</p> + +<p> +“List, list,” whispered Yoomy—“our lord is dreaming; +and what a royal dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very royal and imperial dream,” said Babbalanja—“he +is arraigning me before high heaven;—ay, ay; in dreams, at least, he +deems himself a demi-god.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hist,” said Mohi—“he speaks again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gods and demi-gods! With one gesture all abysses we may disclose; and +before this Mardi’s eyes, evoke the shrouded time to come. Were this +well? Like lost children groping in the woods, they falter through their +tangled paths; and at a thousand angles, baffled, start upon each other. And +even when they make an onward move, ’tis but an endless vestibule, that +leads to naught. In my own isle of Odo—Odo! Odo! How rules my viceroy +there?—Down, down, ye madding mobs! Ho, spearmen, charge! By the +firmament, but my halberdiers fly!” +</p> + +<p> +“His dream has changed,” said Babbalanja. “He is in Odo, +whither his anxieties impel him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hist, hist,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“I leap upon the soil! Render thy account, Almanni! Where’s my +throne? Mohi, am I not a king? Do not thy chronicles record me? Yoomy, am I not +the soul of some one glorious song? Babbalanja, speak.—Mohi! +Yoomy!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, my lord? thou dost but dream.” +</p> + +<p> +Staring wildly; then calmly gazing round, Media smiled. “Ha! how we +royalties ramble in our dreams! I’ve told no secrets?” +</p> + +<p> +“While he seemed to sleep, my lord spoke much,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it not, old man; nor would now; but that ye tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We dream not ourselves,” said Babbalanja, “but the thing +within us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay?—good-morrow Azzageddi!—But come; no more dreams: +Vee-Vee! wine.” +</p> + +<p> +And straight through that livelong night, immortal Media plied the can. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0069"></a> +CHAPTER LXIX.<br/> +After A Long Interval, By Night They Are Becalmed</h2> + +<p> +Now suns rose, and set; moons grew, and waned; till, at last, the star that +erewhile heralded the dawn, presaged the eve; to us, sad token!— while +deep within the deepest heart of Mardi’s circle, we sailed from sea to +sea; and isle to isle; and group to group;—vast empires explored, and +inland valleys, to their utmost heads; and for every ray in heaven, beheld a +king. +</p> + +<p> +Needless to recount all that then befell; what tribes and caravans we saw; what +vast horizons; boundless plains: and sierras, in their every intervale, a +nation nestling. +</p> + +<p> +Enough that still we roamed. +</p> + +<p> +It was evening; and as the red sun, magnified, launched into the wave, once +more, from a wild strand, we launched our three canoes. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, from her clouds, hooded Night, like a nun from a convent, drew nigh. +Rustled her train, yet no spangles were there. But high on her brow, still +shone her pale crescent; haloed by bandelets—violet, red, and yellow. So +looked the lone watcher through her rainbow-iris; so sad, the night without +stars. +</p> + +<p> +The winds were laid; the lagoon, still, as a prairie of an August noon. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us dream out the calm,” said Media. “One of ye paddlers, +watch: Ho companions! who’s for Cathay?” +</p> + +<p> +Sleep reigned throughout the canoes, sleeping upon the waters. But nearer and +nearer, low-creeping along, came mists and vapors, a thousand; spotted with +twinklings of Will-o-Wisps from neighboring shores. Dusky leopards, stealing on +by crouches, those vapors seemed. +</p> + +<p> +Hours silently passed. When startled by a cry, Taji sprang to his feet; against +which something rattled; then, a quick splash! and a dark form bounded into the +lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +The dozing watcher had called aloud; and, about to stab, the assassin, dropping +his stiletto, plunged. +</p> + +<p> +Peering hard through those treacherous mists, two figures in a shallop, were +espied; dragging another, dripping, from the brine. +</p> + +<p> +“Foiled again, and foiled forever. No foe’s corpse was I.” +</p> + +<p> +As we gazed, in the gloom quickly vanished the shallop; ere ours could be +reversed to pursue. +</p> + +<p> +Then, from the opposite mists, glided a second canoe; and beneath the Iris +round the moon, shone now another:—Hautia’s flowery flag! +</p> + +<p> +Vain to wave the sirens off; so still they came. +</p> + +<p> +One waved a plant of sickly silver-green. +</p> + +<p> +“The Midnight Tremmella!” cried Yoomy; “the falling-star of +flowers!— Still I come, when least foreseen; then flee.” +</p> + +<p> +The second waved a hemlock top, the spike just tapering its final point. The +third, a convolvulus, half closed. “The end draws nigh, and all thy hopes +are waning.” Then they proffered grapes. +</p> + +<p> +But once more waved off, silently they vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Again the buried barb tore, at my soul; again Yillah was invoked, but Hautia +made reply. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly wore out the night. But when uprose the sun, fled clouds, and fled +sadness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0070"></a> +CHAPTER LXX.<br/> +They Land At Hooloomooloo</h2> + +<p> +“Keep all three prows, for yonder rock.” cried Media; “No +sadness on this merry morn! And now for the Isle of Cripples,—even +Hooloomooloo.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Isle of Cripples?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay; why not? Mohi, tell how they came to club.” In substance, this +was the narration. +</p> + +<p> +Averse to the barbarous custom of destroying at birth all infants not +symmetrically formed; but equally desirous of removing from their sight those +unfortunate beings; the islanders of a neighboring group had long ago +established an asylum for cripples; where they lived, subject to their own +regulations; ruled by a king of their own election; in short, forming a +distinct class of beings by themselves. +</p> + +<p> +One only restriction was placed upon them: on no account must they quit the +isle assigned them. And to the surrounding islanders, so unpleasant the sight +of a distorted mortal, that a stranger landing at Hooloomooloo, was deemed a +prodigy. Wherefore, respecting any knowledge of aught beyond them, the cripples +were well nigh as isolated, as if Hooloomooloo was the only terra-firma extant. +</p> + +<p> +Dwelling in a community of their own, these unfortunates, who otherwise had +remained few in number, increased and multiplied greatly. Nor did successive +generations improve in symmetry upon those preceding them. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, we drew nigh to the isle. +</p> + +<p> +Heaped up, and jagged with rocks; and, here and there, covered with dwarfed, +twisted thickets, it seemed a fit place for its denizens. +</p> + +<p> +Landing, we were surrounded by a heterogeneous mob; and thus escorted, took our +way inland, toward the abode of their lord, King Yoky. +</p> + +<p> +What a scene! +</p> + +<p> +Here, helping himself along with two crotched roots, hobbled a dwarf without +legs; another stalked before, one arm fixed in the air, like a lightning rod; a +third, more active than any, seal-like, flirted a pair of flippers, and went +skipping along; a fourth hopped on a solitary pin, at every bound, spinning +round like a top, to gaze; while still another, furnished with feelers or fins, +rolled himself up in a ball, bowling over the ground in advance. +</p> + +<p> +With curious instinct, the blind stuck close to our side; with their chattering +finger, the deaf and the dumb described angles, obtuse and acute in the air; +and like stones rolling down rocky ravines, scores of stammerers stuttered. +Discord wedded deformity. All asses’ brays were now harmonious memories; +all Calibans, as angels. +</p> + +<p> +Yet for every stare we gave them, three stares they gave us. +</p> + +<p> +At last, we halted before a tenement of rude stones; crooked Banian boughs its +rafters, thatched with fantastic leaves. So rambling and irregular its plan, it +seemed thrown up by the eruption, according to sage Mohi, the origin of the +isle itself. +</p> + +<p> +Entering, we saw King Yoky. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! sadly lacking was he, in all the requisites of an efficient ruler. Deaf and +dumb he was; and save arms, minus every thing but an indispensable trunk and +head. So huge his all-comprehensive mouth, it seemed to swallow up itself. +</p> + +<p> +But shapeless, helpless as was Yoky,—as king of Hooloomooloo, he was +competent; the state being a limited monarchy, of which his Highness was but +the passive and ornamental head. +</p> + +<p> +As his visitors advanced, he fell to gossiping with his fingers: a servitor +interpreting. Very curious to note the rapidity with which motion was +translated into sound; and the simultaneousness with which meaning made its way +through four successive channels to the mind—hand, sight, voice, and +tympanum. +</p> + +<p> +Much amazement His Highness now expressed; horrified his glances. +</p> + +<p> +“Why club such frights as ye? Herd ye, to keep in countenance; or are +afraid of your own hideousness, that ye dread to go alone? Monsters! +speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great Oro!” cried Mohi, “are we then taken for cripples, by +the very King of the Cripples? My lord, are not our legs and arms all +right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Comelier ones were never turned by turners, Mohi. But royal Yoky! in +sooth we feel abashed before thee.” +</p> + +<p> +Some further stares were then exchanged; when His Highness sought to know, +whether there were any Comparative Anatomists among his visitors. +</p> + +<p> +“Comparative Anatomists! not one.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why may King Yoky ask that question?” inquired Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +Then was made the following statement. +</p> + +<p> +During the latter part of his reign, when he seemed fallen into his dotage, the +venerable predecessor of King Yoky had been much attached to an old gray-headed +Chimpanzee, one day found meditating in the woods. Rozoko was his name. He was +very grave, and reverend of aspect; much of a philosopher. To him, all gnarled +and knotty subjects were familiar; in his day he had cracked many a crabbed +nut. And so in love with his Timonean solitude was Rozoko, that it needed many +bribes and bland persuasions, to induce him to desert his mossy, hillside, +misanthropic cave, for the distracting tumult of a court. +</p> + +<p> +But ere long, promoted to high offices, and made the royal favorite, the +woodland sage forgot his forests; and, love for love, returned the aged +king’s caresses. Ardent friends they straight became; dined and drank +together; with quivering lips, quaffed long-drawn, sober bumpers; comparing all +their past experiences; and canvassing those hidden themes, on which +octogenarians dilate. +</p> + +<p> +For when the fires and broils of youth are passed, and Mardi wears its truer +aspect—then we love to think, not act; the present seems more +unsubstantial than the past; then, we seek out gray-beards like ourselves; and +hold discourse of palsies, hearses, shrouds, and tombs; appoint our +undertakers; our mantles gather round us, like to winding-sheets; and every +night lie down to die. Then, the world’s great bubble bursts; then, +Life’s clouds seem sweeping by, revealing heaven to our straining eyes; +then, we tell our beads, and murmur pater-nosters; and in trembling accents +cry—“Oro! be merciful.” +</p> + +<p> +So, the monarch and Rozoko. +</p> + +<p> +But not always were they thus. Of bright, cheerful mornings, they took slow, +tottering rambles in the woods; nodding over grotesque walking- sticks, of the +Chimpanzee’s handiwork. For sedate Rozoko was a dilletante-arborist: an +amateur in canes. Indeed, canes at last became his hobby. For half daft with +age, sometimes he straddled his good staff and gently rode abroad, to take the +salubrious evening air; deeming it more befitting exercise, at times, than +walking. Into this menage, he soon initiated his friend, the king; and side by +side they often pranced; or, wearying of the saddle, dismounted; and paused to +ponder over prostrate palms, decaying across the path. Their mystic rings they +counted; and, for every ring, a year in their own calendars. +</p> + +<p> +Now, so closely did the monarch cleave to the Chimpanzee, that, in good time, +summoning his subjects, earnestly he charged it on them, that at death, he and +his faithful friend should be buried in one tomb. +</p> + +<p> +It came to pass, the monarch died; and Poor Rozoko, now reduced to second +childhood, wailed most dismally:—no one slept that night in Hooloomooloo. +Never did he leave the body; and at last, slowly going round it thrice, he laid +him down; close nestled; and noiselessly expired. +</p> + +<p> +The king’s injunctions were remembered; and one vault received them both. +</p> + +<p> +Moon followed moon; and wrought upon by jeers and taunts, the people of the +isle became greatly scandalized, that a base-born baboon should share the +shroud of their departed lord; though they themselves had tucked in the aged +AEneas fast by the side of his Achates. +</p> + +<p> +They straight resolved, to build another vault; and over it, a lofty cairn; and +thither carry the remains they reverenced. +</p> + +<p> +But at the disinterring, a sad perplexity arose. For lo surpassing Saul and +Jonathan, not even in decay were these fast friends divided. So mingled every +relic,—ilium and ulna, carpus and metacarpus;—and so similar the +corresponding parts, that like the literary remains of Beaumont and of +Fletcher, which was which, no spectacles could tell. Therefore, they desisted; +lest the towering monument they had reared, might commemorate an ape, and not a +king. +</p> + +<p> +Such the narration; hearing which, my lord Media kept stately silence. But in +courtly phrase, as beseemed him, Babbalanja, turban in hand, thus spoke:— +</p> + +<p> +“My concern is extreme, King Yoky, at the embarrassment into which your +island is thrown. Nor less my grief, that I myself am not the man, to put an +end to it. I could weep that Comparative Anatomists are not so numerous now, as +hereafter they assuredly must become; when their services shall be in greater +request; when, at the last, last day of all, millions of noble and ignoble +spirits will loudly clamor for lost skeletons; when contending claimants shall +start up for one poor, carious spine; and, dog-like, we shall quarrel over our +own bones.” +</p> + +<p> +Then entered dwarf-stewards, and major-domos; aloft bearing twisted antlers; +all hollowed out in goblets, grouped; announcing dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Loving not, however, to dine with misshapen Mardians, King Media was loth to +move. But Babbalanja, quoting the old proverb—“Strike me in the +face, but refuse not my yams,” induced him to sacrifice his +fastidiousness. +</p> + +<p> +So, under a flourish of ram-horn bugles, court and company proceeded to the +banquet. +</p> + +<p> +Central was a long, dislocated trunk of a wild Banian; like a huge centipede +crawling on its hundred branches, sawn of even lengths for legs. This table was +set out with wry-necked gourds; deformities of calabashes; and shapeless +trenchers, dug out of knotty woods. +</p> + +<p> +The first course was shrimp-soup, served in great clampshells; the second, +lobsters, cuttle-fish, crabs, cockles, cray-fish; the third, hunchbacked roots +of the Taro-plant—plantains, perversely curling at the end, like the +inveterate tails of pertinacious pigs; and for dessert, ill-shaped melons, huge +as idiots’ heads, plainly suffering from water in the brain. +</p> + +<p> +Now these viands were commended to the favorable notice of all guests; not only +for their delicacy of flavor, but for their symmetry. +</p> + +<p> +And in the intervals of the courses, we were bored with hints to admire +numerous objects of vertu: bow-legged stools of mangrove wood; zig-zag rapiers +of bone; armlets of grampus-vertebrae; outlandish tureens of the callipees of +terrapin; and cannakins of the skulls of baboons. +</p> + +<p> +The banquet over, with many congees, we withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the water-side, we passed a field, where dwarfs were laboring in +beds of yams, heaping the soil around the roots, by scratching it backward; as +a dog. +</p> + +<p> +All things in readiness, Yoky’s valet, a tri-armed dwarf, treated us to a +glorious start, by giving each canoe a vigorous triple-push, crying, +“away with ye, monsters!” +</p> + +<p> +Nor must it be omitted that just previous to embarking, Vee-Vee, spying a +curious looking stone, turned it over, and found a snake. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0071"></a> +CHAPTER LXXI.<br/> +A Book From The “Ponderings Of Old Bardianna”</h2> + +<p> +“Now,” said Babbalanja, lighting his trombone as we sailed from the +isle, “who are the monsters, we or the cripples?” +</p> + +<p> +“You yourself are a monster, for asking the question,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“And so, to the cripples I am; though not, old man, for the reason you +mention. But I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends upon who is +made judge. There is no supreme standard yet revealed, whereby to judge of +ourselves; ‘Our very instincts are prejudices,’ saith Alla +Mallolla; ‘Our very axioms, and postulates are far from +infallible.’ ‘In respect of the universe, mankind is but a +sect,’ saith Diloro: ‘and first principles but dogmas.’ What +ethics prevail in the Pleiades? What things have the synods in Sagittarius +decreed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind your old authors,” said Media. “Stick to the +cripples; enlarge upon them.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have done with them now, my lord; the sermon is not the text. Give +ear to old Bardianna. I know him by heart. Thus saith the sage in Book X. of +the Ponderings, ‘Zermalmende,’ the title: ‘Je pense,’ +the motto:—‘My supremacy over creation, boasteth man, is declared +in my natural attitude:—I stand erect! But so do the palm-trees; and the +giraffes that graze off their tops. And the fowls of the air fly high over our +heads; and from the place where we fancy our heaven to be, defile the tops of +our temples. Belike, the eagles, from their eyries look down upon us Mardians, +in our hives, even as upon the beavers in their dams, marveling at our +incomprehensible ways. And cunning though we be, some things, hidden from us, +may not be mysteries to them. Having five keys, hold we all that open to +knowledge? Deaf, blind, and deprived of the power of scent, the bat will steer +its way unerringly:—could we? Yet man is lord of the bat and the brute; +lord over the crows; with whom, he must needs share the grain he garners. We +sweat for the fowls, as well as ourselves. The curse of labor rests only on us. +Like slaves, we toil: at their good leisure they glean. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mardi is not wholly ours. We are the least populous part of +creation. To say nothing of other tribes, a census of the herring would find us +far in the minority. And what life is to us,—sour or sweet,—so is +it to them. Like us, they die, fighting death to the last; like us, they spawn +and depart. We inhabit but a crust, rough surfaces, odds and ends of the isles; +the abounding lagoon being its two-thirds, its grand feature from afar; and +forever unfathomable. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What shaft has yet been sunk to the antipodes? What underlieth +the gold mines? +</p> + +<p> +“‘But even here, above-ground, we grope with the sun at meridian. +Vainly, we seek our Northwest Passages,—old alleys, and thoroughfares of +the whales. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh men! fellow men! we are only what we are; not what we would +be; nor every thing we hope for. We are but a step in a scale, that reaches +further above us than below. We breathe but oxygen. Who in Arcturus hath heard +of us? They know us not in the Milky Way. We prate of faculties divine: and +know not how sprouteth a spear of grass; we go about shrugging our shoulders: +when the firmament-arch is over us; we rant of etherealities: and long tarry +over our banquets; we demand Eternity for a lifetime: when our mortal +half-hours too often prove tedious. We know not of what we talk. The Bird of +Paradise out-flies our flutterings. What it is to be immortal, has not yet +entered into our thoughts. At will, we build our futurities; tier above tier, +all galleries full of laureates: resounding with everlasting oratorios! +Pater-nosters forever, or eternal Misereres! forgetting that in Mardi, our +breviaries oft fall from our hands. But divans there are, some say, whereon we +shall recline, basking in effulgent suns, knowing neither Orient nor Occident. +Is it so? Fellow men! our mortal lives have an end; but that end is no goal: no +place of repose. Whatever it may be, it will prove but as the beginning of +another race. We will hope, joy, weep, as before; though our tears may be such +as the spice-trees shed. Supine we can only be, annihilated. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The thick film is breaking; the ages have long been circling. +Fellow-men! if we live hereafter, it will not be in lyrics; nor shall we yawn, +and our shadows lengthen, while the eternal cycles are revolving. To live at +all, is a high vocation; to live forever, and run parallel with Oro, may truly +appall us. Toil we not here? and shall we be forever slothful elsewhere? Other +worlds differ not much from this, but in degree. Doubtless, a pebble is a fair +specimen of the universe. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We point at random. Peradventure at this instant, there are +beings gazing up to this very world as their future heaven. But the universe is +all over a heaven: nothing but stars on stars, throughout infinities of +expansion. All we see are but a cluster. Could we get to Bootes, we would be no +nearer Oro, than now he hath no place; but is here. Already, in its +unimaginable roamings, our system may have dragged us through and through the +spaces, where we plant cities of beryl and jasper. Even now, we may be inhaling +the ether, which we fancy seraphic wings are fanning. But look round. There is +much to be seen here, and now. Do the archangels survey aught more glorious +than the constellations we nightly behold? Continually we slight the wonders, +we deem in reserve. We await the present. With marvels we are glutted, till we +hold them no marvels at all. But had these eyes first opened upon all the +prodigies in the Revelation of the Dreamer, long familiarity would have made +them appear, even as these things we see. Now, <i>now</i>, the page is +out-spread: to the simple, easy as a primer; to the wise, more puzzling than +hieroglyphics. The eternity to come, is but a prolongation of time present: and +the beginning may be more wonderful than the end. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then let us be wise. But much of the knowledge we seek, already +we have in our cores. Yet so simple it is, we despise it; so bold, we fear it. +</p> + +<p> +“‘In solitude, let us exhume our ingots. Let us hear our own +thoughts. The soul needs no mentor, but Oro; and Oro, without proxy. Wanting +Him, it is both the teacher and the taught. Undeniably, reason was the first +revelation; and so far as it tests all others, it has precedence over them. It +comes direct to us, without suppression or interpolation; and with Oro’s +indisputable imprimatur. But inspiration though it be, it is not so arrogant as +some think. Nay, far too humble, at times it submits to the grossest +indignities. Though in its best estate, not infallible; so far as it goes, for +us, it is reliable. When at fault, it stands still. We speak not of +visionaries. But if this our first revelation stops short of the uttermost, so +with all others. If, often, it only perplexes: much more the rest. They leave +much unexpounded; and disclosing new mysteries, add to the enigma. Fellow-men; +the ocean we would sound is unfathomable; and however much we add to our line, +when it is out, we feel not the bottom. Let us be truly lowly, then; not lifted +up with a Pharisaic humility. We crawl not like worms; nor wear we the liveries +of angels. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The firmament-arch has no key-stone; least of all, is man its +prop. He stands alone. We are every thing to ourselves, but how little to +others. What are others to us? Assure life everlasting to this generation, and +their immediate forefathers—and what tears would flow, were there no +resurrection for the countless generations from the first man to five cycles +since? And soon we ourselves shall have fallen in with the rank and file of our +sires. At a blow, annihilate some distant tribe, now alive and jocund—and +what would we reck? Curiosity apart, do we really care whether the people in +Bellatrix are immortal or no? +</p> + +<p> +“‘Though they smite us, let us not turn away from these things, if +they be really thus. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There was a time, when near Cassiopeia, a star of the first +magnitude, most lustrous in the North, grew lurid as a fire, then dim as ashes, +and went out. Now, its place is a blank. A vast world, with all its continents, +say the astronomers, blazing over the heads of our fathers; while in Mardi were +merry-makings, and maidens given in marriage. Who now thinks of that burning +sphere? How few are aware that ever it was? +</p> + +<p> +“‘These things are so. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Fellow-men! we must go, and obtain a glimpse of what we are from +the Belts of Jupiter and the Moons of Saturn, ere we see ourselves aright. The +universe can wax old without us; though by Oro’s grace we may live to +behold a wrinkle in the sky. Eternity is not ours by right; and, alone, +unrequited sufferings here, form no title thereto, unless resurrections are +reserved for maltreated brutes. Suffering is suffering; be the sufferer man, +brute, or thing. +</p> + +<p> +“‘How small;—how nothing, our deserts! Let us stifle all vain +speculations; we need not to be told what righteousness is; we were born with +the whole Law in our hearts. Let us do: let us act: let us down on our knees. +And if, after all, we should be no more forever;— far better to perish +meriting immortality, than to enjoy it unmeritorious. While we fight over +creeds, ten thousand fingers point to where vital good may be done. All round +us, Want crawls to her lairs; and, shivering, dies unrelieved. Here, +<i>here</i>, fellow-men, we can better minister as angels, than in heaven, +where want and misery come not. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We Mardians talk as though the future was all in all; but act as +though the present was every thing. Yet so far as, in our theories, we dwarf +our Mardi; we go not beyond an archangel’s apprehension of it, who takes +in all suns and systems at a glance. Like pebbles, were the isles to sink in +space, Sirius, the Dog-star, would still flame in the sky. But as the atom to +the animalculae, so Mardi to us. And lived aright, these mortal lives are long; +looked into, these souls, fathomless as the nethermost depths. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Fellow-men; we split upon hairs; but stripped, mere words and +phrases cast aside, the great bulk of us are orthodox. None who think, dissent +from the grand belief. The first man’s thoughts were as ours. The +paramount revelation prevails with us; and all that clashes therewith, we do +not so much believe, as believe that we can not disbelieve. Common sense is a +sturdy despot; that, for the most part, has its own way. It inspects and +ratifies much independent of it. But those who think they do wholly reject it, +are but held in a sly sort of bondage; under a semblance of something else, +wearing the old yoke.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease, cease, Babbalanja,” said Media, “and permit me to +insinuate a word in your ear. You have long been in the habit, philosopher, of +regaling us with chapters from your old Bardianna; and with infinite gusto, you +have just recited the longest of all. But I do not observe, oh, Sage! that for +all these things, you yourself are practically the better or wiser. You live +not up to Bardianna’s main thought. Where he stands, he stands immovable; +but you are a Dog-vane. How is this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mad, mad again,” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0072"></a> +CHAPTER LXXII.<br/> +Babbalanja Starts To His Feet</h2> + +<p> +For twenty-four hours, seated stiff, and motionless, Babbalanja spoke not a +word; then, almost without moving a muscle, muttered thus:—“At +banquets surfeit not, but fill; partake, and retire; and eat not again till you +crave. Thereby you give nature time to work her magic transformings; turning +all solids to meat, and wine into blood. After a banquet you incline to +repose:—do so: digestion commands. All this follow those, who feast at +the tables of Wisdom; and all such are they, who partake of the fare of old +Bardianna.” +</p> + +<p> +“Art resuscitated, then, Babbalanja?” said Media. “Ay, my +lord, I am just risen from the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did Azzageddi conduct you to their realms?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fangs off! fangs off! depart, thou fiend!—unhand me! or by Oro, I +will die and spite thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, quick, Mohi! let us change places,” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“How now, Babbalanja?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh my lord man—not <i>you</i> my lord Media!—high and mighty +Puissance! great King of Creation!—thou art but the biggest of braggarts! +In every age, thou boastest of thy valorous advances:—flat fools, old +dotards, and numskulls, our sires! All the Past, wasted time! the Present knows +all! right lucky, fellow-beings, we live now! every man an author! books plenty +as men! strike a light in a minute! teeth sold by the pound! all the elements +fetching and carrying! lightning running on errands! rivers made to order! the +ocean a puddle!— But ages back they boasted like us; and ages to come, +forever and ever, they’ll boast. Ages back they black-balled the past, +thought the last day was come; so wise they were grown. Mardi could not stand +long; have to annex one of the planets; invade the great sun; colonize the +moon;—conquerors sighed for new Mardis; and sages for heaven— +having by heart all the primers here below. Like us, ages back they groaned +under their books; made bonfires of libraries, leaving ashes behind, mid which +we reverentially grope for charred pages, forgetting we are so much wiser than +they.—But amazing times! astounding revelations; preternatural +divulgings!—How now?—more wonderful than all our discoveries is +this: that they never were discovered before. So simple, no doubt our ancestors +overlooked them; intent on deeper things—the deep things of the soul. All +we discover has been with us since the sun began to roll; and much we discover, +is not worth the discovering. We are children, climbing trees after +birds’ nests, and making a great shout, whether we find eggs in them or +no. But where are our wings, which our fore-fathers surely had not? Tell us, ye +sages! something worth an archangel’s learning; discover, ye discoverers, +something new. Fools, fools! Mardi’s not changed: the sun yet rises in +its old place in the East; all things go on in the same old way; we cut our +eye-teeth just as late as they did, three thousand years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon,” said Mohi, “for beshrew me, they are not yet +all cut. At threescore and ten, here have I a new tooth coming now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Old man! it but clears the way for another. The teeth sown by the +alphabet-founder, were eye-teeth, not yet all sprung from the soil. Like +spring-wheat, blade by blade, they break ground late; like spring-wheat, many +seeds have perished in the hard winter glebe. Oh, my lord! though we galvanize +corpses into St. Vitus’ dances, we raise not the dead from their graves! +Though we have discovered the circulation of the blood, men die as of yore; +oxen graze, sheep bleat, babies bawl, asses bray—loud and lusty as the +day before the flood. Men fight and make up; repent and go at it; feast and +starve; laugh and weep; pray and curse; cheat, chaffer, trick, truckle, cozen, +defraud, fib, lie, beg, borrow, steal, hang, drown—as in the laughing and +weeping, tricking and truckling, hanging and drowning times that have been. +Nothing changes, though much be new-fashioned: new fashions but revivals of +things previous. In the books of the past we learn naught but of the present; +in those of the present, the past. All Mardi’s history—beginning +middle, and finis—was written out in capitals in the first page penned. +The whole story is told in a title- page. An exclamation point is entire +Mardi’s autobiography.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who speaks now?” said Media, “Bardianna, Azzageddi, or +Babbalanja?” +</p> + +<p> +“All three: is it not a pleasant concert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very fine: very fine.—Go on; and tell us something of the +future.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never departed this life yet, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“But just now you said you were risen from the dead.” “From +the buried dead within me; not from myself, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you, then, know nothing of the future—did Bardianna?” +</p> + +<p> +“If he did, naught did he reveal. I have ever observed, my lord, that +even in their deepest lucubrations, the profoundest, frankest, ponderers always +reserve a vast deal of precious thought for their own private behoof. They +think, perhaps, that ’tis too good, or too bad; too wise, or too foolish, +for the multitude. And this unpleasant vibration is ever consequent upon +striking a new vein of ideas in the soul. As with buried treasures, the ground +over them sounds strange and hollow. At any rate, the profoundest ponderer +seldom tells us all he thinks; seldom reveals to us the ultimate, and the +innermost; seldom makes us open our eyes under water; seldom throws open the +totus-in-toto; and never carries us with him, to the unconsubsistent, the +ideaimmanens, the super-essential, and the One.” +</p> + +<p> +Confusion! Remember the Quadammodatatives!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Braid-Beard, “that’s the crack in his +calabash, which all the Dicibles of Doxdox will not mend.” +</p> + +<p> +“And from that crazy calabash he gives us to drink, old Mohi.” +</p> + +<p> +“But never heed his leaky gourd nor its contents, my lord. Let these +philosophers muddle themselves as they will, we wise ones refuse to +partake.” +</p> + +<p> +“And fools like me drink till they reel,” said Babbalanja. +“But in these matters one’s calabash must needs go round to keep +afloat. Fogle-orum!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0073"></a> +CHAPTER LXXIII.<br/> +At Last, The Last Mention Is Made Of Old Bardianna; And His Last Will And +Testament Is Recited At Length</h2> + +<p> +The day was waning. And, as after many a tale of ghosts, around their forest +fire, Hungarian gipsies silent sit; watching the ruddy glow kindling each +other’s faces;—so, now we solemn sat; the crimson West our fire; +all our faces flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Testators!” then cried Media, when your last wills are all round +settled, speak, and make it known!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine, my lord, has long been fixed,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“And how runs it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fugle-fogle—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark ye, intruding Azzageddi! rejoin thy merry mates below;—go +there, and wag thy saucy tail; or I will nail it to our bow, till ye roar for +liberation. Begone, I say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Down, devil! deeper down!” rumbled Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I think he’s gone. And now, by your good leave, +I’ll repeat old Bardianna’s Will. It’s worth all +Mardi’s hearing; and I have so studied it, by rote I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed then; but I mistrust that Azzageddi is not yet many thousand +fathoms down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Attend my lord:—‘Anno Mardis 50,000,000, o.s. I, Bardianna, +of the island of Vamba, and village of the same name, having just risen from my +yams, in high health, high spirits, and sound mind, do hereby cheerfully make +and ordain this my last will and testament. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Imprimis: +</p> + +<p> +“‘All my kith and kin being well to do in Mardi, I wholly leave +them out of this my will. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Item. Since, in divers ways, verbally and otherwise, my good +friend Pondo has evinced a strong love for me, Bardianna, as the owner and +proprietor of all that capital messuage with the appurtenances, in Vamba +aforesaid, called ‘The Lair,’ wherein I now dwell; also for all my +Bread-fruit orchards, Palm-groves, Banana-plantations, Taro-patches, gardens, +lawns, lanes, and hereditaments whatsoever, adjoining the aforesaid +messuage;—I do hereby give and bequeath the same to Bomblum of the island +of Adda; the aforesaid Bomblum having never expressed any regard for me, as a +holder of real estate. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Item. My esteemed neighbor Lakreemo having since the last lunar +eclipse called daily to inquire after the state of my health: and having +nightly made tearful inquiries of my herb-doctor, concerning the state of my +viscera;—I do hereby give and bequeath to the aforesaid Lakreemo all and +sundry those vegetable pills, potions, powders, aperients, purgatives, +expellatives, evacuatives, tonics, emetics, cathartics, clysters, injections, +scarifiers, cataplasms, lenitives, lotions, decoctions, washes, gargles, and +phlegmagogues; together with all the jars, calabashes, gourds, and galipots, +thereunto pertaining; situate, lying, and being, in the west-by-north corner of +my east-southeast crypt, in my aforesaid tenement known as ‘The +Lair.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Item. The woman Pesti; a native of Vamba, having oftentimes +hinted that I, Bardianna, sorely needed a spouse, and having also intimated +that she bore me a conjugal affection; I do hereby give and bequeath to the +aforesaid Pesti:—my blessing; forasmuch, as by the time of the opening of +this my last will and testament, I shall have been forever delivered from the +aforesaid Pesti’s persecutions. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Item. Having a high opinion of the probity of my worthy and +excellent friend Bidiri, I do hereby entirely, and wholly, give, will, grant, +bestow, devise, and utterly hand over unto the said Bidiri, all that tenement +where my servant Oram now dwelleth; with all the lawns, meadows, uplands and +lowlands, fields, groves, and gardens, thereunto belonging:—IN TRUST +NEVERTHELESS to have and to hold the same for the sole use and benefit of +Lanbranka Hohinna, spinster, now resident of the aforesaid island of Vamba. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Item. I give and bequeath my large carved drinking gourd to my +good comrade Topo. +</p> + +<p> +“’Item. My fast friend Doldrum having at sundry times, and in +sundry places, uttered the prophecy, that upon my decease his sorrow would be +great; I do hereby give and bequeath to the aforesaid Doldrum, ten yards of my +best soft tappa, to be divided into handkerchiefs for his sole benefit and +behoof. +</p> + +<p> +“’Item. My sensible friend Solo having informed me, that he +intended to remain a bachelor for life; I give and devise to the aforesaid +Solo, the mat for one person, whereon I nightly repose. +</p> + +<p> +“’Item. Concerning my private Arbor and Palm-groves, adjoining, +lying, and being in the isle of Vamba, I give and devise the same, with all +appurtenances whatsoever, to my friend Minta the Cynic, to have and to hold, in +trust for the first through-and-through honest man, issue of my neighbor Mondi; +and in default of such issue, for the first through-and-through honest man, +issue of my neighbor Pendidda; and in default of such issue, for the first +through-and-through honest man, issue of my neighbor Wynodo: and in default of +such issue, to any through-and-through honest man, issue of any body, to be +found through the length and breadth of Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +“’Item. My friend Minta the Cynic to be sole judge of all claims to +the above-mentioned devise; and to hold the said premises for his own use, +until the aforesaid person be found. +</p> + +<p> +“’Item. Knowing my devoted scribe Marko to be very sensitive +touching the receipt of a favor; I willingly spare him that pain; and hereby +bequeath unto the aforesaid scribe, three milk-teeth, not as a pecuniary +legacy, but as a very slight token of my profound regard. +</p> + +<p> +“’Item. I give to the poor of Vamba the total contents of my +red-labeled bags of bicuspids and canines (which I account three-fourths of my +whole estate); to my body servant Fidi, my staff, all my robes and togas, and +three hundred molars in cash; to that discerning and sagacious philosopher my +disciple Krako, one complete set of denticles, to buy him a vertebral bone +ring; and to that pious and promising youth Vangi, two fathoms of my best kaiar +rope, with the privilege of any bough in my groves. +</p> + +<p> +“’All the rest of my goods, chattels and household stuff +whatsoever; and all my loose denticles, remaining after my debts and legacies +are paid, and my body is out of sight, I hereby direct to be distributed among +the poor of Vamba. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ultimo. I give and bequeath to all Mardi this my last advice and +counsel:—videlicet: live as long as you can; close your own eyes when you +die. +</p> + +<p> +“’I have no previous wills to revoke; and publish this to be my +first and last. +</p> + +<p> +“’In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my right hand; and +hereunto have caused a true copy of the tattooing on my right temple to be +affixed, during the year first above written. +</p> + +<p> +“’By me, BARDIANNA.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja, that’s an extraordinary document,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Bardianna was an extraordinary man, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were there no codicils?” +</p> + +<p> +“The will is all codicils; all after-thoughts; Ten thoughts for one act, +was Bardianna’s motto.” +</p> + +<p> +“Left he nothing whatever to his kindred?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a stump.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prom his will, he seems to have lived single.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes: Bardianna never sought to improve upon nature; a bachelor he was +born, and a bachelor he died.” +</p> + +<p> +“According to the best accounts, how did he depart, Babbalanja?” +asked Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“With a firm lip, and his hand on his heart, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“His last words?” +</p> + +<p> +“Calmer, and better!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where think you, he is now?” +</p> + +<p> +“In his Ponderings. And those, my lord, we all inherit; for like the +great chief of Romara, who made a whole empire his legatee; so, great authors +have all Mardi for an heir.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0074"></a> +CHAPTER LXXIV.<br/> +A Death-Cloud Sweeps By Them, As They Sail</h2> + +<p> +Next day, a fearful sight! +</p> + +<p> +As in Sooloo’s seas, one vast water-spout will, sudden, form: and +whirling, chase the flying Malay keels; so, before a swift-winged cloud, a +thousand prows sped by, leaving braided, foaming wakes; their crowded +inmates’ arms, in frenzied supplications wreathed; like tangled +forest-boughs. +</p> + +<p> +“See, see,” cried Yoomy, “how the Death-cloud flies! Let us +dive down in the sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Babbalanja. “All things come of Oro; if we must +drown, let Oro drown us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Down sails: drop paddles,” said Media: “here we +float.” +</p> + +<p> +Like a rushing bison, sweeping by, the Death-cloud grazed us with its foam; and +whirling in upon the thousand prows beyond, sudden burst in deluges; and +scooping out a maelstrom, dragged down every plank and soul. +</p> + +<p> +Long we rocked upon the circling billows, which expanding from that center, +dashed every isle, till, moons after-ward, faint, they laved all Mardi’s +reef. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks unto Oro,” murmured Mohi, “this heart still +beats.” +</p> + +<p> +That sun-flushed eve, we sailed by many tranquil harbors, whence fled those +thousand prows. Serene, the waves ran up their strands; and chimed around the +unharmed stakes of palm, to which the thousand prows that morning had been +fastened. +</p> + +<p> +“Flying death, they ran to meet it,” said Babbalanja. “But +tie not that they fled, they died; for maelstroms, of these harbors, the +Death-cloud might have made. But they died, because they might not longer live. +Could we gain one glimpse of the great calendar of eternity, all our names +would there be found, glued against their dates of death. We die by land, and +die by sea; we die by earthquakes, famines, plagues, and wars; by fevers, +agues; woe, or mirth excessive. This mortal air is one wide pestilence, that +kills us all at last. Whom the Death-cloud spares, sleeping, dies in silent +watches of the night. He whom the spears of many battles could not slay, dies +of a grape-stone, beneath the vine-clad bower he built, to shade declining +years. We die, because we live. But none the less does Babbalanja quake. And if +he flies not, ’tis because he stands the center of a circle; its every +point a leveled dart; and every bow, bent back:—a twang, and Babbalanja +dies.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0075"></a> +CHAPTER LXXV.<br/> +They Visit The Palmy King Abrazza</h2> + +<p> +Night and morn departed; and in the afternoon, we drew nigh to an island, +overcast with shadows; a shower was falling; and pining, plaintive notes forth +issued from the groves: half-suppressed, and sobbing whisperings of leaves. The +shore sloped to the water; thither our prows were pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Sheer off! no landing here,” cried Media, “let us gain the +sunny side; and like the care-free bachelor Abrazza, who here is king, turn our +back on the isle’s shadowy side, and revel in its morning-meads.” +</p> + +<p> +“And lord Abrazza:—who is he?” asked Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“The one hundred and twentieth in lineal descent from Phipora,” +said Mohi; “and connected on the maternal side to the lord seigniors of +Klivonia. His uttermost uncle was nephew to the niece of Queen Zmiglandi; who +flourished so long since, she wedded at the first Transit of Venus. His +pedigree is endless.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who is lord Abrazza?” +</p> + +<p> +“Has he not said?” answered Babbalanja. “Why so +dull?—Uttermost nephew to him, who was nephew to the niece of the +peerless Queen Zmiglandi; and the one hundred and twentieth in descent from the +illustrious Phipora.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will none tell, who Abrazza is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can not a man then, be described by running off the catalogue of his +ancestors?” said Babbalanja. “Or must we e’en descend to +himself. Then, listen, dull Yoomy! and know that lord Abrazza is six feet two: +plump thighs; blue eyes; and brown hair; likes his bread-fruit baked, not +roasted; sometimes carries filberts in his crown: and has a way of winking when +he speaks. His teeth are good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you publishing some decamped burglar,” said Media, “that +you speak thus of my royal friend, the lord Abrazza? Go on, sir! and say he +reigns sole king of Bonovona!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I had not ended. Abrazza, Yoomy, is a fine and florid king: +high-fed, and affluent of heart; of speech, mellifluent. And for a royalty +extremely amiable. He is a sceptered gentleman, who does much good. Kind king! +in person he gives orders for relieving those, who daily dive for pearls, to +grace his royal robe; and gasping hard, with blood-shot eyes, come up from +shark-infested depths, and fainting, lay their treasure at his feet. Sweet lord +Abrazza! how he pities those, who in his furthest woodlands day-long toil to do +his bidding. Yet king-philosopher, he never weeps; but pities with a placid +smile; and that but seldom.” +</p> + +<p> +“There seems much iron in your blood,” said Media. “But say +your say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say I not truth, my lord? Abrazza, I admire. Save his royal pity all +else is jocund round him. He loves to live for life’s own sake. He vows +he’ll have no cares; and often says, in pleasant reveries,— +‘Sure, my lord Abrazza, if any one should be care-free, ’tis thou; +who strike down none, but pity all the fallen!’ Yet none he lifteth +up.” +</p> + +<p> +At length we gained the sunny side, and shoreward tended. Vee-Vee’s horn +was sonorous; and issuing from his golden groves, my lord Abrazza, like a host +that greets you on the threshold, met us, as we keeled the beach. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome! fellow demi-god, and king! Media, my pleasant guest!” +</p> + +<p> +His servitors salamed; his chieftains bowed; his yeoman-guard, in meadow-green, +presented palm-stalks,—royal tokens; and hand in hand, the nodding, +jovial, regal friends, went up a lane of salutations; dragging behind, a train +of envyings. +</p> + +<p> +Much we marked Abrazza’s jeweled crown; that shot no honest blaze of +ruddy rubies; nor looked stern-white like Media’s pearls; but cast a +green and yellow glare; rays from emeralds, crossing rays from many a topaz. In +those beams, so sinister, all present looked cadaverous: Abrazza’s cheek +alone beamed bright, but hectic. +</p> + +<p> +Upon its fragrant mats a spacious hall received the kings; and gathering +courtiers blandly bowed; and gushing with soft flatteries, breathed +idol-incense round them. +</p> + +<p> +The hall was terraced thrice; its elevated end was curtained; and thence, at +every chime of words, there burst a girl, gay scarfed, with naked bosom, and +poured forth wild and hollow laughter, as she raced down all the terraces, and +passed their merry kingships. +</p> + +<p> +Wide round the hall, in avenues, waved almond-woods; their whiteness frosted +into bloom. But every vine-clad trunk was hollow-hearted; hollow sounds came +from the grottos: hollow broke the billows on the shore: and hollow pauses +filled the air, following the hollow laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Guards, with spears, paced the groves, and in the inner shadows, oft were seen +to lift their weapons, and backward press some ugly phantom, saying, +“Subjects! haunt him not; Abrazza would be merry; Abrazza feasts his +guests.” +</p> + +<p> +So, banished from our sight seemed all things uncongenial; and pleasant times +were ours, in these dominions. Not a face passed by, but smiled; mocking-birds +perched on the boughs; and singing, made us vow the woods were warbling forth +thanksgiving, with a thousand throats! The stalwart yeomen grinned beneath +their trenchers, heaped with citrons pomegrantes, grapes; the pages tittered, +pouring out the wine; and all the lords loud laughed, smote their gilded +spears, and swore the isle was glad. +</p> + +<p> +Such the isle, in which we tarried; but in our rambles, found no Yillah. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0076"></a> +CHAPTER LXXVI.<br/> +Some Pleasant, Shady Talk In The Groves, Between My Lords Abrazza And Media, +Babbalanja, Mohi, And Yoomy</h2> + +<p> +Abrazza had a cool retreat—a grove of dates; where we were used to lounge +of noons, and mix our converse with the babble of the rills; and mix our +punches in goblets chased with grapes. And as ever, King Abrazza was the prince +of hosts. +</p> + +<p> +“Your crown,” he said to Media; and with his own, he hung it on a +bough. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not ceremonious:” and stretched his royal legs upon the turf. +</p> + +<p> +“Wine!” and his pages poured it out. +</p> + +<p> +So on the grass we lounged; and King Abrazza, who loved his antique ancestors; +and loved old times; and would not talk of moderns;—bade Yoomy sing old +songs; bade Mohi rehearse old histories; bade Babbalanja tell of old +ontologies; and commanded all, meanwhile, to drink his old, old wine. +</p> + +<p> +So, all round we quaffed and quoted. +</p> + +<p> +At last, we talked of old Homeric bards:—those who, ages back, harped, +and begged, and groped their blinded way through all this charitable Mardi; +receiving coppers then, and immortal glory now. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—How came it, that they all were blind? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—It was endemical, your Highness. Few grand poets have good +eyes; for they needs blind must be, who ever gaze upon the sun. Vavona himself +was blind: when, in the silence of his secret bower, he said—“I +will build another world. Therein, let there be kings and slaves, philosophers +and wits; whose checkered actions—strange, grotesque, and merry-sad, will +entertain my idle moods.” So, my lord, Vavona played at kings and crowns, +and men and manners; and loved that lonely game to play. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Vavona seemed a solitary Mardian; who seldom went abroad; had few +friends; and shunning others, was shunned by them. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—But shunned not himself, my lord; like gods, great poets dwell +alone; while round them, roll the worlds they build. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—You seem to know all authors:—you must have heard of +Lombardo, Babbalanja; he who flourished many ages since. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—I have; and his grand Kortanza know by heart. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA (<i>to Abrazza.</i>)—A very curious work, that, my lord. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Yes, my dearest king. But, Babbalanja, if Lombardo had aught to +tell to Mardi—why choose a vehicle so crazy? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—It was his nature, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—But so it would not have been, to me. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Nor would it have been natural, for my noble lord Abrazza, to +have worn Lombardo’s head:—every man has his own, thank Oro! +</p> + +<p> +ABBRAZZA—A curious work: a very curious work. Babbalanja, are you +acquainted with the history of Lombardo? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—None better. All his biographies have I read. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Then, tell us how he came to write that work. For one, I can not +imagine how those poor devils contrive to roll such thunders through all Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—Their thunder and lightning seem spontaneous combustibles, my lord. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—With which, they but consume themselves, my prince beloved. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—In a measure, true, your Highness. But pray you, listen; and I +will try to tell the way in which Lombardo produced his great Kortanza. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—But hark you, philosopher! this time no incoherencies; gag that +devil, Azzageddi. And now, what was it that originally impelled Lombardo to the +undertaking? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Primus and forever, a full heart:—brimful, bubbling, +sparkling; and running over like the flagon in your hand, my lord. Secundo, the +necessity of bestirring himself to procure his yams. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Wanting the second motive, would the first have sufficed, +philosopher? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Doubtful. More conduits than one to drain off the soul’s +overflowings. Besides, the greatest fullnesses overflow not spontaneously; and, +even when decanted, like rich syrups, slowly ooze; whereas, poor fluids glibly +flow, wide-spreading. Hence, when great fullness weds great +indolence;—that man, to others, too often proves a cipher; though, to +himself, his thoughts form an Infinite Series, indefinite, from its vastness; +and incommunicable;—not for lack of power, but for lack of an omnipotent +volition, to move his strength. His own world is full before him; the fulcrum +set; but lever there is none. To such a man, the giving of any boor’s +resoluteness, with tendons braided, would be as hanging a claymore to +Valor’s side, before unarmed. Our minds are cunning, compound mechanisms; +and one spring, or wheel, or axle wanting, the movement lags, or halts. +Cerebrum must not overbalance cerebellum; our brains should be round as globes; +and planted on capacious chests, inhaling mighty morning- inspirations. We have +had vast developments of parts of men; but none of manly wholes. Before a +full-developed man, Mardi would fall down and worship. We are idiot, +younger-sons of gods, begotten in dotages divine; and our mothers all miscarry. +Giants are in our germs; but we are dwarfs, staggering under heads overgrown. +Heaped, our measures burst. We die of too much life. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA (<i>to Abrazza</i>)—Be not impatient, my lord; he’ll recover +presently. You were talking of Lombardo, Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—I was, your Highness. Of all Mardians, by nature, he was the +most inert. Hast ever seen a yellow lion, all day basking in the yellow +sun:—in reveries, rending droves of elephants; but his vast loins supine, +and eyelids winking? Such, Lombardo; but fierce Want, the hunter, came and +roused his roar. In hairy billows, his great mane tossed like the sea; his +eyeballs flamed two hells; his paw had stopped a rolling world. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—In other words, yams were indispensable, and, poor devil, he +roared to get them. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA (<i>bowing</i>)—Partly so, my literal lord. And as with your +own golden scepter, at times upon your royal teeth, indolent tattoos you beat; +then, potent, sway it o’er your isle; so, Lombardo. And ere Necessity +plunged spur and rowel into him, he knew not his own paces. <i>That</i> churned +him into consciousness; and brought ambition, ere then dormant, seething to the +top, till he trembled at himself. No mailed hand lifted up against a traveler +in woods, can so, appall, as we ourselves. We are full of ghosts and spirits; +we are as grave-yards full of buried dead, that start to life before us. And +all our dead sires, verily, are in us; <i>that</i> is their immortality. From +sire to son, we go on multiplying corpses in ourselves; for all of which, are +resurrections. Every thought’s a soul of some past poet, hero, sage. We +are fuller than a city. Woe it is, that reveals these things. He knows himself, +and all that’s in him, who knows adversity. To scale great heights, we +must come out of lowermost depths. The way to heaven is through hell. We need +fiery baptisms in the fiercest flames of our own bosoms. We must feel our +hearts hot—hissing in us. And ere their fire is revealed, it must burn +its way out of us; though it consume us and itself. Oh, sleek-cheeked Plenty! +smiling at thine own dimples;—vain for thee to reach out after greatness. +Turn! turn! from all your tiers of cushions of eider-down—turn! and be +broken on the wheels of many woes. At white-heat, brand thyself; and count the +scars, like old war-worn veterans, over camp-fires. Soft poet! brushing tears +from lilies—this way! and howl in sackcloth and in ashes! Know, thou, +that the lines that live are turned out of a furrowed brow. Oh! there is a +fierce, a cannibal delight, in the grief that shrieks to multiply itself. That +grief is miserly of its own; it pities all the happy. Some damned spirits would +not be otherwise, could they. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA (<i>to Media</i>)—Pray, my lord, is this good gentleman a devil? +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA.—No, my lord; but he’s possessed by one. His name is +Azzageddi. You may hear more of him. But come, Babbalanja, hast forgotten all +about Lombardo? How set he about that great undertaking, his Kortanza? +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA (<i>to Media</i>)—Oh, for all the ravings of your Babbalanja, +Lombardo took no special pains; hence, deserves small commendation. For, genius +must be somewhat like us kings,—calm, content, in consciousness of power. +And to Lombardo, the scheme of his Kortanza must have come full-fledged, like +an eagle from the sun. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—No, your Highness; but like eagles, his thoughts were first +callow; yet, born plumeless, they came to soar. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Very fine. I presume, Babbalanja, the first thing he did, was to +fast, and invoke the muses. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Pardon, my lord; on the contrary he first procured a ream of +vellum, and some sturdy quills: indispensable preliminaries, my worshipful +lords, to the writing of the sublimest epics. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Ah! then the muses were afterward invoked. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Pardon again. Lombardo next sat down to a fine plantain +pudding. +</p> + +<p> +YOOMY—When the song-spell steals over me, I live upon olives. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Yoomy, Lombardo eschewed olives. Said he, “What fasting +soldier can fight? and the fight of all fights is to write.” In ten days +Lombardo had written— +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Dashed off, you mean. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—He never dashed off aught. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—As you will. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—In ten days, Lombardo had written full fifty folios; he loved +huge acres of vellum whereon to expatiate. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—What then? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—He read them over attentively; made a neat package of the +whole: and put it into the fire. +</p> + +<p> +ALL—How? +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—What! these great geniuses writing trash? +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—I thought as much. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—My lords, they abound in it! more than any other men in Mardi. +Genius is full of trash. But genius essays its best to keep it to itself; and +giving away its ore, retains the earth; whence, the too frequent wisdom of its +works, and folly of its life. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Then genius is not inspired, after all. How they must slave in +their mines! I weep to think of it. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—My lord, all men are inspired; fools are inspired; your +highness is inspired; for the essence of all ideas is infused. Of ourselves, +and in ourselves, we originate nothing. When Lombardo set about his work, he +knew not what it would become. He did not build himself in with plans; he wrote +right on; and so doing, got deeper and deeper into himself; and like a resolute +traveler, plunging through baffling woods, at last was rewarded for his toils. +“In good time,” saith he, in his autobiography, “I came out +into a serene, sunny, ravishing region; full of sweet scents, singing birds, +wild plaints, roguish laughs, prophetic voices. “Here we are at last, +then,” he cried; “I have created the creative.” And now the +whole boundless landscape stretched away. Lombardo panted; the sweat was on his +brow; he off mantle; braced himself; sat within view of the ocean; his face to +a cool rushing breeze; placed flowers before him; and gave himself plenty of +room. On one side was his ream of vellum— +</p> + +<p> +ABBRAZZA—And on the other, a brimmed beaker. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—No, your Highness; though he loved it, no wine for Lombardo +while actually at work. +</p> + +<p> +MOHI—Indeed? Why, I ever thought that it was to the superior quality of +Lombardo’s punches, that Mardi was indebted for that abounding humor of +his. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Not so; he had another way of keeping himself well braced. +</p> + +<p> +YOOMY—Quick! tell us the secret. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—He never wrote by rush-light. His lamp swung in heaven.— +He rose from his East, with the sun; he wrote when all nature was alive. +</p> + +<p> +MOHI—Doubtless, then, he always wrote with a grin; and none laughed +louder at his quips, than Lombardo himself. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Hear you laughter at the birth of a man child, old man? The +babe may have many dimples; not so, the parent. Lombardo was a hermit to +behold. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—What! did Lombardo laugh with a long face? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—His merriment was not always merriment to him, your Highness. +For the most part, his meaning kept him serious. Then he was so intensely +riveted to his work, he could not pause to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +MOHI—My word for it; but he had a sly one, now and then. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—For the nonce, he was not his own master: a mere amanuensis +writing by dictation. +</p> + +<p> +YOOMY—Inspiration, that! +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA.—Call it as you will, Yoomy, it was a sort of sleep- walking +of the mind. Lombardo never threw down his pen: it dropped from him; and then, +he sat disenchanted: rubbing his eyes; staring; and feeling +faint—sometimes, almost unto death. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—But pray, Babbalanja, tell us how he made acquaintance with some of +those rare worthies, he introduces us to, in his Koztanza. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—He first met them in his reveries; they were walking about in +him, sour and moody: and for a long time, were shy of his advances; but still +importuned, they at last grew ashamed of their reserve; stepped forward; and +gave him their hands. After that, they were frank and friendly. Lombardo set +places for them at his board; when he died, he left them something in his will. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—What! those imaginary beings? +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Wondrous witty! infernal fine! +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—But, Babbalanja; after all, the Koztanza found no favor in the eyes +of some Mardians. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Ay: the arch-critics Verbi and Batho denounced it. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Yes: on good authority, Verbi is said to have detected a +superfluous comma; and Batho declared that, with the materials he could have +constructed a far better world than Lombardo’s. But, didst ever hear of +his laying his axis? +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—But the unities; Babbalanja, the unities! they are wholly wanting +in the Koztanza. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Your Highness; upon that point, Lombardo was frank. Saith he, +in his autobiography: “For some time, I endeavored to keep in the good +graces of those nymphs; but I found them so captious, and exacting; they threw +me into such a violent passion with their fault-findings; that, at last, I +renounced them.” +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Very rash! +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—No, your Highness; for though Lombardo abandoned all monitors +from without; he retained one autocrat within—his crowned and sceptered +instinct. And what, if he pulled down one gross world, and ransacked the +etherial spheres, to build up something of his own—a +composite:—what then? matter and mind, though matching not, are mates; +and sundered oft, in his Koztanza they unite:—the airy waist, embraced by +stalwart arms. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—Incoherent again! I thought we were to have no more of this! +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—My lord Media, there are things infinite in the finite; and +dualities in unities. Our eyes are pleased with the redness of the rose, but +another sense lives upon its fragrance. Its redness you must approach, to view: +its invisible fragrance pervades the field. So, with the Koztanza. Its mere +beauty is restricted to its form: its expanding soul, past Mardi does embalm. +Modak is Modako; but fogle-foggle is not fugle-fi. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA (<i>to Abrazza</i>)—My lord, you start again; but ’tis only +another phase of Azzageeddi; sometimes he’s quite mad. But all this you +must needs overlook. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—I will, my dear prince; what one can not see through, one must +needs look over, as you say. +</p> + +<p> +YOOMY—But trust me, your Highness, some of those strange things fall far +too melodiously upon the ear, to be wholly deficient in meaning. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Your gentle minstrel, <i>this</i> must be, my lord. But +Babbalanja, the Koztanza lacks cohesion; it is wild, unconnected, all episode. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—And so is Mardi itself:—nothing but episodes; valleys +and hills; rivers, digressing from plains; vines, roving all over; boulders and +diamonds; flowers and thistles; forests and thickets; and, here and there, fens +and moors. And so, the world in the Koztanza. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Ay, plenty of dead-desert chapters there; horrible sands to wade +through. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—Now, Babbalanja, away with your tropes; and tell us of the work, +directly it was done. What did Lombardo then? Did he show it to any one for an +opinion? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Yes, to Zenzori; who asked him where he picked up so much +trash; to Hanto, who bade him not be cast down, it was pretty good; to Lucree, +who desired to know how much he was going to get for it; to Roddi, who offered +a suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—And what was that? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—That he had best make a faggot of the whole; and try again. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Very encouraging. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—Any one else? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—To Pollo; who, conscious his opinion was sought, was thereby +puffed up; and marking the faltering of Lombardo’s voice, when the +manuscript was handed him, straightway concluded, that the man who stood thus +trembling at the bar, must needs be inferior to the judge. But his verdict was +mild. After sitting up all night over the work; and diligently taking +notes:—“Lombardo, my friend! here, take your sheets. I have run +through them loosely. You might have done better; but then you might have done +worse. Take them, my friend; I have put in some good things for you:” +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—And who was Pollo? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Probably some one who lived in Lombardo’s time, and went +by that name. He is incidentally mentioned, and cursorily immortalized in one +of the posthumous notes to the Koztanza. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—What is said of him there? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Not much. In a very old transcript of the work—that of +Aldina—the note alludes to a brave line in the text, and runs +thus:— “Diverting to tell, it was this passage that an old +prosodist, one Pollo, claimed for his own. He maintained he made a free-will +offering of it to Lombardo. Several things are yet extant of this Pollo, who +died some weeks ago. He seems to have been one of those, who would do great +things if they could; but are content to compass the small. He imagined, that +the precedence of authors he had established in his library, was their Mardi +order of merit. He condemned the sublime poems of Vavona to his lowermost +shelf. ‘Ah,’ thought he, ‘how we library princes, lord it +over these beggarly authors!’ Well read in the history of their woes, +Pollo pitied them all, particularly the famous; and wrote little essays of his +own, which he read to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—Well: and what said Lombardo to those good friends of his,— +Zenzori, Hanto, and Roddi? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Nothing. Taking home his manuscript, he glanced it over; +making three corrections. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—And what then? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Then, your Highness, he thought to try a conclave of +professional critics; saying to himself, “Let them privately point out to +me, now, all my blemishes; so that, what time they come to review me in public, +all will be well.” But curious to relate, those professional critics, for +the most part, held their peace, concerning a work yet unpublished. And, with +some generous exceptions, in their vague, learned way, betrayed such base, +beggarly notions of authorship, that Lombardo could have wept, had tears been +his. But in his very grief, he ground his teeth. Muttered he, “They are +fools. In their eyes, bindings not brains make books. They criticise my +tattered cloak, not my soul, caparisoned like a charger. He is the great +author, think they, who drives the best bargain with his wares: and no +bargainer am I. Because he is old, they worship some mediocrity of an ancient, +and mock at the living prophet with the live coal on his lips. They are men who +would not be men, had they no books. Their sires begat them not; but the +authors they have read. Feelings they have none: and their very opinions they +borrow. They can not say yea, nor nay, without first consulting all Mardi as an +Encyclopedia. And all the learning in them, is as a dead corpse in a coffin. +Were they worthy the dignity of being damned, I would damn them; but they are +not. Critics?—Asses! rather mules!—so emasculated, from vanity, +they can not father a true thought. Like mules, too, from dunghills, they +trample down gardens of roses: and deem that crushed fragrance their +own.—Oh! that all round the domains of genius should lie thus unhedged, +for such cattle to uproot! Oh! that an eagle should be stabbed by a +goose-quill! But at best, the greatest reviewers but prey on my leavings. For I +am critic and creator; and as critic, in cruelty surpass all critics merely, as +a tiger, jackals. For ere Mardi sees aught of mine, I scrutinize it myself, +remorseless as a surgeon. I cut right and left; I probe, tear, and wrench; +kill, burn, and destroy; and what’s left after that, the jackals are +welcome to. It is I that stab false thoughts, ere hatched; I that pull down +wall and tower, rejecting materials which would make palaces for others. Oh! +could Mardi but see how we work, it would marvel more at our primal chaos, than +at the round world thence emerging. It would marvel at our scaffoldings, +scaling heaven; marvel at the hills of earth, banked all round our fabrics ere +completed.—How plain the pyramid! In this grand silence, so intense, +pierced by that pointed mass,—could ten thousand slaves have ever toiled? +ten thousand hammers rung?—There it stands, —part of Mardi: +claiming kin with mountains;—was this thing piecemeal built?—It +was. Piecemeal?—atom by atom it was laid. The world is made of +mites.” +</p> + +<p> +YOOMY (<i>musing.</i>)—It is even so. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Lombardo was severe upon the critics; and they as much so upon +him;—of that, be sure. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANGA—Your Highness, Lombardo never presumed to criticise true +critics; who are more rare than true poets. A great critic is a sultan among +satraps; but pretenders are thick as ants, striving to scale a palm, after its +aerial sweetness. And they fight among themselves. Essaying to pluck eagles, +they themselves are geese, stuck full of quills, of which they rob each other. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA (<i>to Media.</i>)—Oro help the victim that falls in +Babbalanja’s hands! +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA.—Ay, my lord; at times, his every finger is a dagger: every thought +a falling tower that whelms! But resume, philosopher—what of Lombardo +now? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—“For this thing,” said he, “I have agonized +over it enough.—I can wait no more. It has faults—all +mine;—its merits all its own;—but I can toil no longer. The beings +knit to me implore; my heart is full; my brain is sick. Let it go—let it +go—and Oro with it. Somewhere Mardi has a mighty heart—-<i>that</i> +struck, all the isles shall resound!” +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Poor devil! he took the world too hard. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA.-As most of these mortals do, my lord. That’s the load, self- +imposed, under which Babbalanja reels. But now, philosopher, ere Mardi saw it, +what thought Lombardo of his work, looking at it objectively, as a thing out of +him, I mean. +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—No doubt, he hugged it. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Hard to answer. Sometimes, when by himself, he thought hugely +of it, as my lord Abrazza says; but when abroad, among men, he almost despised +it; but when he bethought him of those parts, written with full eyes, half +blinded; temples throbbing; and pain at the heart— +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—Pooh! pooh! +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—He would say to himself, “Sure, it can not be in +vain!” Yet again, when he bethought him of the hurry and bustle of Mardi, +dejection stole over him. “Who will heed it,” thought he; +“what care these fops and brawlers for me? But am I not myself an +egregious coxcomb? Who will read me? Say one thousand pages—twenty-five +lines each—every line ten words—every word ten letters. +That’s two million five hundred thousand <i>a</i>’s, and +<i>i</i>’s, and <i>o</i>’s to read! How many are superfluous? Am I +not mad to saddle Mardi with such a task? Of all men, am I the wisest, to stand +upon a pedestal, and teach the mob? Ah, my own Kortanza! child of many +prayers!—in whose earnest eyes, so fathomless, I see my own; and recall +all past delights and silent agonies-thou may’st prove, as the child of +some fond dotard:— beauteous to me; hideous to Mardi! And methinks, that +while so much slaving merits that thou should’st not die; it has not been +intense, prolonged enough, for the high meed of immortality. Yet, things +immortal have been written; and by men as me;—men, who slept and waked; +and ate; and talked with tongues like mine. Ah, Oro! how may we know or not, we +are what we would be? Hath genius any stamp and imprint, obvious to possessors? +Has it eyes to see itself; or is it blind? Or do we delude ourselves with being +gods, and end in grubs? Genius, genius?—a thousand years hence, to be a +household-word?—I?— Lombardo? but yesterday cut in the market-place +by a spangled fool!— Lombardo immortal?—Ha, ha, Lombardo! but thou +art an ass, with vast ears brushing the tops of palms! Ha, ha, ha! Methinks I +see thee immortal! ‘Thus great Lombardo saith; and thus; and thus; and +thus:— thus saith he—illustrious Lombardo!—Lombardo, our +great countryman! Lombardo, prince of poets—Lombardo! great +Lombardo!’—Ha, ha, ha!— go, go! dig thy grave, and bury +thyself!” +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA—He was very funny, then, at times. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Very funny, your Highness:—amazing jolly! And from my +nethermost soul, would to Oro, thou could’st but feel one touch of that +jolly woe! It would appall thee, my Right Worshipful lord Abrazza! +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA (<i>to Media</i>)—My dear lord, his teeth are marvelously white +and sharp: some she-shark must have been his dam:—does he often grin +thus? It was infernal! +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—Ah! that’s Azzageddi. But, prithee, Babbalanja, proceed. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—Your Highness, even in his calmer critic moods, Lombardo was +far from fancying his work. He confesses, that it ever seemed to him but a poor +scrawled copy of something within, which, do what he would, he could not +completely transfer. “My canvas was small,” said he; “crowded +out were hosts of things that came last. But Fate is in it.” And Fate it +was, too, your Highness, which forced Lombardo, ere his work was well done, to +take it off his easel, and send it to be multiplied. “Oh, that I was not +thus spurred!” cried he; “but like many another, in its very +childhood, this poor child of mine must go out into Mardi, and get bread for +its sire.” +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA (<i>with a sigh</i>)—Alas, the poor devil! But methinks +’twas wondrous arrogant in him to talk to all Mardi at that lofty +rate.—Did he think himself a god? +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA—He himself best knew what he thought; but, like all others, he +was created by Oro to some special end; doubtless, partly answered in his +Koztanza. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA—And now that Lombardo is long dead and gone—and his work, +hooted during life, lives after him—what think the present company of it? +Speak, my lord Abrazza! Babbalanja! Mohi! Yoomy! +</p> + +<p> +ABRAZZA (_tapping his sandal with his scepter__)—I never read it. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA (<i>looking upward</i>)—It was written with a divine intent. +</p> + +<p> +Mohi (<i>stroking his beard</i>)—I never hugged it in a corner, and +ignored it before Mardi. +</p> + +<p> +Yoomy (<i>musing</i>)—It has bettered my heart. +</p> + +<p> +MEDIA (<i>rising</i>)—And I have read it through nine times. +</p> + +<p> +BABBALANJA (<i>starting up</i>)—Ah, Lombardo! this must make thy ghost +glad! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0077"></a> +CHAPTER LXXVII.<br/> +They Sup</h2> + +<p> +There seemed something sinister, hollow, heartless, about Abrazza, and that +green-and-yellow, evil-starred crown that he wore. +</p> + +<p> +But why think of that? Though we like not something in the curve of one’s +brow, or distrust the tone of his voice; yet, let us away with suspicions if we +may, and make a jolly comrade of him, in the name of the gods. Miserable! +thrice miserable he, who is forever turning over and over one’s character +in his mind, and weighing by nice avoirdupois, the pros and the cons of his +goodness and badness. For we are all good and bad. Give me the heart +that’s huge as all Asia; and unless a man, be a villain outright, account +him one of the best tempered blades in the world. +</p> + +<p> +That night, in his right regal hall, King Abrazza received us. And in merry +good time a fine supper was spread. +</p> + +<p> +Now, in thus nocturnally regaling us, our host was warranted by many ancient +and illustrious examples. +</p> + +<p> +For old Jove gave suppers; the god Woden gave suppers; the Hindoo deity Brahma +gave suppers; the Red Man’s Great Spirit gave suppers:— chiefly +venison and game. +</p> + +<p> +And many distinguished mortals besides. +</p> + +<p> +Ahasuerus gave suppers; Xerxes gave suppers; Montezuma gave suppers; Powhattan +gave suppers; the Jews’ Passovers were suppers; the Pharaohs gave +suppers; Julius Caesar gave suppers:—and rare ones they were; Great +Pompey gave suppers; Nabob Crassus gave suppers; and Heliogabalus, surnamed the +Gobbler, gave suppers. +</p> + +<p> +It was a common saying of old, that King Pluto gave suppers; some say he is +giving them still. If so, he is keeping tip-top company, old +Pluto:—Emperors and Czars; Great Moguls and Great Khans; Grand Lamas and +Grand Dukes; Prince Regents and Queen Dowagers:—Tamerlane hob-a-nobbing +with Bonaparte; Antiochus with Solyman the Magnificent; Pisistratus pledging +Pilate; Semiramis eating bon-bons with Bloody Mary, and her namesake of +Medicis; the Thirty Tyrants quaffing three to one with the Council of Ten; and +Sultans, Satraps, Viziers, Hetmans, Soldans, Landgraves, Bashaws, Doges, +Dauphins, Infantas, Incas, and Caciques looking on. +</p> + +<p> +Again: at Arbela, the conqueror of conquerors, conquering son of Olympia by +Jupiter himself, sent out cards to his captains,— Hephestion, Antigonus, +Antipater, and the rest—to join him at ten, p.m., in the Temple of Belus; +there, to sit down to a victorious supper, off the gold plate of the Assyrian +High Priests. How majestically he poured out his old Madeira that +night!—feeling grand and lofty as the Himmalehs; yea, all Babylon nodded +her towers in his soul! +</p> + +<p> +Spread, heaped up, stacked with good things; and redolent of citrons and +grapes, hilling round tall vases of wine; and here and there, waving with fresh +orange-boughs, among whose leaves, myriads of small tapers gleamed like +fire-flies in groves,—Abrazza’s glorious board showed like some +banquet in Paradise: Ceres and Pomona presiding; and jolly Bacchus, like a +recruit with a mettlesome rifle, staggering back as he fires off the bottles of +vivacious champagne. +</p> + +<p> +In ranges, roundabout stood living candelabras:—lackeys, gayly bedecked, +with tall torches in their hands; and at one end, stood trumpeters, bugles at +their lips. +</p> + +<p> +“This way, my dear Media!—this seat at my left—Noble +Taji!—my right. Babbalanja!—Mohi—where you are. But +where’s pretty Yoomy?— Gone to meditate in the moonlight? +ah!—Very good. Let the banquet begin. A blast there!” +</p> + +<p> +And charge all did. +</p> + +<p> +The venison, wild boar’s meat, and buffalo-humps, were extraordinary; the +wine, of rare vintages, like bottled lightning; and the first course, a +brilliant affair, went off like a rocket. +</p> + +<p> +But as yet, Babbalanja joined not in the revels. His mood was on him; and apart +he sat; silently eyeing the banquet; and ever and anon +muttering,—“Fogle-foggle, fugle-fi.—” +</p> + +<p> +The first fury of the feast over, said King Media, pouring out from a heavy +flagon into his goblet, “Abrazza, these suppers are wondrous fine +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, my dear lord, much better than dinners.” +</p> + +<p> +“So they are, so they are. The dinner-hour is the summer of the day: full +of sunshine, I grant; but not like the mellow autumn of supper. A dinner, you +know, may go off rather stiffly; but invariably suppers are jovial. At dinners, +’tis not till you take in sail, furl the cloth, bow the lady-passengers +out, and make all snug; ’tis not till then, that one begins to ride out +the gale with complacency. But at these suppers—Good Oro! your cup is +empty, my dear demi-god!—But at these suppers, I say, all is snug and +ship-shape before you begin; and when you begin, you waive the beginning, and +begin in the middle. And as for the cloth,—but tell us, Braid-Beard, what +that old king of Franko, Ludwig the Fat, said of that matter. The cloth for +suppers, you know. It’s down in your chronicles.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,”—wiping his beard,—“Old Ludwig was of +opinion, that at suppers the cloth was superfluous, unless on the back of some +jolly good friar. Said he, ‘For one, I prefer sitting right down to the +unrobed table.’” +</p> + +<p> +“High and royal authority, that of Ludwig the Fat,” said +Babbalanja, “far higher than the authority of Ludwig the Great:—the +one, only great by courtesy; the other, fat beyond a peradventure. But they are +equally famous; and in their graves, both on a par. For after devouring many a +fair province, and grinding the poor of his realm, Ludwig the Great has long +since, himself, been devoured by very small worms, and ground into very fine +dust. And after stripping many a venison rib, Ludwig the Fat has had his own +polished and bleached in the Valley of Death; yea, and his cranium chased with +corrodings, like the carved flagon once held to its jaws.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord! my lord!”—cried Abrazza to Media—“this +ghastly devil of yours grins worse than a skull. I feel the worms crawling over +me!—By Oro we must eject him!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, my lord. Let him sit there, as of old the Death’s-head +graced the feasts of the Pharaohs—let him sit—let him sit—for +Death but imparts a flavor to Life—Go on: wag your tongue without fear, +Azzageddi!—But come, Braid-Beard! let’s hear more of the +Ludwigs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, your Highness, of all the eighteen royal Ludwigs of +Franko—” +</p> + +<p> +“Who like so many ten-pins, all in a row,” interposed +Babbalanja— “have been bowled off the course by grim Death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heed him not,” said Media—“go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Debonnaire, the Pious, the Stammerer, the Do-Nothing, the Juvenile, +the Quarreler:—of all these, I say, Ludwig the Fat was the best table-man +of them all. Such a full orbed paunch was his, that no way could he devise of +getting to his suppers, but by getting right into them. Like the Zodiac his +table was circular, and full in the middle he sat, like a sun;—all his +jolly stews and ragouts revolving around him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yea,” said Babbalanja, “a very round sun was Ludwig the Fat. +No wonder he’s down in the chronicles; several ells about the waist, and +King of cups and Tokay. Truly, a famous king: three hundred-weight of lard, +with a diadem on top: lean brains and a fat doublet—a demijohn of a +demi-god!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this to be longer borne?” cried Abrazza, starting up. +“Quaff that sneer down, devil! on the instant! down with it, to the +dregs! This comes, my lord Media, of having a slow drinker at one’s +board. Like an iceberg, such a fellow frosts the whole atmosphere of a banquet, +and is felt a league off We must thrust him out. Guards!” +</p> + +<p> +“Back! touch him not, hounds!”—cried Media. “Your +pardon, my lord, but we’ll keep him to it; and melt him down in this good +wine. Drink! I command it, drink, Babbalanja!” +</p> + +<p> +“And am I not drinking, my lord? Surely you would not that I should +imbibe more than I can hold. The measure being full, all poured in after that +is but wasted. I am for being temperate in these things, my good lord. And my +one cup outlasts three of yours. Better to sip a pint, than pour down a quart. +All things in moderation are good; whence, wine in moderation is good. But all +things in excess are bad: whence wine in excess is bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away with your logic and conic sections! Drink!—But no, no: I am +too severe. For of all meals a supper should be the most social and free. And +going thereto we kings, my lord, should lay aside our scepters.— Do as +you please Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, you are right, after all, my dear demi-god,” said +Abrazza. “And to say truth, I seldom worry myself with the ways of these +mortals; for no thanks do we demi-gods get. We kings should be ever +indifferent. Nothing like a cold heart; warm ones are ever chafing, and getting +into trouble. I let my mortals here in this isle take heed to themselves; only +barring them out when they would thrust in their petitions. This very instant, +my lord, my yeoman-guard is on duty without, to drive off +intruders.—Hark!—what noise is that?—Ho, who comes?” +</p> + +<p> +At that instant, there burst into the hall, a crowd of spearmen, driven before +a pale, ragged rout, that loudly invoked King Abrazza. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, my lord king, for thus forcing an entrance! But long in vain +have we knocked at thy gates! Our grievances are more than we can bear! Give +ear to our spokesman, we beseech!” +</p> + +<p> +And from their tumultuous midst, they pushed forward a tall, grim, pine-tree of +a fellow, who loomed up out of the throng, like the Peak of Teneriffe among the +Canaries in a storm. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive the knaves out! Ho, cowards, guards, turn about! charge upon them! +Away with your grievances! Drive them out, I say, drive them out!—High +times, truly, my lord Media, when demi-gods are thus annoyed at their wine. Oh, +who would reign over mortals!” +</p> + +<p> +So at last, with much difficulty, the ragged rout were ejected; the Peak of +Teneriffe going last, a pent storm on his brow; and muttering about some black +time that was corning. +</p> + +<p> +While the hoarse murmurs without still echoed through the hall, King Abrazza +refilling his cup thus spoke:—“You were saying, my dear lord, that +of all meals a supper is the most social and free. Very true. And of all +suppers those given by us bachelor demi-gods are the best. Are they not?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are. For Benedict mortals must be home betimes: bachelor demi-gods +are never away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, your Highnesses, bachelors are all the year round at home;” +said Mohi: “sitting out life in the chimney corner, cozy and warm as the +dog, whilome turning the old-fashioned roasting jack.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to us bachelor demi-gods,” cried Media “our to-morrows +are as long rows of fine punches, ranged on a board, and waiting the +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But my good lords,” said Babbalanja, now brightening with wine; +“if, of all suppers those given by bachelors be the best:—of all +bachelors, are not your priests and monks the jolliest? I mean, behind the +scenes? Their prayers all said, and their futurities securely +invested,—who so carefree and cozy as they? Yea, a supper for two in a +friar’s cell in Maramma, is merrier far, than a dinner for +five-and-twenty, in the broad right wing of Donjalolo’s great Palace of +the Morn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Babbalanja!” cried Media, “your iceberg is thawing. +More of that, more of that. Did I not say, we would melt him down at last, my +lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” continued Babbalanja, “bachelors are a noble +fraternity: I’m a bachelor myself. One of ye, in that matter, my lord +demi-gods. And if unlike the patriarchs of the world, we father not our +brigades and battalions; and send not out into the battles of our country whole +regiments of our own individual raising;—yet do we oftentimes leave +behind us goodly houses and lands; rare old brandies and mountain Malagas; and +more especially, warm doublets and togas, and spatterdashes, wherewithal to +keep comfortable those who survive us;— casing the legs and arms, which +others beget. Then compare not invidiously Benedicts with bachelors, since thus +we make an equal division of the duties, which both owe to posterity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppers forever!” cried Media. “See, my lord, what yours has +done for Babbalanja. He came to it a skeleton; but will go away, every bone +padded!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, my lord demi-gods,” said Babbalanja, drop by drop refilling +his goblet. “These suppers are all very fine, very pleasant, and merry. +But we pay for them roundly. Every thing, my good lords, has its price, from a +marble to a world. And easier of digestion, and better for both body and soul, +are a half-haunch of venison and a gallon of mead, taken under the sun at +meridian, than the soft bridal breast of a partridge, with some gentle negus, +at the noon of night!” +</p> + +<p> +“No lie that!” said Mohi. “Beshrew me, in no well-appointed +mansion doth the pantry lie adjoining the sleeping chamber. A good thought: +I’ll fill up, and ponder on it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let not Azzageddi get uppermost again, Babbalanja,” cried Media. +“Your goblet is only half-full.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit it to remain so; my lord. For whoso takes much wine to bed with +him, has a bedfellow, more restless than a somnambulist. And though Wine be a +jolly blade at the board, a sulky knave is he under a blanket. I know him of +old. Yet, your Highness, for all this, to many a Mardian, suppers are still +better than dinners, at whatever cost purchased. Forasmuch, as many have more +leisure to sup, than dine. And though you demi-gods, may dine at your ease; and +dine it out into night: and sit and chirp over your Burgundy, till the morning +larks join your crickets, and wed matins to vespers;—far otherwise, with +us plebeian mortals. From our dinners, we must hie to our anvils: and the last +jolly jorum evaporates in a cark and a care.” +</p> + +<p> +“Methinks he relapses,” said Abrazza. +</p> + +<p> +“It waxes late,” said Mohi; “your Highnesses, is it not time +to break up?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!”, cried Abrazza; “let the day break when it will: +but no breakings for us. It’s only midnight. This way with the wine; pass +it along, my dear Media. We are young yet, my sweet lord; light hearts and +heavy purses; short prayers and long rent-rolls. Pass round the Tokay! We +demi-gods have all our old age for a dormitory. Come!—Round and round +with the flagons! Let them disappear like mile-stones on a race-course!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” murmured Babbalanja, holding his full goblet at arm’s +length on the board, “not thus with the hapless wight, born with a hamper +on his back, and blisters in his palms.—Toil and sleep—sleep and +toil, are his days and his nights; he goes to bed with a lumbago, and wakes +with the rheumatics;—I know what it is;—he snatches lunches, not +dinners, and makes of all life a cold snack! Yet praise be to Oro, though to +such men dinners are scarce worth the eating; nevertheless, praise Oro again, a +good supper is something. Off jack-boots; nay, off shirt, if you will, and go +at it. Hurrah! the fagged day is done: the last blow is an echo. Twelve long +hours to sunrise! And would it were an Antarctic night, and six months to +to-morrow! But, hurrah! the very bees have their hive, and after a day’s +weary wandering, hie home to their honey. So they stretch out their stiff legs, +rub their lame elbows, and putting their tired right arms in a sling, set the +others to fetching and carrying from dishes to dentals, from foaming flagon to +the demijohn which never pours out at the end you pour in. Ah! after all, the +poorest devil in Mardi lives not in vain. There’s a soft side to the +hardest oak-plank in the world!” +</p> + +<p> +“Methinks I have heard some such sentimental gabble as this before from +my slaves, my lord,” said Abrazza to Media. “It has the old +gibberish flavor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gibberish, your Highness? Gibberish? I’m full of +it—I’m a gibbering ghost, my right worshipful lord! Here, pass your +hand through me— here, <i>here</i>, and scorch it where I most burn. By +Oro! King! but I will gibe and gibber at thee, till thy crown feels like +another skull clapped on thy own. Gibberish? ay, in hell we’ll gibber in +concert, king! we’ll howl, and roast, and hiss together!” +</p> + +<p> +“Devil that thou art, begone! Ho, guards! seize him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Back, curs!” cried Media. “Harm not a hair of his head. I +crave pardon, King Abrazza, but no violence must be done Babbalanja.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trumpets there!” said Abrazza; “so: the banquet is +done—lights for King Media! Good-night, my lord!” +</p> + +<p> +Now, thus, for the nonce, with good cheer, we close. And after many fine +dinners and banquets—through light and through shade; through mirth, +sorrow, and all—drawing nigh to the evening end of these wanderings +wild—meet is it that all should be regaled with a supper. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0078"></a> +CHAPTER LXXVIII.<br/> +They Embark</h2> + +<p> +Next morning, King Abrazza sent frigid word to Media that the day was very fine +for yachting; but he much regretted that indisposition would prevent his making +one of the party, who that morning doubtless would depart his isle. +</p> + +<p> +“My compliments to your king,” said Media to the chamberlains, +“and say the royal notice to quit was duly received.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take Azzageddi’s also,” said Babbalanja; “and say, I +hope his Highness will not fail in his appointment with me:—the first +midnight after he dies; at the grave-yard corner;—there I’ll be, +and grin again!” +</p> + +<p> +Sailing on, the next land we saw was thickly wooded: hedged round about by +mangrove trees; which growing in the water, yet lifted high their boughs. Here +and there were shady nooks, half verdure and half water. Fishes rippled, and +canaries sung. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us break through, my lord,” said Yoomy, “and seek the +shore. Its solitudes must prove reviving.” “Solitudes they +are,” cried Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Peopled but not enlivened,” said Babbalanja. “Hard landing +here, minstrel! see you not the isle is hedged?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, break through, then,” said Media. “Yillah is not +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mistrusted it,” sighed Yoomy; “an imprisoned island! full +of uncomplaining woes: like many others we must have glided by, unheedingly. +Yet of them have I heard. This isle many pass, marking its outward brightness, +but dreaming not of the sad secrets here embowered. Haunt of the hopeless! In +those inland woods brood Mardians who have tasted Mardi, and found it +bitter—the draught so sweet to others!—maidens whose unimparted +bloom has cankered in the bud; and children, with eyes averted from +life’s dawn—like those new-oped morning blossoms which, foreseeing +storms, turn and close.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yoomy’s rendering of the truth,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Why land, then?” said Media. “No merry man of sense—no +demi-god like me, will do it. Let’s away; let’s see all +that’s pleasant, or that seems so, in our circuit, and, if possible, shun +the sad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we have circled not the round reef wholly,” said Babbalanja, +“but made of it a segment. For this is far from being the first sad land, +my lord, that we have slighted at your instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more. I will have no gloom. A chorus! there, ye paddlers! spread all +your sails; ply paddles; breeze up, merry winds!” +</p> + +<p> +And so, in the saffron sunset, we neared another shore. +</p> + +<p> +A gloomy-looking land! black, beetling crags, rent by volcanic clefts; ploughed +up with water-courses, and dusky with charred woods. The beach was strewn with +scoria and cinders; in dolorous soughs, a chill wind blew; wails issued from +the caves; and yellow, spooming surges, lashed the moaning strand. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we land?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Not here,” cried Yoomy; “no Yillah here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Media. “This is another of those lands far better +to avoid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Know ye not,” said Mohi, “that here are the mines of King +Klanko, whose scourged slaves, toiling in their pits, so nigh approach the +volcano’s bowels, they hear its rumblings? ‘Yet they must work +on,’ cries Klanko, ‘the mines still yield!’ And daily his +slaves’ bones are brought above ground, mixed with the metal +masses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Set all sail there, men! away!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord,” said Babbalanja; “still must we shun the +unmitigated evil; and only view the good; or evil so mixed therewith, the +mixture’s both?” +</p> + +<p> +Half vailed in misty clouds, the harvest-moon now rose; and in that pale and +haggard light, all sat silent; each man in his own secret mood: best knowing +his own thoughts. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0079"></a> +CHAPTER LXXIX.<br/> +Babbalanja At The Full Of The Moon</h2> + +<p> +“Ho, mortals! Go we to a funeral, that our paddles seem thus muffled? Up +heart, Taji! or does that witch Hautia haunt thee? Be a demi-god once more, and +laugh. Her flowers are not barbs; and the avengers’ arrows are too blunt +to slay. Babbalanja! Mohi! Yoomy! up heart! up heart!—By Oro! I will +debark the whole company on the next land we meet. No tears for me. Ha, ha! let +us laugh. Ho, Vee-Vee! awake; quick, boy,—some wine! and let us make +glad, beneath the glad moon. Look! it is stealing forth from its clouds. +Perdition to Hautia! Long lives, and merry ones to ourselves! Taji, my charming +fellow, here’s to you:—May your heart be a stone! Ha, +ha!—will nobody join me? My laugh is lonely as his who laughed in his +tomb. Come, laugh; will no one quaff wine, I say? See! the round moon is +abroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say you so, my lord? then for one, I am with you;” cried +Babbalanja. “Fill me a brimmer. Ah! but this wine leaps through me like a +panther. Ay, let us laugh: let us roar: let us yell! What, if I was sad but +just now? Life is an April day, that both laughs and weeps in a breath. But +whoso is wise, laughs when he can. Men fly from a groan; but run to a laugh. +Vee-Vee! your gourd. My lord, let me help you. Ah, how it sparkles! Cups, cups, +Vee-Vee, more cups! Here, Taji, take that: Mohi, take that: Yoomy, take that. +And now let us drown away grief. Ha! ha! the house of mourning, is deserted, +though of old good cheer kept the funeral guests; and so keep I mine; here I +sit by my dead, and replenish your wine cups. Old Mohi, your cup: Yoomy, yours: +ha! ha! let us laugh, let us scream! Weeds are put off at a fair; no heart +bursts but in secret; it is good to laugh, though the laugh be hollow; and wise +to make merry, now and for aye. Laugh, and make friends: weep, and they go. +Women sob, and are rid of their grief: men laugh, and retain it. There is +laughter in heaven, and laughter in hell. And a deep thought whose language is +laughter. Though wisdom be wedded to woe, though the way thereto is by tears, +yet all ends in a shout. But wisdom wears no weeds; woe is more merry than +mirth; ’tis a shallow grief that is sad. Ha! ha! how demoniacs shout; how +all skeletons grin; we all die with a rattle. Laugh! laugh! Are the cherubim +grave? Humor, thy laugh is divine; whence, mirth-making idiots have been +revered; and therefore may I. Ho! let us be gay, if it be only for an hour, and +Death hand us the goblet. Vee-Vee! bring on your gourds! Let us pledge each +other in bumpers!—let us laugh, laugh, laugh it out to the last. All +sages have laughed,—let us; Bardianna laughed, let us; Demorkriti +laughed,—let us: Amoree laughed,—let us; Rabeelee roared,—let +us; the hyenas grin, the jackals yell,—let us.—But you don’t +laugh, my lord? laugh away!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you, Azzageddi, not after that infernal fashion; better +weep.” +</p> + +<p> +“He makes me crawl all over, as if I were an ant-hill,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s mad, mad, mad!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, mad, mad, mad!—mad as the mad fiend that rides me!—But +come, sweet minstrel, wilt list to a song?—We madmen are all poets, you +know:—Ha! ha!— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Stars laugh in the sky:<br/> + Oh fugle-fi I<br/> +The waves dimple below:<br/> + Oh fugle-fo! +</p> + +<p> +“The wind strikes her dulcimers; the groves give a shout; the hurricane +is only an hysterical laugh; and the lightning that blasts, blasts only in +play. We must laugh or we die; to laugh is to live. Not to laugh is to have the +tetanus. Will you weep? then laugh while you weep. For mirth and sorrow are +kin; are published by identical nerves. Go, Yoomy: go study anatomy: there is +much to be learned from the dead, more than you may learn from the living and I +am dead though I live; and as soon dissect myself as another; I curiously look +into my secrets: and grope under my ribs. I have found that the heart is not +whole, but divided; that it seeks a soft cushion whereon to repose; that it +vitalizes the blood; which else were weaker than water: I have found that we +can not live without hearts; though the heartless live longest. Yet hug your +hearts, ye handful that have them; ’tis a blessed inheritance! Thus, +thus, my lord, I run on; from one pole to the other; from this thing to that. +But so the great world goes round, and in one Somerset, shows the sun +twenty-five thousand miles of a landscape!” +</p> + +<p> +At that instant, down went the fiery full-moon, and the Dog-Star; and far down +into Media, a Tivoli of wine. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0080"></a> +CHAPTER LXXX.<br/> +Morning</h2> + +<p> +Life or death, weal or woe, the sun stays not his course. On: over battle-field +and bower; over tower, and town, he speeds,—peers in at births, and +death-beds; lights up cathedral, mosque, and pagan shrine;—laughing over +all;—a very Democritus in the sky; and in one brief day sees more than +any pilgrim in a century’s round. +</p> + +<p> +So, the sun; nearer heaven than we:—with what mind, then, may blessed Oro +downward look. +</p> + +<p> +It was a purple, red, and yellow East;—streaked, and crossed. And down +from breezy mountains, robust and ruddy Morning came,—a plaided +Highlander, waving his plumed bonnet to the isles. +</p> + +<p> +Over the neighboring groves the larks soared high; and soaring, sang in +jubilees; while across our bows, between two isles, a mighty moose swam stately +as a seventy-four; and backward tossed his antlered wilderness in air. +</p> + +<p> +Just bounding from fresh morning groves, with the brine he mixed the dew of +leaves,—his antlers dripping on the swell, that rippled before his brown +and bow-like chest. +</p> + +<p> +“Five hundred thousand centuries since,” said Babbalanja, +“this same sight was seen. With Oro, the sun is co-eternal; and the same +life that moves that moose, animates alike the sun and Oro. All are parts of +One. In me, in <i>me</i>, flit thoughts participated by the beings peopling all +the stars. Saturn, and Mercury, and Mardi, are brothers, one and all; and +across their orbits, to each other talk, like souls. Of these things what +chapters might be writ! Oh! that flesh can not keep pace with spirit. Oh! that +these myriad germ-dramas in me, should so perish hourly, for lack of power +mechanic.—Worlds pass worlds in space, as men, men,—in +thoroughfares; and after periods of thousand years, cry:—“Well met, +my friend, again!”—To me to <i>me</i>, they talk in mystic music; I +hear them think through all their zones. —Hail, furthest worlds! and all +the beauteous beings in ye! Fan me, sweet Zenora! with thy twilight +wings!—Ho! let’s voyage to Aldebaran.—Ha! indeed, a ruddy +world! What a buoyant air! Not like to Mardi, this. Ruby columns: minarets of +amethyst: diamond domes! Who is this?—a god? What a lake-like brow! +transparent as the morning air. I see his thoughts like worlds +revolving—and in his eyes—like unto heavens—soft falling +stars are shooting.—How these thousand passing wings winnow away my +breath:—I faint:—back, back to some small asteroid.—Sweet +being! if, by Mardian word I may address thee— speak!—‘I bear +a soul in germ within me; I feel the first, faint trembling, like to a +harp-string, vibrate in my inmost being. Kill me, and generations +die.’—So, of old, the unbegotten lived within the virgin; who then +loved her God, as new-made mothers their babes ere born. Oh, Alma, Alma, +Alma!—Fangs off, fiend!—will that name ever lash thee into +foam?—Smite not my face so, forked flames!” +</p> + +<p> +“Babbalanja! Babbalanja! rouse, man! rouse! Art in hell and damned, that +thy sinews so snake-like coil and twist all over thee? Thy brow is black as +Ops! Turn, turn! see yonder moose!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hail! mighty brute!—thou feelest not these things: never canst +<i>thou</i> be damned. Moose! would thy soul were mine; for if that scorched +thing, mine, be immortal—so thine; and thy life hath not the +consciousness of death. I read profound +placidity—deep—million— violet fathoms down, in that soft, +pathetic, woman eye! What is man’s shrunk form to thine, thou woodland +majesty?—Moose, moose!—my soul is shot again—Oh, Oro! +Oro!” +</p> + +<p> +“He falls!” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Mark the agony in his waning eye,” said Yoomy;—“alas, +poor Babbalanja! Is this thing of madness conscious to thyself? If ever thou +art sane again, wilt thou have reminiscences? Take my robe:— here, I +strip me to cover thee and all thy woes. Oro! by this, thy being’s side, +I kneel:—grant death or happiness to Babbalanja!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0081"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXI.<br/> +L’ultima Sera</h2> + +<p> +Thus far, through myriad islands, had we searched: of all, no one pen may +write: least, mine;—and still no trace of Yillah. +</p> + +<p> +But though my hopes revived not from their ashes; yet, so much of Mardi had we +searched, it seemed as if the long pursuit must, ere many moons, be ended; +whether for weal or woe, my frenzy sometimes reeked not. +</p> + +<p> +After its first fair morning flushings, all that day was overcast. We sailed +upon an angry sea, beneath an angry sky. Deep scowled on deep; and in dun +vapors, the blinded sun went down, unseen; though full toward the West our +three prows were pointed; steadfast as three printed points upon the +compass-card. +</p> + +<p> +“When we set sail from Odo, ’twas a glorious morn in spring,” +said Yoomy; “toward the rising sun we steered. But now, beneath autumnal +night-clouds, we hasten to its setting.” +</p> + +<p> +“How now?” cried Media; “why is the minstrel +mournful?—He whose place it is to chase away despondency: not be its +minister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my lord, so <i>thou</i> thinkest. But better can my verses soothe +the sad, than make them light of heart. Nor are we minstrels so gay of soul as +Mardi deems us. The brook that sings the sweetest, murmurs through the +loneliest woods: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The isles hold thee not, thou departed!<br/> + From thy bower, now issues no lay:—<br/> +In vain we recall perished warblings:<br/> + Spring birds, to far climes, wing their way!” +</p> + +<p> +As Yoomy thus sang; unmindful of the lay, with paddle plying, in low, pleasant +tones, thus hummed to himself our bowsman, a gamesome wight:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Ho! merrily ho! we paddlers sail!<br/> +Ho! over sea-dingle, and dale!—<br/> + Our pulses fly,<br/> + Our hearts beat high,<br/> +Ho! merrily, merrily, ho! +</p> + +<p> +But a sudden splash, and a shrill, gurgling sound, like that of a fountain +subsiding, now broke upon the air. Then all was still, save the rush of the +waves by our keels. +</p> + +<p> +“Save him! Put back!” +</p> + +<p> +From his elevated seat, the merry bowsman, too gleefully reaching forward, had +fallen into the lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +With all haste, our speeding canoes were reversed; but not till we had darted +in upon another darkness than that in which the bowsman fell. +</p> + +<p> +As, blindly, we groped back, deep Night dived deeper down in the sea. +</p> + +<p> +“Drop paddles all, and list.” +</p> + +<p> +Holding their breath, over the six gunwales all now leaned; but the only moans +were the wind’s. +</p> + +<p> +Long time we lay thus; then slowly crossed and recrossed our track, almost +hopeless; but yet loth to leave him who, with a song in his mouth, died and was +buried in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us away,” said Media—“why seek more? He is +gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, gone,” said Babbalanja, “and whither? But a moment +since, he was among us: now, the fixed stars are not more remote than he. So +far off, can he live? Oh, Oro! this death thou ordainest, unmans the manliest. +Say not nay, my lord. Let us not speak behind Death’s back. Hard and +horrible is it to die: blindfold to leap from life’s verge! But thus, in +clouds of dust, and with a trampling as of hoofs, the generations disappear; +death driving them all into his treacherous fold, as wild Indians the bison +herds. Nay, nay, Death is Life’s last despair. Hard and horrible is it to +die. Oro himself, in Alma, died not without a groan. Yet why, why live? Life is +wearisome to all: the same dull round. Day and night, summer and winter, round +about us revolving for aye. One moment lived, is a life. No new stars appear in +the sky; no new lights in the soul. Yet, of changes there are many. For though, +with rapt sight, in childhood, we behold many strange things beneath the moon, +and all Mardi looks a tented fair— how soon every thing fades. All of us, +in our very bodies, outlive our own selves. I think of green youth as of a +merry playmate departed; and to shake hands, and be pleasant with my old age, +seems in prospect even harder, than to draw a cold stranger to my bosom. But +old age is not for me. I am not of the stuff that grows old. This Mardi is not +our home. Up and down we wander, like exiles transported to a planet +afar:—’tis not the world <i>we</i> were born in; not the world once +so lightsome and gay; not the world where we once merrily danced, dined, and +supped; and wooed, and wedded our long-buried wives. Then let us depart. But +whither? We push ourselves forward then, start back in affright. Essay it +again, and flee. Hard to live; hard to die; intolerable suspense! But the grim +despot at last interposes; and with a viper in our winding-sheets, we are +dropped in the sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“To me,” said Mohi, his gray locks damp with night-dews, +“death’s dark defile at times seems at hand, with no voice to +cheer. That all have died, makes it not easier for me to depart. And that many +have been quenched in infancy seems a mercy to the slow perishing of my old +age, limb by limb and sense by sense. I have long been the tomb of my youth. +And more has died out of me, already, than remains for the last death to +finish. Babbalanja says truth. In childhood, death stirred me not; in middle +age, it pursued me like a prowling bandit on the road; now, grown an old man, +it boldly leads the way; and ushers me on; and turns round upon me its skeleton +gaze: poisoning the last solaces of life. Maramma but adds to my gloom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Death! death!” cried Yoomy, “must I be not, and millions be? +Must I go, and the flowers still bloom? Oh, I have marked what it is to be +dead;—how shouting boys, of holidays, hide-and-seek among the tombs, +which must hide all seekers at last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Clouds on clouds!” cried Media, “but away with them all! Why +not leap your graves, while ye may? Time to die, when death comes, without +dying by inches. ’Tis no death, to die; the only death is the fear of it. +I, a demi-god, fear death not.” +</p> + +<p> +“But when the jackals howl round you?” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive them off! Die the demi-god’s death! On his last couch of +crossed spears, my brave old sire cried, ‘Wine, wine; strike up, conch +and cymbal; let the king die to martial melodies!’” +</p> + +<p> +“More valiant dying, than dead,” said Babbalanja. “Our end of +the winding procession resounds with music and flaunts with banners with brave +devices: ‘Cheer up!’ ‘Fear not!’ ‘Millions have +died before!’— but in the endless van, not a pennon streams; all +there, is silent and solemn. The last wisdom is dumb.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence ensued; during which, each dip of the paddles in the now calm water, +fell full and long upon the ear. +</p> + +<p> +Anon, lifting his head, Babbalanja thus:—“Yillah still eludes us. +And in all this tour of Mardi, how little have we found to fill the heart with +peace: how much to slaughter all our yearnings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Croak no more, raven!” cried Media. “Mardi is full of +spring-time sights, and jubilee sounds. I never was sad in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But for thy one laugh, my lord, how many groans! Were all happy, or all +miserable,—more tolerable then, than as it is. But happiness and misery +are so broadly marked, that this Mardi may be the retributive future of some +forgotten past.—Yet vain our surmises. Still vainer to say, that all +Mardi is but a means to an end; that this life is a state of probation: that +evil is but permitted for a term; that for specified ages a rebel angel is +viceroy.—Nay, nay. Oro delegates his scepter to none; in his everlasting +reign there are no interregnums; and Time is Eternity; and we live in Eternity +now. Yet, some tell of a hereafter, where all the mysteries of life will be +over; and the sufferings of the virtuous recompensed. Oro is just, they +say.—Then always,—now, and evermore. But to make restitution +implies a wrong; and Oro can do no wrong. Yet what seems evil to us, may be +good to him. If he fears not, nor hopes,—he has no other passion; no +ends, no purposes. He lives content; all ends are compassed in Him; He has no +past, no future; He is the everlasting now; which is an everlasting calm; and +things that are, have been,— will be. This gloom’s enough. But +hoot! hoot! the night-owl ranges through the woodlands of Maramma; its dismal +notes pervade our lives; and when we would fain depart in peace, that bird +flies on before:— cloud-like, eclipsing our setting suns, and filling the +air with dolor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too true!” cried Yoomy. “Our calms must come by storms. Like +helmless vessels, tempest-tossed, our only anchorage is when we founder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our beginnings,” murmured Mohi, “are lost in clouds; we live +in darkness all our days, and perish without an end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Croak on, cowards!” cried Media, “and fly before the hideous +phantoms that pursue ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“No coward he, who hunted, turns and finds no foe to fight,” said +Babbalanja. “Like the stag, whose brow is beat with wings of hawks, +perched in his heavenward antlers; so I, blinded, goaded, headlong, rush! this +way and that; nor knowing whither; one forest wide around!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0082"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXII.<br/> +They Sail From Night To Day</h2> + +<p> +Ere long the three canoes lurched heavily in a violent swell. Like palls, the +clouds swept to and fro, hooding the gibbering winds. At every head-beat wave, +our arching prows reared up, and shuddered; the night ran out in rain. +</p> + +<p> +Whither to turn we knew not; nor what haven to gain; so dense the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +But at last, the storm was over. Our shattered prows seemed gilded. Day dawned; +and from his golden vases poured red wine upon the waters. +</p> + +<p> +That flushed tide rippled toward us; floating from the east, a lone canoe; in +which, there sat a mild, old man; a palm-bough in his hand: a bird’s +beak, holding amaranth and myrtles, his slender prow. +</p> + +<p> +“Alma’s blessing upon ye, voyagers! ye look storm-worn.” +</p> + +<p> +“The storm we have survived, old man; and many more, we yet must +ride,” said Babbalanja. +</p> + +<p> +“The sun is risen; and all is well again. We but need to repair our +prows,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, turn aside to Serenia, a pleasant isle, where all are welcome; +where many storm-worn rovers land at last to dwell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Serenia?” said Babbalanja; “methinks Serenia is that land of +enthusiasts, of which we hear, my lord; where Mardians pretend to the unnatural +conjunction of reason with things revealed; where Alma, they say, is restored +to his divine original; where, deriving their principles from the same sources +whence flow the persecutions of Maramma,—men strive to live together in +gentle bonds of peace and charity;—folly! folly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Media; “much is said of those people of Serenia; +but their social fabric must soon fall to pieces; it is based upon the idlest +of theories. Thanks for thy courtesy, old man, but we care not to visit thy +isle. Our voyage has an object, which, something tells me, will not be gained +by touching at thy shores. Elsewhere we may refit. Farewell! ’Tis +breezing; set the sails! Farewell, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay! think again; the distance is but small; the wind +fair,—but ’tis ever so, thither;—come: we, people of Serenia, +are most anxious to be seen of Mardi; so that if our manner of life seem good, +all Mardi may live as we. In blessed Alma’s name, I pray ye, come!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we then, my lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lead on, old man! We will e’en see this wondrous isle.” +</p> + +<p> +So, guided by the venerable stranger, by noon we descried an island blooming +with bright savannas, and pensive with peaceful groves. +</p> + +<p> +Wafted from this shore, came balm of flowers, and melody of birds: a thousand +summer sounds and odors. The dimpled tide sang round our splintered prows; the +sun was high in heaven, and the waters were deep below. +</p> + +<p> +“The land of Love!” the old man murmured, as we neared the beach, +where innumerable shells were gently rolling in the playful surf, and murmuring +from their tuneful valves. Behind, another, and a verdant surf played against +lofty banks of leaves; where the breeze, likewise, found its shore. +</p> + +<p> +And now, emerging from beneath the trees, there came a goodly multitude in +flowing robes; palm-branches in their hands; and as they came, they +sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Hail! voyagers, hail!<br/> +Whence e’er ye come, where’er ye rove,<br/> + No calmer strand,<br/> + No sweeter land,<br/> +Will e’er ye view, than the Land of Love!<br/> +<br/> + Hail! voyagers, hail!<br/> +To these, our shores, soft gales invite:<br/> + The palm plumes wave,<br/> + The billows lave,<br/> +And hither point fix’d stars of light!<br/> +<br/> + Hail! voyagers, hail!<br/> +Think not our groves wide brood with gloom;<br/> + In this, our isle,<br/> + Bright flowers smile:<br/> +Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom.<br/> +<br/> + Hail! voyagers, hail!<br/> +Be not deceived; renounce vain things;<br/> + Ye may not find<br/> + A tranquil mind,<br/> +Though hence ye sail with swiftest wings.<br/> +<br/> + Hail! voyagers, hail!<br/> +Time flies full fast; life soon is o’er;<br/> + And ye may mourn,<br/> + That hither borne,<br/> +Ye left behind our pleasant shore. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0083"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXIII.<br/> +They Land</h2> + +<p> +The song was ended; and as we gained the strand, the crowd embraced us; and +called us brothers; ourselves and our humblest attendants. +</p> + +<p> +“Call ye us brothers, whom ere now ye never saw?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” said the old man, “is not Oro the father of all? +Then, are we not brothers? Thus Alma, the master, hath commanded.” +</p> + +<p> +“This was not our reception in Maramma,” said Media, “the +appointed place of Alma; where his precepts are preserved.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Babbalanja; “old man! your lesson of +brotherhood was learned elsewhere than from Alma; for in Maramma and in all its +tributary isles true brotherhood there is none. Even in the Holy Island many +are oppressed; for heresies, many murdered; and thousands perish beneath the +altars, groaning with offerings that might relieve them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! too true. But I beseech ye, judge not Alma by all those who +profess his faith. Hast thou thyself his records searched?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fully, I have not. So long, even from my infancy, have I witnessed the +wrongs committed in his name; the sins and inconsistencies of his followers; +that thinking all evil must flow from a congenial fountain, I have scorned to +study the whole record of your Master’s life. By parts I only know +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! baneful error! But thus is it, brothers!! that the wisest are set +against the Truth, because of those who wrest it from itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do ye then claim to live what your Master hath spoken? Are your precepts +practices?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing do we claim: we but earnestly endeavor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me not of your endeavors, but of your life. What hope for the +fatherless among ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Adopted as a son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of one poor, and naked?” +</p> + +<p> +“Clothed, and he wants for naught.” +</p> + +<p> +“If ungrateful, he smite you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Still we feed and clothe him.” +</p> + +<p> +“If yet an ingrate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Long, he can not be; for Love is a fervent fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what, if widely he dissent from your belief in Alma;—then, +surely, ye must cast him forth?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; we will remember, that if he dissent from us, we then equally +dissent from him; and men’s faculties are Oro-given. Nor will we say that +he is wrong, and we are right; for this we know not, absolutely. But we care +not for men’s words; we look for creeds in actions; which are the +truthful symbols of the things within. He who hourly prays to Alma, but lives +not up to world-wide love and charity—that man is more an unbeliever than +he who verbally rejects the Master, but does his bidding. Our lives are our +Amens.” +</p> + +<p> +“But some say that what your Alma teaches is wholly new—a +revelation of things before unimagined, even by the poets. To do his bidding, +then, some new faculty must be vouchsafed, whereby to apprehend aright.” +</p> + +<p> +“So have I always thought,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“If Alma teaches love, I want no gift to learn,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“All that is vital in the Master’s faith, lived here in Mardi, and +in humble dells was practiced, long previous to the Master’s coming. But +never before was virtue so lifted up among us, that all might see; never before +did rays from heaven descend to glorify it, But are Truth, Justice, and Love, +the revelations of Alma alone? Were they never heard of till he came? Oh! Alma +but opens unto us our own hearts. Were his precepts strange we would +recoil—not one feeling would respond; whereas, once hearkened to, our +souls embrace them as with the instinctive tendrils of a vine.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Babbalanja, “since Alma, they say, was solely +intent upon the things of the Mardi to come—which to all, must seem +uncertain—of what benefit his precepts for the daily lives led +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would! would that Alma might once more descend! Brother! were the turf +our everlasting pillow, still would the Master’s faith answer a blessed +end;—making us more truly happy <i>here</i>. <i>That</i> is the first and +chief result; for holy here, we must be holy elsewhere. ’Tis Mardi, to +which loved Alma gives his laws; not Paradise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Full soon will I be testing all these things,” murmured Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“Old man,” said Media, “thy years and Mohi’s lead ye +both to dwell upon the unknown future. But speak to me of other themes. Tell me +of this island and its people. From all I have heard, and now behold, I gather +that here there dwells no king; that ye are left to yourselves; and that this +mystic Love, ye speak of, is your ruler. Is it so? Then, are ye full as +visionary, as Mardi rumors. And though for a time, ye may have +prospered,—long, ye can not be, without some sharp lesson to convince ye, +that your faith in Mardian virtue is entirely vain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truth. We have no king; for Alma’s precepts rebuke the arrogance +of place and power. He is the tribune of mankind; nor will his true faith be +universal Mardi’s, till our whole race is kingless. But think not we +believe in man’s perfection. Yet, against all good, he is not absolutely +set. In his heart, there is a germ. <i>That</i> we seek to foster. To +<i>that</i> we cling; else, all were hopeless!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your social state?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is imperfect; and long must so remain. But we make not the miserable +many support the happy few. Nor by annulling reason’s laws, seek to breed +equality, by breeding anarchy. In all things, equality is not for all. Each has +his own. Some have wider groves of palms than others; fare better; dwell in +more tasteful arbors; oftener renew their fragrant thatch. Such differences +must be. But none starve outright, while others feast. By the abounding, the +needy are supplied. Yet not by statute, but from dictates, born half dormant in +us, and warmed into life by Alma. Those dictates we but follow in all we do; we +are not dragged to righteousness; but go running. Nor do we live in common. For +vice and virtue blindly mingled, form a union where vice too often proves the +alkali. The vicious we make dwell apart, until reclaimed. And reclaimed they +soon must be, since every thing invites. The sin of others rests not upon our +heads: none we drive to crime. Our laws are not of vengeance bred, but Love and +Alma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine poetry all this,” said Babbalanja, “but not so new. Oft +do they warble thus in bland Maramma!” +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds famously, old man!” said Media, “but men are men. +Some must starve; some be scourged.—Your doctrines are +impracticable.” +</p> + +<p> +“And are not these things enjoined by Alma? And would Alma inculcate the +impossible? of what merit, his precepts, unless they may be practiced? But, I +beseech ye, speak no more of Maramma. Alas! did Alma revisit Mardi, think you, +it would be among those Morals he would lay his head?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Babbalanja, “as an intruder he came; and an +intruder would he be this day. On all sides, would he jar our social +systems.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not here, not here! Rather would we welcome Alma hungry and athirst, +than though he came floating hither on the wings of seraphs; the blazing zodiac +his diadem! In all his aspects we adore him; needing no pomp and power to +kindle worship. Though he came from Oro; though he did miracles; though through +him is life;—not for these things alone, do we thus love him. We love him +from, an instinct in us;—a fond, filial, reverential feeling. And this +would yet stir in our souls, were death our end; and Alma incapable of +befriending us. We love him because we do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this man divine?” murmured Babbalanja. “But thou speakest +most earnestly of adoring Alma:—I see no temples in your groves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because this isle is all one temple to his praise; every leaf is +consecrated his. We fix not Alma here and there; and say,—‘those +groves for Him, and these broad fields for us.’ It is all his own; and we +ourselves; our every hour of life; and all we are, and have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, ye forever fast and pray; and stand and sing; as at long intervals +the censer-bearers in Maramma supplicate their gods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alma forbid! We never fast; our aspirations are our prayers; our lives +are worship. And when we laugh, with human joy at human things, +—<i>then</i> do we most sound great Oro’s praise, and prove the +merit of sweet Alma’s love! Our love in Alma makes us glad, not sad. Ye +speak of temples;—behold! ’tis by not building <i>them</i>, that we +widen charity among us. The treasures which, in the islands round about, are +lavished on a thousand fanes;—with these we every day relieve the +Master’s suffering disciples. In Mardi, Alma preached in open fields, +—and must his worshipers have palaces?” +</p> + +<p> +“No temples, then no priests;” said Babbalanja, “for few +priests will enter where lordly arches form not the portal.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have no priests, but one; and he is Alma’s self. We have his +precepts: we seek no comments but our hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“But without priests and temples, how long will flourish this your +faith?” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“For many ages has not this faith lived, in spite of priests and temples? +and shall it not survive them? What we believe, we hold divine; and things +divine endure forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how enlarge your bounds? how convert the vicious, without persuasion +of some special seers? Must your religion go hand in hand with all things +secular?” +</p> + +<p> +“We hold not, that one man’s words should be a gospel to the rest; +but that Alma’s words should be a gospel to us all. And not by precepts +would we have some few endeavor to persuade; but all, by practice, fix +convictions, that the life we lead is the life for all. We are apostles, every +one. Where’er we go, our faith we carry in our hands, and hearts. It is +our chiefest joy. We do not put it wide away six days out of seven; and then, +assume it. In it we all exult, and joy; as that which makes us happy here; as +that, without which, we could be happy nowhere; as something meant for this +time present, and henceforth for aye. It is our vital mode of being; not an +incident. And when we die, this faith shall be our pillow; and when we rise, +our staff; and at the end, our crown. For we are all immortal. Here, Alma joins +with our own hearts, confirming nature’s promptings.” +</p> + +<p> +“How eloquent he is!” murmured Babbalanja. “Some black cloud +seems floating from me. I begin to see. I come out in light. The sharp fang +tears me less. The forked flames wane. My soul sets back like ocean streams, +that sudden change their flow. Have I been sane? Quickened in me is a hope. But +pray you, old man—say on—methinks, that in your faith must be much +that jars with reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, brother! Right-reason, and Alma, are the same; else Alma, not +reason, would we reject. The Master’s great command is Love; and here do +all things wise, and all things good, unite. Love is all in all. The more we +love, the more we know; and so reversed. Oro we love; this isle; and our wide +arms embrace all Mardi like its reef. How can we err, thus feeling? We hear +loved Alma’s pleading, prompting voice, in every breeze, in every leaf; +we see his earnest eye in every star and flower.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poetry!” cried Yoomy; “and poetry is truth! He stirs +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“When Alma dwelt in Mardi, ’twas with the poor and friendless. He +fed the famishing; he healed the sick; he bound up wounds. For every precept +that he spoke, he did ten thousand mercies. And Alma is our loved +example.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, all this is in the histories!” said Mohi, starting. +</p> + +<p> +“But not alone to poor and friendless, did Alma wend his charitable way. +From lowly places, he looked up; and long invoked great chieftains in their +state; and told them all their pride was vanity; and bade them ask their souls. +‘In <i>me</i>,’ he cried, ‘is that heart of mild content, +which in vain ye seek in rank and title. I am Love: love ye then +me.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease, cease, old man!” cried Media; “thou movest me beyond +my seeming. What thoughts are these? Have done! Wouldst thou unking me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alma is for all; for high and low. Like heaven’s own breeze, he +lifts the lily from its lowly stem, and sweeps, reviving, through the palmy +groves. High thoughts he gives the sage, and humble trust the simple. Be the +measure what it may, his grace doth fill it to the brim. He lays the lashings +of the soul’s wild aspirations after things unseen; oil he poureth on the +waters; and stars come out of night’s black concave at his great command. +In him is hope for all; for all, unbounded joys. Fast locked in his loved +clasp, no doubts dismay. He opes the eye of faith and shuts the eye of fear. He +is all we pray for, and beyond; all, that in the wildest hour of ecstasy, rapt +fancy paints in bright Auroras upon the soul’s wide, boundless +Orient!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Alma, Alma! prince divine!” cried Babbalanja, sinking on his +knees—“in <i>thee</i>, at last, I find repose. Hope perches in my +heart a dove;—a thousand rays illume;—all Heaven’s a sun. +Gone, gone! are all distracting doubts. Love and Alma now prevail. I see with +other eyes:—Are these my hands? What wild, wild dreams were mine;—I +have been mad. Some things there are, we must not think of. Beyond one obvious +mark, all human lore is vain. Where have I lived till now? Had dark +Maramma’s zealot tribe but murmured to me as this old man, long since had +I, been wise! Reason no longer domineers; but still doth speak. All I have said +ere this, that wars with Alma’s precepts, I here recant. Here I kneel, +and own great Oro and his sovereign son.” +</p> + +<p> +“And here another kneels and prays,” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“In Alma all my dreams are found, my inner longings for the Love supreme, +that prompts my every verse. Summer is in my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor now, too late for these gray hairs,” cried Mohi, with +devotion. “Alma, thy breath is on my soul. I see bright light.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more a demigod,” cried Media, “but a subject to our +common chief. No more shall dismal cries be heard from Odo’s groves. +Alma, I am thine.” +</p> + +<p> +With swimming eyes the old man kneeled; and round him grouped king, sage, gray +hairs, and youth. +</p> + +<p> +There, as they kneeled, and as the old man blessed them, the setting sun burst +forth from mists, gilded the island round about, shed rays upon their heads, +and went down in a glory—all the East radiant with red burnings, like an +altar-fire. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0084"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXIV.<br/> +Babbalanja Relates To Them A Vision</h2> + +<p> +Leaving Babbalanja in the old man’s bower, deep in meditation; +thoughtfully we strolled along the beach, inspiring the musky, midnight air; +the tropical stars glistening in heaven, like drops of dew among violets. +</p> + +<p> +The waves were phosphorescent, and laved the beach with a fire that cooled it. +</p> + +<p> +Returning, we espied Babbalanja advancing in his snow-white mantle. The fiery +tide was ebbing; and in the soft, moist sand, at every step, he left a lustrous +foot-print. +</p> + +<p> +“Sweet friends! this isle is full of mysteries,” he said. “I +have dreamed of wondrous things. After I had laid me down, thought pressed hard +upon me. By my eyes passed pageant visions. I started at a low, strange melody, +deep in my inmost soul. At last, methought my eyes were fixed on heaven; and +there, I saw a shining spot, unlike a star. Thwarting the sky, it grew, and +grew, descending; till bright wings were visible: between them, a pensive face +angelic, downward beaming; and, for one golden moment, gauze-vailed in spangled +Berenice’s Locks. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, as white flame from yellow, out from that starry cluster it +emerged; and brushed the astral Crosses, Crowns, and Cups. And as in violet, +tropic seas, ships leave a radiant-white, and fire-fly wake; so, in long +extension tapering, behind the vision, gleamed another Milky-Way. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange throbbings seized me; my soul tossed on its own tides. But soon +the inward harmony bounded in exulting choral strains. I heard a feathery rush; +and straight beheld a form, traced all over with veins of vivid light. The +vision undulated round me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh! Spirit!! angel! god! whate’er thou art,’—I +cried, ‘leave me; I am but man.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then, I heard a low, sad sound, no voice. It said, or breathed upon +me,—‘Thou hast proved the grace of Alma: tell me what thou’st +learned.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Silent replied my soul, for voice was gone,—‘This have I +learned, oh! spirit!—In things mysterious, to seek no more; but rest +content, with knowing naught but Love.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Blessed art thou for that: thrice blessed,’ then I heard, +and since humility is thine, thou art one apt to learn. That which thy own +wisdom could not find, thy ignorance confessed shall gain. Come, and see new +things.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Once more it undulated round me; its lightning wings grew dim; nearer, +nearer; till I felt a shock electric,—and nested ’neath its wing. +</p> + +<p> +“We clove the air; passed systems, suns, and moons: what seem from +Mardi’s isles, the glow-worm stars. +</p> + +<p> +“By distant fleets of worlds we sped, as voyagers pass far sails at sea, +and hail them not. Foam played before them as they darted on; wild music was +their wake; and many tracks of sound we crossed, where worlds had sailed +before. +</p> + +<p> +“Soon, we gained a point, where a new heaven was seen; whence all our +firmament seemed one nebula. Its glories burned like thousand steadfast-flaming +lights. +</p> + +<p> +“Here hived the worlds in swarms: and gave forth sweets ineffable. +</p> + +<p> +“We lighted on a ring, circling a space, where mornings seemed forever +dawning over worlds unlike. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Here,’ I heard, ‘thou viewest thy Mardi’s +Heaven. Herein each world is portioned.’ +</p> + +<p> +“As he who climbs to mountain tops pants hard for breath; so panted I for +Mardi’s grosser air. But that which caused my flesh to faint, was new +vitality to my soul. My eyes swept over all before me. The spheres were plain +as villages that dot a landscape. I saw most beauteous forms, yet like our own. +Strange sounds I heard of gladness that seemed mixed with sadness:—a low, +sweet harmony of both. Else, I know not how to phrase what never man but me +e’er heard. +</p> + +<p> +“‘In these blest souls are blent,’ my guide discoursed, +‘far higher thoughts, and sweeter plaints than thine. Rude joy were +discord here. And as a sudden shout in thy hushed mountain-passes brings down +the awful avalanche; so one note of laughter here, might start some white and +silent world.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then low I murmured:—‘Is their’s, oh guide! no +happiness supreme? their state still mixed? Sigh these yet to know? Can these +sin?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then I heard:—‘No mind but Oro’s can know all; no mind +that knows not all can be content; content alone approximates to happiness. +Holiness comes by wisdom; and it is because great Oro is supremely wise, that +He’s supremely holy. But as perfect wisdom can be only Oro’s; so, +perfect holiness is his alone. And whoso is otherwise than perfect in his +holiness, is liable to sin. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And though death gave these beings knowledge, it also opened +other mysteries, which they pant to know, and yet may learn. And still they +fear the thing of evil; though for them, ’tis hard to fall. Thus hoping +and thus fearing, then, their’s is no state complete. And since Oro is +past finding out, and mysteries ever open into mysteries beyond; so, though +these beings will for aye progress in wisdom and in good; yet, will they never +gain a fixed beatitude. Know, then, oh mortal Mardian! that when translated +hither, thou wilt but put off lowly temporal pinings, for angel and eternal +aspirations. Start not: thy human joy hath here no place: no name. +</p> + +<p> +“Still, I mournful mused; then said:—‘Many Mardians live, who +have no aptitude for Mardian lives of thought: how then endure more earnest, +everlasting, meditations?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Such have their place,’ I heard. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then low I moaned, ‘And what, oh! guide! of those who, +living thoughtless lives of sin, die unregenerate; no service done to Oro or to +Mardian?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘They, too, have their place,’ I heard; ‘but +’tis not here. And Mardian! know, that as your Mardian lives are long +preserved through strict obedience to the organic law, so are your spiritual +lives prolonged by fast keeping of the law of mind. Sin is death.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah, then,’ yet lower moan made I; ‘and why create the +germs that sin and suffer, but to perish?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘That,’ breathed my guide; ‘is the last mystery which +underlieth all the rest. Archangel may not fathom it; that makes of Oro the +everlasting mystery he is; that to divulge, were to make equal to himself in +knowledge all the souls that are; that mystery Oro guards; and none but him may +know.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! were it recalled, no words have I to tell of all that now my guide +discoursed, concerning things unsearchable to us. My sixth sense which he +opened, sleeps again, with all the wisdom that it gained. +</p> + +<p> +“Time passed; it seemed a moment, might have been an age; when from high +in the golden haze that canopied this heaven, another angel came; its vans like +East and West; a sunrise one, sunset the other. As silver-fish in vases, so, in +his azure eyes swam tears unshed. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick my guide close nested me; through its veins the waning light +throbbed hard. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, spirit! archangel! god! whate’er thou art,’ it +breathed; ‘leave me: I am but blessed, not glorified.’ +</p> + +<p> +“So saying, as down from doves, from its wings dropped sounds. Still +nesting me, it crouched its plumes. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, in a snow of softest syllables, thus breathed the greater and more +beautiful:—‘From far away, in fields beyond thy ken, I heard thy +fond discourse with this lone Mardian. It pleased me well; for thy humility was +manifeat; no arrogance of knowing. Come <i>thou</i> and learn new +things.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And straight it overarched us with its plumes; which, then, down- +sweeping, bore us up to regions where my first guide had sunk, but for the +power that buoyed us, trembling, both. +</p> + +<p> +“My eyes did wane, like moons eclipsed in overwhelming dawns: such +radiance was around; such vermeil light, born of no sun, but pervading all the +scene. Transparent, fleck-less, calm, all glowed one flame. +</p> + +<p> +“Then said the greater guide This is the night of all ye here +behold— its day ye could not bide. Your utmost heaven is far +below.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Abashed, smote down, I, quaking, upward gazed; where, to and fro, the +spirits sailed, like broad-winged crimson-dyed flamingos, spiraling in +sunset-clouds. But a sadness glorified, deep-fringed their mystic temples, +crowned with weeping halos, bird-like, floating o’er them, +whereso’er they roamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Sights and odors blended. As when new-morning winds, in summer’s +prime, blow down from hanging gardens, wafting sweets that never pall; so, from +those flowery pinions, at every motion, came a flood of fragrance. +</p> + +<p> +“And now the spirits twain discoursed of things, whose very terms, to me, +were dark. But my first guide grew wise. For me, I could but blankly list; yet +comprehended naught; and, like the fish that’s mocked with wings, and +vainly seeks to fly;—again I sought my lower element. +</p> + +<p> +“As poised, we hung in this rapt ether, a sudden trembling seized the +four wings now folding me. And afar of, in zones still upward reaching, +suns’ orbits off, I, tranced, beheld an awful glory. Sphere in sphere, it +burned:—the one Shekinah! The air was flaked with fire;—deep in +which, fell showers of silvery globes, tears magnified —braiding the +flame with rainbows. I heard a sound; but not for me, nor my first guide, was +that unutterable utterance. Then, my second guide was swept aloft, as rises a +cloud of red-dyed leaves in autumn whirlwinds. +</p> + +<p> +“Fast clasping me, the other drooped, and, instant, sank, as in a vacuum; +myriad suns’ diameters in a breath;—my five senses merged in one, +of falling; till we gained the nether sky, descending still. +</p> + +<p> +“Then strange things—soft, sad, and faint, I saw or heard; as, +when, in sunny, summer seas, down, down, you dive, starting at pensive +phantoms, that you can not fix. +</p> + +<p> +“‘These,’ breathed my guide, ‘are spirits in their +essences; sad, even in undevelopment. With these, all space is +peopled;—all the air is vital with intelligence, which seeks embodiment. +This it is, that unbeknown to Mardians, causes them to strangely start in +solitudes of night, and in the fixed flood of their enchanted noons. From +hence, are formed your mortal souls; and all those sad and shadowy dreams, and +boundless thoughts man hath, are vague remembrances of the time when the +soul’s sad germ, wide wandered through these realms. And hence it is, +that when ye Mardians feel most sad, then ye feel most immortal. +</p> + +<p> +“Like a spark new-struck from flint, soon Mardi showed afar. It glowed +within a sphere, which seemed, in space, a bubble, rising from vast depths to +the sea’s surface. Piercing it, my Mardian strength returned; but the +angel’s veins once more grew dim. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearing the isles, thus breathed my guide:—‘Loved one, love +on! But know, that heaven hath no roof. To know all is to be all. Beatitude +there is none. And your only Mardian happiness is but exemption from great +woes—no more. Great Love is sad; and heaven is Love. Sadness makes the +silence throughout the realms of space; sadness is universal and eternal; but +sadness is tranquillity; tranquillity the uttermost that souls may hope +for.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then, with its wings it fanned adieu; and disappeared where the sun +flames highest.” +</p> + +<p> +We heard the dream and, silent, sought repose, to dream away our wonder. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0085"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXV.<br/> +They Depart From Serenia</h2> + +<p> +At sunrise, we stood upon the beach. +</p> + +<p> +Babbalanja thus:—“My voyage is ended. Not because what we sought is +found; but that I now possess all which may be had of what I sought in Mardi. +Here, tarry to grow wiser still:—then I am Alma’s and the +world’s. Taji! for Yillah thou wilt hunt in vain; she is a phantom that +but mocks thee; and while for her thou madly huntest, the sin thou didst cries +out, and its avengers still will follow. But here they may not come: nor those, +who, tempting, track thy path. Wise counsel take. Within our hearts is all we +seek: though in that search many need a prompter. Him I have found in blessed +Alma. Then rove no more. Gain now, in flush of youth, that last wise thought, +too often purchased, by a life of woe. Be wise: be wise. +</p> + +<p> +“Media! thy station calls thee home. Yet from this isle, thou earnest +that, wherewith to bless thy own. These flowers, that round us spring, may be +transplanted: and Odo made to bloom with amaranths and myrtles, like this +Serenia. Before thy people act the things, thou here hast heard. Let no man +weep, that thou may’st laugh; no man toil too hard, that thou +may’st idle be. Abdicate thy throne: but still retain the scepter. None +need a king; but many need a ruler. +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi! Yoomy! do we part? then bury in forgetfulness much that hitherto +I’ve spoken. But let not one syllable of this old man’s words be +lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Mohi! Age leads thee by the hand. Live out thy life; and die, calm- +browed. +</p> + +<p> +“But Yoomy! many days are thine. And in one life’s span, great +circles may be traversed, eternal good be done. Take all Mardi for thy home. +Nations are but names; and continents but shifting sands. +</p> + +<p> +“Once more: Taji! be sure thy Yillah never will be found; or found, will +not avail thee. Yet search, if so thou wilt; more isles, thou say’st, are +still unvisited; and when all is seen, return, and find thy Yillah here. +</p> + +<p> +“Companions all! adieu.” +</p> + +<p> +And from the beach, he wended through the woods. +</p> + +<p> +Our shallops now refitted, we silently embarked; and as we sailed away, the old +man blessed us. +</p> + +<p> +For a time, each prow’s ripplings were distinctly heard: ripple after +ripple. +</p> + +<p> +With silent, steadfast eyes, Media still preserved his noble mien; Mohi his +reverend repose; Yoomy his musing mood. +</p> + +<p> +But as a summer hurricane leaves all nature still, and smiling to the eye; yet, +in deep woods, there lie concealed some anguished roots torn up:—so, with +these. +</p> + +<p> +Much they longed, to point our prows for Odo’s isle; saying our search +was over. +</p> + +<p> +But I was fixed as fate. +</p> + +<p> +On we sailed, as when we first embarked; the air was bracing as before. More +isles we visited:—thrice encountered the avengers: but unharmed; thrice +Hautia’s heralds but turned not aside;—saw many checkered +scenes—wandered through groves, and open fields—traversed many +vales—climbed hill-tops whence broad views were gained—tarried in +towns—broke into solitudes—sought far, sought near:—Still +Yillah there was none. +</p> + +<p> +Then again they all would fain dissuade me. +</p> + +<p> +“Closed is the deep blue eye,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“Fate’s last leaves are turning, let me home and die,” said +Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“So nigh the circuit’s done,” said Media, “our +morrow’s sun must rise o’er Odo; Taji! renounce the hunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am the hunter, that never rests! the hunter without a home! She I +seek, still flies before; and I will follow, though she lead me beyond the +reef; through sunless seas; and into night and death. Her, will I seek, through +all the isles and stars; and find her, whate’er betide!” +</p> + +<p> +Again they yielded; and again we glided on;—our storm-worn prows, now +pointed here, now there;—beckoned, repulsed;—their half-rent sails, +still courting every breeze. +</p> + +<p> +But that same night, once more, they wrestled with me. Now, at last, the +hopeless search must be renounced: Yillah there was none: back must I hie to +blue Serenia. +</p> + +<p> +Then sweet Yillah called me from the sea;—still must I on! but gazing +whence that music seemed to come, I thought I saw the green corse drifting by: +and striking ’gainst our prow, as if to hinder. Then, then! my heart grew +hard, like flint; and black, like night; and sounded hollow to the hand I +clenched. Hyenas filled me with their laughs; death-damps chilled my brow; I +prayed not, but blasphemed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0086"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXVI.<br/> +They Meet The Phantoms</h2> + +<p> +That starless midnight, there stole from out the darkness, the Iris flag of +Hautia. +</p> + +<p> +Again the sirens came. They bore a large and stately urn-like flower, white as +alabaster, and glowing, as if lit up within. From its calyx, flame-like, +trembled forked and crimson stamens, burning with intensest odors. +</p> + +<p> +The phantoms nearer came; their flower, as an urn of burning niter. Then it +changed, and glowed like Persian dawns; or passive, was shot over by palest +lightnings;—so variable its tints. +</p> + +<p> +“The night-blowing Cereus!” said Yoomy, shuddering, “that +never blows in sun-light; that blows but once; and blows but for an +hour.—For the last time I come; now, in your midnight of despair, and +promise you this glory. Take heed! short time hast thou to pause; through me, +perhaps, thy Yillah may be found.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away! away! tempt me not by that, enchantress! Hautia! I know thee not; +I fear thee not; but instinct makes me hate thee. Away! my eyes are frozen +shut; I will not be tempted more.” +</p> + +<p> +“How glorious it burns!” cried Media. I reel with +incense:—can such sweets be evil?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look! look!” cried Yoomy, “its petals wane, and creep; one +moment more, and the night-flower shuts up forever the last, last hope of +Yillah!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yillah! Yillah! Yillah!” bayed three vengeful voices far behind. +</p> + +<p> +“Yillah! Yillah!—dash the urn! I follow, Hautia! though thy lure be +death.” +</p> + +<p> +The Cereus closed; and in a mist the siren prow went on before; we, following. +</p> + +<p> +When day dawned, three radiant pilot-fish swam in advance: three ravenous +sharks astern. +</p> + +<p> +And, full before us, rose the isle of Hautia. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0087"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXVII.<br/> +They Draw Nigh To Flozella</h2> + +<p> +As if Mardi were a poem, and every island a canto, the shore now in sight was +called Flozella-a-Nina, or The-Last-Verse-of-the-Song. +</p> + +<p> +According to Mohi, the origin of this term was traceable to the remotest +antiquity. +</p> + +<p> +In the beginning, there were other beings in Mardi besides Mardians; winged +beings, of purer minds, and cast in gentler molds, who would fain have dwelt +forever with mankind. But the hearts of the Mardians were bitter against them, +because of their superior goodness. Yet those beings returned love for malice, +and long entreated to virtue and charity. But in the end, all Mardi rose up +against them, and hunted them from isle to isle; till, at last, they rose from +the woodlands like a flight of birds, and disappeared in the skies. Thereafter, +abandoned of such sweet influences, the Mardians fell into all manner of sins +and sufferings, becoming the erring things their descendants were now. Yet they +knew not, that their calamities were of their own bringing down. For deemed a +victory, the expulsion of the winged beings was celebrated in choruses, +throughout Mardi. And among other jubilations, so ran the legend, a pean was +composed, corresponding in the number of its stanzas, to the number of islands. +And a band of youths, gayly appareled, voyaged in gala canoes all round the +lagoon, singing upon each isle, one verse of their song. And Flozella being the +last isle in their circuit, its queen commemorated the circumstance, by new +naming her realm. +</p> + +<p> +That queen had first incited Mardi to wage war against the beings with wings. +She it was, who had been foremost in every assault. And that queen was ancestor +of Hautia, now ruling the isle. +</p> + +<p> +Approaching the dominions of one who so long had haunted me, conflicting +emotions tore up my soul in tornadoes. Yet Hautia had held out some prospect of +crowning my yearnings. But how connected were Hautia and Yillah? Something I +hoped; yet more I feared. Dire presentiments, like poisoned arrows, shot +through me. Had they pierced me before, straight to Flozella would I have +voyaged; not waiting for Hautia to woo me by that last and victorious +temptation. But unchanged remained my feelings of hatred for Hautia; yet vague +those feelings, as the language of her flowers. Nevertheless, in some +mysterious way seemed Hautia and Yillah connected. But Yillah was all beauty, +and innocence; my crown of felicity; my heaven below;—and Hautia, my +whole heart abhorred. Yillah I sought; Hautia sought me. One, openly beckoned +me here; the other dimly allured me there. Yet now was I wildly dreaming to +find them together. But so distracted my soul, I knew not what it was, that I +thought. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly we neared the land. Flozella-a-Nina!—An omen? Was this isle, then, +to prove the last place of my search, even as it was the Last- +Verse-of-the-Song? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0088"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXVIII.<br/> +They Land</h2> + +<p> +A jeweled tiara, nodding in spray, looks flowery Flozella, approached from the +sea. For, lo you! the glittering foam all round its white marge; where, forcing +themselves underneath the coral ledge, and up through its crevices, in +fountains, the blue billows gush. While, within, zone above zone, thrice zoned +in belts of bloom, all the isle, as a hanging-garden soars; its tapering cone +blending aloft, with heaven’s own blue. +</p> + +<p> +“What flies through the spray! what incense is this?” cried Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! you wild breeze! you have been plundering the gardens of +Hautia,” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“No sweets can be sweeter,” said Braid-Beard, “but no Upas +more deadly.” +</p> + +<p> +Anon we came nearer; sails idly flapping, and paddles suspended; sleek currents +our coursers. And round about the isle, like winged rainbows, shoals of +dolphins were leaping over floating fragments of wrecks:— dark-green, +long-haired ribs, and keels of canoes. For many shallops, inveigled by the +eddies, were oft dashed to pieces against that flowery strand. But what cared +the dolphins? Mardian wrecks were their homes. Over and over they sprang: from +east to west: rising and setting: many suns in a moment; while all the sea, +like a harvest plain, was stacked with their glittering sheaves of spray. +</p> + +<p> +And far down, fathoms on fathoms, flitted rainbow hues:—as seines- full +of mermaids; half-screening the bones of the drowned. +</p> + +<p> +Swifter and swifter the currents now ran; till with a shock, our prows were +beached. +</p> + +<p> +There, beneath an arch of spray, three dark-eyed maidens stood; garlanded with +columbines, their nectaries nodding like jesters’ bells; and robed in +vestments blue. +</p> + +<p> +“The pilot-fish transformed!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“The night-eyed heralds three!” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +Following the maidens, we now took our way along a winding vale; where, by +sweet-scented hedges, flowed blue-braided brooks; their tributaries, rivulets +of violets, meandering through the meads. +</p> + +<p> +On one hand, forever glowed the rosy mountains with a tropic dawn; and on the +other; lay an Arctic eve;—the white daisies drifted in long banks of +snow, and snowed the blossoms from the orange boughs. There, summer breathed +her bridal bloom; her hill-top temples crowned with bridal wreaths. +</p> + +<p> +We wandered on, through orchards arched in long arcades, that seemed baronial +halls, hung o’er with trophies:—so spread the boughs in antlers. +This orchard was the frontlet of the isle. +</p> + +<p> +The fruit hung high in air, that only beaks, not hands, might pluck. +</p> + +<p> +Here, the peach tree showed her thousand cheeks of down, kissed often by the +wooing winds; here, in swarms; the yellow apples hived, like golden bees upon +the boughs; here, from the kneeling, fainting trees, thick fell the cherries, +in great drops of blood; and here, the pomegranate, with cold rind and sere, +deep pierced by bills of birds revealed the mellow of its ruddy core. So, oft +the heart, that cold and withered seems, within yet hides its juices. +</p> + +<p> +This orchard passed, the vale became a lengthening plain, that seemed the +Straits of Ormus bared so thick it lay with flowery gems: torquoise-hyacinths, +ruby-roses, lily-pearls. Here roved the vagrant vines; their flaxen ringlets +curling over arbors, which laughed and shook their golden locks. From bower to +bower, flew the wee bird, that ever hovering, seldom lights; and flights of gay +canaries passed, like jonquils, winged. +</p> + +<p> +But now, from out half-hidden bowers of clematis, there issued swarms of wasps, +which flying wide, settled on all the buds. +</p> + +<p> +And, fifty nymphs preceding, who now follows from those bowers, with gliding, +artful steps:—the very snares of love!—Hautia. A gorgeous amaryllis +in her hand; Circe-flowers in her ears; her girdle tied with vervain. +</p> + +<p> +She came by privet hedges, drooping; downcast honey-suckles; she trod on pinks +and pansies, blue-bells, heath, and lilies. She glided on: her crescent brow +calm as the moon, when most it works its evil influences. +</p> + +<p> +Her eye was fathomless. +</p> + +<p> +But the same mysterious, evil-boding gaze was there, which long before had +haunted me in Odo, ere Yillah fled.—Queen Hautia the incognito! Then two +wild currents met, and dashed me into foam. +</p> + +<p> +“Yillah! Yillah!—tell me, queen!” But she stood motionless; +radiant, and scentless: a dahlia on its stalk. “Where? Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is not thy voyage now ended?—Take flowers! Damsels, give him wine +to drink. After his weary hunt, be the wanderer happy.” +</p> + +<p> +I dashed aside their cups, and flowers; still rang the vale with Yillah! +</p> + +<p> +“Taji! did I know her fate, naught would I now disclose; my heralds +pledged their queen to naught. Thou but comest here to supplant thy +mourner’s night-shade, with marriage roses. Damsels! give him wreaths; +crowd round him; press him with your cups!” +</p> + +<p> +Once more I spilled their wine, and tore their garlands. Is not that, the evil +eye that long ago did haunt me? and thou, the Hautia who hast followed me, and +wooed, and mocked, and tempted me, through all this long, long voyage? I swear! +thou knowest all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am Hautia. Thou hast come at last. Crown him with your flowers! Drown +him in your wine! To all questions, Taji! I am mute.—Away!— damsels +dance; reel round him; round and round!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, their feet made music on the rippling grass, like thousand leaves of +lilies on a lake. And, gliding nearer, Hautia welcomed Media; and said, +“Your comrade here is sad:—be ye gay. Ho, wine!—I pledge ye, +guests!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, marking all, I thought to seem what I was not, that I might learn at last +the thing I sought. +</p> + +<p> +So, three cups in hand I held; drank wine, and laughed; and half-way met Queen +Hautia’s blandishments. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0089"></a> +CHAPTER LXXXIX.<br/> +They Enter The Bower Of Hautia</h2> + +<p> +Conducted to the arbor, from which the queen had emerged, we came to a +sweet-brier bower within; and reclined upon odorous mats. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in citron cups, sherbet of tamarinds was offered to Media, Mohi, Yoomy; +to me, a nautilus shell, brimmed with a light-like fluid, that welled, and +welled like a fount. +</p> + +<p> +“Quaff, Taji, quaff! every drop drowns a thought!” +</p> + +<p> +Like a blood-freshet, it ran through my veins. +</p> + +<p> +A philter?—How Hautia burned before me! Glorious queen! with all the +radiance, lighting up the equatorial night. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art most magical, oh queen! about thee a thousand constellations +cluster.” +</p> + +<p> +“They blaze to burn,” whispered Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“I see ten million Hautias!—all space reflects her, as a +mirror.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in reels, the damsels once more mazed, the blossoms shaking from their +brows; till Hautia, glided near; arms lustrous as rainbows: chanting some wild +invocation. +</p> + +<p> +My soul ebbed out; Yillah there was none! but as I turned round open- armed, +Hautia vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“She is deeper than the sea,” said Media. +</p> + +<p> +“Her bow is bent,” said Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“I could tell wonders of Hautia and her damsels,” said Mohi. +</p> + +<p> +“What wonders?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen; and in his own words will I recount the adventure of the youth +Ozonna. It will show thee, Taji, that the maidens of Hautia are all Yillahs, +held captive, unknown to themselves; and that Hautia, their enchantress, is the +most treacherous of queens. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Camel-like, laden with woe,’ said Ozonna, ‘after many +wild rovings in quest of a maiden long lost—beautiful Ady! and after +being repelled in Maramma; and in vain hailed to land at Serenia, represented +as naught but another Maramma;—with vague promises of discovering Ady, +three sirens, who long had pursued, at last inveigled me to Flozella; where +Hautia made me her thrall. But ere long, in Rea, one of her maidens, I thought +I discovered my Ady transformed. My arms opened wide to embrace; but the damsel +knew not Ozonna. And even, when after hard wooing, I won her again, she seemed +not lost Ady, but Rea. Yet all the while, from deep in her strange, black orbs, +Ady’s blue eyes seemed pensively looking:—blue eye within black: +sad, silent soul within merry. Long I strove, by fixed ardent gazing, to break +the spell, and restore in Rea my lost one’s Past. But in vain. It was +only Rea, not Ady, who at stolen intervals looked on me now. One morning Hautia +started as she greeted me; her quick eye rested on my bosom; and glancing +there, affrighted, I beheld a distinct, fresh mark, the impress of Rea’s +necklace drop. Fleeing, I revealed what had passed to the maiden, who broke +from my side; as I, from Hautia’s. The queen summoned her damsels, but +for many hours the call was unheeded; and when at last they came, upon each +bosom lay a necklace-drop like Rea’s. On the morrow, lo! my arbor was +strown over with bruised Linden-leaves, exuding a vernal juice. Full of +forbodings, again I sought Rea: who, casting down her eyes, beheld her feet +stained green. Again she fled; and again Hautia summoned her damsels: malicious +triumph in her eye; but dismay succeeded: each maid had spotted feet. That +night Rea was torn from my side by three masks; who, stifling her cries, +rapidly bore her away; and as I pursued, disappeared in a cave. Next morning, +Hautia was surrounded by her nymphs, but Rea was absent. Then, gliding near, +she snatched from my hair, a jet-black tress, loose-hanging. ‘Ozonna is +the murderer! See! Rea’s torn hair entangled with his!’ Aghast, I +swore that I knew not her fate. ‘Then let the witch Larfee be +called!’ The maidens darted from the bower; and soon after, there rolled +into it a green cocoa-nut, followed by the witch, and all the damsels, flinging +anemones upon it. Bowling this way and that, the nut at last rolled to my +feet.—‘It is he!’ cried all.—Then they bound me with +osiers; and at midnight, unseen and irresistible hands placed me in a shallop; +which sped far out into the lagoon, where they tossed me to the waves; but so +violent the shock, the osiers burst; and as the shallop fled one way, swimming +another, ere long I gained land. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Thus in Flozella, I found but the phantom of Ady, and slew the +last hope of Ady the true.’” +</p> + +<p> +This recital sank deep into my soul. In some wild way, Hautia had made a +captive of Yillah; in some one of her black-eyed maids, the blue-eyed One was +transformed. From side to side, in frenzy, I turned; but in all those cold, +mystical eyes, saw not the warm ray that I sought. +</p> + +<p> +“Hast taken root within this treacherous soil?” cried Media. +“Away! thy Yillah is behind thee, not before. Deep she dwells in blue +Serenia’s groves; which thou would’st not search. Hautia mocks +thee; away! The reef is rounded; but a strait flows between this isle and Odo, +and thither its ruler must return. Every hour I tarry here, some wretched serf +is dying there, for whom, from blest Serenia, <i>I carry life and joy. +Away!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Art still bent on finding evil for thy good?” cried +Mohi.—“How can Yillah harbor here?—Beware!—Let not +Hautia so enthrall thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come away, come away,” cried Yoomy. “Far hence is Yillah! +and he who tarries among these flowers, must needs burn juniper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look on me, Media, Mohi, Yoomy. Here I stand, my own monument, till +Hautia breaks the spell.” +</p> + +<p> +In grief they left me. +</p> + +<p> +Vee-Vee’s conch I heard no more. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0090"></a> +CHAPTER XC.<br/> +Taji With Hautia</h2> + +<p> +As their last echoes died away down the valley, Hautia glided near;— zone +unbound, the amaryllis in her hand. Her bosom ebbed and flowed; the motes +danced in the beams that darted from her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Come! let us sin, and be merry. Ho! wine, wine, wine! and lapfuls of +flowers! let all the cane-brakes pipe their flutes. Damsels! dance; reel, swim, +around me:—I, the vortex that draws all in. Taji! Taji!— as a +berry, that name is juicy in my mouth!—Taji, Taji!” and in +choruses, she warbled forth the sound, till it seemed issuing from her syren +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +My heart flew forth from out its bars, and soared in air; but as my hand +touched Hautia’s, down dropped a dead bird from the clouds. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! how he sinks!—but did’st ever dive in deep waters, Taji? +Did’st ever see where pearls grow?—To the cave!—damsels, lead +on!” +</p> + +<p> +Then wending through constellations of flowers, we entered deep groves. And +thus, thrice from sun-light to shade, it seemed three brief nights and days, +ere we paused before the mouth of the cavern. +</p> + +<p> +A bow-shot from the sea, it pierced the hill-side like a vaulted way; and +glancing in, we saw far gleams of water; crossed, here and there, by long-flung +distant shadows of domes and columns. All Venice seemed within. +</p> + +<p> +From a stack of golden palm-stalks, the damsels now made torches; then stood +grouped; a sheaf of sirens in a sheaf of frame. +</p> + +<p> +Illuminated, the cavern shone like a Queen of Kandy’s casket: full of +dawns and sunsets. +</p> + +<p> +From rocky roof to bubbling floor, it was columned with stalactites; and +galleried all round, in spiral tiers, with sparkling, coral ledges. +</p> + +<p> +And now, their torches held aloft, into the water the maidens softly glided; +and each a lotus floated; while, from far above, into the air Hautia flung her +flambeau; then bounding after, in the lake, two meteors were quenched. +</p> + +<p> +Where she dived, the flambeaux clustered; and up among them, Hautia rose; +hands, full of pearls. +</p> + +<p> +“Lo! Taji; all these may be had for the diving; and Beauty, Health, +Wealth, Long Life, and the Last Lost Hope of man. But through me alone, may +these be had. Dive thou, and bring up one pearl if thou canst.” +</p> + +<p> +Down, down! down, down, in the clear, sparkling water, till I seemed +crystalized in the flashing heart of a diamond; but from those bottomless +depths, I uprose empty handed. +</p> + +<p> +“Pearls, pearls! thy pearls! thou art fresh from the mines. Ah, Taji! for +thee, bootless deep diving. Yet to Hautia, one shallow plunge reveals many +Golcondas. But come; dive with me:—join hands—let me show thee +strange things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Show me that which I seek, and I will dive with thee, straight through +the world, till we come up in oceans unknown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay; but join hands, and I will take thee, where thy Past shall be +forgotten; where thou wilt soon learn to love the living, not the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better to me, oh Hautia! all the bitterness of my buried dead, than all +the sweets of the life thou canst bestow; even, were it eternal.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0091"></a> +CHAPTER XCI.<br/> +Mardi Behind: An Ocean Before</h2> + +<p> +Returned from the cave, Hautia reclined in her clematis bower, invisible hands +flinging fennel around her. And nearer, and nearer, stole dulcet sounds +dissolving my woes, as warm beams, snow. Strange languors made me droop; once +more within my inmost vault, side by side, the Past and Yillah lay:—two +bodies tranced;—while like a rounding sun, before me Hautia magnified +magnificence; and through her fixed eyes, slowly drank up my soul. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we stood:—snake and victim: life ebbing out from me, to her. +</p> + +<p> +But from that spell, I burst again, as all the Past smote all the Present in +me. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh Hautia! thou knowest the mystery I die to fathom. I see it crouching +in thine eye:—Reveal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Weal or woe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Life or death!” +</p> + +<p> +“See, see!” and Yillah’s rose-pearl danced before me. +</p> + +<p> +I snatched it from her hand:—“Yillah! Yillah!” +</p> + +<p> +“Rave on: she lies too deep to answer; stranger voices than thine she +hears:—bubbles are bursting round her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drowned! drowned then, even as she dreamed:—I come, I +come!—Ha, what form is this?—hast mosses? sea-thyme? +pearls?—Help, help! I sink!—Back, shining monster!—-What, +Hautia,—is it thou?—Oh vipress, I could slay thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, go,—and slay thyself: I may not make thee +mine;—go,—dead to dead!—There is another cavern in the +hill.” Swift I fled along the valley-side; passed Hautia’s cave of +pearls; and gained a twilight arch; within, a lake transparent shone. +Conflicting currents met, and wrestled; and one dark arch led to channels, +seaward tending. +</p> + +<p> +Round and round, a gleaming form slow circled in the deepest eddies:— +white, and vaguely Yillah. +</p> + +<p> +Straight I plunged; but the currents were as fierce headwinds off capes, that +beat back ships. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as I frenzied gazed; gaining the one dark arch, the revolving shade +darted out of sight, and the eddies whirled as before. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, stay! let me go with thee, though thou glidest to gulfs of +blackness;—naught can exceed the hell of this despair!—Why beat +longer in this corpse oh, my heart!” +</p> + +<p> +As somnambulists fast-frozen in some horrid dream, ghost-like glide abroad, and +fright the wakeful world; so that night, with death-glazed eyes, to and fro I +flitted on the damp and weedy beach. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this specter, Taji?”—and Mohi and the minstrel stood +before me. +</p> + +<p> +“Taji lives no more. So dead, he has no ghost. I am his spirit’s +phantom’s phantom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, then, phantom! the time has come to flee.” +</p> + +<p> +They dragged me to the water’s brink, where a prow was beached. +Soon— Mohi at the helm—we shot beneath the far-flung shadow of a +cliff; when, as in a dream, I hearkened to a voice. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at Odo, Media had been met with yells. Sedition was in arms, and to his +beard defied him. Vain all concessions then. Foremost stood the three pale sons +of him, whom I had slain, to gain the maiden lost. Avengers, from the first +hour we had parted on the sea, they had drifted on my track survived +starvation; and lived to hunt me round all Mardi’s reef; and now at Odo, +that last threshold, waited to destroy; or there, missing the revenge they +sought, still swore to hunt me round Eternity. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the avengers, raged a stormy mob, invoking Media to renounce his rule. +But one hand waving like a pennant above the smoke of some sea-fight, straight +through that tumult Media sailed serene: the rioters parting from before him, +as wild waves before a prow inflexible. +</p> + +<p> +A haven gained, he turned to Mohi and the minstrel:—“Oh, friends! +after our long companionship, hard to part! But henceforth, for many moons, Odo +will prove no home for old age, or youth. In Serenia only, will ye find the +peace ye seek; and thither ye must carry Taji, who else must soon be slain, or +lost. Go: release him from the thrall of Hautia. Outfly the avengers, and gain +Serenia. Reek not of me. The state is tossed in storms; and where I stand, the +combing billows must break over. But among all noble souls, in tempest-time, +the headmost man last flies the wreck. So, here in Odo will I abide, though +every plank breaks up beneath me. And then,—great Oro! let the king die +clinging to the keel! Farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +Such Mohi’s tale. +</p> + +<p> +In trumpet-blasts, the hoarse night-winds now blew; the Lagoon, black with the +still shadows of the mountains, and the driving shadows of the clouds. Of all +the stars, only red Arcturus shone. But through the gloom, and on the +circumvallating reef, the breakers dashed ghost-white. +</p> + +<p> +An outlet in that outer barrier was nigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Yillah! Yillah!—the currents sweep thee ocean-ward; nor will I +tarry behind.—Mardi, farewell!—Give me the helm, old man!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, madman! Serenia is our haven. Through yonder strait, for thee, +perdition lies. And from the deep beyond, no voyager e’er puts +back.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why put back? is a life of dying worth living o’er +again?—Let <i>me</i>, then, be the unreturning wanderer. The helm! By +Oro, I will steer my own fate, old man.—Mardi, farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Taji: commit not the last, last crime!” cried Yoomy. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s seized the helm! eternity is in his eye! Yoomy: for our lives +we must now swim.” +</p> + +<p> +And plunging, they struck out for land: Yoomy buoying Mohi up, and the salt +waves dashing the tears from his pallid face, as through the scud, he turned it +on me mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I am my own soul’s emperor; and my first act is abdication! +Hail! realm of shades!”—and turning my prow into the racing tide, +which seized me like a hand omnipotent, I darted through. +</p> + +<p> +Churned in foam, that outer ocean lashed the clouds; and straight in my white +wake, headlong dashed a shallop, three fixed specters leaning o’er its +prow: three arrows poising. +</p> + +<p> +And thus, pursuers and pursued flew on, over an endless sea. +</p> + +<h3> THE END. </h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/old/old/13721.txt b/old/old/13721.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2542e42 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/13721.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13504 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, Vol. II (of 2) +by Herman Melville + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, Vol. II (of 2) + +Author: Herman Melville + +Release Date: October 12, 2004 [EBook #13721] +[Last updated: November 15, 2014] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER, *** + + + + +Produced by Geoff Palmer + + + + +MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER. +BY HERMAN MELVILLE + +IN TWO VOLUMES + +VOL. II. + + + +1864. + + + + + +MARDI + + +CONTENTS +VOL. II + +CHAPTER + 1. Maramma + 2. They land + 3. They pass through the Woods + 4. Hivohitee MDCCCXLVII + 5. They visit the great Morai + 6. They discourse of the Gods of Mardi, and Braid-Beard tells of + one Foni + 7. They visit the Lake of Yammo + 8. They meet the Pilgrims at the Temple of Oro + 9. They discourse of Alma +10. Mohi tells of one Ravoo, and they land to visit Hevaneva, + a flourishing Artisan +11. A Nursery-tale of Babbalanja's +12. Landing to visit Hivohitee the Pontiff; they encounter an + extraordinary old Hermit; with whom Yoomy has a confidential + Interview, but learns little +13. Babbalanja endeavors to explain the Mystery +14. Taji receives Tidings and Omens +15. Dreams +16. Media and Babbalanja discourse +17. They regale themselves with their Pipes +18. They visit an extraordinary old Antiquary +19. They go down into the Catacombs +20. Babbalanja quotes from an antique Pagan; and earnestly presses it + upon the Company, that what he recites is not his but another's +21. They visit a wealthy old Pauper +22. Yoomy sings some odd Verses, and Babbalanja quotes from the old + Authors right and left +23. What manner of Men the Tapparians were +24. Their adventures upon landing at Pimminee +25. A, I, and O +26. A Reception-day at Pimminee +27. Babbalanja falleth upon Pimminee Tooth and Nail +28. Babbalanja regales the Company with some Sandwiches +29. They still remain upon the Rock +30. Behind and Before +31. Babbalanja discourses in the Dark +32. My Lord Media summons Mohi to the Stand +33. Wherein Babbalanja and Yoomy embrace +34. Of the Isle of Diranda +35. They visit the Lords Piko and Hello +36. They attend the Games +37. Taji still hunted and beckoned +38. They embark from Diranda +39. Wherein Babbalanja discourses of himself +40. Of the Sorcerers in the Isle of Minda +41. Chiefly of King Bello +42. Dominora and Vivenza +43. They land at Dominora +44. Through Dominora, they wander after Yillah +45. They behold King Bello's State Canoe +46. Wherein Babbalanja bows thrice +47. Babbalanja philosophizes, and my Lord Media passes round the + Calabashes +48. They sail round an Island without landing; and talk round a + Subject without getting at it +49. They draw nigh to Porpheero; where they behold a terrific Eruption +50. Wherein King Media celebrates the Glories of Autumn; the Minstrel, + the Promise of Spring +51. In which Azzageddi seems to use Babbalanja for a Mouthpiece +52. The charming Yoomy sings +53. They draw nigh unto Land +54. They visit the great central Temple of Vivenza +55. Wherein Babbalanja comments upon the Speech of Alanno +56. A Scene in the Land of Warwicks, or King-makers +57. They hearken unto a Voice from the Gods +58. They visit the extreme South of Vivenza +59. They converse of the Molluscs, Kings, Toad-stools, and other Matters +60. Wherein, that gallant Gentleman and Demi-god, King Media, Scepter + in Hand throws himself into the Breach +61. They round the stormy Cape of Capes +62. They encounter Gold-hunters +63. They seek through the Isles of Palms; and pass the Isles of Myrrh +64. Concentric, inward, with Mardi's Reef, they leave their Wake + around the World +65. Sailing on +66. A Sight of Nightingales from Yoomy's Mouth +67. They visit one Doxodox +68. King Media dreams +69. After a long Interval, by Night they are becalmed +70. They land at Hooloomooloo +71. A Book from the "Ponderings of old Bardianna" +72. Babbalanja starts to his Feet +73. At last, the last Mention is made of old Bardianna; and His last + Will and Testament is recited at Length +74. A Death-cloud sweeps by them as they sail +75. They visit the palmy King Abrazza +76. Same pleasant, shady Talk in the Groves, between my Lords Abrazza + and Media, Babbalanja, Mohi, and Yoomy... +77. They sup +78. They embark +79. Babbalanja at the Full of the Moon +80. Morning +81. L'Ultima sera +82. They sail from Night to Day +83. They land +84. Babbalanja relates to them a Vision +85. They depart from Serena +86. They meet the Phantoms +87. They draw nigh to Flozella +88. They land +89. They enter the Bower of Hautia +90. Taji with Hautia +91. Mardi behind: an Ocean before + + + +MARDI. + + + + +CHAPTER I +Maramma + + +We were now voyaging straight for Maramma; where lived and reigned, in +mystery, the High Pontiff of the adjoining isles: prince, priest, and +god, in his own proper person: great lord paramount over many kings in +Mardi; his hands full of scepters and crosiers. + +Soon, rounding a lofty and insulated shore, the great central peak of +the island came in sight; domineering over the neighboring hills; the +same aspiring pinnacle, descried in drawing near the archipelago in +the Chamois. + +"Tall Peak of Ofo!" cried Babbalanja, "how comes it that thy shadow so +broods over Mardi; flinging new shades upon spots already shaded by +the hill-sides; shade upon shade!" + +"Yet, so it is," said Yoomy, sadly, "that where that shadow falls, gay +flowers refuse to spring; and men long dwelling therein become shady +of face and of soul. 'Hast thou come from out the shadows of Ofo?' +inquires the stranger, of one with a clouded brow." + +"It was by this same peak," said Mohi, "that the nimble god Roo, a +great sinner above, came down from the skies, a very long time ago. +Three skips and a jump, and he landed on the plain. But alas, poor +Roo! though easy the descent, there was no climbing back." + +"No wonder, then," said Babbalanja, "that the peak is inaccessible to +man. Though, with a strange infatuation, many still make pilgrimages +thereto; and wearily climb and climb, till slipping from the rocks, +they fall headlong backward, and oftentimes perish at its base." + +"Ay," said Mohi, "in vain, on all sides of the Peak, various paths are +tried; in vain new ones are cut through the cliffs and the brambles:-- +Ofo yet remains inaccessible." + +"Nevertheless," said Babbalanja, "by some it is believed, that those, +who by dint of hard struggling climb so high as to become invisible +from the plain; that these have attained the summit; though others +much doubt, whether their becoming invisible is not because of their +having fallen, and perished by the way." + +"And wherefore," said Media, "do you mortals undertake the ascent at +all? why not be content on the plain? and even if attainable, what +would you do upon that lofty, clouded summit? Or how can you hope to +breathe that rarefied air, unfitted for your human lungs?" + +"True, my lord," said Babbalanja; "and Bardianna asserts that the +plain alone was intended for man; who should be content to dwell under +the shade of its groves, though the roots thereof descend into the +darkness of the earth. But, my lord, you well know, that there are +those in Mardi, who secretly regard all stories connected with this +peak, as inventions of the people of Maramma. They deny that any thing +is to be gained by making a pilgrimage thereto. And for warranty, they +appeal to the sayings of the great prophet Alma." + +Cried Mohi, "But Alma is also quoted by others, in vindication of the +pilgrimages to Ofo. They declare that the prophet himself was the +first pilgrim that thitherward journeyed: that from thence he departed +to the skies." + +Now, excepting this same peak, Maramma is all rolling hill and dale, +like the sea after a storm; which then seems not to roll, but to stand +still, poising its mountains. Yet the landscape of Maramma has not the +merriness of meadows; partly because of the shadow of Ofo, and partly +because of the solemn groves in which the Morais and temples are +buried. + +According to Mohi, not one solitary tree bearing fruit, not one +esculent root, grows in all the isle; the population wholly depending +upon the large tribute remitted from the neighboring shores. + +"It is not that the soil is unproductive," said Mohi, "that these +things are so. It is extremely fertile; but the inhabitants say that +it would be wrong to make a Bread-fruit orchard of the holy island." + +"And hence, my lord," said Babbalanja, "while others are charged with +the business of their temporal welfare, these Islanders take no thought +of the morrow; and broad Maramma lies one fertile waste in the lagoon." + + + +CHAPTER II +They Land + + +Coming close to the island, the pennons and trappings of our canoes +were removed; and Vee-Vee was commanded to descend from the shark's +mouth; and for a time to lay aside his conch. In token of reverence, +our paddlers also stripped to the waist; an example which even Media +followed; though, as a king, the same homage he rendered, was at times +rendered himself. + +At every place, hitherto visited, joyous crowds stood ready to hail +our arrival; but the shores of Maramma were silent, and forlorn. + +Said Babbalanja, "It looks not as if the lost one were here." + +At length we landed in a little cove nigh a valley, which Mohi called +Uma; and here in silence we beached our canoes. + +But presently, there came to us an old man, with a beard white as the +mane of the pale horse. He was clad in a midnight robe. He fanned +himself with a fan of faded leaves. A child led him by the hand, for +he was blind, wearing a green plantain leaf over his plaited brow. + +Him, Media accosted, making mention who we were, and on what errand we +came: to seek out Yillah, and behold the isle. + +Whereupon Pani, for such was his name, gave us a courteous reception; +and lavishly promised to discover sweet Yillah; declaring that in +Maramma, if any where, the long-lost maiden must be found. He assured +us, that throughout the whole land he would lead us; leaving no place, +desirable to be searched, unexplored. + +And so saying, he conducted us to his dwelling, for refreshment and +repose. + +It was large and lofty. Near by, however, were many miserable hovels, +with squalid inmates. But the old man's retreat was exceedingly +comfortable; especially abounding in mats for lounging; his rafters +were bowed down by calabashes of good cheer. + +During the repast which ensued, blind Pani, freely partaking, enlarged +upon the merit of abstinence; declaring that a thatch overhead, and a +cocoanut tree, comprised all that was necessary for the temporal +welfare of a Mardian. More than this, he assured us was sinful. + +He now made known, that he officiated as guide in this quarter of the +country; and that as he had renounced all other pursuits to devote +himself to showing strangers the island; and more particularly the +best way to ascend lofty Ofo; he was necessitated to seek remuneration +for his toil. + +"My lord," then whispered Mohi to Media "the great prophet Alma always +declared, that, without charge, this island was free to all." + +"What recompense do you desire, old man?" said Media to Pani. + +"What I seek is but little:--twenty rolls of fine tappa; two score +mats of best upland grass; one canoe-load of bread-fruit and yams; ten +gourds of wine; and forty strings of teeth;--you are a large company, +but my requisitions are small." + +"Very small," said Mohi. + + +"You are extortionate, good Pani," said Media. "And what wants an aged +mortal like you with all these things?" + +"I thought superfluities were worthless; nay, sinful," said Babbalanja. + +"Is not this your habitation already more than abundantly supplied +with all desirable furnishings?" asked Yoomy. + +"I am but a lowly laborer," said the old man, meekly crossing his +arms, "but does not the lowliest laborer ask and receive his reward? +and shall I miss mine?--But I beg charity of none. What I ask, I +demand; and in the dread name of great Alma, who appointed me a +guide." And to and fro he strode, groping as he went. + +Marking his blindness, whispered Babbalanja to Media, "My lord, +methinks this Pani must be a poor guide. In his journeys inland, his +little child leads him; why not, then, take the guide's guide?" + +But Pani would not part with the child. + +Then said Mohi in a low voice, "My lord Media, though I am no +appointed guide; yet, will I undertake to lead you aright over all +this island; for I am an old man, and have been here oft by myself; +though I can not undertake to conduct you up the peak of Ofo, and to +the more secret temples." + +Then Pani said: "and what mortal may this be, who pretends to thread +the labyrinthine wilds of Maramma? Beware!" + +"He is one with eyes that see," made answer Babbalanja. + +"Follow him not," said Pani, "for he will lead thee astray; no Yillah +will he find; and having no warrant as a guide, the curses of Alma +will accompany him." + +Now, this was not altogether without effect; for Pani and his fathers +before him had always filled the office of guide. + +Nevertheless, Media at last decided, that, this time, Mohi should +conduct us; which being communicated to Pani, he desired us to remove +from his roof. So withdrawing to the skirt of a neighboring grove, we +lingered awhile, to refresh ourselves for the journey in prospect. + +As we here reclined, there came up from the sea-side a party of +pilgrims, but newly arrived. + +Apprised of their coming, Pani and his child went out to meet them; +and standing in the path he cried, "I am the appointed guide; in the +name of Alma I conduct all pilgrims to the temples." + +"This must be the worthy Pani," said one of the strangers, turning +upon the rest. + +"Let us take him, then, for our guide," cried they; and all drew near. + +But upon accosting him; they were told, that he guided none without +recompense. + +And now, being informed, that the foremost of the pilgrims was one +Divino, a wealthy chief of a distant island, Pani demanded of him his +requital. + +But the other demurred; and by many soft speeches at length abated the +recompense to three promissory cocoanuts, which he covenanted to send +Pani at some future day. + +The next pilgrim accosted, was a sad-eyed maiden, in decent but scanty +raiment; who without seeking to diminish Pani's demands promptly +placed in his hands a small hoard of the money of Mardi. + +"Take it, holy guide," she said, "it is all I have." + +But the third pilgrim, one Fanna, a hale matron, in handsome apparel, +needed no asking to bestow her goods. Calling upon her attendants to +advance with their burdens, she quickly unrolled them; and wound round +and round Pani, fold after fold of the costliest tappas; and filled +both his hands with teeth; and his mouth with some savory marmalade; +and poured oil upon his head; and knelt and besought of him a +blessing. + +"From the bottom of my heart I bless thee," said Pani; and still +holding her hands exclaimed, "Take example from this woman, oh Divino; +and do ye likewise, ye pilgrims all." + +"Not to-day," said Divino. + +"We are not rich, like unto Fauna," said the rest. + +Now, the next pilgrim was a very old and miserable man; stone-blind, +covered with rags; and supporting his steps with a staff. + +"My recompense," said Pani. + +"Alas! I have naught to give. Behold my poverty." + +"I can not see," replied Pani; but feeling of his garments, he said, +"Thou wouldst deceive me; hast thou not this robe, and this staff?" + +"Oh! Merciful Pani, take not my all!" wailed the pilgrim. But his +worthless gaberdine was thrust into the dwelling of the guide. + +Meanwhile, the matron was still enveloping Pani in her interminable +tappas. + +But the sad-eyed maiden, removing her upper mantle, threw it over the +naked form of the beggar. + +The fifth pilgrim was a youth of an open, ingenuous aspect; and with +an eye, full of eyes; his step was light. + +"Who art thou?" cried Pani, as the stripling touched him in passing. + +"I go to ascend the Peak," said the boy. + +"Then take me for guide." + +"No, I am strong and lithesome. Alone must I go." + +"But how knowest thou the way?" + +"There are many ways: the right one I must seek for myself." + +"Ah, poor deluded one," sighed Pani; "but thus is it ever with youth; +and rejecting the monitions of wisdom, suffer they must. Go on, and +perish!" + +Turning, the boy exclaimed--"Though I act counter to thy counsels, oh +Pani, I but follow the divine instinct in me." + +"Poor youth!" murmured Babbalanja. "How earnestly he struggles in his +bonds. But though rejecting a guide, still he clings to that legend of +the Peak." + +The rest of the pilgrims now tarried with the guide, preparing for +their journey inland. + + + +CHAPTER III +They Pass Through The Woods + + +Refreshed by our stay in the grove, we rose, and placed ourselves +under the guidance of Mohi; who went on in advance. + +Winding our way among jungles, we came to a deep hollow, planted with +one gigantic palm-shaft, belted round by saplings, springing from its +roots. But, Laocoon-like, sire and sons stood locked in the serpent +folds of gnarled, distorted banians; and the banian-bark, eating into +their vital wood, corrupted their veins of sap, till all those palm- +nuts were poisoned chalices. + +Near by stood clean-limbed, comely manchineels, with lustrous leaves +and golden fruit. You would have deemed them Trees of Life; but +underneath their branches grew no blade of grass, no herb, nor moss; +the bare earth was scorched by heaven's own dews, filtrated through +that fatal foliage. + +Farther on, there frowned a grove of blended banian boughs, thick- +ranked manchineels, and many a upas; their summits gilded by the sun; +but below, deep shadows, darkening night-shade ferns, and mandrakes. +Buried in their midst, and dimly seen among large leaves, all halberd- +shaped, were piles of stone, supporting falling temples of bamboo. +Thereon frogs leaped in dampness, trailing round their slime. Thick +hung the rafters with lines of pendant sloths; the upas trees dropped +darkness round; so dense the shade, nocturnal birds found there +perpetual night; and, throve on poisoned air. Owls hooted from dead +boughs; or, one by one, sailed by on silent pinions; cranes stalked +abroad, or brooded, in the marshes; adders hissed; bats smote the +darkness; ravens croaked; and vampires, fixed on slumbering lizards, +fanned the sultry air. + + + +CHAPTER IV +Hivohitee MDCCCXLVIII + + +Now, those doleful woodlands passed, straightway converse was renewed, +and much discourse took place, concerning Hivohitee, Pontiff of the +isle. + +For, during our first friendly conversation with Pani, Media had +inquired for Hivohitee, and sought to know in what part of the island +he abode. + +Whereto Pani had replied, that the Pontiff would be invisible for +several days to come; being engaged with particular company. + +And upon further inquiry, as to who were the personages monopolizing +his hospitalities, Media was dumb when informed, that they were no +other than certain incorporeal deities from above, passing the +Capricorn Solstice at Maramma. + +As on we journeyed, much curiosity being expressed to know more of the +Pontiff and his guests, old Mohi, familiar with these things, was +commanded to enlighten the company. He complied; and his recital was +not a little significant, of the occasional credulity of chroniclers. + +According to his statement, the deities entertained by Hivohitee +belonged to the third class of immortals. These, however, were far +elevated above the corporeal demi-gods of Mardi. Indeed, in +Hivohitee's eyes, the greatest demi-gods were as gourds. Little +wonder, then, that their superiors were accounted the most genteel +characters on his visiting list. + +These immortals were wonderfully fastidious and dainty as to the +atmosphere they breathed; inhaling no sublunary air, but that of the +elevated interior; where the Pontiff had a rural lodge, for the +special accommodation of impalpable guests; who were entertained at +very small cost; dinners being unnecessary, and dormitories +superfluous. + +But Hivohitee permitted not the presence of these celestial grandees, +to interfere with his own solid comfort. Passing his mornings in +highly intensified chat, he thrice reclined at his ease; partaking of +a fine plantain-pudding, and pouring out from a calabash of celestial +old wine; meanwhile, carrying on the flow of soul with his guests. And +truly, the sight of their entertainer thus enjoying himself in the +flesh, while they themselves starved on the ether, must have been +exceedingly provoking to these aristocratic and aerial strangers. + +It was reported, furthermore, that Hivohitee, one of the haughtiest of +Pontiffs, purposely treated his angelical guests thus cavalierly; in +order to convince them, that though a denizen of earth; a sublunarian; +and in respect of heaven, a mere provincial; he (Hivohitee) accounted +himself full as good as seraphim from the capital; and that too at the +Capricorn Solstice, or any other time of the year. Strongly bent was +Hivohitee upon humbling their supercilious pretensions. + +Besides, was he not accounted a great god in the land? supreme? having +power of life and death? essaying the deposition of kings? and +dwelling in moody state, all by himself, in the goodliest island of +Mardi? Though here, be it said, that his assumptions of temporal +supremacy were but seldom made good by express interference with the +secular concerns of the neighboring monarchs; who, by force of arms, +were too apt to argue against his claims to authority; however, in +theory, they bowed to it. And now, for the genealogy of Hivohitee; for +eighteen hundred and forty-seven Hivohitees were alleged to have gone +before him. He came in a right line from the divine Hivohitee I.: the +original grantee of the empire of men's souls and the first swayer of +a crosier. The present Pontiff's descent was unquestionable; his +dignity having been transmitted through none but heirs male; the whole +procession of High Priests being the fruit of successive marriages +between uterine brother and sister. A conjunction deemed incestuous in +some lands; but, here, held the only fit channel for the pure +transmission of elevated rank. + +Added to the hereditary appellation, Hivohitee, which simply denoted +the sacerdotal station of the Pontiffs, and was but seldom employed in +current discourse, they were individualized by a distinctive name, +bestowed upon them at birth. And the degree of consideration in which +they were held, may be inferred from the fact, that during the +lifetime of a Pontiff, the leading sound in his name was banned to +ordinary uses. Whence, at every new accession to the archiepiscopal +throne, it came to pass, that multitudes of words and phrases were +either essentially modified, or wholly dropped. Wherefore, the +language of Maramma was incessantly fluctuating; and had become so +full of jargonings, that the birds in the groves were greatly puzzled; +not knowing where lay the virtue of sounds, so incoherent. + +And, in a good measure, this held true of all tongues spoken +throughout the Archipelago; the birds marveling at mankind, and +mankind at the birds; wondering how they could continually sing; when, +for all man knew to the contrary, it was impossible they could be +holding intelligent discourse. And thus, though for thousands of +years, men and birds had been dwelling together in Mardi, they +remained wholly ignorant of each other's secrets; the Islander +regarding the fowl as a senseless songster, forever in the clouds; and +the fowl him, as a screeching crane, destitute of pinions and lofty +aspirations. + +Over and above numerous other miraculous powers imputed to the +Pontiffs as spiritual potentates, there was ascribed to them one +special privilege of a secular nature: that of healing with a touch +the bites of the ravenous sharks, swarming throughout the lagoon. With +these they were supposed to be upon the most friendly terms; according +to popular accounts, sociably bathing with them in the sea; permitting +them to rub their noses against their priestly thighs; playfully +mouthing their hands, with all their tiers of teeth. + +At the ordination of a Pontiff, the ceremony was not deemed complete, +until embarking in his barge, he was saluted High Priest by three +sharks drawing near; with teeth turned up, swimming beside his canoe. + +These monsters were deified in Maramma; had altars there; it was +deemed worse than homicide to kill one. "And what if they destroy +human life?" say the Islanders, "are they not sacred?" + +Now many more wonderful things were related touching Hivohitee; and +though one could not but doubt the validity of many prerogatives +ascribed to him, it was nevertheless hard to do otherwise, than +entertain for the Pontiff that sort of profound consideration, which +all render to those who indisputably possess the power of quenching +human life with a wish. + + + +CHAPTER V +They Visit The Great Morai + + +As garrulous guide to the party, Braid-Beard soon brought us nigh the +great Morai of Maramma, the burial-place of the Pontiffs, and a rural +promenade, for certain idols there inhabiting. + +Our way now led through the bed of a shallow water-course; Mohi +observing, as we went, that our feet were being washed at every step; +whereas, to tread the dusty earth would be to desecrate the holy +Morai, by transferring thereto, the base soil of less sacred ground. + +Here and there, thatched arbors were thrown over the stream, for the +accommodation of devotees; who, in these consecrated waters, issuing +from a spring in the Morai, bathed their garments, that long life might +ensue. Yet, as Braid-Beard assured us, sometimes it happened, that +divers feeble old men zealously donning their raiment immediately after +immersion became afflicted with rheumatics; and instances were related +of their falling down dead, in this their pursuit of longevity. + +Coming to the Morai, we found it inclosed by a wall; and while the +rest were surmounting it, Mohi was busily engaged in the apparently +childish occupation of collecting pebbles. Of these, however, to our +no small surprise, he presently made use, by irreverently throwing +them at all objects to which he was desirous of directing attention. +In this manner, was pointed out a black boar's head, suspended from a +bough. Full twenty of these sentries were on post in the neighboring +trees. + +Proceeding, we came to a hillock of bone-dry sand, resting upon the +otherwise loamy soil. Possessing a secret, preservative virtue, this +sand had, ages ago, been brought from a distant land, to furnish a +sepulcher for the Pontiffs; who here, side by side, and sire by son, +slumbered all peacefully in the fellowship of the grave. Mohi +declared, that were the sepulcher to be opened, it would be the +resurrection of the whole line of High Priests. "But a resurrection of +bones, after all," said Babbalanja, ever osseous in his allusions to +the departed. + +Passing on, we came to a number of Runic-looking stones, all over +hieroglyphical inscriptions, and placed round an elliptical aperture; +where welled up the sacred spring of the Morai, clear as crystal, and +showing through its waters, two tiers of sharp, tusk-like stones; the +mouth of Oro, so called; and it was held, that if any secular hand +should be immersed in the spring, straight upon it those stony jaws +would close. + +We next came to a large image of a dark-hued stone, representing a +burly man, with an overgrown head, and abdomen hollowed out, and open +for inspection; therein, were relics of bones. Before this image we +paused. And whether or no it was Mohi's purpose to make us tourists +quake with his recitals, his revelations were far from agreeable. At +certain seasons, human beings were offered to the idol, which being an +epicure in the matter of sacrifices, would accept of no ordinary fare. +To insure his digestion, all indirect routes to the interior were +avoided; the sacrifices being packed in the ventricle itself. + +Near to this image of Doleema, so called, a solitary forest-tree was +pointed out; leafless and dead to the core. But from its boughs hang +numerous baskets, brimming over with melons, grapes, and guavas. And +daily these baskets were replenished. + +As we here stood, there passed a hungry figure, in ragged raiment: +hollow cheeks, and hollow eyes. Wistfully he eyed the offerings; but +retreated; knowing it was sacrilege to touch them. There, they must +decay, in honor of the god Ananna; for so this dead tree was +denominated by Mohi. + +Now, as we were thus strolling about the Morai, the old chronicler +elucidating its mysteries, we suddenly spied Pani and the pilgrims +approaching the image of Doleema; his child leading the guide. + +"This," began Pani, pointing to the idol of stone, "is the holy god +Ananna who lives in the sap of this green and flourishing tree." + +"Thou meanest not, surely, this stone image we behold?" said Divino. + +"I mean the tree," said the guide. "It is no stone image." + +"Strange," muttered the chief; "were it not a guide that spoke, I +would deny it. As it is, I hold my peace." + +"Mystery of mysteries!" cried the blind old pilgrim; "is it, then, a +stone image that Pani calls a tree? Oh, Oro, that I had eyes to see, +that I might verily behold it, and then believe it to be what it is +not; that so I might prove the largeness of my faith; and so merit the +blessing of Alma." + +"Thrice sacred Ananna," murmured the sad-eyed maiden, falling upon her +knees before Doleema, "receive my adoration. Of thee, I know nothing, +but what the guide has spoken. I am but a poor, weak-minded maiden, +judging not for myself, but leaning upon others that are wiser. These +things are above me. I am afraid to think. In Alma's name, receive my +homage." + +And she flung flowers before the god. + +But Fauna, the hale matron, turning upon Pani, exclaimed, "Receive +more gifts, oh guide." And again she showered them upon him. + +Upon this, the willful boy who would not have Pani for his guide, +entered the Morai; and perceiving the group before the image, walked +rapidly to where they were. And beholding the idol, he regarded it +attentively, and said:--"This must be the image of Doleema; but I am +not sure." + +"Nay," cried the blind pilgrim, "it is the holy tree Ananna, thou +wayward boy." + +"A tree? whatever it may be, it is not that; thou art blind, old man." + +"But though blind, I have that which thou lackest." + +Then said Pani, turning upon the boy, "Depart from the holy Morai, and +corrupt not the hearts of these pilgrims. Depart, I say; and, in the +sacred name of Alma, perish in thy endeavors to climb the Peak." + +"I may perish there in truth," said the boy, with sadness; "but it +shall be in the path revealed to me in my dream. And think not, oh +guide, that I perfectly rely upon gaining that lofty summit. I will +climb high Ofo with hope, not faith; Oh, mighty Oro, help me!" + +"Be not impious," said Pani; "pronounce not Oro's sacred name too +lightly." + +"Oro is but a sound," said the boy. "They call the supreme god, Ati, +in my native isle; it is the soundless thought of him, oh guide, that +is in me." + +"Hark to his rhapsodies! Hark, how he prates of mysteries, that not +even Hivohitee can fathom." + +"Nor he, nor thou, nor I, nor any; Oro, to all, is Oro the unknown." + +"Why claim to know Oro, then, better than others?" + +"I am not so vain; and I have little to substitute for what I can not +receive. I but feel Oro in me, yet can not declare the thought." + +"Proud boy! thy humility is a pretense; at heart, thou deemest thyself +wiser than Mardi." + +"Not near so wise. To believe is a haughty thing; my very doubts +humiliate me. I weep and doubt; all Mardi may be light; and I too +simple to discern." + +"He is mad," said the chief Divino; "never before heard I such words." + +"They are thoughts," muttered the guide. + +"Poor fool!" cried Fauna. + +"Lost youth!" sighed the maiden. + +"He is but a child," said the beggar. These whims will soon depart; +once I was like him; but, praise be to Alma, in the hour of sickness I +repented, feeble old man that I am!" + +"It is because I am young and in health," said the boy, "that I more +nourish the thoughts, that are born of my youth and my health. I am +fresh from my Maker, soul and body unwrinkled. On thy sick couch, old +man, they took thee at advantage." + +"Turn from the blasphemer," cried Pani. "Hence! thou evil one, to the +perdition in store." + +"I will go my ways," said the boy, "but Oro will shape the end." + +And he quitted the Morai. + +After conducting the party round the sacred inclosure, assisting his +way with his staff, for his child had left him, Pani seated himself on +a low, mossy stone, grimly surrounded by idols; and directed the +pilgrims to return to his habitation; where, ere long he would rejoin +them. + +The pilgrims departed, he remained in profound meditation; while, +backward and forward, an invisible ploughshare turned up the long +furrows on his brow. + +Long he was silent; then muttered to himself, "That boy, that wild, +wise boy, has stabbed me to the heart. His thoughts are my suspicions. +But he is honest. Yet I harm none. Multitudes must have unspoken +meditations as well as I. Do we then mutually deceive? Off masks, +mankind, that I may know what warranty of fellowship with others, my +own thoughts possess. Why, upon this one theme, oh Oro! must all +dissemble? Our thoughts are not our own. Whate'er it be, an honest +thought must have some germ of truth. But we must set, as flows the +general stream; I blindly follow, where I seem to lead; the crowd of +pilgrims is so great, they see not there is none to guide.--It hinges +upon this: Have we angelic spirits? But in vain, in vain, oh Oro! I +essay to live out of this poor, blind body, fit dwelling for my +sightless soul. Death, death:--blind, am I dead? for blindness seems a +consciousness of death. Will my grave be more dark, than all is now?-- +From dark to dark!--What is this subtle something that is in me, and +eludes me? Will it have no end? When, then, did it begin? All, all is +chaos! What is this shining light in heaven, this sun they tell me of? +Or, do they lie? Methinks, it might blaze convictions; but I brood and +grope in blackness; I am dumb with doubt; yet, 'tis not doubt, but +worse: I doubt my doubt. Oh, ye all-wise spirits in the air, how can +ye witness all this woe, and give no sign? Would, would that mine were +a settled doubt, like that wild boy's, who without faith, seems full +of it. The undoubting doubter believes the most. Oh! that I were he. +Methinks that daring boy hath Alma in him, struggling to be free. But +those pilgrims: that trusting girl.--What, if they saw me as I am? +Peace, peace, my soul; on, mask, again." + +And he staggered from the Morai. + + + +CHAPTER VI +They Discourse Of The Gods Of Mardi, And Braid-Beard Tells Of One Foni + + +Walking from the sacred inclosure, Mohi discoursed of the plurality of +gods in the land, a subject suggested by the multitudinous idols we +had just been beholding. + +Said Mohi, "These gods of wood and of stone are nothing in number to +the gods in the air. You breathe not a breath without inhaling, you +touch not a leaf without ruffling a spirit. There are gods of heaven, +and gods of earth; gods of sea and of land; gods of peace and of war; +gods of rook and of fell; gods of ghosts and of thieves; of singers +and dancers; of lean men and of house-thatchers. Gods glance in the +eyes of birds, and sparkle in the crests of the waves; gods merrily +swing in the boughs of the trees, and merrily sing in the brook. Gods +are here, and there, and every where; you are never alone for them." + +"If this be so, Braid-Beard," said Babbalanja, "our inmost thoughts +are overheard; but not by eaves-droppers. However, my lord, these gods +to whom he alludes, merely belong to the semi-intelligibles, the +divided unities in unity, thin side of the First Adyta." + +"Indeed?" said Media. + +"Semi-intelligible, say you, philosopher?" cried Mohi. "Then, prithee, +make it appear so; for what you say, seems gibberish to me." + +"Babbalanja," said Media, "no more of your abstrusities; what know you +mortals of us gods and demi-gods? But tell me, Mohi, how many of your +deities of rock and fen think you there are? Have you no statistical +table?" + +"My lord, at the lowest computation, there must be at least three +billion trillion of quintillions." + +"A mere unit!" said Babbalanja. "Old man, would you express an +infinite number? Then take the sum of the follies of Mardi for your +multiplicand; and for your multiplier, the totality of sublunarians, +that never have been heard of since they became no more; and the +product shall exceed your quintillions, even though all their units +were nonillions." + +"Have done, Babbalanja!" cried Media; "you are showing the sinister +vein in your marble. Have done. Take a warm bath, and make tepid your +cold blood. But come, Mohi, tell us of the ways of this Maramma; +something of the Morai and its idols, if you please." + +And straightway Braid-Beard proceeded with a narration, in substance +as follows:-- + +It seems, there was a particular family upon the island, whose +members, for many generations, had been set apart as sacrifices for +the deity called Doleema. They were marked by a sad and melancholy +aspect, and a certain involuntary shrinking, when passing the Morai. +And, though, when it came to the last, some of these unfortunates went +joyfully to their doom, declaring that they gloried to die in the +service of holy Doleema; still, were there others, who audaciously +endeavored to shun their fate; upon the approach of a festival, +fleeing to the innermost wilderness of the island. But little availed +their flight. For swift on their track sped the hereditary butler of +the insulted god, one Xiki, whose duty it was to provide the +sacrifices. And when crouching in some covert, the fugitive spied +Xiki's approach, so fearful did he become of the vengeance of the +deity he sought to evade, that renouncing all hope of escape, he would +burst from his lair, exclaiming, "Come on, and kill!" baring his +breast for the javelin that slew him. + +The chronicles of Maramma were full of horrors. + +In the wild heart of the island, was said still to lurk the remnant of +a band of warriors, who, in the days of the sire of the present +pontiff, had risen in arms to dethrone him, headed by Foni, an upstart +prophet, a personage distinguished for the uncommon beauty of his +person. With terrible carnage, these warriors had been defeated; and +the survivors, fleeing into the interior, for thirty days were pursued +by the victors. But though many were overtaken and speared, a number +survived; who, at last, wandering forlorn and in despair, like +demoniacs, ran wild in the woods. And the islanders, who at times +penetrated into the wilderness, for the purpose of procuring rare +herbs, often scared from their path some specter, glaring through the +foliage. Thrice had these demoniacs been discovered prowling about the +inhabited portions of the isle; and at day-break, an attendant of the +holy Morai once came upon a frightful figure, doubled with age, +helping itself to the offerings in the image of Doleema. The demoniac +was slain; and from his ineffaceable tatooing, it was proved that this +was no other than Foni, the false prophet; the splendid form he had +carried into the rebel fight, now squalid with age and misery. + + + +CHAPTER VII +They Visit The Lake Of Yammo + + +From the Morai, we bent our steps toward an unoccupied arbor; and +here, refreshing ourselves with the viands presented by Borabolla, we +passed the night. And next morning proceeded to voyage round to the +opposite quarter of the island; where, in the sacred lake of Yammo, +stood the famous temple of Oro, also the great gallery of the inferior +deities. + +The lake was but a portion of the smooth lagoon, made separate by an +arm of wooded reef, extending from the high western shore of the +island, and curving round toward a promontory, leaving a narrow +channel to the sea, almost invisible, however, from the land-locked +interior. + +In this lake were many islets, all green with groves. Its main-shore +was a steep acclivity, with jutting points, each crowned with mossy +old altars of stone, or ruinous temples, darkly reflected in the +green, glassy water; while, from its long line of stately trees, the +low reef-side of the lake looked one verdant bluff. + +Gliding in upon Yammo, its many islets greeted us like a little Mardi; +but ever and anon we started at long lines of phantoms in the water, +reflections of the long line of images on the shore. + +Toward the islet of Dolzono we first directed our way; and there we +beheld the great gallery of the gods; a mighty temple, resting on one +hundred tall pillars of palm, each based, below the surface, on the +buried body of a man; its nave one vista of idols; names carved on +their foreheads: Ogre, Tripoo, Indrimarvoki, Parzillo, Vivivi, +Jojijojorora, Jorkraki, and innumerable others. + +Crowds of attendants were new-grouping the images. + +"My lord, you behold one of their principal occupations," said Mohi. + +Said Media: "I have heard much of the famed image of Mujo, the Nursing +Mother;--can you point it out, Braid-Beard?" + +"My lord, when last here, I saw Mujo at the head of this file; but +they must have removed it; I see it not now." + +"Do these attendants, then," said Babbalanja, "so continually new- +marshal the idols, that visiting the gallery to-day, you are at a loss +to-morrow?" + +"Even so," said Braid-Beard. "But behold, my lord, this image is Mujo." + +We stood before an obelisk-idol, so towering, that gazing at it, we +were fain to throw back our heads. According to Mohi, winding stairs +led up through its legs; its abdomen a cellar, thick-stored with +gourds of old wine; its head, a hollow dome; in rude alto-relievo, its +scores of hillock-breasts were carved over with legions of baby +deities, frog-like sprawling; while, within, were secreted whole +litters of infant idols, there placed, to imbibe divinity from the +knots of the wood. + +As we stood, a strange subterranean sound was heard, mingled with a +gurgling as of wine being poured. Looking up, we beheld, through +arrow-slits and port-holes, three masks, cross-legged seated in the +abdomen, and holding stout wassail. But instantly upon descrying us, +they vanished deeper into the interior; and presently was heard a +sepulchral chant, and many groans and grievous tribulations. + +Passing on, we came to an image, with a long anaconda-like posterior +development, wound round and round its own neck. + +"This must be Oloo, the god of Suicides," said Babbalanja. + +"Yes," said Mohi, "you perceive, my lord, how he lays violent tail +upon himself." + +At length, the attendants having, in due order, new-deposed the long +lines of sphinxes and griffins, and many limbed images, a band of +them, in long flowing robes, began their morning chant. + + "Awake Rarni! awake Foloona! + Awake unnumbered deities!" + +With many similar invocations, to which the images made not the +slightest rejoinder. Not discouraged, however, the attendants now +separately proceeded to offer up petitions on behalf of various +tribes, retaining them for that purpose. + +One prayed for abundance of rain, that the yams of Valapee might not +wilt in the ground; another for dry sunshine, as most favorable for +the present state of the Bread-fruit crop in Mondoldo. + +Hearing all this, Babbalanja thus spoke:--"Doubtless, my lord Media, +besides these petitions we hear, there are ten thousand contradictory +prayers ascending to these idols. But methinks the gods will not jar +the eternal progression of things, by any hints from below; even were +it possible to satisfy conflicting desires." + +Said Yoomy, "But I would pray, nevertheless, Babbalanja; for prayer +draws us near to our own souls, and purifies our thoughts. Nor will I +grant that our supplications are altogether in vain." + +Still wandering among the images, Mohi had much to say, concerning +their respective claims to the reverence of the devout. + +For though, in one way or other, all Mardians bowed to the supremacy +of Oro, they were not so unanimous concerning the inferior deities; +those supposed to be intermediately concerned in sublunary things. +Some nations sacrificed to one god; some to another; each maintaining, +that their own god was the most potential. + +Observing that all the images were more or less defaced, Babbalanja +sought the reason. + +To which, Braid-Beard made answer, that they had been thus defaced by +hostile devotees; who quarreling in the great gallery of the gods, and +getting beside themselves with rage, often sought to pull down, and +demolish each other's favorite idols. + +"But behold," cried Babbalanja, "there seems not a single image +unmutilated. How is this, old man?" + +"It is thus. While one faction defaces the images of its adversaries, +its own images are in like manner assailed; whence it comes that no +idol escapes." + +"No more, no more, Braid-Beard," said Media. "Let us depart, and visit +the islet, where the god of all these gods is enshrined." + + + +CHAPTER VIII +They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro + + +Deep, deep, in deep groves, we found the great temple of Oro, +Spreader-of-the-Sky, and deity supreme. + +While here we silently stood eyeing this Mardi-renowned image, there +entered the fane a great multitude of its attendants, holding pearl- +shells on their heads, filled with a burning incense. And ranging +themselves in a crowd round Oro, they began a long-rolling chant, a +sea of sounds; and the thick smoke of their incense went up to the +roof. + +And now approached Pani and the pilgrims; followed, at a distance, by +the willful boy. + +"Behold great Oro," said the guide. + +"We see naught but a cloud," said the chief Divino. + +"My ears are stunned by the chanting," said the blind pilgrim. + +"Receive more gifts, oh guide!" cried Fanna the matron. "Oh Oro! +invisible Oro! I kneel," slow murmured the sad-eyed maid. + +But now, a current of air swept aside the eddying incense; and the +willful boy, all eagerness to behold the image, went hither and +thither; but the gathering of attendants was great; and at last he +exclaimed, "Oh Oro! I can not see thee, for the crowd that stands +between thee and me." + +"Who is this babbler?" cried they with the censers, one and all +turning upon the pilgrims; "let him speak no more; but bow down, and +grind the dust where he stands; and declare himself the vilest +creature that crawls. So Oro and Alma command." + +"I feel nothing in me so utterly vile," said the boy, "and I cringe to +none. But I would as lief _adore_ your image, as that in my heart, for +both mean the same; but more, how can I? I love great Oro, though I +comprehend him not. I marvel at his works, and feel as nothing in his +sight; but because he is thus omnipotent, and I a mortal, it follows +not that I am vile. Nor so doth he regard me. We do ourselves degrade +ourselves, not Oro us. Hath not Oro made me? And therefore am I not +worthy to stand erect before him? Oro is almighty, but no despot. I +wonder; I hope; I love; I weep; I have in me a feeling nigh to fear, +that is not fear; but wholly vile I am not; nor can we love and +cringe. But Oro knows my heart, which I can not speak." + +"Impious boy," cried they with the censers, "we will offer thee up, +before the very image thou contemnest. In the name of Alma, seize him." + +And they bore him away unresisting. + +"Thus perish the ungodly," said Pani to the shuddering pilgrims. + +And they quitted the temple, to journey toward the Peak of Ofo. + +"My soul bursts!" cried Yoomy. "My lord, my lord, let us save the boy." + +"Speak not," said Media. "His fate is fixed. Let Mardi stand." + +"Then let us away from hence, my lord; and join the pilgrims; for, in +these inland vales, the lost one may be found, perhaps at the very +base of Ofo." + +"Not there; not there;" cried Babbalanja, "Yillah may have touched +these shores; but long since she must have fled." + + + +CHAPTER IX +They Discourse Of Alma + + +Sailing to and fro in the lake, to view its scenery, much discourse +took place concerning the things we had seen; and far removed from the +censer-bearers, the sad fate that awaited the boy was now the theme +of all. + +A good deal was then said of Alma, to whom the guide, the pilgrims, +and the censer-bearers had frequently alluded, as to some paramount +authority. + +Called upon to reveal what his chronicles said on this theme, Braid- +Beard complied; at great length narrating, what now follows condensed. + +Alma, it seems, was an illustrious prophet, and teacher divine; who, +ages ago, at long intervals, and in various islands, had appeared to +the Mardians under the different titles of Brami, Manko, and Alma. +Many thousands of moons had elasped since his last and most memorable +avatar, as Alma on the isle of Maramma. Each of his advents had taken +place in a comparatively dark and benighted age. Hence, it was +devoutly believed, that he came to redeem the Mardians from their +heathenish thrall; to instruct them in the ways of truth, virtue, and +happiness; to allure them to good by promises of beatitude hereafter; +and to restrain them from evil by denunciations of woe. Separated from +the impurities and corruptions, which in a long series of centuries +had become attached to every thing originally uttered by the prophet, +the maxims, which as Brami he had taught, seemed similar to those +inculcated by Manko. But as Alma, adapting his lessons to the improved +condition of humanity, the divine prophet had more completely unfolded +his scheme; as Alma, he had made his last revelation. + +This narration concluded, Babbalanja mildly observed, "Mohi: without +seeking to accuse you of uttering falsehoods; since what you relate +rests not upon testimony of your own; permit me, to question the +fidelity of your account of Alma. The prophet came to dissipate +errors, you say; but superadded to many that have survived the past, +ten thousand others have originated in various constructions of the +principles of Alma himself. The prophet came to do away all gods but +one; but since the days of Alma, the idols of Maramma have more than +quadrupled. The prophet came to make us Mardians more virtuous and +happy; but along with all previous good, the same wars, crimes, and +miseries, which existed in Alma's day, under various modifications are +yet extant. Nay: take from your chronicles, Mohi, the history of those +horrors, one way or other, resulting from the doings of Alma's nominal +followers, and your chronicles would not so frequently make mention of +blood. The prophet came to guarantee our eternal felicity; but +according to what is held in Maramma, that felicity rests on so hard a +proviso, that to a thinking mind, but very few of our sinful race may +secure it. For one, then, I wholly reject your Alma; not so much, +because of all that is hard to be understood in his histories; as +because of obvious and undeniable things all round us; which, to me, +seem at war with an unreserved faith in his doctrines as promulgated +here in Maramma. Besides; every thing in this isle strengthens my +incredulity; I never was so thorough a disbeliever as now." + +"Let the winds be laid," cried Mohi, "while your rash confession is +being made in this sacred lake." + +Said Media, "Philosopher; remember the boy, and they that seized him." + +"Ah! I do indeed remember him. Poor youth! in his agony, how my heart +yearned toward his. But that very prudence which you deny me, my lord, +prevented me from saying aught in his behalf. Have you not observed, +that until now, when we are completely by ourselves, I have refrained +from freely discoursing of what we have seen in this island? Trust me, +my lord, there is no man, that bears more in mind the necessity of +being either a believer or a hypocrite in Maramma, and the imminent +peril of being honest here, than I, Babbalanja. And have I not reason +to be wary, when in my boyhood, my own sire was burnt for his +temerity; and in this very isle? Just Oro! it was done in the name of +Alma,--what wonder then, that, at times, I almost hate that sound. And +from those flames, they devoutly swore he went to others,--horrible +fable!" + +Said Mohi: "Do you deny, then, the everlasting torments?" + +"'Tis not worth a denial. Nor by formally denying it, will I run the +risk of shaking the faith of, thousands, who in that pious belief find +infinite consolation for all they suffer in Mardi." + +"How?" said Media; "are there those who soothe themselves with the +thought of everlasting flames?" + +"One would think so, my lord, since they defend that dogma more +resolutely than any other. Sooner will they yield you the isles of +Paradise, than it. And in truth, as liege followers of Alma, they +would seem but right in clinging to it as they do; for, according to +all one hears in Maramma, the great end of the prophet's mission seems +to have been the revealing to us Mardians the existence of horrors, +most hard to escape. But better we were all annihilated, than that one +man should be damned." + +Rejoined Media: "But think you not, that possibly, Alma may have been +misconceived? Are you certain that doctrine is his?" + +"I know nothing more than that such is the belief in this land. And in +these matters, I know not where else to go for information. But, my +lord, had I been living in those days when certain men are said to +have been actually possessed by spirits from hell, I had not let slip +the opportunity--as our forefathers did--to cross-question them +concerning the place they came from." + +"Well, well," said Media, "your Alma's faith concerns not me: I am a +king, and a demi-god; and leave vulgar torments to the commonality." + +"But it concerns me," muttered Mohi; "yet I know not what to think." + +"For me," said Yoomy, "I reject it. Could I, I would not believe it. +It is at variance with the dictates of my heart instinctively my heart +turns from it, as a thirsty man from gall." + +"Hush; say no more," said Mohi; "again we approach the shore." + + + +CHAPTER X +Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo, And They Land To Visit Revaneva, A +Flourishing Artisan + + +Having seen all worth viewing in Yammo, we departed, to complete the +circumnavigation of the island, by returning to Uma without reversing +our prows. As we glided along, we passed many objects of interest, +concerning which, Mohi, as usual, was very diffuse. + +Among other things pointed out, were certain little altars, like mile- +stones, planted here and there upon bright bluffs, running out into +the lagoon. Dedicated respectively to the guardian spirits of Maramma, +these altars formed a chain of spiritual defenses; and here were +presumed to stand post the most vigilant of warders; dread Hivohitee, +all by himself, garrisoning the impregnable interior. + +But these sentries were only subalterns, subject to the beck of the +Pontiff; who frequently sent word to them, concerning the duties of +their watch. His mandates were intrusted to one Ravoo, the hereditary +pontifical messenger; a long-limbed varlet, so swift of foot, that he +was said to travel like a javelin. "Art thou Ravoo, that thou so +pliest thy legs?" say these islanders, to one encountered in a hurry. + +Hivohitee's postman held no oral communication with the sentries. +Dispatched round the island with divers bits of tappa, +hieroglyphically stamped, he merely deposited one upon each altar; +superadding a stone, to keep the missive in its place; and so went his +rounds. + +Now, his route lay over hill and over dale, and over many a coral +rock; and to preserve his feet from bruises, he was fain to wear a +sort of buskin, or boot, fabricated of a durable tappa, made from the +thickest and toughest of fibers. As he never wore his buskins except +when he carried the mail, Ravoo sorely fretted with his Hessians; +though it would have been highly imprudent to travel without them. To +make the thing more endurable, therefore, and, at intervals, to cool +his heated pedals, he established a series of stopping-places, or +stages; at each of which a fresh pair of buskins, hanging from a tree, +were taken down and vaulted into by the ingenious traveler. Those +relays of boots were exceedingly convenient; next, indeed, to being +lifted upon a fresh pair of legs. + +"Now, to what purpose that anecdote?" demanded Babbalanja of Mohi, who +in substance related it. + +"Marry! 'tis but the simple recital of a fact; and I tell it to +entertain the company." + +"But has it any meaning you know of?" + +"Thou art wise, find out," retorted Braid-Beard. "But what comes of +it?" persisted Babbalanja. + +"Beshrew me, this senseless catechising of thine," replied Mohi; +"naught else, it seems, save a grin or two." + +"And pray, what may you be driving at, philosopher?" interrupted Media. + +"I am intent upon the essence of things; the mystery that lieth +beyond; the elements of the tear which much laughter provoketh; that +which is beneath the seeming; the precious pearl within the shaggy +oyster. I probe the circle's center; I seek to evolve the +inscrutable." + +"Seek on; and when aught is found, cry out, that we may run to see." + +"My lord the king is merry upon me. To him my more subtle cogitations +seem foolishness. But believe me, my lord, there is more to be thought +of than to be seen. There is a world of wonders insphered within the +spontaneous consciousness; or, as old Bardianna hath it, a mystery +within the obvious, yet an obviousness within the mystery." + +"And did I ever deny that?" said Media. + +"As plain as my hand in the dark," said Mohi. + +"I dreamed a dream," said Yoomy. + +"They banter me; but enough; I am to blame for discoursing upon the +deep world wherein I live. I am wrong in seeking to invest sublunary +sounds with celestial sense. Much that is in me is incommunicable by +this ether we breathe. But I blame ye not." And wrapping round him his +mantle, Babbalanja retired into its most private folds. + +Ere coming in sight of Uma, we put into a little bay, to pay our +respects to Hevaneva, a famous character there dwelling; who, assisted +by many journeymen, carried on the lucrative business of making idols +for the surrounding isles. + +Know ye, that all idols not made in Maramma, and consecrated by +Hivohitee; and, what is more, in strings of teeth paid down for to +Hevaneva; are of no more account, than logs, stocks, or stones. Yet +does not the cunning artificer monopolize the profits of his vocation; +for Hevaneva being but the vassal of the Pontiff, the latter lays +claim to King Leo's share of the spoils, and secures it. + +The place was very prettily lapped in a pleasant dell, nigh to the +margin of the water; and here, were several spacious arbors; wherein, +prostrate upon their sacred faces, were all manner of idols, in every +imaginable stage of statuary development. + +With wonderful industry the journeymen were plying their tools;--some +chiseling noses; some trenching for mouths; and others, with heated +flints, boring for ears: a hole drilled straight through the occiput, +representing the auricular organs. + +"How easily they are seen through," said Babbalanja, taking a sight +through one of the heads. + +The last finish is given to their godships, by rubbing them all over +with dried slips of consecrated shark-skin, rough as sand paper, +tacked over bits of wood. + +In one of the farther arbors, Hevaneva pointed out a goodly array of +idols, all complete and ready for the market. They were of every +variety of pattern; and of every size; from that of a giant, to the +little images worn in the ears of the ultra devout. + +"Of late," said the artist, "there has been a lively demand for the +image of Arbino the god of fishing; the present being the principal +season for that business. For Nadams (Nadam presides over love and +wine), there has also been urgent call; it being the time of the +grape; and the maidens growing frolicsome withal, and devotional." + +Seeing that Hevaneva handled his wares with much familiarity, not to +say irreverence, Babbalanja was minded to learn from him, what he +thought of his trade; whether the images he made were genuine or +spurious; in a word, whether he believed in his gods. + +His reply was curious. But still more so, the marginal gestures +wherewith he helped out the text. + +"When I cut down the trees for my idols," said he, "they are nothing +but logs; when upon those logs, I chalk out the figures of, my images, +they yet remain logs; when the chisel is applied, logs they are still; +and when all complete, I at last stand them up in my studio, even then +they are logs. Nevertheless, when I handle the pay, they are as prime +gods, as ever were turned out in Maramma." + +"You must make a very great variety," said Babbalanja. + +"All sorts, all sorts." + +"And from the same material, I presume." + +"Ay, ay, one grove supplies them all. And, on an average, each tree +stands us in full fifty idols. Then, we often take second-hand images +in part pay for new ones. These we work over again into new patterns; +touching up their eyes and ears; resetting their noses; and more +especially new-footing their legs, where they always decay first." + +Under sanction of the Pontiff, Hevaneva, in addition to his large +commerce in idols, also carried on the highly lucrative business of +canoe-building; the profits whereof, undivided, he dropped into his +private exchequer. But Mohi averred, that the Pontiff often charged +him with neglecting his images, for his canoes. Be that as it may, +Hevaneva drove a thriving trade at both avocations. And in demonstration +of the fact, he directed our attention to three long rows of canoes, +upheld by wooden supports. They were in perfect order; at a moment's +notice, ready for launching; being furnished with paddles, out-riggers, +masts, sails, and a human skull, with a short handle thrust through +one of its eyes, the ordinary bailer of Maramma; besides other +appurtenances, including on the prow a duodecimo idol to match. + +Owing to a superstitious preference bestowed upon the wood and work of +the sacred island, Hevaneva's canoes were in as high repute as his +idols; and sold equally well. + +In truth, in several ways one trade helped the other. The larger +images being dug out of the hollow part of the canoes; and all knotty +odds and ends reserved for the idol ear-rings. + +"But after all," said the artificer, "I find a readier sale for my +images, than for my canoes." + +"And so it will ever be," said Babbalanja.--"Stick to thy idols, man! +a trade, more reliable than the baker's." + + + +CHAPTER XI +A Nursery-Tale Of Babbalanja's + + +Having taken to our canoes once again, we were silently sailing along, +when Media observed, "Babbalanja; though I seldom trouble myself with +such thoughts, I have just been thinking, how difficult it must be, +for the more ignorant sort of people, to decide upon what particular +image to worship as a guardian deity, when in Maramma, it seems, there +exists such a multitude of idols, and a thousand more are to be heard +of." + +"Not at all, your highness. The more ignorant the better. The +multitude of images distracts them not. But I am in no mood for +serious discourse; let me tell you a story." + +"A story! hear him: the solemn philosopher is desirous of regaling us +with a tale! But pray, begin." + +"Once upon a time, then," said Babbalanja, indifferently adjusting his +girdle, "nine blind men, with uncommonly long noses, set out on their +travels to see the great island on which they were born." + +"A precious beginning," muttered Mohi. "Nine blind men setting out to +see sights." + +Continued Babbalanja, "Staff in hand, they traveled; one in advance of +the other; each man with his palm upon the shoulder next him; and he +with the longest nose took the lead of the file. Journeying on in this +manner, they came to a valley, in which reigned a king called Tammaro. +Now, in a certain inclosure toward the head of the valley, there stood +an immense wild banian tree; all over moss, and many centuries old, +and forming quite a wood in itself: its thousand boughs striking into +the earth, and fixing there as many gigantic trunks. With Tammaro, it +had long been a question, which of those many trunks was the original +and true one; a matter that had puzzled the wisest heads among his +subjects; and in vain had a reward been offered for the solution of +the perplexity. But the tree was so vast, and its fabric so complex; +and its rooted branches so similar in appearance; and so numerous, +from the circumstance that every year had added to them, that it was +quite impossible to determine the point. Nevertheless, no sooner did +the nine blind men hear that there was a reward offered for +discovering the trunk of a tree, standing all by itself, than, one and +all, they assured Tammaro, that they would quickly settle that little +difficulty of his; and loudly inveighed against the stupidity of his +sages, who had been so easily posed. So, being conducted into the +inclosure, and assured that the tree was somewhere within, they +separated their forces, so as at wide intervals to surround it at a +distance; when feeling their way, with their staves and their noses, +they advanced to the search, crying out--'Pshaw! make room there; let +us wise men feel of the mystery.' Presently, striking with his nose +one of the rooted branches, the foremost blind man quickly knelt down; +and feeling that it struck into the earth, gleefully shouted: Here it +is! here it is!' But almost in the same breath, his companions, also, +each striking a branch with his staff or his nose, cried out in like +manner, 'Here it is! here it is!' Whereupon they were all confounded: +but directly, the man who first cried out, thus addressed the rest: +Good friends, surely you're mistaken. There is but one tree in the +place, and here it is.' 'Very true,' said the others, 'all together; +there is only _one_ tree; but _here_ it is.' 'Nay,' said the others, +'it is _here!_' and so saying, each blind man triumphantly felt of the +branch, where it penetrated into the earth. Then again said the first +speaker: Good friends, if you will not believe what I say, come +hither, and feel for yourselves.' 'Nay, nay,' replied they, why seek +further? _here_ it is; and nowhere else can it be.' 'You blind fools, +you, you contradict yourselves,' continued the first speaker, waxing +wroth; 'how can you each have hold of a separate trunk, when there is +but one in the place?' Whereupon, they redoubled their cries, calling +each other all manner of opprobrious names, and presently they fell to +beating each other with their staves, and charging upon each other +with their noses. But soon after, being loudly called upon by Tammaro +and his people; who all this while had been looking on; being loudly +called upon, I say, to clap their hands on the trunk, they again +rushed for their respective branches; and it so happened, that, one +and all, they changed places; but still cried out, '_Here_ it is; +_here_ it is!' 'Peace! peace! ye silly blind men,' said Tammaro. 'Will +ye without eyes presume to see more sharply than those who have them? +The tree is too much for us all. Hence! depart from the valley.'" + +"An admirable story," cried Media. "I had no idea that a mere mortal, +least of all a philosopher, could acquit himself so well. By my +scepter, but it is well done! Ha, ha! blind men round a banian! Why, +Babbalanja, no demi-god could surpass it. Taji, could you?" + +"But, Babbalanja, what under the sun, mean you by your blind story!" +cried Mohi. "Obverse, or reverse, I can make nothing out of it." + +"Others may," said Babbalanja. "It is a polysensuum, old man." + +"A pollywog!" said Mohi. + + + +CHAPTER XII +Landing To Visit Hivohitee The Pontiff, They Encounter An +Extraordinary Old Hermit; With Whom Yoomy Has A Confidential +Interview, But Learns Little + + +Gliding on, suddenly we spied a solitary Islander putting out in his +canoe from a neighboring cove. + +Drawing near, the stranger informed us, that he was just from the face +of the great Pontiff, Hivohitee, who, having dismissed his celestial +guests, had retired to his private sanctuary. Upon this, Media +resolved to land forthwith, and under the guidance of Mohi, proceed +inland, and pay a visit to his Holiness. + +Quitting the beach, our path penetrated into the solitudes of the +groves. Skirting the way were tall Casaurinas, a species of cypress, +standing motionless in the shadows, as files of mutes at a funeral. +But here and there, they were overrun with the adventurous vines of +the Convolvulus, the Morning-glory of the Tropics, whose tendrils, +bruised by the twigs, dropped milk upon the dragon-like scales of the +trees. + +This vine is of many varieties. Lying perdu, and shunning the garish +sun through the day, one species rises at night with the stars; +bursting forth in dazzling constellations of blossoms, which close at +dawn. Others, slumbering through the darkness, are up and abroad with +their petals, by peep of morn; and after inhaling its breath, again +drop their lids in repose. While a third species, more capricious, +refuse to expand at all, unless in the most brilliant sunshine, and +upon the very tops of the loftiest trees. Ambitious flowers! that will +not blow, unless in high places, with the bright day looking on and +admiring. + +Here and there, we passed open glades in the woods, delicious with the +incense of violets. Balsamic ferns, stirred by the breeze, fanned all +the air with aromas. These glades were delightful. + +Journeying on, we at length came to a dark glen so deftly hidden by +the surrounding copses, that were it not for the miasma thence wafted, +an ignorant wayfarer might pass and repass it, time and again, never +dreaming of its vicinity. + +Down into the gloom of this glen we descended. Its sides were mantled +with noxious shrubs, whose exhalations, half way down, unpleasantly +blended with the piny breeze from the uplands. Through its bed ran a +brook, whose incrusted margin had a strange metallic luster, from the +polluted waters here flowing; their source a sulphur spring, of vile +flavor and odor, where many invalid pilgrims resorted. + +The woods all round were haunted by the dismal cawings of crows; tap, +tap, the black hawk whetted his bill on the boughs; each trunk stalked +a ghost; and from those trunks, Hevaneva procured the wood for his +idols. + +Rapidly crossing this place, Yoomy's hands to his ears, old Mohi's to +his nostrils, and Babbalanja vainly trying to walk with closed eyes, +we toiled among steep, flinty rocks, along a wild, zigzag pathway; +like a mule-track in the Andes, not so much onward as upward; Yoomy +above Babbalanja, my lord Media above him, and Braid-Beard, our guide, +in the air, above all. + +Strown over with cinders, the vitreous marl seemed tumbled together, +as if belched from a volcano's throat. + +Presently, we came to a tall, slender structure, hidden among the +scenic projections of the cliffs, like a monument in the dark, vaulted +ways of an abbey. Surrounding it, were five extinct craters. The air +was sultry and still, as if full of spent thunderbolts. + +Like a Hindoo pagoda, this bamboo edifice rose story above story; its +many angles and points decorated with pearl-shells suspended by cords. +But the uppermost story, some ten toises in the air, was closely +thatched from apex to floor; which summit was gained by a series of +ascents. + +What eremite dwelleth here, like St. Stylites at the top of his +column?--a question which Mohi seemed all eagerness to have answered. + +Dropping upon his knees, he gave a peculiar low call: no response. +Another: all was silent. Marching up to the pagoda, and again dropping +upon his knees, he shook the bamboos till the edifice rocked, and its +pearl-shells jingled, as if a troop of Andalusian mules, with bells +round their necks, were galloping along the defile. + +At length the thatch aloft was thrown open, and a head was thrust +forth. It was that of an old, old man; with steel-gray eyes, hair and +beard, and a horrible necklace of jaw-bones. + +Now, issuing from the pagoda, Mohi turned about to gain a view of the +ghost he had raised; and no sooner did he behold it, than with King +Media and the rest, he made a marked salutation. + +Presently, the eremite pointed to where Yoomy was standing; and waved +his hand upward; when Mohi informed the minstrel, that it was St. +Stylites' pleasure, that he should pay him a visit. + +Wondering what was to come, Yoomy proceeded to mount; and at last +arriving toward the top of the pagoda, was met by an opening, from +which an encouraging arm assisted him to gain the ultimate landing. + +Here, all was murky enough; for the aperture from which the head of +the apparition had been thrust, was now closed; and what little +twilight there was, came up through the opening in the floor. + +In this dismal seclusion, silently the hermit confronted the minstrel; +his gray hair, eyes, and beard all gleaming, as if streaked with +phosphorus; while his ghastly gorget grinned hideously, with all its +jaws. + +Mutely Yoomy waited to be addressed; but hearing no sound, and +becoming alive to the strangeness of his situation, he meditated +whether it would not be well to subside out of sight, even as he had +come--through the floor. An intention which the eremite must have +anticipated; for of a sudden, something was slid over the opening; and +the apparition seating itself thereupon, the twain were in darkness +complete. + +Shut up thus, with an inscrutable stranger posted at the only aperture +of escape, poor Yoomy fell into something like a panic; hardly knowing +what step to take next. As for endeavoring to force his way out, it +was alarming to think of; for aught he knew, the eremite, availing +himself of the gloom, might be bristling all over with javelin points. + +At last, the silence was broken. + +"What see you, mortal?" + +"Chiefly darkness," said Yoomy, wondering at the audacity of the +question. + +"I dwell in it. But what else see you, mortal?" + +"The dim gleaming of thy gorget." + +"But that is not me. What else dost thou see?" + +"Nothing." + +"Then thou hast found me out, and seen all! Descend." + +And with that, the passage-way opened, and groping through the +twilight, Yoomy obeyed the mandate, and retreated; full of vexation at +his enigmatical reception. + +On his alighting, Mohi inquired whether the hermit was not a wonderful +personage. + +But thinking some sage waggery lurked in the question; and at present +too indignant to enter into details, the minstrel made some impatient +reply; and winding through a defile, the party resumed its journey. + +Straggling behind, to survey the strange plants and flowers in his +path, Yoomy became so absorbed, as almost to forget the scene in the +pagoda; yet every moment expected to be nearing the stately abode of +the Pontiff. + +But suddenly, the scene around grew familiar; the path seemed that +which had been followed just after leaving the canoes; and at length, +the place of debarkation was in sight. + +Surprised that the object of our visit should have been thus +abandoned, the minstrel ran forward, and sought an explanation. + +Whereupon, Mohi lifted his hands in amazement; exclaiming at the +blindness of the eyes, which had beheld the supreme Pontiff of +Maramma, without knowing it. + +The old hermit was no other than the dread Hivohitee; the pagoda, the +inmost oracle of the isle. + + + +CHAPTER XIII +Babbalanja Endeavors To Explain The Mystery + + +This Great Mogul of a personage, then; this woundy Aliasuerus; this +man of men; this same Hivohitee, whose name rumbled among the +mountains like a peal of thunder, had been seen face to face, and +taken for naught, but a bearded old hermit, or at best, some equivocal +conjuror. + +So great was his wonderment at the time, that Yoomy could not avoid +expressing it in words. + +Whereupon thus discoursed Babbalanja: + +"Gentle Yoomy, be not astounded, that Hivohitee is so far behind your +previous conceptions. The shadows of things are greater than +themselves; and the more exaggerated the shadow, the more unlike to +the substance." + +"But knowing now, what manner of person Hivohitee is," said Yoomy, +"much do I long to behold him again." + +But Mohi assured him it was out of the question; that the Pontiff +always acted toward strangers as toward him (Yoomy); and that but one +dim blink at the eremite was all that mortal could obtain. + +Debarred thus from a second and more satisfactory interview with one, +concerning whom his curiosity had been violently aroused, the minstrel +again turned to Mohi for enlightenment; especially touching that +magnate's Egyptian reception of him in his aerial den. + +Whereto, the chronicler made answer, that the Pontiff affected +darkness because he liked it: that he was a ruler of few words, but +many deeds; and that, had Yoomy been permitted to tarry longer with +him in the pagoda, he would have been privy to many strange +attestations of the divinity imputed to him. Voices would have been +heard in the air, gossiping with Hivohitee; noises inexplicable +proceeding from him; in brief, light would have flashed out of his +darkness. + +"But who has seen these things, Mohi?" said Babbalanja, "have you?" + +"Nay." + +"Who then?--Media?--Any one you know?" + +"Nay: but the whole Archipelago has." + +"Thus," exclaimed Babbalanja, "does Mardi, blind though it be in many +things, collectively behold the marvels, which one pair of eyes sees +not." + + + +CHAPTER XIV +Taji Receives Tidings And Omens + + +Slowly sailing on, we were overtaken by a shallop; whose inmates +grappling to the side of Media's, said they came from Borabolla. + +Dismal tidings!--My faithful follower's death. + +Absent over night, that morning early, he had been discovered lifeless +in the woods, three arrows in his heart. And the three pale strangers +were nowhere to be found. But a fleet canoe was missing from the beach. + +Slain for me! my soul sobbed out. Nor yet appeased Aleema's manes; nor +yet seemed sated the avengers' malice; who, doubtless, were on my track. + +But I turned; and instantly the three canoes had been reversed; and +full soon, Jarl's dead hand in mine, had not Media interposed. + +"To death, your presence will not bring life back." + +"And we must on," said Babbalanja. "We seek the living, not the dead." + +Thus they overruled me; and Borabolla's messengers departed. + +Soon evening came, and in its shades, three shadows,--Hautia's heralds. + +Their shallop glided near. + +A leaf tri-foiled was first presented; then another, arrow-shaped. + +Said Yoomy, "Still I swiftly follow, behind revenge." + +Then were showered faded, pallid daffodils. + +Said Yoomy, "Thy hopes are blighted all." + +"Not dead, but living with the life of life. Sirens! I heed ye not." + +They would have showered more flowers; but crowding sail we left them. + +Much converse followed. Then, beneath the canopy all sought repose. +And ere long slouched sleep drew nigh, tending dreams innumerable; +silent dotting all the downs a shepherd with his flock. + + + +CHAPTER XV +Dreams + + +Dreams! dreams! golden dreams: endless, and golden, as the flowery +prairies, that stretch away from the Rio Sacramento, in whose waters +Danae's shower was woven;--prairies like rounded eternities: jonquil +leaves beaten out; and my dreams herd like buffaloes, browsing on to +the horizon, and browsing on round the world; and among them, I dash +with my lance, to spear one, ere they all flee. + +Dreams! dreams! passing and repassing, like Oriental empires in +history; and scepters wave thick, as Bruce's pikes at Bannockburn; and +crowns are plenty as marigolds in June. And far in the background, +hazy and blue, their steeps let down from the sky, loom Andes on +Andes, rooted on Alps; and all round me, long rushing oceans, roll +Amazons and Oronocos; waves, mounted Parthians; and, to and fro, toss +the wide woodlands: all the world an elk, and the forests its antlers. + +But far to the South, past my Sicily suns and my vineyards, stretches +the Antarctic barrier of ice: a China wall, built up from the sea, and +nodding its frosted towers in the dun, clouded sky. Do Tartary and +Siberia lie beyond? Deathful, desolate dominions those; bleak and wild +the ocean, beating at that barrier's base, hovering 'twixt freezing +and foaming; and freighted with navies of ice-bergs,--warring worlds +crossing orbits; their long icicles, projecting like spears to the +charge. Wide away stream the floes of drift ice, frozen cemeteries of +skeletons and bones. White bears howl as they drift from their cubs; +and the grinding islands crush the skulls of the peering seals. + +But beneath me, at the Equator, the earth pulses and beats like a +warrior's heart; till I know not, whether it be not myself. And my +soul sinks down to the depths, and soars to the skies; and comet-like +reels on through such boundless expanses, that methinks all the worlds +are my kin, and I invoke them to stay in their course. Yet, like a +mighty three-decker, towing argosies by scores, I tremble, gasp, and +strain in my flight, and fain would cast off the cables that hamper. + +And like a frigate, I am full with a thousand souls; and as on, on, +on, I scud before the wind, many mariners rush up from the orlop +below, like miners from caves; running shouting across my decks; +opposite braces are pulled; and this way and that, the great yards +swing round on their axes; and boisterous speaking-trumpets are heard; +and contending orders, to save the good ship from the shoals. Shoals, +like nebulous vapors, shoreing the white reef of the Milky Way, +against which the wrecked worlds are dashed; strewing all the strand, +with their Himmaleh keels and ribs. + +Ay: many, many souls are in me. In my tropical calms, when my ship +lies tranced on Eternity's main, speaking one at a time, then all with +one voice: an orchestra of many French bugles and horns, rising, and +falling, and swaying, in golden calls and responses. + +Sometimes, when these Atlantics and Pacifics thus undulate round me, I +lie stretched out in their midst: a land-locked Mediterranean, knowing +no ebb, nor flow. Then again, I am dashed in the spray of these sounds: +an eagle at the world's end, tossed skyward, on the horns of the tempest. + +Yet, again, I descend, and list to the concert. + +Like a grand, ground swell, Homer's old organ rolls its vast volumes +under the light frothy wave-crests of Anacreon and Hafiz; and high +over my ocean, sweet Shakespeare soars, like all the larks of the +spring. Throned on my seaside, like Canute, bearded Ossian smites his +hoar harp, wreathed with wild-flowers, in which warble my Wallers; +blind Milton sings bass to my Petrarchs and Priors, and laureate crown +me with bays. + +In me, many worthies recline, and converse. I list to St. Paul who +argues the doubts of Montaigne; Julian the Apostate cross-questions +Augustine; and Thomas-a-Kempis unrolls his old black letters for all +to decipher. Zeno murmurs maxims beneath the hoarse shout of +Democritus; and though Democritus laugh loud and long, and the sneer +of Pyrrho be seen; yet, divine Plato, and Proclus, and, Verulam are of +my counsel; and Zoroaster whispered me before I was born. I walk a +world that is mine; and enter many nations, as Mingo Park rested in +African cots; I am served like Bajazet: Bacchus my butler, Virgil my +minstrel, Philip Sidney my page. My memory is a life beyond birth; my +memory, my library of the Vatican, its alcoves all endless +perspectives, eve-tinted by cross-lights from Middle-Age oriels. + +And as the great Mississippi musters his watery nations: Ohio, with +all his leagued streams; Missouri, bringing down in torrents the clans +from the highlands; Arkansas, his Tartar rivers from the plain;--so, +with all the past and present pouring in me, I roll down my billow +from afar. + +Yet not I, but another: God is my Lord; and though many satellites +revolve around me, I and all mine revolve round the great central +Truth, sun-like, fixed and luminous forever in the foundationless +firmament. + +Fire flames on my tongue; and though of old the Bactrian prophets were +stoned, yet the stoners in oblivion sleep. But whoso stones me, shall +be as Erostratus, who put torch to the temple; though Genghis Khan +with Cambyses combine to obliterate him, his name shall be extant in +the mouth of the last man that lives. And if so be, down unto death, +whence I came, will I go, like Xenophon retreating on Greece, all +Persia brandishing her spears in his rear. + +My cheek blanches white while I write; I start at the scratch of my +pen; my own mad brood of eagles devours me; fain would I unsay this +audacity; but an iron-mailed hand clenches mine in a vice, and prints +down every letter in my spite. Fain would I hurl off this Dionysius +that rides me; my thoughts crush me down till I groan; in far fields I +hear the song of the reaper, while I slave and faint in this cell. The +fever runs through me like lava; my hot brain burns like a coal; and +like many a monarch, I am less to be envied, than the veriest hind in +the land. + + + +CHAPTER XVI +Media And Babbalanja Discourse + + +Our visiting the Pontiff at a time previously unforeseen, somewhat +altered our plans. All search in Maramma for the lost one proving +fruitless, and nothing of note remaining to be seen, we returned not +to Uma; but proceeded with the tour of the lagoon. + +When day came, reclining beneath the canopy, Babbalanja would fain +have seriously discussed those things we had lately been seeing, +which, for all the occasional levity he had recently evinced, seemed +very near his heart. + +But my lord Media forbade; saying that they necessarily included a +topic which all gay, sensible Mardians, who desired to live and be +merry, invariably banished from social discourse. + +"Meditate as much as you will, Babbalanja, but say little aloud, +unless in a merry and mythical way. Lay down the great maxims of +things, but let inferences take care of themselves. Never be special; +never, a partisan. In safety, afar off, you may batter down a +fortress; but at your peril you essay to carry a single turret by +escalade. And if doubts distract you, in vain will you seek sympathy +from your fellow men. For upon this one theme, not a few of you free- +minded mortals, even the otherwise honest and intelligent, are the +least frank and friendly. Discourse with them, and it is mostly +formulas, or prevarications, or hollow assumption of philosophical +indifference, or urbane hypocrisies, or a cool, civil deference to the +dominant belief; or still worse, but less common, a brutality of +indiscriminate skepticism. Furthermore, Babbalanja, on this head, +final, last thoughts you mortals have none; nor can have; and, at +bottom, your own fleeting fancies are too often secrets to yourselves; +and sooner may you get another's secret, than your own. Thus with the +wisest of you all; you are ever unfixed. Do you show a tropical calm +without? then, be sure a thousand contrary currents whirl and eddy +within. The free, airy robe of your philosophy is but a dream, which +seems true while it lasts; but waking again into the orthodox world, +straightway you resume the old habit. And though in your dreams you +may hie to the uttermost Orient, yet all the while you abide where you +are. Babbalanja, you mortals dwell in Mardi, and it is impossible to +get elsewhere." + +Said Babbalanja, "My lord, you school me. But though I dissent from +some of your positions, I am willing to confess, that this is not the +first time a philosopher has been instructed by a man." + +"A demi-god, sir; and therefore I the more readily discharge my mind +of all seriousness, touching the subject, with which you mortals so +vex and torment yourselves." + +Silence ensued. And seated apart, on both sides of the barge, solemnly +swaying, in fixed meditation, to the roll of the waves, Babbalanja, +Mohi, and Yoomy, drooped lower and lower, like funeral plumes; and our +gloomy canoe seemed a hearse. + + + +CHAPTER XVII +They Regale Themselves With Their Pipes + + +"Ho! mortals! mortals!" cried Media. "Go we to bury our dead? Awake, +sons of men! Cheer up, heirs of immortality! Ho, Vee-Vee! bring forth +our pipes: we'll smoke off this cloud." + +Nothing so beguiling as the fumes of tobacco, whether inhaled through +hookah, narghil, chibouque, Dutch porcelain, pure Principe, or +Regalia. And a great oversight had it been in King Media, to have +omitted pipes among the appliances of this voyage that we went. +Tobacco in rouleaus we had none; cigar nor cigarret; which little the +company esteemed. Pipes were preferred; and pipes we often smoked; +testify, oh! Vee-Vee, to that. But not of the vile clay, of which +mankind and Etruscan vases were made, were these jolly fine pipes of +ours. But all in good time. + +Now, the leaf called tobacco is of divers species and sorts. Not to +dwell upon vile Shag, Pig-tail, Plug, Nail-rod, Negro-head, Cavendish, +and misnamed Lady's-twist, there are the following varieties:--Gold- +leaf, Oronoco, Cimaroza, Smyrna, Bird's-eye, James-river, Sweet- +scented, Honey-dew, Kentucky, Cnaster, Scarfalati, and famed Shiraz, +or Persian. Of all of which, perhaps the last is the best. + +But smoked by itself, to a fastidious wight, even Shiraz is not gentle +enough. It needs mitigation. And the cunning craft of so mitigating +even the mildest tobacco was well understood in the dominions of +Media. There, in plantations ever covered with a brooding, blue haze, +they raised its fine leaf in the utmost luxuriance; almost as broad as +the broad fans of the broad-bladed banana. The stalks of the leaf +withdrawn, the remainder they cut up, and mixed with soft willow-bark, +and the aromatic leaves of the Betel. + +"Ho! Vee-Vee, bring forth the pipes," cried Media. And forth they +came, followed by a quaint, carved cocoa-nut, agate-lidded, containing +ammunition sufficient for many stout charges and primings. + +Soon we were all smoking so hard, that the canopied howdah, under +which we reclined, sent up purple wreaths like a Michigan wigwam. +There we sat in a ring, all smoking in council--every pipe a halcyon +pipe of peace. + +And among those calumets, my lord Media's showed like the turbaned +Grand Turk among his Bashaws. It was an extraordinary pipe, be sure; +of right royal dimensions. Its mouth-piece an eagle's beak; its long +stem, a bright, red-barked cherry-tree branch, partly covered with a +close network of purple dyed porcupine quills; and toward the upper +end, streaming with pennons, like a Versailles flag-staff of a +coronation day. These pennons were managed by halyards; and after +lighting his prince's pipe, it was little Vee-Vee's part to run them +up toward the mast-head, or mouthpiece, in token that his lord was +fairly under weigh. + +But Babbalanja's was of a different sort; an immense, black, +serpentine stem of ebony, coiling this way and that, in endless +convolutions, like an anaconda round a traveler in Brazil. Smoking +this hydra, Babbalanja looked as if playing upon the trombone. + +Next, gentle Yoomy's. Its stem, a slender golden reed, like musical +Pan's; its bowl very merry with tassels. + +Lastly, old Mohi the chronicler's. Its Death's-head bowl forming its +latter end, continually reminding him of his own. Its shank was an +ostrich's leg, some feathers still waving nigh the mouth-piece. + +"Here, Vee-Vee! fill me up again," cried Media, through the blue +vapors sweeping round his great gonfalon, like plumed Marshal Ney, +waving his baton in the smoke of Waterloo; or thrice gallant Anglesea, +crossing his wooden leg mid the reek and rack of the Apsley House +banquet. + +Vee-Vee obeyed; and quickly, like a howitzer, the pipe-owl was +reloaded to the muzzle, and King Media smoked on. + +"Ah! this is pleasant indeed," he cried. "Look, it's a calm on the +waters, and a calm in our hearts, as we inhale these sedative odors." + +"So calm," said Babbalanja; "the very gods must be smoking now." + +"And thus," said Media, "we demi-gods hereafter shall cross-legged +sit, and smoke out our eternities. Ah, what a glorious puff! Mortals, +methinks these pipe-bowls of ours must be petrifactions of roses, so +scented they seem. But, old Mohi, you have smoked this many a long +year; doubtless, you know something about their material--the Froth- +of-the-Sea they call it, I think--ere my handicraft subjects obtain +it, to work into bowls. Tell us the tale." + +"Delighted to do so, my lord," replied Mohi, slowly disentangling his +mouth-piece from the braids of his beard. "I have devoted much time +and attention to the study of pipe-bowls, and groped among many +learned authorities, to reconcile the clashing opinions concerning the +origin of the so-called Farnoo, or Froth-of-the-Sea." + +"Well, then, my old centenarian, give us the result of your +investigations. But smoke away: a word and a puff go on." + +"May it please you, then, my right worshipful lord, this Farnoo is an +unctuous, argillaceous substance; in its natural state, soft, +malleable, and easily worked as the cornelian-red clay from the famous +pipe-quarries of the wild tribes to the North. But though mostly found +buried in terra-firma, especially in the isles toward the East, this +Farnoo, my lord, is sometimes thrown up by the ocean; in seasons of +high sea, being plentifully found on the reefs. But, my lord, like +amber, the precise nature and origin of this Farnoo are points widely +mooted." + +"Stop there!" cried Media; "our mouth-pieces are of amber; so, not a +word more of the Froth-of-the-Sea, until something be said to clear up +the mystery of amber. What is amber, old man?" + +"A still more obscure thing to trace than the other, my worshipful +lord. Ancient Plinnee maintained, that originally it must be a juice, +exuding from balsam firs and pines; Borhavo, that, like camphor, it is +the crystalized oil of aromatic ferns; Berzilli, that it is the +concreted scum of the lake Cephioris; and Vondendo, against scores of +antagonists, stoutly held it a sort of bituminous gold, trickling from +antediluvian smugglers' caves, nigh the sea." + +"Why, old Braid-Beard," cried Media, placing his pipe in rest, "you +are almost as erudite as our philosopher here." + +"Much more so, my lord," said Babbalanja; "for Mohi has somehow picked +up all my worthless forgettings, which are more than my valuable +rememberings." + +"What say you, wise one?" cried Mohi, shaking his braids, like an +enraged elephant with many trunks. + +Said Yoomy: "My lord, I have heard that amber is nothing less than the +congealed tears of broken-hearted mermaids." + +"Absurd, minstrel," cried Mohi. "Hark ye; I know what it is. All other +authorities to the contrary, amber is nothing more than gold-fishes' +brains, made waxy, then firm, by the action of the sea." + +"Nonsense!" cried Yoomy. + +"My lord," said Braid-Beard, waving his pipe, this thing is just as I +say. Imbedded in amber, do we not find little fishes' fins, porpoise- +teeth, sea-gulls' beaks and claws; nay, butterflies' wings, and +sometimes a topaz? And how could that be, unless the substance was +first soft? Amber is gold-fishes' brains, I say." + +"For one," said Babbalanja, "I'll not believe that, till you prove to +me, Braid-Beard, that ideas themselves are found imbedded therein." + +"Another of your crazy conceits, philosopher," replied Mohi, +disdainfully; "yet, sometimes plenty of strange black-letter +characters have been discovered in amber." And throwing back his hoary +old head, he jetted forth his vapors like a whale. + +"Indeed?" cried Babbalanja. "Then, my lord Media, it may be earnestly +inquired, whether the gentle laws of the tribes before the flood, were +not sought to be embalmed and perpetuated between transparent and +sweet scented tablets of amber." + +"That, now, is not so unlikely," said Mohi; "for old King Rondo the +Round once set about getting him a coffin-lid of amber; much desiring +a famous mass of it owned by the ancestors of Donjalolo of Juam. But +no navies could buy it. So Rondo had himself urned in a crystal." + +"And that immortalized Rondo, no doubt," said Babbalanja. "Ha! ha! +pity he fared not like the fat porpoise frozen and tombed in an +iceberg; its icy shroud drifting south, soon melted away, and down, +out of sight, sunk the dead." + +"Well, so much for amber," cried Media. "Now, Mohi, go on about +Farnoo." + +"Know, then, my lord, that Farnoo is more like ambergris than amber." + +"Is it? then, pray, tell us something on that head. You know all about +ambergris, too, I suppose." + +"Every thing about all things, my lord. Ambergris is found both on +land and at sea. But especially, are lumps of it picked up on the +spicy coasts of Jovanna; indeed, all over the atolls and reefs in the +eastern quarter of Mardi." + +"But what is this ambergris? Braid-Beard," said Babbalanja. + +"Aquovi, the chymist, pronounced it the fragments of mushrooms growing +at the bottom of the sea; Voluto held, that like naptha, it springs +from fountains down there. But it is neither." + +"I have heard," said Yoomy, "that it is the honey-comb of bees, fallen +from flowery cliffs into the brine." + +"Nothing of the kind," said Mohi. "Do I not know all about it, +minstrel? Ambergris is the petrified gall-stones of crocodiles." + +"What!" cried Babbalanja, "comes sweet scented ambergris from those +musky and chain-plated river cavalry? No wonder, then, their flesh is +so fragrant; their upper jaws as the visors of vinaigrettes." + +"Nay, you are all wrong," cried King Media. + +Then, laughing to himself:--"It's pleasant to sit by, a demi-god, and +hear the surmisings of mortals, upon things they know nothing about; +theology, or amber, or ambergris, it's all the same. But then, did I +always out with every thing I know, there would be no conversing with +these comical creatures. + +"Listen, old Mohi; ambergris is a morbid secretion of the Spermaceti +whale; for like you mortals, the whale is at times a sort of +hypochondriac and dyspeptic. You must know, subjects, that in +antediluvian times, the Spermaceti whale was much hunted by sportsmen, +that being accounted better pastime, than pursuing the Behemoths on +shore. Besides, it was a lucrative diversion. Now, sometimes upon +striking the monster, it would start off in a dastardly fright, +leaving certain fragments in its wake. These fragments the hunters +picked up, giving over the chase for a while. For in those days, as +now, a quarter-quintal of ambergris was more valuable than a whole ton +of spermaceti." + +"Nor, my lord," said Babbalanja, "would it have been wise to kill the +fish that dropped such treasures: no more than to murder the noddy +that laid the golden eggs." + +"Beshrew me! a noddy it must have been," gurgled Mohi through his +pipe-stem, "to lay golden eggs for others to hatch." + +"Come, no more of that now," cried Media. "Mohi, how long think you, +may one of these pipe-bowls last?" + +"My lord, like one's cranium, it will endure till broken. I have +smoked this one of mine more than half a century." + +"But unlike our craniums, stocked full of concretions," said +Babbalanja, our pipe-bowls never need clearing out." + +"True," said Mohi, "they absorb the oil of the smoke, instead of +allowing it offensively to incrust." + +"Ay, the older the better," said Media, "and the more delicious the +flavor imparted to the fumes inhaled." + +"Farnoos forever! my lord," cried Yoomy. "By much smoking, the bowl +waxes russet and mellow, like the berry-brown cheek of a sunburnt +brunette." + +"And as like smoked hams," cried Braid-Beard, "we veteran old smokers +grow browner and browner; hugely do we admire to see our jolly noses +and pipe-bowls mellowing together." + +"Well said, old man," cried Babbalanja; "for, like a good wife, a pipe +is a friend and companion for life. And whoso weds with a pipe, is no +longer a bachelor. After many vexations, he may go home to that +faithful counselor, and ever find it full of kind consolations and +suggestions. But not thus with cigars or cigarrets: the acquaintances +of a moment, chatted with in by-places, whenever they come handy; +their existence so fugitive, uncertain, unsatisfactory. Once ignited, +nothing like longevity pertains to them. They never grow old. Why, my +lord, the stump of a cigarret is an abomination; and two of them +crossed are more of a _memento-mori_, than a brace of thigh-bones at +right angles." + +"So they are, so they are," cried King Media. "Then, mortals, puff we +away at our pipes. Puff, puff, I say. Ah! how we puff! But thus we +demi-gods ever puff at our ease." + +"Puff; puff, how we puff," cried Babbalanja. "but life itself is a +puff and a wheeze. Our lungs are two pipes which we constantly smoke." + +"Puff, puff! how we puff," cried old Mohi. "All thought is a puff." + +"Ay," said Babbalanja, "not more smoke in that skull-bowl of yours +than in the skull on your shoulders: both ends alike." + +"Puff! puff! how we puff," cried Yoomy. "But in every puff, there +hangs a wreath. In every puff, off flies a care." + +"Ay, there they go," cried Mohi, "there goes another--and, there, and +there;--this is the way to get rid of them my worshipful lord; puff +them aside." + +"Yoomy," said Media, "give us that pipe song of thine. Sing it, my +sweet and pleasant poet. We'll keep time with the flageolets of ours." + +"So with pipes and puffs for a chorus, thus Yoomy sang:-- + + Care is all stuff:-- + Puff! Puff: + To puff is enough:-- + Puff! Puff! + More musky than snuff, + And warm is a puff:-- + Puff! Puff! + Here we sit mid our puffs, + Like old lords in their ruffs, + Snug as bears in their muffs:-- + Puff! Puff! + Then puff, puff, puff; + For care is all stuff, + Puffed off in a puff:-- + Puff! Puff! + +"Ay, puff away," cried Babbalanja, "puff; puff, so we are born, and so +die. Puff, puff, my volcanos: the great sun itself will yet go out in +a snuff, and all Mardi smoke out its last wick." + +"Puffs enough," said King Media, "Vee-Vee! haul down my flag. There, +lie down before me, oh Gonfalon! and, subjects, hear,--when I die, lay +this spear on my right, and this pipe on my left, its colors at half +mast; so shall I be ambidexter, and sleep between eloquent symbols." + + + +CHAPTER XVIII +They Visit An Extraordinary Old Antiquary + + +"About prows there, ye paddlers," cried Media. "In this fog we've been +raising, we have sailed by Padulla, our destination." + +Now Padulla, was but a little island, tributary to a neighboring king; +its population embracing some hundreds of thousands of leaves, and +flowers, and butterflies, yet only two solitary mortals; one, famous +as a venerable antiquarian: a collector of objects of Mardian vertu; a +cognoscenti, and dilettante in things old and marvelous; and for that +reason, very choice of himself. + +He went by the exclamatory cognomen of "Oh-Oh;" a name bestowed upon +him, by reason of the delighted interjections, with which he welcomed +all accessions to his museum. + +Now, it was to obtain a glimpse of this very museum, that Media was +anxious to touch at Padulla. + +Landing, and passing through a grove, we were accosted by Oh-Oh +himself; who, having heard the shouts of our paddlers, had sallied +forth, staff in hand. + +The old man was a sight to see; especially his nose; a remarkable one. +And all Mardi over, a remarkable nose is a prominent feature: an ever +obvious passport to distinction. For, after all, this gaining a name, +is but the individualizing of a man; as well achieved by an +extraordinary nose, as by an extraordinary epic. Far better, indeed; +for you may pass poets without knowing them. Even a hero, is no hero +without his sword; nor Beelzebub himself a lion, minus that lasso-tail +of his, wherewith he catches his prey. Whereas, he who is famous +through his nose, it is impossible to overlook. He is a celebrity +without toiling for a name. Snugly ensconced behind his proboscis, he +revels in its shadow, receiving tributes of attention wherever he goes. + +Not to enter at large upon the topography of Oh-Oh's nasal organ, all +must be content with this; that it was of a singular magnitude, and +boldly aspiring at the end; an exclamation point in the face of the +wearer, forever wondering at the visible universe. The eyes of Oh-Oh +were like the creature's that the Jew abhors: placed slanting in his +head, and converging their rays toward the mouth; which was no Mouth, +but a gash. + +I mean not to be harsh, or unpleasant upon thee, Oh-Oh; but I must +paint thee as thou wert. + +The rest of his person was crooked, and dwarfed, and surmounted by a +hump, that sat on his back like a burden. And a weary load is a hump, +Heaven knows, only to be cast off in the grave. + +Thus old, and antiquated, and gable-ended, was the tabernacle of Oh- +Oh's soul. But his person was housed in as curious a structure. Built +of old boughs of trees blown down in the groves, and covered over with +unruly thatching, it seemed, without, some ostrich nest. But within, +so intricate, and grotesque, its brown alleys and cells, that the +interior of no walnut was more labyrinthine. + +And here, strewn about, all dusty and disordered, were the precious +antiques, and curios, and obsoletes, which to Oh-Oh were dear as the +apple of his eye, or the memory of departed days. + +The old man was exceedingly importunate, in directing attention to his +relics; concerning each of which, he had an endless story to tell. +Time would fail; nay, patience, to repeat his legends. So, in order, +here follow the most prominent of his rarities:-- + + The identical Canoe, in which, ages back, the god Unja came from + the bottom of the sea. + (Very ponderous; of lignum-vitae wood). + + A stone Flower-pot, containing in the original soil, Unja's last + footprints, when he embarked from Mardi for parts unknown. + (One foot-print unaccountably reversed). + + The Jaw-bones of Tooroorooloo, a great orator in the days of Unja. + (Somewhat twisted). + + A quaint little Fish-hook. + (Made from the finger-bones of Kravi the Cunning). + + The mystic Gourd; carved all over with cabalistic triangles, and + hypogrifs; by study of which a reputed prophet, was said to have + obtained his inspiration. + (Slightly redolent of vineyards). + + The complete Skeleton of an immense Tiger-shark; the bones of a + Pearl-shell-diver's leg inside. + (Picked off the reef at low tide). + + An inscrutable, shapeless block of a mottled-hued, smoke-dried + wood. + (Three unaccountable holes drilled through the middle). + + A sort of ecclesiastical Fasces, being the bony blades of nine sword- + fish, basket-hilted with shark's jaws, braided round and tasseled + with cords of human hair. + (Now obsolete). + + The mystic Fan with which Unja fanned himself when in trouble. + (Woven from the leaves of the Water-Lily). + + A Tripod of a Stork's Leg, supporting a nautilus shell, containing + the fragments of a bird's egg; into which, was said to have + been magically decanted the soul of a deceased chief. + (Unfortunately crushed in by atmospheric pressure). + + Two clasped Right Hands, embalmed; being those of twin warriors, + who thus died on a battle-field. + (Impossible to sunder). + + A curious Pouch, or Purse, formed from the skin of an Albatross' + foot, and decorated with three sharp claws, naturally pertaining + to it. + (Originally the property of a notorious old Tooth-per-Tooth). + + A long tangled lock of Mermaid's Hair, much resembling the curling + silky fibres of the finer sea-weed. + (Preserved between fins of the dolphin). + + A Mermaid's Comb for the toilet. The stiff serrated crest of a + Cook Storm-petrel + (Oh-Oh was particularly curious concerning Mermaids). + + Files, Rasps, and Pincers, all bone, the implements of an eminent + Chiropedist, who flourished his tools before the flood. + (Owing to the excessive unevenness of the surface in those + times, the diluvians were peculiarly liable to pedal + afflictions). + + The back Tooth, that Zozo the Enthusiast, in token of grief, + recklessly knocked out at the decease of a friend. + (Worn to a stump and quite useless). + +These wonders inspected, Oh-Oh conducted us to an arbor, to show us +the famous telescope, by help of which, he said he had discovered an +ant-hill in the moon. It rested in the crotch of a Bread-fruit tree; +and was a prodigiously long and hollow trunk of a Palm; a scale from a +sea-kraken its lens. + +Then returning to his cabinet, he pointed to a bamboo microscope, +which had wonderfully assisted him in his entomological pursuits. + +"By this instrument, my masters," said he, "I have satisfied myself, +that in the eye of a dragon-fly there are precisely twelve thousand +five hundred and forty-one triangular lenses; and in the leg of a +flea, scores on scores of distinct muscles. Now, my masters, how far +think you a flea may leap at one spring? Why, two hundred times its +own length; I have often measured their leaps, with a small measure I +use for scientific purposes." + +"Truly, Oh-Oh," said Babbalanja, "your discoveries must ere long +result in something grand; since you furnish such invaluable data for +theorists. Pray, attend, my lord Media. If, at one spring, a flea +leaps two hundred times its own length, then, with the like proportion +of muscles in his calves, a bandit might pounce upon the unwary +traveler from a quarter of a mile off. Is it not so, Oh-Oh?" + +"Indeed, but it is, my masters. And one of the greatest consolations I +draw from these studies, is the ever-strengthening conviction of the +beneficent wisdom that framed our Mardi. For did men possess thighs in +proportion to fleas, verily, the wicked would grievously leap about, +and curvet in the isles." + +"But Oh-Oh," said Babbalanja, "what other discoveries have you made? +Hast yet put a usurer under your lens, to find his conscience? or a +libertine, to find his heart? Hast yet brought your microscope to bear +upon a downy peach, or a rosy cheek?" + +"I have," said Oh-Oh, mournfully; "and from the moment I so did, I +have had no heart to eat a peach, or salute a cheek." + +"Then dash your lens!" cried Media. + +"Well said, my lord. For all the eyes we get beyond our own, but +minister to infelicity. The microscope disgusts us with our Mardi; and +the telescope sets us longing for some other world." + + + +CHAPTER XIX +They Go Down Into The Catacombs + + +With a dull flambeau, we now descended some narrow stone steps, to +view Oh-Oh's collection of ancient and curious manuscripts, preserved +in a vault. + +"This way, this way, my masters," cried Oh-Oh, aloft, swinging his dim +torch. "Keep your hands before you; it's a dark road to travel." + +"So it seems," said Babbalanja, wide-groping, as he descended lower +and lower. "My lord this is like going down to posterity." + +Upon gaining the vault, forth flew a score or two of bats, +extinguishing the flambeau, and leaving us in darkness, like Belzoni +deserted by his Arabs in the heart of a pyramid. The torch at last +relumed, we entered a tomb-like excavation, at every step raising +clouds of dust; and at last stood before long rows of musty, mummyish +parcels, so dingy-red, and so rolled upon sticks, that they looked +like stiff sausages of Bologna; but smelt like some fine old Stilton +or Cheshire. + +Most ancient of all, was a hieroglyphical Elegy on the Dumps, +consisting of one thousand and one lines; the characters,--herons, +weeping-willows, and ravens, supposed to have been traced by a quill +from the sea-noddy. + +Then there were plenty of rare old ballads:-- + "King Kroko, and the Fisher Girl." + "The Fight at the Ford of Spears." + "The Song of the Skulls." + +And brave old chronicles, that made Mohi's mouth water:-- + "The Rise and Setting of the Dynasty of Foofoo." + "The Heroic History of the Noble Prince Dragoni; showing + how he killed ten Pinioned Prisoners with his Own Hand." + "The whole Pedigree of the King of Kandidee, with that of his + famous horse, Znorto." + +And Tarantula books:-- + "Sour Milk for the Young, by a Dairyman." + "The Devil adrift, by a Corsair." + "Grunts and Groans, by a Mad Boar." + "Stings, by a Scorpion." + +And poetical productions:-- + "Suffusions of a Lily in a Shower." + "Sonnet on the last Breath of an Ephemera." + "The Gad-fly, and Other Poems." + +And metaphysical treatises:-- + "Necessitarian not Predestinarian." + "Philosophical Necessity and Predestination One Thing and The + Same." + "Whatever is not, is." + "Whatever is, is not." + +And scarce old memoirs:-- + "The One Hundred Books of the Biography of the Great and + Good King Grandissimo." + "The Life of old Philo, the Philanthropist, in one Chapter." + +And popular literature:-- + "A most Sweet, Pleasant, and Unctuous Account of the Manner + in which Five-and-Forty Robbers were torn asunder by + Swiftly-Going Canoes." + +And books by chiefs and nobles:-- + "The Art of Making a Noise in Mardi." + "On the Proper Manner of Saluting a Bosom Friend." + "Letters from a Father to a Son, inculcating the Virtue of Vice." + "Pastorals by a Younger Son." + "A Catalogue of Chieftains who have been Authors, by a Chieftain, + who disdains to be deemed an Author." + "A Canto on a Cough caught by my Consort." + "The Philosophy of Honesty, by a late Lord, who died in disgrace." + +And theological works:-- + "Pepper for the Perverse." + "Pudding for the Pious." + "Pleas for Pardon." + "Pickles for the Persecuted." + +And long and tedious romances with short and easy titles:-- + "The Buck." + "The Belle." + "The King and the Cook, or the Cook and the King." + +And books of voyages:-- + "A Sojourn among the Anthropophagi, by One whose Hand was + eaten off at Tiffin among the Savages." + "Franko: its King, Court, and Tadpoles." + "Three Hours in Vivenza, containing a Full and Impartial Account + of that Whole Country: by a Subject of King Bello." + +And works of nautical poets:-- + "Sky-Sail-Pole Lyrics." + +And divers brief books, with panic-striking titles:-- + "Are you safe?" + "A Voice from Below." + "Hope for none." + "Fire for all." + +And pamphlets by retired warriors:-- + "On the Best Gravy for Wild Boar's Meat." + "Three Receipts for Bottling New Arrack." + "To Brown Bread Fruit without Burning." + "Advice to the Dyspeptic." + "On Starch for Tappa." + +All these MSS. were highly prized by Oh-Oh. He averred, that they +spoke of the mighty past, which he reverenced more than the paltry +present, the dross and sediment of what had been. + +Peering into a dark crypt, Babbalanja drew forth a few crumbling, +illegible, black-letter sheets of his favorite old essayist, brave +Bardianna. They seemed to have formed parts of a work, whose title +only remained--"Thoughts, by a Thinker." + +Silently Babbalanja pressed them to his heart. Then at arm's length +held them, and said, "And is all this wisdom lost? Can not the divine +cunning in thee, Bardianna, transmute to brightness these sullied +pages? Here, perhaps, thou didst dive into the deeps of things, +treating of the normal forms of matter and of mind; how the particles +of solids were first molded in the interstices of fluids; how the +thoughts of men are each a soul, as the lung-cells are each a lung; +how that death is but a mode of life; while mid-most is the Pharzi.-- +But all is faded. Yea, here the Thinker's thoughts lie cheek by jowl +with phrasemen's words. Oh Bardianna! these pages were offspring of +thee, thought of thy thought, soul of thy soul. Instinct with mind, +they once spoke out like living voices; now, they're dust; and would +not prick a fool to action. Whence then is this? If the fogs of some +few years can make soul linked to matter naught; how can the unhoused +spirit hope to live when mildewed with the damps of death." + +Piously he folded the shreds of manuscript together, kissed them, and +laid them down. + +Then approaching Oh-Oh, he besought him for one leaf, one shred of +those most precious pages, in memory of Bardianna, and for the love of +him. + +But learning who he was, one of that old Ponderer's commentators, Oh- +Oh tottered toward the manuscripts; with trembling fingers told them +over, one by one, and said-"Thank Oro! all are here.--Philosopher, ask +me for my limbs, my life, my heart, but ask me not for these. Steeped +in wax, these shall be my cerements." + +All in vain; Oh-Oh was an antiquary. + +Turning in despair, Babbalanja spied a heap of worm-eaten parchment +covers, and many clippings and parings. And whereas the rolls of +manuscripts did smell like unto old cheese; so these relics did +marvelously resemble the rinds of the same. + +Turning over this pile, Babbalanja lighted upon something that +restored his good humor. Long he looked it over delighted; but +bethinking him, that he must have dragged to day some lost work of the +collection, and much desirous of possessing it, he made bold again to +ply Oh-Oh; offering a tempting price for his discovery. + +Glancing at the title--"A Happy Life"-the old man cried--"Oh, rubbish! +rubbish! take it for nothing." And Babbalanja placed it in his +vestment. + +The catacombs surveyed, and day-light gained, we inquired the way to +Ji-Ji's, also a collector, but of another sort; one miserly in the +matter of teeth, the money of Mardi. + +At the mention of his name, Oh-Oh flew out into scornful philippics +upon the insanity of that old dotard, who hoarded up teeth, as if +teeth were of any use, but to purchase rarities. Nevertheless, he +pointed out our path; following which, we crossed a meadow. + + + +CHAPTER XX +Babbalanja Quotes From An Antique Pagan; And Earnestly Presses It Upon +The Company, That What He Recites Is Not His, But Another's + + +Journeying on, we stopped by a gurgling spring, in a beautiful grove; +and here, we stretched out on the grass, and our attendants unpacked +their hampers, to provide us a lunch. + +But as for that Babbalanja of ours, he must needs go and lunch by +himself, and, like a cannibal, feed upon an author; though in other +respects he was not so partial to bones. + +Bringing forth the treasure he had buried in his bosom, he was soon +buried in it; and motionless on his back, looked as if laid out, to +keep an appointment with his undertaker. + +"What, ho! Babbalanja!" cried Media from under a tree, "don't be a +duck, there, with your bill in the air; drop your metaphysics, man, +and fall to on the solids. Do you hear?" + +"Come, philosopher," said Mohi, handling a banana, "you will weigh +more after you have eaten." + +"Come, list, Babbalanja," cried Yoomy, "I am going to sing." + +"Up! up! I say," shouted Media again. "But go, old man, and wake him: +rap on his head, and see whether he be in." + +Mohi, obeying, found him at home; and Babbalanja started up. + +"In Oro's name, what ails you, philosopher? See you Paradise, that you +look so wildly?" + +"A Happy Life! a Happy Life!" cried Babbalanja, in an ecstasy. "My +lord, I am lost in the dream of it, as here recorded. Marvelous book! +its goodness transports me. Let me read:--'I would bear the same mind, +whether I be rich or poor, whether I get or lose in the world. I will +reckon benefits well placed as the fairest part of my possession, not +valuing them by number or weight, but by the profit and esteem of the +receiver; accounting myself never the poorer for any thing I give. +What I do shall be done for conscience, not ostentation. I will eat +and drink, not to gratify my palate, but to satisfy nature. I will be +cheerful to my friends, mild and placable to my enemies. I will +prevent an honest request, if I can foresee it; and I will grant it, +without asking. I will look upon the whole world as my country; and +upon Oro, both as the witness and the judge of my words and my deeds. +I will live and die with this testimony: that I loved a good +conscience; that I never invaded another man's liberty; and that I +preserved my own. I will govern my life and my thoughts, as if the +whole world were to see the one, and to read the other; for what does +it signify, to make any thing a secret to my neighbor, when to Oro all +our privacies are open.'" + +"Very fine," said Media. + +"The very spirit of the first followers of Alma, as recorded in the +legends," said Mohi. + +"Inimitable," said Yoomy. + +Said Babbalanja, "Listen again:--'Righteousness is sociable and +gentle; free, steady, and fearless; full of inexhaustible delights.' +And here again, and here, and here:--The true felicity of life is to +understand our duty to Oro.'--'True joy is a serene and sober motion.' +And here, and here,--my lord, 'tis hard quoting from this book;--but +listen--'A peaceful conscience, honest thoughts, and righteous actions +are blessings without end, satiety, or measure. The poor man wants +many things; the covetous man, all. It is not enough to know Oro, +unless we obey him.'" + +"Alma all over," cried Mohi; "sure, you read from his sayings?" + +"I read but odd sentences from one, who though he lived ages ago, +never saw, scarcely heard of Alma. And mark me, my lord, this time I +improvise nothing. What I have recited, Is here. Mohi, this book is +more marvelous than the prophecies. My lord, that a mere man, and a +heathen, in that most heathenish time, should give utterance to such +heavenly wisdom, seems more wonderful than that an inspired prophet +should reveal it. And is it not more divine in this philosopher, to +love righteousness for its own sake, and in view of annihilation, than +for pious sages to extol it as the means of everlasting felicity?" + +"Alas," sighed Yoomy, "and does he not promise us any good thing, when +we are dead?" + +"He speaks not by authority. He but woos us to goodness and happiness +here." + +"Then, Babbalanja," said Media, "keep your treasure to yourself. +Without authority, and a full right hand, Righteousness better be +silent. Mardi's religion must seem to come direct from Oro, and the +mass of you mortals endeavor it not, except for a consideration, +present or to come." + +"And call you that righteousness, my lord, which is but the price paid +down for something else?" + +"I called it not righteousness; it is religion so called. But let us +prate no more of these things; with which I, a demi-god, have but +little in common. It ever impairs my digestion. No more, Babbalanja." + +"My lord! my lord! out of itself, Religion has nothing to bestow. Nor +will she save us from aught, but from the evil in ourselves. Her one +grand end is to make us wise; her only manifestations are reverence to +Oro and love to man; her only, but ample reward, herself. He who has +this, has all. He who has this, whether he kneel to an image of wood, +calling it Oro; or to an image of air, calling it the same; whether he +fasts or feasts; laughs or weeps;--that man can be no richer. And this +religion, faith, virtue, righteousness, good, whate'er you will, I +find in this book I hold. No written page can teach me more." + +"Have you that, then, of which you speak, Babbalanja? Are you content, +there where you stand?" + +"My lord, you drive me home. I am not content. The mystery of +mysteries is still a mystery. How this author came to be so wise, +perplexes me. How he led the life he did, confounds me. Oh, my lord, I +am in darkness, and no broad blaze comes down to flood me. The rays +that come to me are but faint cross lights, mazing the obscurity +wherein I live. And after all, excellent as it is, I can be no gainer +by this book. For the more we learn, the more we unlearn; we +accumulate not, but substitute; and take away, more than we add. We +dwindle while we grow; we sally out for wisdom, and retreat beyond the +point whence we started; we essay the Fondiza, and get but the Phe. Of +all simpletons, the simplest! Oh! that I were another sort of fool +than I am, that I might restore my good opinion of myself. Continually +I stand in the pillory, am broken on the wheel, and dragged asunder by +wild horses. Yes, yes, Bardianna, all is in a nut, as thou sayest; but +all my back teeth can not crack it; I but crack my own jaws. All round +me, my fellow men are new-grafting their vines, and dwelling in +flourishing arbors; while I am forever pruning mine, till it is become +but a stump. Yet in this pruning will I persist; I will not add, I +will diminish; I will train myself down to the standard of what is +unchangeably true. Day by day I drop off my redundancies; ere long I +shall have stripped my ribs; when I die, they will but bury my spine. +Ah! where, where, where, my lord, is the everlasting Tekana? Tell me, +Mohi, where the Ephina? I may have come to the Penultimate, but where, +sweet Yoomy, is the Ultimate? Ah, companions! I faint, I am wordless:- +-something, nothing, riddles,--does Mardi hold her?" + +"He swoons!" cried Yoomy. + +"Water! water!" cried Media. + +"Away:" said Babbalanja serenely, "I revive." + + + +CHAPTER XXI +They Visit A Wealthy Old Pauper + + +Continuing our route to Jiji's, we presently came to a miserable +hovel. Half projecting from the low, open entrance, was a bald +overgrown head, intent upon an upright row of dark-colored bags:-- +pelican pouches--prepared by dropping a stone within, and suspending +them, when moist. + +Ever and anon, the great head shook with a tremulous motion, as one by +one, to a clicking sound from the old man's mouth, the strings of +teeth were slowly drawn forth, and let fall, again and again, with a +rattle. + +But perceiving our approach, the old miser suddenly swooped his +pouches out of sight; and, like a turtle into its shell, retreated +into his den. But soon he decrepitly emerged upon his knees, asking +what brought us thither?--to steal the teeth, which lying rumor +averred he possessed in abundance? And opening his mouth, he averred +he had none; not even a sentry in his head. + +But Babbalanja declared, that long since he must have drawn his own +dentals, and bagged them with the rest. + +Now this miserable old miser must have been idiotic; for soon +forgetting what he had but just told us of his utter toothlessness, he +was so smitten with the pearly mouth of Hohora, one of our attendants +(the same for whose pearls, little King Peepi had taken such a fancy), +that he made the following overture to purchase its contents: namely: +one tooth of the buyer's, for every three of the seller's. A +proposition promptly rejected, as involving a mercantile absurdity. + +"Why?" said Babbalanja. "Doubtless, because that proposed to be given, +is less than that proposed to be received. Yet, says a philosopher, +this is the very principle which regulates all barterings. For where +the sense of a simple exchange of quantities, alike in value?" + +"Where, indeed?" said Hohora with open eyes, "though I never heard it +before, that's a staggering question. I beseech you, who was the sage +that asked it?" + +"Vivo, the Sophist," said Babbalanja, turning aside. + +In the hearing of Jiji, allusion was made to Oh-Oh, as a neighbor of +his. Whereupon he vented much slavering opprobrium upon that miserable +old hump-back; who accumulated useless monstrosities; throwing away +the precious teeth, which otherwise might have sensibly rattled in his +own pelican pouches. + +When we quitted the hovel, Jiji, marking little Vee-Vee, from whose +shoulder hung a calabash of edibles, seized the hem of his garment and +besought him for one mouthful of food; for nothing had he tasted that +day. + +The boy tossed him a yam. + + + +CHAPTER XXII +Yoomy Sings Some Odd Verses, And Babbalanja Quotes From The Old +Authors Right And Left + + +Sailing from Padulla, after many pleasant things had been said +concerning the sights there beheld; Babbalanja thus addressed Yoomy-- +"Warbler, the last song you sung was about moonlight, and paradise, +and fabulous pleasures evermore: now, have you any hymns about earthly +felicity?" + +"If so, minstrel," said Media, "jet it forth, my fountain, forthwith." + +"Just now, my lord," replied Yoomy, "I was singing to myself, as I +often do, and by your leave, I will continue aloud." + +"Better begin at the beginning, I should think," said the chronicler, +both hands to his chin, beginning at the top to new braid his beard. + +"No: like the roots of your beard, old Mohi, all beginnings are +stiff," cried Babbalanja. "We are lucky in living midway in eternity. +So sing away, Yoomy, where you left off," and thus saying he unloosed +his girdle for the song, as Apicius would for a banquet. + +"Shall I continue aloud, then, my lord?" + +My lord nodded, and Yoomy sang:-- + + "Full round, full soft, her dewy arms,-- + Sweet shelter from all Mardi's harms!" + +"Whose arms?" cried Mohi. + +Sang Yoomy:-- + + Diving deep in the sea, + She takes sunshine along: + Down flames in the sea, + As of dolphins a throng. + +"What mermaid is this?" cried Mohi. + +Sang Yoomy:-- + + Her foot, a falling sound, + That all day long might bound. + Over the beach, + The soft sand beach, + And none would find + A trace behind. + +"And why not?" demanded Media, "why could no trace be found?" + +Said Braid-Beard, "Perhaps owing, my lord, to the flatness of the +mermaid's foot. But no; that can not be; for mermaids are all +vertebrae below the waist." + +"Your fragment is pretty good, I dare say, Yoomy," observed Media, +"but as Braid-Beard hints, rather flat." + +"Flat as the foot of a man with his mind made up," cried Braid-Beard. +"Yoomy, did you sup on flounders last night?" + +But Yoomy vouchsafed no reply, he was ten thousand leagues off in a +reverie: somewhere in the Hyades perhaps. + +Conversation proceeding, Braid-Beard happened to make allusion to one +Rotato, a portly personage, who, though a sagacious philosopher, and +very ambitious to be celebrated as such, was only famous in Mardi as +the fattest man of his tribe. + +Said Media, "Then, Mohi, Rotato could not pick a quarrel with Fame, +since she did not belie him. Fat he was, and fat she published him." + +"Right, my lord," said Babbalanja, "for Fame is not always so honest. +Not seldom to be famous, is to be widely known for what you are not, +says Alla-Malolla. Whence it comes, as old Bardianna has it, that for +years a man may move unnoticed among his fellows; but all at once, by +some chance attitude, foreign to his habit, become a trumpet-full for +fools; though, in himself, the same as ever. Nor has he shown himself +yet; for the entire merit of a man can never be made known; nor the +sum of his demerits, if he have them. We are only known by our names; +as letters sealed up, we but read each other's superscriptions. + +"So with the commonalty of us Mardians. How then with those beings who +every way are but too apt to be riddles. In many points the works of +our great poet Vavona, now dead a thousand moons, still remain a +mystery. Some call him a mystic; but wherein he seems obscure, it is, +perhaps, we that are in fault; not by premeditation spoke he those +archangel thoughts, which made many declare, that Vavona, after all, +was but a crack-pated god, not a mortal of sound mind. But had he been +less, my lord, he had seemed more. Saith Fulvi, 'Of the highest order +of genius, it may be truly asserted, that to gain the reputation of +superior power, it must partially disguise itself; it must come down, +and then it will be applauded for soaring.' And furthermore, that +there are those who falter in the common tongue, because they think in +another; and these are accounted stutterers and stammerers.'" + +"Ah! how true!" cried the Warbler. + +"And what says the archangel Vavona, Yoomy, in that wonderful drama of +his, 'The Souls of the Sages?'--'Beyond most barren hills, there are +landscapes ravishing; with but one eye to behold; which no pencil can +portray.' What wonder then, my lord, that Mardi itself is so blind. +'Mardi is a monster,' says old Bardianna, 'whose eyes are fixed in its +head, like a whale's; it can see but two ways, and those comprising +but a small arc of a perfect vision. Poets, heroes, and men of might, +are all around this monster Mardi. But stand before me on stilts, or I +will behold you not, says the monster; brush back your hair; inhale +the wind largely; lucky are all men with dome-like foreheads; luckless +those with pippin-heads; loud lungs are a blessing; a lion is no lion +that can not roar.' Says Aldina, 'There are those looking on, who know +themselves to be swifter of foot than the racers, but are confounded +with the simpletons that stare.'" + +"The mere carping of a disappointed cripple," cried Mold. His +biographer states, that Aldina had only one leg." + +"Braid-Beard, you are witty," said Babbbalanja, adjusting his robe. +"My lord, there are heroes without armies, who hear martial music in +their souls." + +"Why not blow their trumpets louder, then," cried Media, that all +Mardi may hear?" + +"My lord Media, too, is witty, Babbalanja," said Mohi. + +Breathed Yoomy, "There are birds of divinest plumage, and most +glorious song, yet singing their lyrics to themselves." + +Said Media, "The lark soars high, cares for no auditor, yet its sweet +notes are heard here below. It sings, too, in company with myriads of +mates. Your soliloquists, Yoomy, are mostly herons and owls." + +Said Babbalanja, "Very clever, my lord; but think you not, there are +men eloquent, who never babble in the marketplace?" + +"Ay, and arrant babblers at home. In few words, Babbalanja, you +espouse a bad cause. Most of you mortals are peacocks; some having +tails, and some not; those who have them will be sure to thrust their +plumes in your face; for the rest, they will display their bald +cruppers, and still screech for admiration. But when a great genius is +born into Mardi, he nods, and is known." + +"More wit, but, with deference, perhaps less truth, my lord. Say what +you will, Fame is an accident; merit a thing absolute. But what +matter? Of what available value reputation, unless wedded to power, +dentals, or place? To those who render him applause, a poet's may seem +a thing tangible; but to the recipient, 'tis a fantasy; the poet never +so stretches his imagination, as when striving to comprehend what it +is; often, he is famous without knowing it." + +"At the sacred games of Lazella," said Yoomy, "slyly crowned from +behind with a laurel fillet, for many hours, the minstrel Jarmi +wandered about ignorant of the honors he bore. But enlightened at +last, he doffed the wreath; then, holding it at arm's length, sighed +forth--Oh, ye laurels! to be visible to me, ye must be removed from my +brow!" + +"And what said Botargo," cried Babbalanja, "hearing that his poems had +been translated into the language of the remote island of Bertranda?-- +'It stirs me little; already, in merry fancies, have I dreamed of +their being trilled by the blessed houris in paradise; I can only +imagine the same of the damsels of Bertranda.' Says Boldo, the +Materialist,--'Substances alone are satisfactory.'" + +"And so thought the mercenary poet, Zenzi," said Yoomy. "Upon +receiving fourteen ripe yams for a sonnet, one for every line, he said +to me, Yoomy, I shall make a better meal upon these, than upon so many +compliments." + +"Ay," cried Babbalanja, "'Bravos,' saith old Bardianna, but induce +flatulency.'" + +Said Media, "And do you famous mortals, then, take no pleasure in +hearing your bravos?" + +"Much, my good lord; at least such famous mortals, so enamored of a +clamorous notoriety, as to bravo for themselves, when none else will +huzza; whose whole existence is an unintermitting consciousness of +self; whose very persons stand erect and self-sufficient as their +infallible index, the capital letter I; who relish and comprehend no +reputation but what attaches to the carcass; who would as lief be +renowned for a splendid mustache, as for a splendid drama: who know +not how it was that a personage, to posterity so universally +celebrated as the poet Vavona, ever passed through the crowd +unobserved; who deride the very thunder for making such a noise in +Mardi, and yet disdain to manifest itself to the eye." + +"Wax not so warm, Babbalanja; but tell us, if to his contemporaries +Vavona's person was almost unknown, what satisfaction did he derive +from his genius?" + +"Had he not its consciousness?--an empire boundless as the West. What +to him were huzzas? Why, my lord, from his privacy, the great and good +Logodora sent liniment to the hoarse throats without. But what said +Bardianna, when they dunned him for autographs?--'Who keeps the +register of great men? who decides upon noble actions? and how long +may ink last? Alas! Fame has dropped more rolls than she displays; and +there are more lost chronicles, than the perished books of the +historian Livella.' But what is lost forever, my lord, is nothing to +what is now unseen. There are more treasures in the bowels of the +earth, than on its surface." + +"Ah! no gold," cried Yoomy, "but that comes from dark mines." + +Said Babbalanja, "Bear witness, ye gods! cries fervent old Bardianna, +that besides disclosures of good and evil undreamed of now, there will +be other, and more astounding revelations hereafter, of what has +passed in Mardi unbeheld." + +"A truce to your everlasting pratings of old Bardianna," said King +Media; why not speak your own thoughts, Babbalanja? then would your +discourse possess more completeness; whereas, its warp and woof are of +all sorts,--Bardianna, Alla-Malolla, Vavona, and all the writers that +ever have written. Speak for yourself, mortal!" + +"May you not possibly mistake, my lord? for I do not so much quote +Bardianna, as Bardianna quoted me, though he flourished before me; and +no vanity, but honesty to say so. The catalogue of true thoughts is +but small; they are ubiquitous; no man's property; and unspoken, or +bruited, are the same. When we hear them, why seem they so natural, +receiving our spontaneous approval? why do we think we have heard them +before? Because they but reiterate ourselves; they were in us, before +we were born. The truest poets are but mouth-pieces; and some men are +duplicates of each other; I see myself in Bardianna." + +"And there, for Oro's sake, let it rest, Babbalanja; Bardianna in you, +and you in Bardianna forever!" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII +What Manner Of Men The Tapparians Were + + +The canoes sailed on. But we leave them awhile. For our visit to Jiji, +the last visit we made, suggests some further revelations concerning +the dental money of Mardi. + +Ere this, it should have been mentioned, that throughout the +Archipelago, there was a restriction concerning incisors and molars, +as ornaments for the person; none but great chiefs, brave warriors, +and men distinguished by rare intellectual endowments, orators, +romancers, philosophers, and poets, being permitted to sport them as +jewels. Though, as it happened, among the poets there were many who +had never a tooth, save those employed at their repasts; which, coming +but seldom, their teeth almost corroded in their mouths. Hence, in +commerce, poets' teeth were at a discount. + +For these reasons, then, many mortals blent with the promiscuous mob +of Mardians, who, by any means, accumulated teeth, were fain to assert +their dental claims to distinction, by clumsily carrying their +treasures in pelican pouches slung over their shoulders; which pouches +were a huge burden to carry about, and defend. Though, in good truth, +from any of these porters, it was harder to wrench his pouches, than +his limbs. It was also a curious circumstance that at the slightest +casual touch, these bags seemed to convey a simultaneous thrill to the +owners. + +Besides these porters, there were others, who exchanged their teeth +for richly stained calabashes, elaborately carved canoes, and more +especially, for costly robes, and turbans; in which last, many +outshone the noblest-born nobles. Nevertheless, this answered not the +end they had in view; some of the crowd only admiring what they wore, +and not them; breaking out into laudation of the inimitable handiwork +of the artisans of Mardi. + +And strange to relate, these artisans themselves often came to be men +of teeth and turbans, sporting their bravery with the best. A +circumstance, which accounted for the fact, that many of the class +above alluded to, were considered capital judges of tappa and tailoring. + +Hence, as a general designation, the whole tribe went by the name of +Tapparians; otherwise, Men of Tappa. + +Now, many moons ago, according to Braid-Beard, the Tapparians of a +certain cluster of islands, seeing themselves hopelessly confounded +with the plebeian race of mortals; such as artificers, honest men, +bread-fruit bakers, and the like; seeing, in short, that nature had +denied them every inborn mark of distinction; and furthermore, that +their external assumptions were derided by so many in Mardi, these +selfsame Tapparians, poor devils, resolved to secede from the rabble; +form themselves into a community of their own; and conventionally pay +that homage to each other, which universal Mardi could not be +prevailed upon to render to them. + +Jointly, they purchased an island, called Pimminee, toward the extreme +west of the lagoon; and thither they went; and framing a code of laws- +-amazingly arbitrary, considering they themselves were the framers-- +solemnly took the oath of allegiance to the commonwealth thus +established. Regarded section by section, this code of laws seemed +exceedingly trivial; but taken together, made a somewhat imposing +aggregation of particles. + +By this code, the minutest things in life were all ordered after a +specific fashion. More especially one's dress was legislated upon, to +the last warp and woof. All girdles must be so many inches in length, +and with such a number of tassels in front. For a violation of this +ordinance, before the face of all Mardi, the most dutiful of sons +would cut the most affectionate of fathers. + +Now, though like all Mardi, kings and slaves included, the people of +Pimminee had dead dust for grandsires, they seldom reverted to that +fact; for, like all founders of families, they had no family vaults. +Nor were they much encumbered by living connections; connections, some +of them appeared to have none. Like poor Logan the last of his tribe, +they seemed to have monopolized the blood of their race, having never +a cousin to own. + +Wherefore it was, that many ignorant Mardians, who had not pushed +their investigations into the science of physiology, sagely divined, +that the Tapparians must have podded into life like peas, instead of +being otherwise indebted for their existence. Certain it is, they had +a comical way of backing up their social pretensions. When the +respectability of his clan was mooted, Paivai, one of their bucks, +disdained all reference to the Dooms-day Book, and the ancients. More +reliable evidence was had. He referred the anxious world to a witness, +still alive and hearty,--his contemporary tailor; the varlet who cut +out his tappa doublets, and rejoiced his soul with good fits. + +"Ah!" sighed Babbalanja, "how it quenches in one the thought of +immortality, to think that these Tapparians too, will hereafter claim +each a niche!" + +But we rove. Our visit to Pimminee itself, will best make known the +ways of its denizens. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV +Their Adventures Upon Landing At Pimminee + + +A long sail over, the island of Pimminee came in sight; one dead fiat, +wreathed in a thin, insipid vapor. + +"My lord, why land?" said Babbalanja; "no Yillah is here." + +"'Tis my humor, Babbalanja." + +Said Yoomy, "Taji would leave no isle unexplored." + +As we neared the beach, the atmosphere became still closer and more +languid. Much did we miss the refreshing balm which breathed in the +fine breezy air of the open lagoon. Of a slender and sickly growth +seemed the trees; in the meadows, the grass grew small and mincing. + +Said Media, "Taji, from the accounts which Braid-Beard gives, there +must be much to amuse, in the ways of these Tapparians." + +"Yes," said Babbalanja, "their lives are a continual farce, +gratuitously performed for the diversion of Mardi. My lord, perhaps we +had best doff our dignity, and land among them as persons of lowly +condition; for then, we shall receive more diversion, though less +hospitality." + +"A good proposition," said Media. + +And so saying, he put off his robe for one less pretentious. + +All followed suit; Yoomy doffing turban and sash; and, at last, +completely metamorphosed, we looked like Hungarian gipsies. + +Voyaging on, we entered a bay, where numbers of menials were standing +in the water, engaged in washing the carved work of certain fantastic +canoes, belonging to the Tapparians, their masters. + +Landing at some distance, we followed a path that soon conducted us to +a betwisted dwelling of bamboos, where, gently, we knocked for +admittance. So doing, we were accosted by a servitor, his portliness +all in his calves. Marking our appearance, he monopolized the +threshold, and gruffly demanded what was wanted. + +"Strangers, kind sir, fatigued with travel, and in need of refreshment +and repose." + +"Then hence with ye, vagabonds!" and with an emphasis, he closed the +portal in our face. + +Said Babbalanja, turning, "You perceive, my lord Media, that these +varlets take after their masters; who feed none but the well-fed, and +house none but the well-housed." + +"Faith! but they furnish most rare entertainment, nevertheless," cried +Media. "Ha! ha! Taji, we had missed much, had we missed Pimminee." + +As this was said, we observed, at a distance, three menials running +from seaward, as if conveying important intelligence. + +Halting here and there, vainly seeking admittance at other +habitations, and receiving nothing but taunts for our pains, we still +wandered on; and at last came upon a village, toward which, those from +the sea-side had been running. + +And now, to our surprise, we were accosted by an eager and servile +throng. + +"Obsequious varlets," said Media, "where tarry your masters?" + +"Right royal, and thrice worshipful Lord of Odo, do you take us for +our domestics? We are Tapparians, may it please your illustrious +Highness; your most humble and obedient servants. We beseech you, +supereminent Sir, condescend to visit our habitations, and partake of +our cheer." + +Then turning upon their attendants, "Away with ye, hounds! and set our +dwellings in order." + +"How know ye me to be king?" asked Media. + +"Is it not in your serene Highness's regal port, and eye?" + +"'Twas their menials," muttered Mohi, "who from the paddlers in charge +of our canoes must have learned who my lord was, and published the +tidings." + +After some further speech, Media made a social surrender of himself to +the foremost of the Tapparians, one Nimni; who, conducting us to his +abode, with much deference introduced us to a portly old Begum, and +three slender damsels; his wife and daughters. + +Soon, refreshments appeared:--green and yellow compounds, and divers +enigmatical dainties; besides vegetable liqueurs of a strange and +alarming flavor served in fragile little leaves, folded into cups, and +very troublesome to handle. + +Excessively thirsty, Babbalanja made bold to inquire for water; which +called forth a burst of horror from the old Begum, and minor shrieks +from her daughters; who declared, that the beverage to which remote +reference had been made, was far too widely diffused in Mardi, to be +at all esteemed in Pimminee. + +"But though we seldom imbibe it," said the old Begum, ceremoniously +adjusting her necklace of cowrie-shells, "we occasionally employ it +for medicinal purposes." + +"Ah, indeed?" said Babbalanja. + +"But oh! believe me; even then, we imbibe not the ordinary fluid of +the springs and streams; but that which in afternoon showers softly +drains from our palm-trees into the little hollow or miniature +reservoir beneath its compacted roots." + +A goblet of this beverage was now handed Babbalanja; but having a +curious, gummy flavor, it proved any thing but palatable. + +Presently, in came a company of young men, relatives of Nimni. They +were slender as sky-sail-poles; standing in a row, resembled a picket- +fence; and were surmounted by enormous heads of hair, combed out all +round, variously dyed, and evened by being singed with a lighted wisp +of straw. Like milliners' parcels, they were very neatly done up; +wearing redolent robes. + +"How like the woodlands they smell," whispered Yoomy. "Ay, marvelously +like sap," said Mohi. + +One part of their garniture consisted of numerous tasseled cords, like +those of an aigulette, depending from the neck, and attached here and +there about the person. A separate one, at a distance, united their +ankles. These served to measure and graduate their movements; keeping +their gestures, paces, and attitudes, within the prescribed standard +of Tapparian gentility. When they went abroad, they were preceded by +certain footmen; who placed before them small, carved boards, whereon +their masters stepped; thus avoiding contact with the earth. The +simple device of a shoe, as a fixture for the foot, was unknown in +Pimminee. + +Being told, that Taji was lately from the sun, they manifested not the +slightest surprise; one of them incidentally observing, however, that +the eclipses there, must be a sad bore to endure. + + + +CHAPTER XXV +A, I, AND O + + +The old Begum went by the euphonious appellation of Ohiro-Moldona- +Fivona; a name, from its length, deemed highly genteel; though scandal +averred, that it was nothing more than her real name transposed; the +appellation by which she had been formerly known, signifying a +"Getterup-of-Fine-Tappa." But as this would have let out an ancient +secret, it was thought wise to disguise it. + +Her daughters respectively reveled in the pretty diminutives of A, I, +and O; which, from their brevity, comical to tell, were considered +equally genteel with the dame's. + +The habiliments of the three Vowels must not be omitted. Each damsel +garrisoned an ample, circular farthingale of canes, serving as the +frame-work, whereon to display a gayly dyed robe. Perhaps their charms +intrenched themselves in these impregnable petticoats, as feeble +armies fly to fortresses, to hide their weakness, and better resist an +onset. + +But polite and politic it is, to propitiate your hostess. So seating +himself by the Begum, Taji led off with earnest inquiries after her +welfare. But the Begum was one of those, who relieve the diffident +from the embarrassment of talking; all by themselves carrying on +conversation for two. Hence, no wonder that my Lady was esteemed +invaluable at all assemblies in the groves of Pimminee; contributing +so largely to that incessant din, which is held the best test of the +enjoyment of the company, as making them deaf to the general nonsense, +otherwise audible. + +Learning that Taji had been making the tour of certain islands in +Mardi, the Begum was surprised that he could have thus hazarded his +life among the barbarians of the East. She desired to know whether his +constitution was not impaired by inhaling the unrefined atmosphere of +those remote and barbarous regions. For her part, the mere thought of +it made her faint in her innermost citadel; nor went she ever abroad +with the wind at East, dreading the contagion which might lurk in the +air. + +Upon accosting the three damsels, Taji very soon discovered that the +tongue which had languished in the presence of the Begum, was now +called into active requisition, to entertain the Polysyllables, her +daughters. So assiduously were they occupied in silent endeavors to +look sentimental and pretty, that it proved no easy task to sustain +with them an ordinary chat. In this dilemma, Taji diffused not his +remarks among all three; but discreetly centered them upon O. Thinking +she might be curious concerning the sun, he made some remote allusion +to that luminary as the place of his nativity. Upon which, O inquired +where that country was, of which mention was made. + +"Some distance from here; in the air above; the sun that gives light +to Pimminee, and Mardi at large." + +She replied, that if that were the case, she had never beheld it; for +such was the construction of her farthingale, that her head could not +be thrown back, without impairing its set. Wherefore, she had always +abstained from astronomical investigations. + +Hereupon, rude Mohi laughed out. And that lucky laugh happily relieved +Taji from all further necessity of entertaining the Vowels. For at so +vulgar, and in Pimminee, so unwonted a sound, as a genuine laugh, the +three startled nymphs fainted away in a row, their round farthingales +falling over upon each other, like a file of empty tierces. But they +presently revived. + +Meanwhile, without stirring from their mats, the polite young bucks in +the aigulettes did nothing but hold semi-transparent leaves to their +eyes, by the stems; which leaves they directed downward, toward the +disordered hems of the farthingales; in wait, perhaps, for the +revelation of an ankle, and its accompaniments. What the precise use +of these leaves could have been, it would be hard to say, especially +as the observers invariably peeped over and under them. + +The calamity of the Vowels was soon followed by the breaking up of the +party; when, evening coming on, and feeling much wearied with the +labor of seeing company in Pimminee, we retired to our mats; there +finding that repose which ever awaits the fatigued. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI +A Reception Day At Pimminee + + +Next morning, Nimni apprized us, that throughout the day he proposed +keeping open house, for the purpose of enabling us to behold whatever +of beauty, rank, and fashion, Pimminee could boast; including certain +strangers of note from various quarters of the lagoon, who doubtless +would honor themselves with a call. + +As inmates of the mansion, we unexpectedly had a rare opportunity of +witnessing the final toilets of the Begum and her daughters, +preparatory to receiving their guests. + +Their four farthingales were placed standing in the middle of the +dwelling; when their future inmates, arrayed in rudimental vestments, +went round and round them, attaching various articles of finery, dyed +scarfs, ivory trinkets, and other decorations. Upon the propriety of +this or that adornment, the three Vowels now and then pondered apart, +or together consulted. They talked and they laughed; they were silent +and sad; now merry at their bravery; now pensive at the thought of the +charms to be hidden. + +It was O who presently suggested the expediency of an artful fold in +their draperies, by the merest accident in Mardi, to reveal a +tantalizing glimpse of their ankles, which were thought to be pretty. + +But the old Begum was more active than any; by far the most +disinterested in the matter of advice. Her great object seemed to be +to pile on the finery at all hazards; and she pointed out many as yet +vacant and unappropriated spaces, highly susceptible of adornment. + +At last, all was in readiness; when, taking a valedictory glance, at +their intrenchments, the Begum and damsels simultaneously dipped their +heads, directly after emerging from the summit, all ready for execution. + +And now to describe the general reception that followed. In came the +Roes, the Fees, the Lol-Lols, the Hummee-Hums, the Bidi-Bidies, and +the Dedidums; the Peenees, the Yamoyamees, the Karkies, the Fanfums, +the Diddledees, and the Fiddlefies; in a word, all the aristocracy of +Pimminee; people with exceedingly short names; and some all name, and +nothing else. It was an imposing array of sounds; a circulation of +ciphers; a marshaling of tappas; a getting together of grimaces and +furbelows; a masquerade of vapidities. + +Among the crowd was a bustling somebody, one Gaddi, arrayed in much +apparel to little purpose; who, singling out Babbalanja, for some time +adhered to his side, and with excessive complaisance, enlightened him +as to the people assembled. + +"_That_ is rich Marmonora, accounted a mighty man in Pimminee; his +bags of teeth included, he is said to weigh upwards of fourteen stone; +and is much sought after by tailors for his measure, being but slender +in the region of the heart. His riches are great. And that old vrow is +the widow Roo; very rich; plenty of teeth; but has none in her head. +And _this_ is Finfi; said to be not very rich, and a maid. Who would +suppose she had ever beat tappa for a living?" + +And so saying, Gaddi sauntered off; his place by Babbalanja's side +being immediately supplied by the damsel Finfi. That vivacious and +amiable nymph at once proceeded to point out the company, where Gaddi +had left off; beginning with Gaddi himself, who, she insinuated, was a +mere parvenu, a terrible infliction upon society, and not near so rich +as he was imagined to be. + +Soon we were accosted by one Nonno, a sour, saturnine personage. "I +know nobody here; not a soul have I seen before; I wonder who they all +are." And just then he was familiarly nodded to by nine worthies +abreast. Whereupon Nonno vanished. But after going the rounds of the +company, and paying court to many, he again sauntered by Babbalanja, +saying, "Nobody, nobody; nobody but nobodies; I see nobody I know." + +Advancing, Nimni now introduced many strangers of distinction, +parading their titles after a fashion, plainly signifying that he was +bent upon convincing us, that there were people present at this little +affair of his, who were men of vast reputation; and that we erred, if +we deemed him unaccustomed to the society of the illustrious. + +But not a few of his magnates seemed shy of Media and their laurels. +Especially a tall robustuous fellow, with a terrible javelin in his +hand, much notched and splintered, as if it had dealt many a thrust. +His left arm was gallanted in a sling, and there was a patch upon his +sinister eye. Him Nimni made known as a famous captain, from King +Piko's island (of which anon) who had been all but mortally wounded +somewhere, in a late desperate though nameless encounter. + +"Ah," said Media as this redoubtable withdrew, Fofi is a cunning +knave; a braggart, driven forth, by King Piko for his cowardice. He +has blent his tattooing into one mass of blue, and thus disguised, +must have palmed himself off here in Pimminee, for the man he is not. +But I see many more like him." + +"Oh ye Tapparians," said Babbalanja, "none so easily humbugged as +humbugs. Taji: to behold this folly makes one wise. Look, look; it is +all round us. Oh Pimminee, Pimminee!" + + + +CHAPTER XXVII +Babbalanja Falleth Upon Pimminee Tooth And Nail + + +The levee over, waiving further civilities, we took courteus leave of +the Begum and Nimni, and proceeding to the beach, very soon were +embarked. + +When all were pleasantly seated beneath the canopy, pipes in full +blast, calabashes revolving, and the paddlers quietly urging us along, +Media proposed that, for the benefit of the company, some one present, +in a pithy, whiffy sentence or two, should sum up the character of the +Tapparians; and ended by nominating Babbalanja to that office. + +"Come, philosopher: let us see in how few syllables you can put the +brand on those Tapparians." + +"Pardon me, my lord, but you must permit me to ponder awhile; nothing +requires more time, than to be brief. An example: they say that in +conversation old Bardianna dealt in nothing but trisyllabic sentences. +His talk was thunder peals: sounding reports, but long intervals." + +"The devil take old Bardianna. And would that the grave-digger had +buried his Ponderings, along with his other remains. Can none be in +your company, Babbalanja, but you must perforce make them hob-a-nob +with that old prater? A brand for the Tapparians! that is what we seek." + +"You shall have it, my lord. Full to the brim of themselves, for that +reason, the Tapparians are the emptiest of mortals." + +"A good blow and well planted, Babbalanja." + +"In sooth, a most excellent saying; it should be carved upon his +tombstone," said Mohi, slowly withdrawing his pipe. + +"What! would you have my epitaph read thus:--'Here lies the emptiest +of mortals, who was full of himself?' At best, your words are +exceedingly ambiguous, Mohi." + +"Now have I the philosopher," cried Yoomy, with glee. "What did some +one say to me, not long since, Babbalanja, when in the matter of that +sleepy song of mine, Braid-Beard bestowed upon me an equivocal +compliment? Was I not told to wrest commendation from it, though I +tortured it to the quick?" + +"Take thy own pills, philosopher," said Mohi. + +"Then would he be a great original," said Media. + +"Tell me, Yoomy," said Babbalanja, "are you not in fault? Because I +sometimes speak wisely, you must not imagine that I should always act +so." + +"I never imagined that," said Yoomy, "and, if I did, the truth would +belie me. It is you who are in fault, Babbalanja; not I, craving your +pardon." + +"The minstrel's sides are all edges to-day," said Media. + +"This, then, thrice gentle Yoomy, is what I would say;" resumed +Babbalanja, "that since we philosophers bestow so much wisdom upon +others, it is not to be wondered at, if now and then we find what is +left in us too small for our necessities. It is from our very +abundance that we want." + +"And from the fool's poverty," said Media, "that he is opulent; for +his very simplicity, is sometimes of more account than the wisdom of +the sage. But we were discoursing of the Tapparians. Babbalanja: +sententiously you have acquitted yourself to admiration; now amplify, +and tell us more of the people of Pimminee." + +"My lord, I might amplify forever." + +"Then, my worshipful lord, let him not begin," interposed Braid-Beard. + +"I mean," said Babbalanja, "that all subjects are inexhaustible, +however trivial; as the mathematical point, put in motion, is capable +of being produced into an infinite line." + +"But forever extending into nothing," said Media. "A very bad example +to follow. Do you, Babbalanja, come to the point, and not travel off +with it, which is too much your wont." + +"Since my lord insists upon it then, thus much for the Tapparians, +though but a thought or two of many in reserve. They ignore the rest +of Mardi, while they themselves are but a rumor in the isles of the +East; where the business of living and dying goes on with the same +uniformity, as if there were no Tapparians in existence. They think +themselves Mardi in full; whereas, by the mass, they are stared at as +prodigies; exceptions to the law, ordaining that no Mardian shall +undertake to live, unless he set out with at least the average +quantity of brains. For these Tapparians have no brains. In lieu, they +carry in one corner of their craniums, a drop or two of attar of +roses; charily used, the supply being small. They are the victims of +two incurable maladies: stone in the heart, and ossification of the +head. They are full of fripperies, fopperies, and finesses; knowing +not, that nature should be the model of art. Yet, they might appear +less silly than they do, were they content to be the plain idiots +which at bottom they are. For there be grains of sense in a simpleton, +so long as he be natural. But what can be expected from them? They are +irreclaimable Tapparians; not so much fools by contrivance of their +own, as by an express, though inscrutable decree of Oro's. For one, my +lord, I can not abide them." + +Nor could Taji. + +In Pimminee were no hilarious running and shouting: none of the royal +good cheer of old Borabolla; none of the mysteries of Maramma; none of +the sentiment and romance of Donjalolo; no rehearsing of old legends: +no singing of old songs; no life; no jolly commotion: in short, no men +and women; nothing but their integuments; stiff trains and +farthingales. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII +Babbalanja Regales The Company With Some Sandwiches + + +It was night. But the moon was brilliant, far and near illuminating +the lagoon. + +Over silvery billows we glided. + +"Come Yoomy," said Media, "moonlight and music for aye--a song! a +song! my bird of paradise." + +And folding his arms, and watching the sparkling waters, thus Yoomy +sang:-- + + A ray of the moon on the dancing waves + Is the step, light step of that beautiful maid: + Mardi, with music, her footfall paves, + And her voice, no voice, but a song in the glade. + +"Hold!" cried Media, "yonder is a curious rock. It looks black as a +whale's hump in blue water, when the sun shines." + +"That must be the Isle of Fossils," said Mohi. "Ay, my lord, it is." + +"Let us land, then," said Babbalanja. + +And none dissenting, the canoes were put about, and presently we +debarked. + +It was a dome-like surface, here and there fringed with ferns, +sprouting from clefts. But at every tide the thin soil seemed +gradually washing into the lagoon. + +Like antique tablets, the smoother parts were molded in strange +devices:--Luxor marks, Tadmor ciphers, Palenque inscriptions. In long +lines, as on Denderah's architraves, were bas-reliefs of beetles, +turtles, ant-eaters, armadilloes, guanos, serpents, tongueless +crocodiles:--a long procession, frosted and crystalized in stone, and +silvered by the moon. + +"Strange sight!" cried Media. "Speak, antiquarian Mohi." + +But the chronicler was twitching his antiquarian beard, nonplussed by +these wondrous records. The cowled old father, Piaggi, bending over +his calcined Herculanean manuscripts, looked not more at fault than +he. + +Said Media, "Expound you, then, sage Babbalanja." Muffling his face in +his mantle, and his voice in sepulchral tones, Babbalanja thus:-- + +"These are the leaves of the book of Oro. Here we read how worlds are +made; here read the rise and fall of Nature's kingdoms. From where +this old man's furthest histories start, these unbeginning records +end. These are the secret memoirs of times past; whose evidence, at +last divulged, gives the grim lie to Mohi's gossipings, and makes a +rattling among the dry-bone relics of old Maramma." + +Braid-Beard's old eyes flashed fire. With bristling beard, he cried, +"Take back the lie you send!" + +"Peace! everlasting foes," cried Media, interposing, with both arms +outstretched. "Philosopher, probe not too deep. All you say is very +fine, but very dark. I would know something more precise. But, +prithee, ghost, unmuffle! chatter no more! wait till you're buried for +that." + +"Ay, death's cold ague will set us all shivering, my lord. We'll swear +our teeth are icicles." + +"Will you quit driving your sleet upon us? have done expound these +rocks." + +"My lord, if you desire, I'll turn over these stone tablets till +they're dog-eared." + +"Heaven and Mardi!--Go on, Babbalanja." + +"'Twas thus. These were tombs burst open by volcanic throes; and +hither hurled from the lowermost vaults of the lagoon. All Mardi's +rocks are one wide resurrection. But look. Here, now, a pretty story's +told. Ah, little thought these grand old lords, that lived and roared +before the flood, that they would come to this. Here, King Media, look +and learn." + +He looked; and saw a picture petrified, and plain as any on the +pediments of Petra. + +It seemed a stately banquet of the dead, where lords in skeletons were +ranged around a board heaped up with fossil fruits, and flanked with +vitreous vases, grinning like empty skulls. There they sat, exchanging +rigid courtesies. One's hand was on his stony heart; his other pledged +a lord who held a hollow beaker. Another sat, with earnest face +beneath a mitred brow. He seemed to whisper in the ear of one who +listened trustingly. But on the chest of him who wore the miter, an +adder lay, close-coiled in flint. + +At the further end, was raised a throne, its canopy surmounted by a +crown, in which now rested the likeness of a raven on an egg. + +The throne was void. But half-concealed by drapery, behind the +goodliest lord, sideway leaned a figure diademed, a lifted poniard in +its hand:--a monarch fossilized in very act of murdering his guest. + +"Most high and sacred majesty!" cried Babbalanja, bowing to his feet. + +While all stood gazing on this sight, there came two servitors of +Media's, who besought of Babbalanja to settle a dispute, concerning +certain tracings upon the islet's other side. + +Thither we followed them. + +Upon a long layer of the slaty stone were marks of ripplings of some +now waveless sea; mid which were tri-toed footprints of some huge +heron, or wading fowl. + +Pointing to one of which, the foremost disputant thus spoke:--"I +maintain that these are three toes." + +"And I, that it is one foot," said the other. + +"And now decide between us," joined the twain. + +Said Babbalanja, starting, "Is not this the very question concerning +which they made such dire contention in Maramma, whose tertiary rocks +are chisseled all over with these marks? Yes; this it is, concerning +which they once shed blood. This it is, concerning which they still +divide." + +"Which of us is right?" again demanded the impatient twain. + +"Unite, and both are right; divide, and both are wrong. Every unit is +made up of parts, as well as every plurality. Nine is three threes; a +unit is as many thirds; or, if you please, a thousand thousandths; no +special need to stop at thirds." + +"Away, ye foolish disputants!" cried Media. "Full before you is the +thing disputed." + +Strolling on, many marvels did we mark; and Media said:--"Babbalanja, +you love all mysteries; here's a fitting theme. You have given us the +history of the rock; can your sapience tell the origin of all the +isles? how Mardi came to be?" + +"Ah, that once mooted point is settled. Though hard at first, it +proved a bagatelle. Start not my lord; there are those who have +measured Mardi by perch and pole, and with their wonted lead sounded +its utmost depths. Listen: it is a pleasant story. The coral wall +which circumscribes the isles but continues upward the deep buried +crater of the primal chaos. In the first times this crucible was +charged with vapors nebulous, boiling over fires volcanic. Age by age, +the fluid thickened; dropping, at long intervals, heavy sediment to +the bottom; which layer on layer concreted, and at length, in crusts, +rose toward the surface. Then, the vast volcano burst; rent the whole +mass; upthrew the ancient rocks; which now in divers mountain tops +tell tales of what existed ere Mardi was completely fashioned. Hence +many fossils on the hills, whose kith and kin still lurk beneath the +vales. Thus Nature works, at random warring, chaos a crater, and this +world a shell." + +Mohi stroked his beard. + +Yoomy yawned. + +Media cried, "Preposterous!" + +"My lord, then take another theory--which you will--the celebrated +sandwich System. Nature's first condition was a soup, wherein the +agglomerating solids formed granitic dumplings, which, wearing down, +deposited the primal stratum made up of series, sandwiching strange +shapes of mollusks, and zoophytes; then snails, and periwinkles:-- +marmalade to sip, and nuts to crack, ere the substantials came. + +"And next, my lord, we have the fine old time of the Old Red Sandstone +sandwich, clapped on the underlying layer, and among other dainties, +imbedding the first course of fish,--all quite in rule,--sturgeon- +forms, cephalaspis, glyptolepis, pterichthys; and other finny things, +of flavor rare, but hard to mouth for bones. Served up with these, +were sundry greens,--lichens, mosses, ferns, and fungi. + +"Now comes the New Red Sandstone sandwich: marly and magnesious, +spread over with old patriarchs of crocodiles and alligators,--hard +carving these,--and prodigious lizards, spine-skewered, tails tied in +bows, and swimming in saffron saucers." + +"What next?" cried Media. + +"The Ool, or Oily sandwich:--rare gormandizing then; for oily it was +called, because of fat old joints, and hams, and rounds, and barons of +sea-beeves and walrusses, which then crowned the stratum-board. All +piled together, glorious profusion!--fillets and briskets, rumps, and +saddles, and haunches; shoulder to shoulder, loin 'gainst sirloin, +ribs rapping knuckles, and quarter to none. And all these sandwiched +right over all that went before. Course after course, and course on +course, my lord; no time to clear the wreck; no stop nor let; lay on +and slash; cut, thrust, and come. + +"Next the Chalk, or Coral sandwich; but no dry fare for that; made up +of rich side-courses,--eocene, miocene, and pliocene. The first was +wild game for the delicate,--bantam larks, curlews, quails, and flying +weazels; with a slight sprinkling of pilaus,--capons, pullets, +plovers, and garnished with petrels' eggs. Very savory, that, my lord. +The second side-course--miocene--was out of course, flesh after fowl: +marine mammalia,--seals, grampuses, and whales, served up with sea- +weed on their flanks, hearts and kidneys deviled, and fins and +flippers friccasied. All very thee, my lord. The third side-course, +the pliocene, was goodliest of all:--whole-roasted elephants, +rhinoceroses, and hippopotamuses, stuffed with boiled ostriches, +condors, cassowaries, turkeys. Also barbacued mastodons and +megatheriums, gallantly served up with fir-trees in their mouths, and +tails cock-billed. + +"Thus fared the old diluvians: arrant gormandizers and beef-bolters. +We Mardians famish on the superficial strata of deposits; cracking our +jaws on walnuts, filberts, cocoa-nuts, and clams. My lord, I've done." + +"And bravely done it is. Mohi tells us, that Mardi was made in six +days; but you, Babbalanja, have built it up from the bottom in less +than six minutes." + +"Nothing for us geologists, my lord. At a word we turn you out whole +systems, suns, satellites, and asteroids included. Why, my good lord, +my friend Annonimo is laying out a new Milky Way, to intersect with +the old one, and facilitate cross-cuts among the comets." + +And so saying, Babbalanja turned aside. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX +They Still Remain Upon The Rock + + +"Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum," so hummed to himself +Babbalanja, slowly pacing over the fossils. "Is he crazy again?" +whispered Yoomy. + +"Are you crazy, Babbalanja?" asked Media. + +"From my very birth have I been so, my lord; am I not possessed by a +devil?" + +"Then I'll e'en interrogate him," cried Media. "--Hark ye, sirrah;-- +why rave you thus in this poor mortal?" + +"'Tis he, not I. I am the mildest devil that ever entered man; in +propria persona, no antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as +at last your Mardian lions lose their caudal horns." + +"A very sing-song devil this. But, prithee, who are you, sirrah?" + +"The mildest devil that ever entered man; in propria persona, no +antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at last your Mardian +lions lose their caudal horns." + +"A very iterating devil this. Sirrah! mock me not. Know you aught yet +unrevealed by Babbalanja?" + +"Many things I know, not good to tell; whence they call me Azzageddi." + +"A very confidential devil, this; that tells no secrets. Azzageddi, +can I drive thee out?" + +"Only with this mortal's ghost:--together we came in, together we +depart." + +"A very terse, and ready devil, this. Whence come you, Azzageddi?" + +"Whither my catechist must go--a torrid clime, cut by a hot equator." + +"A very keen, and witty devil, this. Azzageddi, whom have you there?" + +"A right down merry, jolly set, that at a roaring furnace sit and +toast their hoofs for aye; so used to flames, they poke the fire with +their horns, and light their tails for torches." + +"A very funny devil, this. Azzageddi, is not Mardi a place far +pleasanter, than that from whence you came?" + + "Ah, home! sweet, sweet, home! would, would that I were home again!" + +"A very sentimental devil, this. Azzageddi, would you had a hand, I'd +shake it." + +"Not so with us; who, rear to rear, shake each other's tails, and +courteously inquire, 'Pray, worthy sir, how now stands the great +thermometer?'" + +"The very prince of devils, this." + +"How mad our Babbalanja is," cried Mohi. My lord, take heed; he'll +bite." + +"Alas! alas!" sighed Yoomy. + +"Hark ye, Babbalanja," cried Media, "enough of this: doff your devil, +and be a man." + +"My lord, I can not doff him; but I'll down him for a time: Azzageddi! +down, imp; down, down, down! so: now, my lord, I'm only Babbalanja." + +"Shall I test his sanity, my lord?" cried Mohi. + +"Do, old man." + +"Philosopher, our great reef is surrounded by an ocean; what think you +lies beyond?" + +"Alas!" sighed Yoomy, "the very subject to renew his madness." + +"Peace, minstrel!" said Media. "Answer, Babbalanja." + +"I will, my lord. Fear not, sweet Yoomy; you see how calm I am. Braid- +Beard, those strangers, that came to Mondoldo prove isles afar, as a +philosopher of old surmised, but was hooted at for his surmisings. Nor +is it at all impossible, Braid-Beard, that beyond their land may exist +other regions, of which those strangers know not; peopled with races +something like us Mardians; but perhaps with more exalted faculties, +and organs that we lack. They may have some better seeing sense than +ours; perhaps, have fins or wings for arms." + +"This seems not like sanity," muttered Mohi. + +"A most crazy hypothesis, truly," said Media. + +"And are all inductions vain?" cried Babbalanja. "Have we mortals +naught to rest on, but what we see with eyes? Is no faith to be +reposed in that inner microcosm, wherein we see the charted universe +in little, as the whole horizon is mirrored in the iris of a gnat? +Alas! alas! my lord, is there no blest Odonphi? no Astrazzi?" + +"His devil's uppermost again, my lord," cried Braid-Beard. + +"He's stark, stark mad!" sighed Yoomy. + +"Ay, the moon's at full," said Media. "Ho, paddlers! we depart." + + + +CHAPTER XXX +Behind And Before + + +It was yet moonlight when we pushed from the islet. But soon, the sky +grew dun; the moon went into a cavern among the clouds; and by that +secret sympathy between our hearts and the elements, the thoughts of +all but Media became overcast. + +Again discourse was had of that dark intelligence from Mondoldo,--the +fell murder of Taji's follower. + +Said Mohi, "Those specter sons of Aleema must have been the assassins." + +"They harbored deadly malice," said Babbalanja. + +"Which poor Jarl's death must now have sated," sighed Yoomy. + +"Then all the happier for Taji," said Media. "But away with gloom! +because the sky is clouded, why cloud your brows? Babbalanja, I grieve +the moon is gone. Yet start some paradox, that we may laugh. Say a +woman is a man, or you yourself a stork." + +At this they smiled. When hurtling came an arrow, which struck our +stern, and quivered. Another! and another! Grazing the canopy, they +darted by, and hissing, dived like red-hot bars beneath the waves. + +Starting, we beheld a corruscating wake, tracking the course of a low +canoe, far flying for a neighboring mountain. The next moment it was +lost within the mountain's shadow and pursuit was useless. + +"Let us fly!" cried Yoomy + +"Peace! What murderers these?" said Media, calmly; "whom can they +seek?--you, Taji?" + +"The three avengers fly three bolts," said Babbalanja. "See if the +arrow yet remain astern," cried Media. + +They brought it to him. + +"By Oro! Taji on the barb!" + +"Then it missed its aim. But I will not mine. And whatever arrows +follow, still will I hunt on. Nor does the ghost, that these pale +specters would avenge, at all disquiet me. The priest I slew, but to +gain her, now lost; and I would slay again, to bring her back. Ah, +Yillah! Yillah." + +All started. + +Then said Babbalanja, "Aleema's sons raved not; 'tis true, then, Taji, +that an evil deed gained you your Yillah: no wonder she is lost." + +Said Media, unconcernedly, "Perhaps better, Taji, to have kept your +secret; but tell no more; I care not to be your foe." + +"Ah, Taji! I had shrank from you," cried Yoomy, "but for the mark upon +your brow. That undoes the tenor of your words. But look, the stars +come forth, and who are these? A waving Iris! ay, again they come:-- +Hautia's heralds!" + +They brought a black thorn, buried in withered rose-balm blossoms, red +and blue. + +Said Yoomy, "For that which stings, there is no cure," + +"Who, who is Hautia, that she stabs me thus?" + +"And this wild sardony mocks your misery." + +"Away! ye fiends." + +"Again a Venus car; and lo! a wreath of strawberries!--Yet fly to me, +and be garlanded with joys." + +"Let the wild witch laugh. She moves me not. Neither hurtling arrows +nor Circe flowers appall." + +Said Yoomy, "They wait reply." + +"Tell your Hautia, that I know her not; nor care to know. I defy her +incantations; she lures in vain. Yillah! Yillah! still I hope!" + +Slowly they departed; heeding not my cries no more to follow. + +Silence, and darkness fell. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII +My Lord Media Summons Mohi To The Stand + + +While slowly the night wore on, and the now scudding clouds flown +past, revealed again the hosts in heaven, few words were uttered save +by Media; who, when all others were most sad and silent, seemed but +little moved, or not stirred a jot. + +But that night, he filled his flagon fuller than his wont, and drank, +and drank, and pledged the stars. + +"Here's to thee, old Arcturus! To thee, old Aldebaran! who ever poise +your wine-red, fiery spheres on high. A health to _thee_, my regal +friend, Alphacca, in the constellation of the Crown: Lo! crown to +crown, I pledge thee! I drink to _ye_, too, Alphard! Markab! Denebola! +Capella!--to _ye_, too, sailing Cygnus! Aquila soaring!--All round, a +health to all your diadems! May they never fade! nor mine!" + +At last, in the shadowy east, the Dawn, like a gray, distant sail +before the wind, was descried; drawing nearer and nearer, till her +gilded prow was perceived. + +And as in tropic gales, the winds blow fierce, and more fierce, with +the advent of the sun; so with King Media; whose mirth now breezed up +afresh. But, as at sunrise, the sea-storm only blows harder, to settle +down at last into a steady wind; even so, in good time, my lord Media +came to be more decorous of mood. And Babbalanja abated his reveries. + +For who might withstand such a morn! + +As on the night-banks of the far-rolling Ganges, the royal bridegroom +sets forth for his bride, preceded by nymphs, now this side, now that, +lighting up all the flowery flambeaux held on high as they pass; so +came the Sun, to his nuptials with Mardi:--the Hours going on before, +touching all the peaks, till they glowed rosy-red. + +By reflex, the lagoon, here and there, seemed on fire; each curling +wave-crest a flame. + +Noon came as we sailed. + +And now, citrons and bananas, cups and calabashes, calumets and +tobacco, were passed round; and we were all very merry and mellow +indeed. Smacking our lips, chatting, smoking, and sipping. Now a +mouthful of citron to season a repartee; now a swallow of wine to wash +down a precept; now a fragrant whiff to puff away care. Many things +did beguile. From side to side, we turned and grazed, like Juno's +white oxen in clover meads. + +Soon, we drew nigh to a charming cliff, overrun with woodbines, on +high suspended from flowering Tamarisk and Tamarind-trees. The +blossoms of the Tamarisks, in spikes of small, red bells; the +Tamarinds, wide-spreading their golden petals, red-streaked as with +streaks of the dawn. Down sweeping to the water, the vines trailed +over to the crisp, curling waves,--little pages, all eager to hold up +their trains. + +Within, was a bower; going behind it, like standing inside the sheet +of the falls of the Genesee. + +In this arbor we anchored. And with their shaded prows thrust in among +the flowers, our three canoes seemed baiting by the way, like wearied +steeds in a hawthorn lane. + +High midsummer noon is more silent than night. Most sweet a siesta +then. And noon dreams are day-dreams indeed; born under the meridian +sun. Pale Cynthia begets pale specter shapes; and her frigid rays best +illuminate white nuns, marble monuments, icy glaciers, and cold tombs. + +The sun rolled on. And starting to his feet, arms clasped, and wildly +staring, Yoomy exclaimed--"Nay, nay, thou shalt not depart, thou +maid!--here, here I fold thee for aye!--Flown?--A dream! Then siestas +henceforth while I live. And at noon, every day will I meet thee, +sweet maid! And, oh Sun! set not; and poppies bend over us, when next +we embrace!" + +"What ails that somnambulist?" cried Media, rising. "Yoomy, I say! +what ails thee?" + +"He must have indulged over freely in those citrons," said Mohi, +sympathetically rubbing his fruitery. "Ho, Yoomy! a swallow of brine +will help thee." + +"Alas," cried Babbalanja, "do the fairies then wait on repletion? Do +our dreams come from below, and not from the skies? Are we angels, or +dogs? Oh, Man, Man, Man! thou art harder to solve, than the Integral +Calculus--yet plain as a primer; harder to find than the +philosopher's-stone--yet ever at hand; a more cunning compound, than +an alchemist's--yet a hundred weight of flesh, to a penny weight of +spirit; soul and body glued together, firm as atom to atom, seamless +as the vestment without joint, warp or woof--yet divided as by a +river, spirit from flesh; growing both ways, like a tree, and dropping +thy topmost branches to earth, like thy beard or a banian!--I give +thee up, oh Man! thou art twain--yet indivisible; all things--yet a +poor unit at best." + +"Philosopher you seem puzzled to account for the riddles of your +race," cried Media, sideways reclining at his ease. "Now, do thou, old +Mohi, stand up before a demi-god, and answer for all.--Draw nigh, so I +can eye thee. What art thou, mortal?" + +"My worshipful lord, a man." + +"And what are men?" + +"My lord, before thee is a specimen." + +"I fear me, my lord will get nothing out of that witness," said +Babbalanja. "Pray you, King Media, let another inquisitor cross- +question." + +"Proceed; take the divan." + +"A pace or two farther off, there, Mohi; so I can garner thee all in +at a glance.--Attention! Rememberest thou, fellow-being, when thou +wast born?" + +"Not I. Old Braid-Beard had no memory then." + +"When, then, wast thou first conscious of being?" + +"What time I was teething: my first sensation was an ache." + +"What dost thou, fellow-being, here in Mardi?" + +"What doth Mardi here, fellow-being, under me?" + +"Philosopher, thou gainest but little by thy questions," cried Yoomy +advancing. "Let a poet endeavor." + +"I abdicate in your favor, then, gentle Yoomy; let me smooth the divan +for you;--there: be seated." + +"Now, Mohi, who art thou?" said Yoomy, nodding his bird-of-paradise +plume. + +"The sole witness, it seems, in this case." + +"Try again minstrel," cried Babbalanja. + +"Then, what art thou, Mohi?" + +"Even what thou art, Yoomy." + +"He is too sharp or too blunt for us all," cried King Media. "His +devil is even more subtle than yours, Babbalanja. Let him go." + +"Shall I adjourn the court then, my lord?" said Babbalanja. + +"Ay." + +"Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All mortals having business at this court, know ye, +that it is adjourned till sundown of the day, which hath no to- +morrow." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII +Wherein Babbalanja And Yoomy Embrace + + +"How the isles grow and multiply around us!" cried Babbalanja, as +turning the bold promontory of an uninhabited shore, many distant +lands bluely loomed into view. "Surely, our brief voyage, may not +embrace all Mardi like its reef?" + +"No," said Media, "much must be left unseen. Nor every where can +Yillah be sought, noble Taji." + +Said Yoomy, "We are as birds, with pinions clipped, that in +unfathomable and endless woods, but flit from twig to twig of one poor +tree." + +"More isles! more isles!" cried Babbalanja, erect, and gazing abroad. +"And lo! round all is heaving that infinite ocean. Ah! gods! what +regions lie beyond?" + +"But whither now?" he cried, as in obedience to Media, the paddlers +suddenly altered our course. + +"To the bold shores of Diranda," said Media. + +"Ay; the land of clubs and javelins, where the lord seigniors Hello +and Piko celebrate their famous games," cried Mohi. + +"Your clubs and javelins," said Media, "remind me of the great battle- +chant of Narvi--Yoomy!"--turning to the minstrel, gazing abstractedly +into the water;--"awake, Yoomy, and give us the lines." + +"My lord Media, 'tis but a rude, clanging thing; dissonant as if the +north wind blew through it. Methinks the company will not fancy lines +so inharmonious. Better sing you, perhaps, one of my sonnets." + +"Better sit and sob in our ears, silly Yoomy that thou art!--no! no! +none of your sentiment now; my soul is martially inclined; I want +clarion peals, not lute warblings. So throw out your chest, Yoomy: +lift high your voice; and blow me the old battle-blast.--Begin, sir +minstrel." + +And warning all, that he himself had not composed the odious chant, +Yoomy thus:-- + + Our clubs! our clubs! + The thousand clubs of Narvi! + Of the living trunk of the Palm-tree made; + Skull breakers! Brain spatterers! + Wielded right, and wielded left; + Life quenchers! Death dealers! + Causing live bodies to run headless! + + Our bows! our bows! + The thousand bows of Narvi! + Ribs of Tara, god of War! + Fashioned from the light Tola their arrows; + Swift messengers! Heart piercers! + Barbed with sharp pearl shells; + Winged with white tail-plumes; + To wild death-chants, strung with the hair of wild maidens! + + Our spears! our spears! + The thousand spears of Narvi! + Of the thunder-riven Moo-tree made + Tall tree, couched on the long mountain Lana! + No staves for gray-beards! no rods for fishermen! + Tempered by fierce sea-winds, + Splintered into lances by lightnings, + Long arrows! Heart seekers! + Toughened by fire their sharp black points! + + Our slings! our slings! + The thousand slings of Narvi! + All tasseled, and braided, and gayly bedecked. + In peace, our girdles; in war, our war-nets; + Wherewith catch we heads as fish from the deep! + The pebbles they hurl, have been hurled before,-- + Hurled up on the beach by the stormy sea! + Pebbles, buried erewhile in the head of the shark: + To be buried erelong in the heads of our foes! + Home of hard blows, our pouches! + Nest of death-eggs! How quickly they hatch! + + Uplift, and couch we our spears, men! + Ring hollow on the rocks our war clubs! + Bend we our bows, feel the points of our arrows: + Aloft, whirl in eddies our sling-nets; + To the fight, men of Narvi! + Sons of battle! Hunters of men! + Raise high your war-wood! + Shout Narvi! her groves in the storm! + +"By Oro!" cried Media, "but Yoomy has well nigh stirred up all +Babbalanja's devils in me. Were I a mortal, I could fight now on a +pretense. And did any man say me nay, I would charge upon him like a +spear-point. Ah, Yoomy, thou and thy tribe have much to answer for; ye +stir up all Mardi with your lays. Your war chants make men fight; your +drinking songs, drunkards; your love ditties, fools. Yet there thou +sittest, Yoomy, gentle as a dove.--What art thou, minstrel, that thy +soft, singing soul should so master all mortals? Yoomy, like me, you +sway a scepter." + +"Thou honorest my calling overmuch," said Yoomy, we minstrels but sing +our lays carelessly, my lord Media." + +"Ay: and the more mischief they make." + +"But sometimes we poets are didactic." + +"Didactic and dull; many of ye are but too apt to be prosy unless +mischievous." + +"Yet in our verses, my lord Media, but few of us purpose harm." + +"But when all harmless to yourselves, ye may be otherwise to Mardi." + +"And are not foul streams often traced to pure fountains, my lord?" +said Babbalanja. "The essence of all good and all evil is in us, not +out of us. Neither poison nor honey lodgeth in the flowers on which, +side by side, bees and wasps oft alight. My lord, nature is an +immaculate virgin, forever standing unrobed before us. True poets but +paint the charms which all eyes behold. The vicious would be vicious +without them." + +"My lord Media," impetuously resumed Yoomy, "I am sensible of a +thousand sweet, merry fancies, limpid with innocence; yet my enemies +account them all lewd conceits." + +"There be those in Mardi," said Babbalanja, "who would never ascribe +evil to others, did they not find it in their own hearts; believing +none can be different from themselves." + +"My lord, my lord!" cried Yoomy. "The air that breathes my music from +me is a mountain air! Purer than others am I; for though not a woman, +I feel in me a woman's soul." + +"Ah, have done, silly Yoomy," said Media. "Thou art becoming flighty, +even as Babbalanja, when Azzageddi is uppermost." + +"Thus ever: ever thus!" sighed Yoomy. "They comprehend us not." + +"Nor me," said Babbalanja. "Yoomy: poets both, we differ but in +seeming; thy airiest conceits are as the shadows of my deepest +ponderings; though Yoomy soars, and Babbalanja dives, both meet at +last. Not a song you sing, but I have thought its thought; and where +dull Mardi sees but your rose, I unfold its petals, and disclose a +pearl. Poets are we, Yoomy, in that we dwell without us; we live in +grottoes, palms, and brooks; we ride the sea, we ride the sky; poets +are omnipresent." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV +Of The Isle Of Diranda + + +In good time the shores of Diranda were in sight. And, introductory to +landing, Braid-Beard proceeded to give us some little account of the +island, and its rulers. + +As previously hinted, those very magnificent and illustrious lord +seigniors, the lord seigniors Hello and Piko, who between them divided +Diranda, delighted in all manner of public games, especially warlike +ones; which last were celebrated so frequently, and were so fatal in +their results, that, not-withstanding the multiplicity of nuptials +taking place in the isle, its population remained in equilibrio. But, +strange to relate, this was the very object which the lord seigniors +had in view; the very object they sought to compass, by instituting +their games. Though, for the most part, they wisely kept the secret +locked up. + +But to tell how the lord seigniors Hello and Piko came to join hands +in this matter. + +Diranda had been amicably divided between them ever since the day they +were crowned; one reigning king in the East, the other in the West. +But King Piko had been long harassed with the thought, that the +unobstructed and indefinite increase of his browsing subjects might +eventually denude of herbage his portion of the island. Posterity, +thought he, is marshaling her generations in squadrons, brigades, and +battalions, and ere long will be down upon my devoted empire. Lo! her +locust cavalry darken the skies; her light-troop pismires cover the +earth. Alas! my son and successor, thou wilt inhale choke-damp for +air, and have not a private corner to say thy prayers. + +By a sort of arithmetical progression, the probability, nay, the +certainty of these results, if not in some way averted, was proved to +King Piko; and he was furthermore admonished, that war--war to the +haft with King Hello--was the only cure for so menacing an evil. + +But so it was, that King Piko, at peace with King Hello, and well +content with, the tranquillity of the times, little relished the idea +of picking a quarrel with his neighbor, and running its risks, in +order to phlebotomize his redundant population. + +"Patience, most illustrious seignior," said another of his sagacious +Ahithophels, "and haply a pestilence may decimate the people." + +But no pestilence came. And in every direction the young men and +maidens were recklessly rushing into wedlock; and so salubrious the +climate, that the old men stuck to the outside of the turf, and +refused to go under. + +At last some Machiavel of a philosopher suggested, that peradventure +the object of war might be answered without going to war; that +peradventure King Hello might be brought to acquiesce in an +arrangement, whereby the men of Diranda might be induced to kill off +one another voluntarily, in a peaceable manner, without troubling +their rulers. And to this end, the games before mentioned were +proposed. + +"Egad! my wise ones, you have hit it," cried Piko; "but will Hello say +ay?" + +"Try him, most illustrious seignior," said Machiavel. + +So to Hello went embassadors ordinary and extraordinary, and ministers +plenipotentiary and peculiar; and anxiously King Piko awaited their +return. + +The mission was crowned with success. + +Said King Hello to the ministers, in confidence:--"The very thing, +Dons, the very thing I have wanted. My people are increasing too fast. +They keep up the succession too well. Tell your illustrious master +it's a bargain. The games! the games! by all means." + +So, throughout the island, by proclamation, they were forthwith +established; succeeding to a charm. + +And the lord seigniors, Hello and Piko, finding their interests the +same, came together like bride and bridegroom; lived in the same +palace; dined off the same cloth; cut from the same bread-fruit; drank +from the same calabash; wore each other's crowns; and often locking +arms with a charming frankness, paced up and down in their dominions, +discussing the prospect of the next harvest of heads. + +In his old-fashioned way, having related all this, with many other +particulars, Mohi was interrupted by Babbalanja, who inquired how the +people of Diranda relished the games, and how they fancied being +coolly thinned out in that manner. + +To which in substance the chronicler replied, that of the true object +of the games, they had not the faintest conception; but hammered away +at each other, and fought and died together, like jolly good fellows. + +"Right again, immortal old Bardianna!" cried Babbalanja. + +"And what has the sage to the point this time?" asked Media. + +"Why, my lord, in his chapter on "Cracked Crowns," Bardianna, after +many profound ponderings, thus concludes: In this cracked sphere we +live in, then, cracked skulls would seem the inevitable allotments of +many. Nor will the splintering thereof cease, till this pugnacious +animal we treat of be deprived of his natural maces: videlicet, his +arms. And right well doth man love to bruise and batter all occiputs +in his vicinity." + +"Seems to me, our old friend must have been on his stilts that time," +interrupted Mohi. + +"No, Braid-Beard. But by way of apologizing for the unusual rigidity +of his style in that chapter, he says in a note, that it was written +upon a straight-backed settle, when he was ill of a lumbago, and a +crick in the neck." + +"That incorrigible Azzageddi again," said Media, "Proceed with your +quotation, Babbalanja." + +"Where was I, Braid-Beard?" + +"Battering occiputs at the last accounts," said Mohi. + +"Ah, yes. And right well doth man love to bruise and batter all +occiputs in his vicinity; he but follows his instincts; he is but one +member of a fighting world. Spiders, vixens, and tigers all war with a +relish; and on every side is heard the howls of hyenas, the +throttlings of mastiffs, the din of belligerant beetles, the buzzing +warfare of the insect battalions: and the shrill cries of lady Tartars +rending their lords. And all this existeth of necessity. To war it is, +and other depopulators, that we are beholden for elbow-room in Mardi +and for all our parks an gardens, wherein we are wont to expatiate. +Come on, then, plague, war, famine and viragos! Come on, I say, for +who shall stay ye? Come on, and healthfulize the census! And more +especially, oh War! do thou march forth with thy bludgeon! Cracked +are, our crowns by nature, and henceforth forever, cracked shall they +be by hard raps." + +"And hopelessly cracked the skull, that hatched such a tirade of +nonsense," said Mohi. + +"And think you not, old Bardianna knew that?" asked Babbalanja. "He +wrote an excellent chapter on that very subject." + +"What, on the cracks in his own pate?" + +"Precisely. And expressly asserts, that to those identical cracks, was +he indebted for what little light he had in his brain." + +"I yield, Babbalanja; your old Ponderer is older than I." + +"Ay, ay, Braid-Beard; his crest was a tortoise; and this was the +motto:--'I bite, but am not to be bitten.'" + + + +CHAPTER XXXV +They Visit The Lords Piko And Hello + + +In good time, we landed at Diranda. And that landing was like landing +at Greenwich among the Waterloo pensioners. The people were docked +right and left; some without arms; some without legs; not one with a +tail; but to a man, all had heads, though rather the worse for wear; +covered with lumps and contusions. + +Now, those very magnificent and illustrious lord seigniors, the lord +seigniors Hello and Piko, lived in a palace, round which was a fence +of the cane called Malacca, each picket helmed with a skull, of which +there were fifty, one to each cane. Over the door was the blended arms +of the high and mighty houses of Hello and Piko: a Clavicle crossed +over an Ulna. + +Escorted to the sign of the Skull-and-Cross-Bones, we received the +very best entertainment which that royal inn could afford. We found +our hosts Hello and Piko seated together on a dais or throne, and now +and then drinking some claret-red wine from an ivory bowl, too large +to have been wrought from an elephant's tusk. They were in glorious +good spirits, shaking ivory coins in a skull. + +"What says your majesty?" said Piko. "Heads or tails?" + +"Oh, heads, your majesty," said Hello. + +"And heads say I," said Piko. + +And heads it was. But it was heads on both sides, so both were sure +to win. + +And thus they were used to play merrily all day long; beheading the +gourds of claret by one slicing blow with their sickle-shaped +scepters. Wide round them lay empty calabashes, all feathered, red +dyed, and betasseled, trickling red wine from their necks, like the +decapitated pullets in the old baronial barn yard at Kenilworth, the +night before Queen Bess dined with my lord Leicester. + +The first compliments over; and Media and Taji having met with a +reception suitable to their rank, the kings inquired, whether there +were any good javelin-flingers among us: for if that were the case, +they could furnish them plenty of sport. Informed, however, that none +of the party were professional warriors, their majesties looked rather +glum, and by way of chasing away the blues, called for some good old +stuff, that was red. + +It seems, this soliciting guests, to keep their spears from decaying, +by cut and thrust play with their subjects, was a very common thing +with their illustrious majesties. + +But if their visitors could not be prevailed upon to spear a subject +or so, our hospitable hosts resolved to have a few speared, and +otherwise served up for our special entertainment. In a word, our +arrival furnished a fine pretext for renewing their games; though, we +learned, that only ten days previous, upward of fifty combatants had +been slain at one of these festivals. + +Be that as it might, their joint majesties determined upon another +one; and also upon our tarrying to behold it. We objected, saying we +must depart. + +But we were kindly assured, that our canoes had been dragged out of +the water, and buried in a wood; there to remain till the games were +over. + +The day fixed upon, was the third subsequent to our arrival; the +interval being devoted to preparations; summoning from their villages +and valleys the warriors of the land; and publishing the royal +proclamations, whereby the unbounded hospitality of the kings' +household was freely offered to all heroes whatsoever, who for the +love of arms, and the honor of broken heads, desired to cross battle- +clubs, hurl spears, or die game in the royal valley of Deddo. + +Meantime, the whole island was in a state of uproarious commotion, and +strangers were daily arriving. + +The spot set apart for the festival, was a spacious down, mantled with +white asters; which, waving in windrows, lay upon the land, like the +cream-surf surging the milk of young heifers. But that whiteness, here +and there, was spotted with strawberries; tracking the plain, as if +wounded creatures had been dragging themselves bleeding from some +deadly encounter. All round the down, waved scarlet thickets of +sumach, moaning in the wind, like the gory ghosts environing Pharsalia +the night after the battle; scaring away the peasants, who with +bushel-baskets came to the jewel-harvest of the rings of Pompey's +knights. + +Beneath the heaped turf of this down, lay thousands of glorious +corpses of anonymous heroes, who here had died glorious deaths. + +Whence, in the florid language of Diranda, they called this field "The +Field of Glory." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI +They Attend The Games + + +At last the third day dawned; and facing us upon entering the plain, +was a throne of red log-wood, canopied by the foliage of a red-dyed +Pandannus. Upon this throne, purple-robed, reclined those very +magnificent and illustrious lords seigniors, the lord seigniors Hello +and Piko. Before them, were many gourds of wine; and crosswise, staked +in the sod, their own royal spears. + +In the middle of the down, as if by a furrow, a long, oval space was +margined of about which, a crowd of spectators were seated. Opposite +the throne, was reserved a clear passage to the arena, defined by air- +lines, indefinitely produced from the leveled points of two spears, so +poised by a brace of warriors. + +Drawing near, our party was courteously received, and assigned a +commodious lounge. + +The first encounter was a club-fight between two warriors. Nor casque +of steel, nor skull of Congo could have resisted their blows, had they +fallen upon the mark; for they seemed bent upon driving each other, as +stakes, into the earth. Presently, one of them faltered; but his +adversary rushing in to cleave him down, slipped against a guavarind; +when the falterer, with one lucky blow, high into the air sent the +stumbler's club, which descended upon the crown of a spectator, who +was borne from the plain. + +"All one," muttered Pike. + +"As good dead as another," muttered Hello. + +The second encounter was a hugging-match; wherein two warriors, masked +in Grisly-bear skins, hugged each other to death. + +The third encounter was a bumping-match between a fat warrior and a +dwarf. Standing erect, his paunch like a bass-drum before a drummer, +the fat man was run at, head-a-tilt by the dwarf, and sent spinning +round on his axis. + +The fourth encounter was a tussle between two-score warriors, who all +in a mass, writhed like the limbs in Sebastioni's painting of Hades. +After obscuring themselves in a cloud of dust, these combatants, +uninjured, but hugely blowing, drew off; and separately going among +the spectators, rehearsed their experience of the fray. + +"Braggarts!" mumbled Piko. + +"Poltroons!" growled Hello. + +While the crowd were applauding, a sober-sided observer, trying to rub +the dust out of his eyes, inquired of an enthusiastic neighbor, "Pray, +what was all that about?" + +"Fool! saw you not the dust?" + +"That I did," said Sober-Sides, again rubbing his eyes, "But I can +raise a dust myself." + +The fifth encounter was a fight of single sticks between one hundred +warriors, fifty on a side. + +In a line, the first fifty emerged from the sumachs, their weapons +interlocked in a sort of wicker-work. In advance marched a priest, +bearing an idol with a cracked cocoanut for a head,--Krako, the god of +Trepans. Preceded by damsels flinging flowers, now came on the second +fifty, gayly appareled, weapons poised, and their feet nimbly moving +in a martial measure. + +Midway meeting, both parties touched poles, then retreated. Very +courteous, this; but tantamount to bowing each other out of Mardi; for +upon Pike's tossing a javelin, they rushed in, and each striking his +man, all fell to the ground. + +"Well done!" cried Piko. + +"Brave fellows!" cried Hello. + +"But up and at it again, my heroes!" joined both. "Lo! we kings look +on, and there stand the bards!" + +These bards were a row of lean, sallow, old men, in thread-bare robes, +and chaplets of dead leaves. + +"Strike up!" cried Piko. + +"A stave!" cried Hello. + +Whereupon, the old croakers, each with a quinsy, sang thus in cracked +strains:-- + + Quack! Quack! Quack! + With a toorooloo whack; + Hack away, merry men, hack away. + Who would not die brave, + His ear smote by a stave? + Thwack away, merry men, thwack away! + 'Tis glory that calls, + To each hero that falls, + Hack away, merry men, hack away! + Quack! Quack! Quack! + Quack! Quack! + Quack! + +Thus it tapered away. + +"Ha, ha!" cried Piko, "how they prick their ears at that!" + +"Hark ye, my invincibles!" cried Hello. "That pean is for the slain. +So all ye who have lives left, spring to it! Die and be glorified! +Now's the time!--Strike up again, my ducklings!" + +Thus incited, the survivors staggered to their feet; and hammering +away at each others' sconces, till they rung like a chime of bells +going off with a triple-bob-major, they finally succeeded in +immortalizing themselves by quenching their mortalities all round; the +bards still singing. + +"Never mind your music now," cried Piko. + +"It's all over," said Hello. + +"What valiant fellows we have for subjects," cried Piko. + +"Ho! grave-diggers, clear the field," cried Hello. + +"Who else is for glory?" cried Piko. + +"There stand the bards!" cried Hello. + +But now there rushed among the crowd a haggard figure, trickling with +blood, and wearing a robe, whose edges were burned and blacked by +fire. Wielding a club, it ran to and fro, with loud yells menacing +all. + +A noted warrior this; who, distracted at the death of five sons slain +in recent games, wandered from valley to valley, wrestling and +fighting. + +With wild cries of "The Despairer! The Despairer!" the appalled +multitude fled; leaving the two kings frozen on their throne, quaking +and quailing, their teeth rattling like dice. + +The Despairer strode toward them; when, recovering their senses, they +ran; for a time pursued through the woods by the phantom. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII +Taji Still Hunted, And Beckoned + + +Previous to the kings' flight, we had plunged into the neighboring +woods; and from thence emerging, entered brakes of cane, sprouting +from morasses. Soon we heard a whirring, as if three startled +partridges had taken wing; it proved three feathered arrows, from +three unseen hands. + +Gracing us, two buried in the ground, but from Taji's arm, the third +drew blood. + +On all sides round we turned; but none were seen. "Still the avengers +follow," said Babbalanja. + +"Lo! the damsels three!" cried Yoomy. "Look where they come!" + +We joined them by the sumach-wood's red skirts; and there, they waved +their cherry stalks, and heavy bloated cactus leaves, their crimson +blossoms armed with nettles; and before us flung shining, yellow, +tiger-flowers spotted red. + +"Blood!" cried Yoomy, starting, "and leopards on your track!" + +And now the syrens blew through long reeds, tasseled with their +panicles, and waving verdant scarfs of vines, came dancing toward us, +proffering clustering grapes. + +"For all now yours, Taji; and all that yet may come," cried Yoomy, +"fly to me! I will dance away your gloom, and drown it in inebriation." + +"Away! woe is its own wine. What may be mine, that will I endure, in +its own essence to the quick. Let me feel the poniard if it stabs." + +They vanished in the wood; and hurrying on, we soon gained sun-light, +and the open glade. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +They Embark From Diranda + + +Arrived at the Sign of the Skulls, we found the illustrious lord +seigniors at rest from their flight, and once more, quaffing their +claret, all thoughts of the specter departed. Instead of rattling +their own ivory iii the heads on their shoulders, they were rattling +their dice in the skulls in their hands. And still "Heads," was the +cry, and "Heads," was the throw. + +That evening they made known to my lord Media that an interval of two +days must elapse ere the games were renewed, in order to reward the +victors, bury their dead, and provide for the execution of an +Islander, who under the provocation of a blow, had killed a stranger. + +As this suspension of the festivities had been wholly unforeseen, our +hosts were induced to withdraw the embargo laid upon our canoes. +Nevertheless, they pressed us to remain; saying, that what was to come +would far exceed in interest, what had already taken place. The games +in prospect being of a naval description, embracing certain hand-to- +hand contests in the water between shoals of web-footed warriors. + +However, we decided to embark on the morrow. + +It was in the cool of the early morning, at that hour when a man's +face can be known, that we set sail from Diranda; and in the ghostly +twilight, our thoughts reverted to the phantom that so suddenly had +cleared the plain. With interest we hearkened to the recitals of Mohi; +who discoursing of the sad end of many brave chieftains in Mardi, made +allusion to the youthful Adondo, one of the most famous of the chiefs +of the chronicles. In a canoe-fight, after performing prodigies of +valor; he was wounded in the head, and sunk to the bottom of the lagoon. + +"There is a noble monody upon the death of Adondo," said Yoomy. "Shall +I sing it, my lord? It. is very beautiful; nor could I ever repeat it +without a tear." + +"We will dispense with your tears, minstrel," said Media, "but sing +it, if you will." + +And Yoomy sang:-- + + Departed the pride and the glory of Mardi: + The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea, + That rolls o'er his corpse with a hush. + His warriors bend over their spears, + His sisters gaze upward and mourn. + Weep, weep, for Adondo, is dead! + The sun has gone down in a shower; + Buried in clouds in the face of the moon; + Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies, + And stand in the eyes of the flowers; + And streams of tears are the trickling brooks, + Coursing adown the mountains.-- + Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi: + The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea. + Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that sobs.-- + Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro. + + +"A dismal time it must have been," yawned Media, "not a dry brook then +in Mardi, not a lake that was not moist. Lachrymose rivulets, and +inconsolable lagoons! Call you this poetry, minstrel?" + +"Mohi has something like a tear in his eye," said Yoomy. + +"False!" cried Mohi, brushing it aside. + +"Who composed that monody?" said Babbalanja. "I have often heard it +before." + +"None know, Babbalanja but the poet must be still singing to himself; +his songs bursting through the turf in the flowers over his grave." + +"But gentle Yoomy, Adondo is a legendary hero, indefinitely dating +back. May not his monody, then, be a spontaneous melody, that has been +with us since Mardi began? What bard composed the soft verses that our +palm boughs sing at even? Nay, Yoomy, that monody was not written by +man." + +"Ah! Would that I had been the poet, Babbalanja; for then had I been +famous indeed; those lines are chanted through all the isles, by +prince and peasant. Yes, Adondo's monody will pervade the ages, like +the low under-tone you hear, when many singers do sing." + +"My lord, my lord," cried Babbalanja, "but this were to be truly +immortal;--to be perpetuated in our works, and not in our names. Let +me, oh Oro! be anonymously known!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX +Wherein Babbalanja Discourses Of Himself + + +An interval of silence was at last broken by Babbalanja. + +Pointing to the sun, just gaining the horizon, he exclaimed, "As old +Bardianna says--shut your eyes, and believe." + +"And what may Bardianna have to do with yonder orb?" said Media. + +This much, my lord, the astronomers maintain that Mardi moves round +the sun; which I, who never formally investigated the matter for +myself, can by no means credit; unless, plainly seeing one thing, I +blindly believe another. Yet even thus blindly does all Mardi +subscribe to an astronomical system, which not one in fifty thousand +can astronomically prove. And not many centuries back, my lord, all +Mardi did equally subscribe to an astronomical system, precisely the +reverse of that which they now believe. But the mass of Mardians have +not as much reason to believe the first system, as the exploded one; +for all who have eyes must assuredly see, that the sun seems to move, +and that Mardi seems a fixture, eternally _here_. But doubtless there +are theories which may be true, though the face of things belie them. +Hence, in such cases, to the ignorant, disbelief would seem more +natural than faith; though they too often reject the testimony of +their own senses, for what to them, is a mere hypothesis. And thus, my +lord, is it, that the mass of Mardians do not believe because they +know, but because they know not. And they are as ready to receive one +thing as another, if it comes from a canonical source. My lord, Mardi +is as an ostrich, which will swallow augh you offer, even a bar of +iron, if placed endwise. And though the iron be indigestible, yet it +serves to fill: in feeding, the end proposed. For Mardi must have +something to exercise its digestion, though that something be forever +indigestible. And as fishermen for sport, throw two lumps of bait, +united by a cord, to albatrosses floating on the sea; which are +greedily attempted to be swallowed, one lump by this fowl, the other +by that; but forever are 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." + +"Will you never come to the mark, Babbalanja? Tell me something direct +of the stranger. Who, what is he? Introduce him." + +"My lord, I can not. He is locked up in me. In a mask, he dodges me. +He prowls about in me, hither and thither; he peers, and I stare. This +is he who talks in my sleep, revealing my secrets; and takes me to +unheard of realms, beyond the skies of Mardi. So present is he always, +that I seem not so much to live of myself, as to be a mere +apprehension of the unaccountable being that is in me. Yet all the +time, this being is I, myself." + +"Babbalanja," said Media, "you have fairly turned yourself inside out." + +"Yes, my lord," said Mohi, "and he has so unsettled me, that I begin +to think all Mardi a square circle." + +"How is that, Babbalanja," said Media, "is a circle square?" + +"No, my lord, but ever since Mardi began, we Mardians have been +essaying our best to square it." + +"Cleverly retorted. Now, Babbalanja, do you not imagine, that you may +do harm by disseminating these sophisms of yours; which like your +devil theory, would seem to relieve all Mardi from moral +accountability?" + +"My lord, at bottom, men wear no bonds that other men can strike off; +and have no immunities, of which other men can deprive them. Tell a +good man that he is free to commit murder,--will he murder? Tell a +murderer that at the peril of his soul he indulges in murderous +thoughts,--will that make him a saint?" + +"Again on the verge, Babbalanja? Take not the leap, I say." + +"I can leap no more, my lord. Already I am down, down, down." + +"Philosopher," said Media, "what with Azzageddi, and the mysterious +indweller you darkly hint of, I marvel not that you are puzzled to +decide upon your identity. But when do you seem most yourself?" + +"When I sleep, and dream not, my lord." + +"Indeed?" + +"Why then, a fool's cap might be put on you, and you would not know it." + +"The very turban he ought to wear," muttered Mohi. + +"Yet, my lord, I live while consciousness is not mine, while to all +appearances I am a clod. And may not this same state of being, though +but alternate with me, be continually that of many dumb, passive +objects we so carelessly regard? Trust me, there are more things alive +than those that crawl, or fly, or swim. Think you, my lord, there is +no sensation in being a tree? feeling the sap in one's boughs, the +breeze in one's foliage? think you it is nothing to be a world? one of +a herd, bison-like, wending its way across boundless meadows of ether? +In the sight of a fowl, that sees not our souls, what are our own +tokens of animation? That we move, make a noise, have organs, pulses, +and are compounded of fluids and solids. And all these are in this +Mardi as a unit. Daily the slow, majestic throbbings of its heart are +perceptible on the surface in the tides of the la-goon. Its rivers are +its veins; when agonized, earthquakes are its throes; it shouts in the +thunder, and weeps in the shower; and as the body of a bison is +covered with hair, so Mardi is covered with grasses and vegetation, +among which, we parasitical things do but crawl, vexing and tormenting +the patient creature to which we cling. Nor yet, hath it recovered +from the pain of the first foundation that was laid. Mardi is alive to +its axis. When you pour water, does it not gurgle? When you strike a +pearl shell, does it not ring? Think you there is no sensation in +being a rock?--To exist, is to be; to be, is to be something: to be +something, is--" + +"Go on," said Media. + +"And what is it, to be something?" said Yoomy artlessly. "Bethink +yourself of what went before," said Media. + +"Lose not the thread," said Mohi. + +"It has snapped," said Babbalanja. + +"I breathe again," said Mohi. + +"But what a stepping-off place you came to then, philosopher," said +Media. "By the way, is it not old Bardianna who says, that no Mardian +should undertake to walk, without keeping one foot foremost?" + +"To return to the vagueness of the notion I have of myself," said +Babbalanja. + +"An appropriate theme," said Media, "proceed." + +"My lord," murmured Mohi, "Is not this philosopher like a centipede? +Cut off his head, and still he crawls." + +"There are times when I fancy myself a lunatic," resumed Babbalanja. + +"Ah, now he's beginning to talk sense," whispered Mohi. + +"Surely you forget, Babbalanja," said Media. "How many more theories +have you? First, you are possessed by a devil; then rent yourself out +to the indweller; and now turn yourself into a mad-house. You are +inconsistent." + +"And for that very reason, my lord, not inconsistent; for the sum of +my inconsistencies makes up my consistency. And to be consistent to +one's self, is often to be inconsistent to Mardi. Common consistency +implies unchangeableness; but much of the wisdom here below lives in a +state of transition." + +"Ah!" murmured Mold, "my head goes round again." + +"Azzageddi aside, then, my lord, and also, for the nonce, the +mysterious indweller, I come now to treat of myself as a lunatic. But +this last conceit is not so much based upon the madness of particular +actions, as upon the whole drift of my ordinary and hourly ones; +those, in which I most resemble all other Mardians. It seems like +going through with some nonsensical whim-whams, destitute of fixed +purpose. For though many of my actions seem to have objects, and all +of them somehow run into each other; yet, where is the grand result? +To what final purpose, do I walk about, eat, think, dream? To what +great end, does Mohi there, now stroke his beard?" + +"But I was doing it unconsciously," said Mohi, dropping his hand, and +lifting his head. + +"Just what I would be at, old man. 'What we do, we do blindly,' says +old Bardianna. Many things we do, we do without knowing,--as with you +and your beard, Mohi. And many others we know not, in their true +bearing at least, till they are past. Are not half our lives spent in +reproaches for foregone actions, of the true nature and consequences +of which, we were wholly ignorant at the time? Says old Bardianna, +'Did I not so often feel an appetite for my yams, I should think every +thing a dream;'--so puzzling to him, seemed the things of this Mardi. +But Alla-Malolla goes further. Says he, 'Let us club together, fellow- +riddles:--Kings, clowns, and intermediates. We are bundles of comical +sensations; we bejuggle ourselves into strange phantasies: we are air, +wind, breath, bubbles; our being is told in a tick.'" + +"Now, then, Babbalanja," said Media, "what have you come to in all +this rhapsody? You everlastingly travel in a circle." + +"And so does the sun in heaven, my lord; like me, it goes round, and +gives light as it goes. Old Bardianna, too, revolved. He says so +himself. In his roundabout chapter on Cycles and Epicycles, with Notes +on the Ecliptic, he thus discourseth:--'All things revolve upon some +center, to them, fixed; for the centripetal is ever too much for the +centrifugal. Wherefore, it is a perpetual cycling with us, without +progression; and we fly round, whether we will or no. To stop, were to +sink into space. So, over and over we go, and round and round; double- +shuffle, on our axis, and round the sun.' In an another place, he +says:--'There is neither apogee nor perigee, north nor south, right +nor left; what to-night is our zenith, to-morrow is our nadir; stand +as we will, we stand on our heads; essay to spring into the air, and +down we come; here we stick; our very bones make glue.'" + +"Enough, enough, Babbalanja," cried Media. "You are a very wise +Mardian; but the wisest Mardians make the most consummate fools." + +"So they do, my lord; but I was interrupted. I was about to say, that +there is no place but the universe; no limit but the limitless; no +bottom but the bottomless." + + + +CHAPTER XL +Of The Sorcerers In The Isle Of Minda + + +"Tiffin! tiffin!" cried Media; "time for tiffin! Up, comrades! and +while the mat is being spread, walk we to the bow, and inhale the +breeze for an appetite. Hark ye, Vee-Vee! forget not that calabash +with the sea-blue seal, and a round ring for a brand. Rare old stuff, +that, Mohi; older than you: the circumnavigator, I call it. My sire +had a canoe launched for the express purpose of carrying it thrice +round Mardi for a flavor. It was many moons on the voyage; the +mariners never sailed faster than three knots. Ten would spoil the +best wine ever floated." + +Tiffin over, and the blue-sealed calabash all but hid in the great +cloud raised by our pipes, Media proposed to board it in the smoke. +So, goblet in hand, we all gallantly charged, and came off victorious +from the fray. + +Then seated again, and serenely puffing in a circle, the +circumnavigator meanwhile pleasantly going the rounds, Media called +upon Mohi for something entertaining. + +Now, of all the old gossips in Mardi, surely our delightful old +Diodorus was furnished with the greatest possible variety of +histories, chronicles, anecdotes, memoirs, legends, traditions, and +biographies. There was no end to the library he carried. In himself, +he was the whole history of Mardi, amplified, not abridged, in one +volume. + +In obedience, then, to King Media's command, Mohi regaled the company +with a narrative, in substance as follows:-- + +In a certain quarter of the Archipelago was an island called Minda; +and in Minda were many sorcerers, employed in the social differences +and animosities of the people of that unfortunate land. If a Mindarian +deemed himself aggrieved or insulted by a countryman, he forthwith +repaired to one of these sorcerers; who, for an adequate +consideration, set to work with his spells, keeping himself in the +dark, and directing them against the obnoxious individual. And full +soon, by certain peculiar sensations, this individual, discovering +what was going on, would straightway hie to his own professor of the +sable art, who, being well feed, in due time brought about certain +counter-charms, so that in the end it sometimes fell out that neither +party was gainer or loser, save by the sum of his fees. + +But the worst of it was, that in some cases all knowledge of these +spells were at the outset hidden from the victim; who, hearing too +late of the mischief brewing, almost always fell a prey to his foe; +which calamity was held the height of the art. But as the great body +of sorcerers were about matched in point of skill, it followed that +the parties employing them were so likewise. Hence arose those +interminable contests, in which many moons were spent, both parties +toiling after their common destruction. + +Indeed, to say nothing of the obstinacy evinced by their employers, it +was marvelous, the pertinacity of the sorcerers themselves. To the +very last tooth in their employer's pouches, they would stick to their +spells; never giving over till he was financially or physically +defunct. + +But much as they were vilified, no people in Minda were half so +disinterested as they. Certain indispensable conditions secured, some +of them were as ready to undertake the perdition of one man as +another; good, bad, or indifferent, it made little matter. + +What wonder, then, that such abominable mercenaries should cause a +mighty deal of mischief in Minda; privately going about, inciting +peaceable folks to enmities with their neighbors; and with marvelous +alacrity, proposing themselves as the very sorcerers to rid them of +the annoyances suggested as existing. + +Indeed, it even happened that a sorcerer would be secretly retained to +work spells upon a victim, who, from his bodily sensations, suspecting +something wrong, but knowing not what, would repair to that self-same +sorcerer, engaging him to counteract any mischief that might be +brewing. And this worthy would at once undertake the business; when, +having both parties in his hands, he kept them forever in suspense; +meanwhile seeing to it well, that they failed not in handsomely +remunerating him for his pains. + +At one time, there was a prodigious excitement about these sorcerers, +growing out of some alarming revelations concerning their practices. +In several villages of Minda, they were sought to be put down. But +fruitless the attempt; it was soon discovered that already their +spells were so spread abroad, and they themselves so mixed up with the +everyday affairs of the isle, that it was better to let their vocation +alone, than, by endeavoring to suppress it, breed additional troubles. +Ah! they were a knowing and a cunning set, those sorcerers; very hard +to overcome, cajole, or circumvent. + +But in the name of the Magi, what were these spells of theirs, so +potent and occult? On all hands it was agreed, that they derived their +greatest virtue from the fumes of certain compounds, whose +ingredients--horrible to tell--were mostly obtained from the human +heart; and that by variously mixing these ingredients, they adapted +their multifarious enchantments. + +They were a vain and arrogant race. Upon the strength of their dealing +in the dark, they affected even more mystery than belonged to them; +when interrogated concerning their science, would confound the +inquirer by answers couched in an extraordinary jargon, employing +words almost as long as anacondas. But all this greatly prevailed with +the common people. + +Nor was it one of the least remarkable things, that oftentimes two +sorcerers, contrarily employed upon a Mindarian,--one to attack, the +other to defend,--would nevertheless be upon the most friendly terms +with each other; which curious circumstance never begat the slightest +suspicions in the mind of the victim. + +Another phenomenon: If from any cause, two sorcerers fell out, they +seldom exercised their spells upon each other; ascribable to this, +perhaps,--that both being versed in the art, neither could hope to get +the advantage. + +But for all the opprobrium cast upon these sorcerers, part of which +they deserved, the evils imputed to them were mainly, though +indirectly, ascribable to the very persons who abused them; nay, to +the very persons who employed them; the latter being by far the +loudest in their vilifyings; for which, indeed, they had excellent +reason. + +Nor was it to be denied, that in certain respects, the sorcerers were +productive of considerable good. The nature of their pursuits leading +them deep into the arcana of mind, they often lighted upon important +discoveries; along with much that was cumbersome, accumulated valuable +examples concerning the inner working of the hearts of the Mindarians; +and often waxed eloquent in elucidating the mysteries of iniquity. + +Yet was all this their lore graven upon so uncouth, outlandish, and +antiquated tablets, that it was all but lost to the mass of their +countrymen; and some old sachem of a wise man is quoted as having +said, that their treasures were locked up after such a fashion, that +for old iron, the key was worth more than the chest and its contents. + + + +CHAPTER XLI +Chiefly Of Sing Bello + + +"Now Taji," said Media, "with old Bello of the Hump whose island of +Dominora is before us, I am at variance." + +"Ah! How so?" + +"A dull recital, but you shall have it." + +And forthwith his Highness began. + +This princely quarrel originated, it seems, in a slight jostling +concerning the proprietorship of a barren islet in a very remote +quarter of the lagoon. At the outset the matter might have been easily +adjusted, had the parties but exchanged a few amicable words. But each +disdaining to visit the other, to discuss so trivial an affair, the +business of negotiating an understanding was committed to certain +plenipos, men with lengthy tongues, who scorned to utter a word short +of a polysyllable. + +Now, the more these worthies penetrated into the difficulty, the wider +became the breach; till what was at first a mere gap, became a yawning +gulf. + +But that which had perhaps tended more than any thing else to deepen +the variance of the kings, was hump-backed Bello's dispatching to Odo, +as his thirtieth plenipo, a diminutive little negotiator, who all by +himself, in a solitary canoe, sailed over to have audience of Media; +into whose presence he was immediately ushered. + +Darting one glance at him, the king turned to his chieftains, and +said:--"By much straining of your eyes, my lords, can you perceive +this insignificant manikin? What! are there no tall men in Dominora, +that King Bello must needs send this dwarf hither?" + +And charging his attendents to feed the embassador extraordinary with +the soft pap of the cocoanut, and provide nurses during his stay, the +monarch retired from the arbor of audience. + +"As I am a man," shouted the despised plenipo, raising himself on his +toes, "my royal master will resent this affront!--A dwarf, forsooth!-- +Thank Oro, I am no long-drawn giant! There is as much stuff in me, as +in others; what is spread out in their clumsy carcasses, in me is +condensed. I am much in little! And that much, thou shalt know full +soon, disdainful King of Odo!" + +"Speak not against our lord the king," cried the attendants. + +"And speak not ye to me, ye headless spear poles!" + +And so saying, under sufferance of being small, the plenipo was +permitted to depart unmolested; for all his bravadoes, fobbing his +credentials and affronts. + +Apprized of his servant's ignoble reception, the choleric Bello burst +forth in a storm of passion; issuing orders for, one thousand conch +shells to be blown, and his warriors to assemble by land and by sea. + +But bethinking him of the hostilities that might ensue, the sagacious +Media hit upon an honorable expedient to ward off an event for which +he was then unprepared. With all haste he dispatched to the hump- +backed king a little dwarf of his own; who voyaging over to Dominora +in a canoe, sorry and solitary as that of Bello's plenipo, in like +manner, received the same insults. The effect whereof, was, to strike +a balance of affronts; upon the principle, that a blow given, heals +one received. + +Nevertheless, these proceedings but amounted to a postponement of +hostilities; for soon after, nothing prevented the two kings from +plunging into war, but the following judicious considerations. First: +Media was almost afraid of being beaten. Second: Bello was almost +afraid to conquer. Media, because he was inferior in men and arms; +Bello, because, his aggrandizement was already a subject of warlike +comment among the neighboring kings. + +Indeed, did the old chronicler Braid-Beard speak truth, there were +some tribes in Mardi, that accounted this king of Dominora a testy, +quarrelsome, rapacious old monarch; the indefatigable breeder of +contentions and wars; the elder brother of this household of nations, +perpetually essaying to lord it over the juveniles; and though his +patrimonial dominions were situated to the north of the lagoon, not +the slightest misunderstanding took place between the rulers of the +most distant islands, than this doughty old cavalier on a throne, +forthwith thrust his insolent spear into the matter, though it in no +wise concerned him, and fell to irritating all parties by his +gratuitous interference. + +Especially was he officious in the concerns of Porpheero, a +neighboring island, very large and famous, whose numerous broad +valleys were divided among many rival kings:--the king of Franko, a +small-framed, poodle-haired, fine, fiery gallant; finical in his +tatooing; much given to the dance and glory;--the king of Ibeereea, a +tall and stately cavalier, proud, generous, punctilious, temperate in +wine; one hand forever on his javelin, the other, in superstitious +homage, lifted to his gods; his limbs all over marks of stakes and +crosses;--the king of Luzianna; a slender, dark-browed thief; at times +wrapped in a moody robe, beneath which he fumbled something, as if it +were a dagger; but otherwise a sprightly troubadour, given to +serenades and moonlight;---the many chiefs of sunny Latianna; minstrel +monarchs, full of song and sentiment; fiercer in love than war; +glorious bards of freedom; but rendering tribute while they sang;--the +priest-king of Vatikanna; his chest marked over with antique +tatooings; his crown, a cowl; his rusted scepter swaying over falling +towers, and crumbling mounds; full of the superstitious past; askance, +eyeing the suspicious time to come;--the king of Hapzaboro; portly, +pleasant; a lover of wild boar's meat; a frequent quaffer from the +can; in his better moods, much fancying solid comfort;--the eight-and- +thirty banded kings, chieftains, seigniors, and oligarchies of the +broad hill and dale of Tutoni; clubbing together their domains, that +none might wrest his neighbor's; an earnest race; deep thinkers, +deeper drinkers; long pipes, long heads; their wise ones given to +mystic cogitations, and consultations with the devil;--the twin kings +of Zandinavia; hardy, frugal mountaineers; upright of spine and heart; +clad in skins of bears;--the king of Jutlanda; much like their +Highnesses of Zandinavia; a seal-skin cap his crown; a fearless sailor +of his frigid seas;--the king of Muzkovi; a shaggy, icicled White-bear +of a despot in the north; said to reign over millions of acres of +glaciers; had vast provinces of snow-drifts, and many flourishing +colonies among the floating icebergs. Absolute in his rule as +Predestination in metaphysics, did he command all his people to give +up the ghost, it would be held treason to die last. Very precise and +foppish in his imperial tastes was this monarch. Disgusted with the +want of uniformity in the stature of his subjects, he was said to +nourish thoughts of killing off all those below his prescribed +standard--six feet, long measure. Immortal souls were of no account in +his fatal wars; since, in some of his serf-breeding estates, they were +daily manufactured to order. + +Now, to all the above-mentioned monarchs, old Bello would frequently +dispatch heralds; announcing, for example, his unalterable resolution, +to espouse the cause of this king, against that; at the very time, +perhaps, that their Serene Superfluities, instead of crossing spears, +were touching flagons. And upon these occasions, the kings would often +send back word to old Bello, that instead of troubling himself with +their concerns, he might far better attend to his own; which, they +hinted, were in a sad way, and much needed reform. + +The royal old warrior's pretext for these and all similar proceedings, +was the proper adjustment in Porpheero, of what he facetiously styled +the "Equipoise of Calabashes;" which he stoutly swore was essential to +the security of the various tribes in that country. + +"But who put the balance into thy hands, King Bello?" cried the +indignant nations. + +"Oro!" shouted the hump-backed king, shaking his javelin. + +Superadded to the paternal interest which Bello betrayed in the +concerns of the kings of Porpheero, according to our chronicler, he +also manifested no less interest in those of the remotest islands. +Indeed, where he found a rich country, inhabited by a people, deemed +by him barbarous and incapable of wise legislation, he sometimes +relieved them from their political anxieties, by assuming the +dictatorship over them. And if incensed at his conduct, they flew to +their spears, they were accounted rebels, and treated accordingly. But +as old Mohi very truly observed,--herein, Bello was not alone; for +throughout Mardi, all strong nations, as well as all strong men, loved +to govern the weak. And those who most taunted King Bello for his +political rapacity, were open to the very same charge. So with +Vivenza, a distant island, at times very loud in denunciations of +Bello, as a great national brigand. Not yet wholly extinct in Vivenza, +were its aboriginal people, a race of wild Nimrods and hunters, who +year by year were driven further and further into remoteness, till as +one of their sad warriors said, after continual removes along the log, +his race was on the point of being remorselessly pushed off the end. + +Now, Bello was a great geographer, and land surveyor, and gauger of +the seas. Terraqueous Mardi, he was continually exploring in quest of +strange empires. Much he loved to take the altitude of lofty +mountains, the depth of deep rivers, the breadth of broad isles. Upon +the highest pinnacles of commanding capes and promontories, he loved +to hoist his flag. He circled Mardi with his watch-towers: and the +distant voyager passing wild rocks in the remotest waters, was +startled by hearing the tattoo, or the reveille, beating from hump- +backed Bello's omnipresent drum. Among Antartic glaciers, his shrill +bugle calls mingled with the scream of the gulls; and so impressed +seemed universal nature with the sense of his dominion, that the very +clouds in heaven never sailed over Dominora without rendering the +tribute of a shower; whence the air of Dominora was more moist than +that of any other clime. + +In all his grand undertakings, King Bello was marvelously assisted by +his numerous fleets of war-canoes; his navy being the largest in +Mardi. Hence his logicians swore that the entire Lagoon was his; and +that all prowling whales, prowling keels, and prowling sharks were +invaders. And with this fine conceit to inspire them, his poets- +laureat composed some glorious old saltwater odes, enough to make your +very soul sing to hear them. + +But though the rest of Mardi much delighted to list to such noble +minstrelsy, they agreed not with Bello's poets in deeming the lagoon +their old monarch's hereditary domain. + +Once upon a time, the paddlers of the hump-backed king, meeting upon +the broad lagoon certain canoes belonging to the before-mentioned +island of Vivenza; these paddlers seized upon several of their +occupants; and feeling their pulses, declared them born men of +Dominora; and therefore, not free to go whithersoever they would; for, +unless they could somehow get themselves born over again, they must +forever remain subject to Bello. Shed your hair; nay, your skin, if +you will, but shed your allegiance you can not; while you have bones, +they are Bello's. So, spite of all expostulations and attempts to +prove alibis, these luckless paddlers were dragged into the canoes of +Dominora, and commanded to paddle home their captors. + +Whereof hearing, the men of Vivenza were thrown into a great ferment; +and after a mighty pow-wow over their council fire, fitting out +several double-keeled canoes, they sallied out to sea, in quest of +those, whom they styled the wholesale corsairs of Dominora. + +But lucky perhaps it was, that at this juncture, in all parts of +Mardi, the fleets of the hump-backed king, were fighting, gunwale and +gunwale, alongside of numerous foes; else there had borne down upon +the canoes of the men of Vivenza so tremendous an armada, that the +very swell under its thousand prows might have flooded their scattered +proas forever out of sight. + +As it was, Bello dispatched a few of his smaller craft to seek out, +and incidentally run down the enemy; and without returning home, +straightway proceed upon more important enterprises. + +But it so chanced, that Bello's crafts, one by one meeting the foe, in +most cases found the canoes of Vivenza much larger than their own; and +manned by more men, with hearts bold as theirs; whence, in the ship- +duels that ensued, they were worsted; and the canoes of Vivenza, +locking their yard-arms into those of the vanquished, very courteously +gallanted them into their coral harbors. + +Solely imputing these victories to their superior intrepidity and +skill, the people of Vivenza were exceedingly boisterous in their +triumph; raising such obstreperous peans, that they gave themselves +hoarse throats; insomuch, that according to Mohi, some of the present +generation are fain to speak through their noses. + + + +CHAPTER XLII +Dominora And Vivenza + + +The three canoes still gliding on, some further particulars were +narrated concerning Dominora; and incidentally, of other isles. + +It seems that his love of wide dominion sometimes led the otherwise +sagacious Bello into the most extravagant actions. If the chance +accumulation of soil and drift-wood about any detached shelf of coral +in the lagoon held forth the remotest possibility of the eventual +existence of an islet there, with all haste he dispatched canoes to +the spot, to take prospective possession of the as yet nearly +submarine territory; and if possible, eject the zoophytes. + +During an unusually low tide, here and there baring the outer reef of +the Archipelago, Bello caused his royal spear to be planted upon every +place thus exposed, in token of his supreme claim thereto. + +Another anecdote was this: that to Dominora there came a rumor, that +in a distant island dwelt a man with an uncommonly large nose; of most +portentous dimensions, indeed; by the soothsayers supposed to +foreshadow some dreadful calamity. But disregarding these +superstitious conceits, Bello forthwith dispatched an agent, to +discover whether this huge promontory of a nose was geographically +available; if so, to secure the same, by bringing the proprietor back. + +Now, by sapient old Mohi, it was esteemed a very happy thing for Mardi +at large, that the subjects whom Bello sent to populate his foreign +acquisitions, were but too apt to throw off their vassalage, so soon +as they deemed themselves able to cope with him. + +Indeed, a fine country in the western part of Mardi, in this very +manner, became a sovereign--nay, a republican state. It was the nation +to which Mohi had previously alluded--Vivenza. But in the flush and +pride of having recently attained their national majority, the men of +Vivenza were perhaps too much inclined to carry a vauntful crest. And +because intrenched in their fastnesses, after much protracted +fighting, they had eventually succeeded in repelling the warriors +dispatched by Bello to crush their insurrection, they were unanimous +in the opinion, that the hump-backed king had never before been so +signally chastised. Whereas, they had not so much vanquished Bello, as +defended their shores; even as a young lion will protect its den +against legions of unicorns, though, away from home, he might be torn +to pieces. In truth, Braid-Beard declared, that at the time of this +war, Dominora couched ten long spears for every short javelin Vivenza +could dart; though the javelins were stoutly hurled as the spears. + +But, superior in men and arms, why, at last, gave over King Bello the +hope of reducing those truculent men of Vivenza? One reason was, as +Mohi said, that many of his fighting men were abundantly occupied in +other quarters of Mardi; nor was he long in discovering that fight he +never so valiantly, Vivenza--not yet its inhabitants--was wholly +unconquerable. Thought Bello, Mountains are sturdy foes; fate hard to +dam. + +Yet, the men of Vivenza were no dastards; not to lie, coming from +lion-like loins, they were a lion-loined race. Did not their bards +pronounce them a fresh start in the Mardian species; requiring a new +world for their full development? For be it known, that the great land +of Kolumbo, no inconsiderable part of which was embraced by Vivenza, +was the last island discovered in the Archipelago. + +In good round truth, and as if an impartialist from Arcturus spoke it, +Vivenza was a noble land. Like a young tropic tree she stood, laden +down with greenness, myriad blossoms, and the ripened fruit thick- +hanging from one bough. She was promising as the morning. + +Or Vivenza might be likened to St. John, feeding on locusts and wild +honey, and with prophetic voice, crying to the nations from the +wilderness. Or, child-like, standing among the old robed kings and +emperors of the Archipelago, Vivenza seemed a young Messiah, to whose +discourse the bearded Rabbis bowed. + +So seemed Vivenza in its better aspect. Nevertheless, Vivenza was a +braggadocio in Mardi; the only brave one ever known. As an army of +spurred and crested roosters, her people chanticleered at the +resplendent rising of their sun. For shame, Vivenza! Whence thy +undoubted valor? Did ye not bring it with ye from the bold old shores +of Dominora, where there is a fullness of it left? What isle but +Dominora could have supplied thee with that stiff spine of thine?-- +That heart of boldest beat? Oh, Vivenza! know that true grandeur is +too big for a boast; and nations, as well as men, may be too clever to +be great. + +But what more of King Bello? Notwithstanding his territorial +acquisitiveness, and aversion to relinquishing stolen nations, he was +yet a glorious old king; rather choleric--a word and a blow--but of a +right royal heart. Rail at him as they might, at bottom, all the isles +were proud of him. And almost in spite of his rapacity, upon the +whole, perhaps, they were the better for his deeds. For if sometimes +he did evil with no very virtuous intentions, he had fifty, ways of +accomplishing good with the best; and a thousand ways of doing good +without meaning it. According to an ancient oracle, the hump-backed +monarch was but one of the most conspicuous pieces on a board, where +the gods played for their own entertainment. + +But here it must not be omitted, that of late, King Bello had somewhat +abated his efforts to extend his dominions. Various causes were +assigned. Some thought it arose from the fact that already he found +his territories too extensive for one scepter to rule; that his more +remote colonies largely contributed to his tribulations, without +correspondingly contributing to his revenues. Others affirmed that his +hump was getting too mighty for him to carry; others still, that the +nations were waving too strong for him. With prophetic solemnity, +head-shaking sages averred that he was growing older and older had +passed his grand climacteric; and though it was a hale old age with +him, yet it was not his lusty youth; that though he was daily getting +rounder, and rounder in girth, and more florid of face, that these, +howbeit, were rather the symptoms of a morbid obesity, than of a +healthful robustness. These wise ones predicted that very soon poor +Bello would go off in an apoplexy. + +But in Vivenza there were certain blusterers, who often thus prated: +"The Hump-back's hour is come; at last the old teamster will be gored +by the nations he's yoked; his game is done,--let him show his hand +and throw up his scepter; he cumbers Mardi,--let him be cut down and +burned; he stands in the way of his betters,--let him sheer to one +side; he has shut up many eyes, and now himself grows blind; he hath +committed horrible atrocities during his long career, the old sinner! +--now, let him quickly say his prayers and be beheaded." + +Howbeit, Bello lived on; enjoying his dinners, and taking his jorums +as of yore. Ah, I have yet a jolly long lease of life, thought he over +his wine; and like unto some obstinate old uncle, he persisted in +flourishing, in spite of the prognostications of the nephew nations, +which at his demise, perhaps hoped to fall heir to odd parts of his +possessions: Three streaks of fat valleys to one of lean mountains! + + + +CHAPTER XLIII +They Land At Dominora + + +As erewhile recounted, not being on the best terms in Mardi with the +King of Dominora, Media saw fit to draw nigh unto his dominions in +haughty state; he (Media) being upon excellent terms with himself. Our +sails were set, our paddles paddling, streamers streaming, and Vee-Vee +in the shark's mouth, clamorous with his conch. The din was soon +heard; and sweeping into a fine broad bay we beheld its margin +seemingly pebbled in the distance with heads; so populous the land. + +Winding through a noble valley, we presently came to Bello's palace, +couchant and bristling in a grove. The upright canes composing its +front projected above the eaves in a long row of spear-heads +fluttering with scarlet pennons; while below, from the intervals of +the canes, were slantingly thrust three tiers of decorated lances. A +warlike aspect! The entire structure looking like the broadside of the +Macedonian phalanx, advancing to the charge, helmeted with a roof. + +"Ah, Bello," said Media, "thou dwellest among thy quills like the +porcupine." + +"I feel a prickly heat coming over me," cried Mohi, "my lord Media, +let us enter." + +"Ay," said Babbalanja, "safer the center of peril, than the +circumference." + +Passing under an arch, formed by two pikes crossed, we found ourselves +targets in prospective, for certain flingers of javelins, with poised +weapons, occupying the angles of the palace. + +Fronting us, stood a portly old warrior, spear in hand, hump on back, +and fire in eye. + +"Is it war?" he cried, pointing his pike, "or peace?" reversing it. + +"Peace," said Media. + +Whereupon advancing, King Bello courteously welcomed us. + +He was an arsenal to behold: Upon his head the hereditary crown of +Dominora,--a helmet of the sea-porcupine's hide, bristling all over +with spikes, in front displaying a river-horse's horn, leveled to the +charge; thrust through his ears were barbed arrows; and from his dyed +shark-skin girdle, depended a kilt of strung javelins. + +The broad chest of Bello was the chart of Mardi. Tattooed in sea-blue +were all the groups and clusters of the Archipelago; and every time he +breathed, rose and fell the isles, as by a tide: Dominora full upon +his heart. + +His sturdy thighs were his triumphal arch; whereon in numerous +medallions, crests, and shields, were blazoned all his victories by +sea and land. + +His strong right arm was Dominora's scroll of Fame, where all her +heroes saw their names recorded.--An endless roll! + +Our chronicler avouched, that on the sole of Bello's dexter foot was +stamped the crest of Franko's king, his hereditary foe. "Thus, thus," +cried Bello, stamping, "thus I hourly crush him." + +In stature, Bello was a mountaineer; but, as over some tall tower +impends the hill-side cliff, so Bello's Athos hump hung over him. +Could it be, as many of his nobles held, that the old monarch's hump +was his sensorium and source of strength; full of nerves, muscles, +ganglions and tendons? Yet, year by year it grew, ringed like the bole +of his palms. The toils of war increased it. But another skirmish with +the isles, said the wiseacres of Porpheero, and Bello's mount will +crush him. + +Against which calamity to guard, his medicos and Sangredos sought the +hump's reduction. But down it would not come. Then by divers mystic +rites, his magi tried. Making a deep pit, many teeth they dropped +therein. But they could not fill it. Hence, they called it the Sinking +Pit, for bottom it had none. Nevertheless, the magi said, when this +pit is filled, Bello's hump you'll see no more. "Then, hurrah for the +hump!" cried the nobles, "for he will never hurl it off. Long life to +the hump! By the hump we will rally and die! Cheer up, King Bello! +Stand up, old king!" + +But these were they, who when their sovereign went abroad, with that +Athos on his back, followed idly in its shade; while Bello leaned +heavily upon his people, staggering as they went. + +Ay, sorely did Bello's goodly stature lean; but though many swore he +soon must fall; nevertheless, like Pisa's Leaning Tower, he may long +lean over, yet never nod. + +Visiting Dominora in a friendly way, in good time, we found King Bello +very affable; in hospitality, almost exceeding portly Borabolla: +October-plenty reigned throughout his palace borders. + +Our first reception over, a sumptuous repast was served, at which much +lively talk was had. + +Of Taji, Bello sought to know, whether his solar Majesty had yet made +a province of the moon; whether the Astral hosts were of much account +as territories, or mere Motoos, as the little tufts of verdure are +denominated, here and there clinging to Mardi's circle reef; whether +the people in the sun vilified, him (Bello) as they did in Mardi; and +what they thought of an event, so ominous to the liberties of the +universe, as the addition to his navy of three large canoes. + +Ere long, so fused in social love we grew, that Bello, filling high +his can, and clasping Media's palm, drank everlasting amity with Odo. + +So over their red cups, the two kings forgot their differences, and +concerning the disputed islet nothing more was ever heard; especially, +as it so turned out, that while they were most hot about it, it had +suddenly gone out of sight, being of volcanic origin. + + + +CHAPTER XLIV +Through Dominora, They Wander After Yillah + + +At last, withdrawing from the presence of King Bello, we went forth, +still intent on our search. + +Many brave sights we saw. Fair fields; the whole island a garden; +green hedges all round; neat lodges, thick as white mice in the +landscape; old oak woods, hale and hearty as ever; old temples buried +in ivy; old shrines of old heroes, deep buried in broad groves of bay +trees; old rivers laden down with heavy-freighted canoes; humped +hills, like droves of camels, piled up with harvests; every sign and +token of a glorious abundance, every sign and token of generations of +renown. Rare sight! fine sight! none rarer, none finer in Mardi. + +But roving on through this ravishing region, we passed through a corn- +field in full beard, where a haggard old reaper laid down his hook, +beseeching charity for the sake of the gods.--"Bread, bread! or I die +mid these sheaves!" + +"Thrash out your grain, and want not." + +"Alas, masters, this grain is not mine; I plough, I sow, I reap, I +bind, I stack,--Lord Primo garners." + +Rambling on, we came to a hamlet, hidden in a hollow; and beneath +weeping willows saw many mournful maidens seated on a bank; beside +each, a wheel that was broken. "Lo, we starve," they cried, "our +distaffs are snapped; no more may we weave and spin!" + +Then forth issued from vaults clamorous crowds of men, hands tied to +their backs.--"Bread! Bread!" they cried. "The magician hath turned us +out from our glen, where we labored of yore in the days of the merry +Green Queen. He has pinioned us hip and arm that we starve. Like sheep +we die off with the rot.--Curse on the magician. A curse on his +spell." + +Bending our steps toward the glen, roaring down the rocks we descried +a stream from the mountains. But ere those waters gained the sea, +vassal tribute they rendered. Conducted through culverts and moats, +they turned great wheels, giving life to ten thousand fangs and +fingers, whose gripe no power could withstand, yet whose touch was +soft as the velvet paw of a kitten. With brute force, they heaved down +great weights, then daintily wove and spun; like the trunk of the +elephant, which lays lifeless a river-horse, and counts the pulses of +a moth. On all sides, the place seemed alive with its spindles. Round +and round, round and round; throwing off wondrous births at every +revolving; ceaseless as the cycles that circle in heaven. Loud hummed +the loom, flew the shuttle like lightning, red roared the grim forge, +rung anvil and sledge; yet no mortal was seen. + +"What ho, magician! Come forth from thy cave!" + +But all deaf were the spindles, as the mutes, that mutely wait on the +Sultan. + +"Since we are born, we will live!" so we read on a crimson banner, +flouting the crimson clouds, in the van of a riotous red-bonneted mob, +racing by us as we came from the glen. Many more followed: black, or +blood-stained:--. + +"Mardi is man's!" + +"Down with landholders!" + +"Our turn now!" + +"Up rights! Down wrongs!" + +"Bread! Bread!" + +"Take the tide, ere it turns!" + +Waving their banners, and flourishing aloft clubs, hammers, and +sickles, with fierce yells the crowd ran on toward the palace of +Bello. Foremost, and inciting the rest by mad outcries and gestures, +were six masks; "This way! This way!" they cried,--"by the wood; by +the dark wood!" Whereupon all darted into the groves; when of a +sudden, the masks leaped forward, clearing a long covered trench, into +which fell many of those they led. But on raced the masks; and gaining +Bello's palace, and raising the alarm, there sallied from thence a +woodland of spears, which charged upon the disordered ranks in the +grove. A crash as of icicles against icebergs round Zembla, and down +went the hammers and sickles. The host fled, hotly pursued. Meanwhile +brave heralds from Bello advanced, and with chaplets crowned the six +masks.--"Welcome, heroes! worthy and valiant!" they cried. "Thus our +lord Bello rewards all those, who to do him a service, for hire betray +their kith and their kin." + +Still pursuing our quest, wide we wandered through all the sun and +shade of Dominora; but nowhere was Yillah found. + + + +CHAPTER XLV +They Behold King Bello's State Canoe + + +At last, bidding adieu to King Bello; and in the midst of the lowing +of oxen, breaking away from his many hospitalities, we departed for +the beach. But ere embarking, we paused to gaze at an object, which +long fixed our attention. + +Now, as all bold cavaliers have ever delighted in special chargers, +gayly caparisoned, whereon upon grand occasions to sally forth upon +the plains: even so have maritime potentates ever prided themselves +upon some holiday galley, splendidly equipped, wherein to sail over +the sea. + +When of old, glory-seeking Jason, attended by his promising young +lieutenants, Castor and Pollux, embarked on that hardy adventure to +Colchis, the brave planks of the good ship Argos he trod, its model a +swan to behold. + +And when Trojan Aeneas wandered West, and discovered the pleasant land +of Latium, it was in the fine craft Bis Taurus that he sailed: its +stern gloriously emblazoned, its prow a leveled spear. + +And to the sound of sackbut and psaltery, gliding down the Nile, in +the pleasant shade of its pyramids to welcome mad Mark, Cleopatra was +throned on the cedar quarter-deck of a glorious gondola, silk and +satin hung; its silver plated oars, musical as flutes. So, too, Queen +Bess was wont to disport on old Thames. + +And tough Torf-Egill, the Danish Sea-king, reckoned in his stud, a +slender yacht; its masts young Zetland firs; its prow a seal, dog-like +holding a sword-fish blade. He called it the Grayhound, so swift was +its keel; the Sea-hawk, so blood-stained its beak. + +And groping down his palace stairs, the blind old Doge Dandolo, oft +embarked in his gilded barge, like the lord mayor setting forth in +civic state from Guildhall in his chariot. But from another sort of +prow leaped Dandolo, when at Constantinople, he foremost sprang +ashore, and with a right arm ninety years old, planted the standard of +St. Mark full among the long chin-pennons of the long-bearded Turks. + +And Kumbo Sama, Emperor of Japan, had a dragon-beaked junk, a floating +Juggernaut, wherein he burnt incense to the sea-gods. + +And Kannakoko, King of New Zealand; and the first Tahitian Pomaree; +and the Pelew potentate, each possessed long state canoes; sea-snakes, +all; carved over like Chinese card-cases, and manned with such scores +of warriors, that dipping their paddles in the sea, they made a +commotion like shoals of herring. + +What wonder then, that Bello of the Hump, the old sea-king of Mardi, +should sport a brave ocean-chariot? + +In a broad arbor by the water-side, it was housed like Alp Arsian's +war-horse, or the charger Caligula deified; upon its stern a +wilderness of sculpture:--shell-work, medal-lions, masques, griffins, +gulls, ogres, finned-lions, winged walruses; all manner of sea- +cavalry, crusading centaurs, crocodiles, and sharks; and mermen, and +mermaids, and Neptune only knows all. + +And in this craft, Doge-like, yearly did King Bello stand up and wed +with the Lagoon. But the custom originated not in the manner of the +Doge's, which was as follows; so, at least, saith Ghibelli, who tells +all about it:-- + +When, in a stout sea-fight, Ziani defeated Barbarossa's son Otho, +sending his feluccas all flying, like frightened water-fowl from a +lake, then did his Holiness, the Pope, present unto him a ring; +saying, "Take this, oh Ziani, and with it, the sea for thy bride; and +every year wed her again." + +So the Doge's tradition; thus Bello's:-- + +Ages ago, Dominora was circled by a reef, which expanding in +proportion to the extension of the isle's naval dominion, in due time +embraced the entire lagoon; and this marriage ring zoned all the world. + +But if the sea was King Bello's bride, an Adriatic Tartar he wedded; +who, in her mad gales of passions, often boxed about his canoes, and +led his navies a very boisterous life indeed. + +And hostile prognosticators opined, that ere long she would desert her +old lord, and marry again. Already, they held, she had made advances +in the direction of Vivenza. + +But truly, should she abandon old Bello, he would straight-way after +her with all his fleets; and never rest till his queen was regained. + +Now, old sea-king! look well to thy barge of state: for, peradventure, +the dry-rot may be eating into its keel; and the wood-worms exploring +into its spars. + +Without heedful tending, any craft will decay; yet, for ever may its +first, fine model be preserved, though its prow be renewed every +spring, like the horns of the deer, if, in repairing, plank be put for +plank, rib for rib, in exactest similitude. Even so, then, oh Bello! +do thou with thy barge. + + + +CHAPTER XLVI +Wherein Babbalanja Bows Thrice + + +The next morning's twilight found us once more afloat; and yielding to +that almost sullen feeling, but too apt to prevail with some mortals +at that hour, all but Media long remained silent. + +But now, a bright mustering is seen among the myriad white Tartar +tents in the Orient; like lines of spears defiling upon some upland +plain, the sunbeams thwart the sky. And see! amid the blaze of +banners, and the pawings of ten thousand thousand golden hoofs, day's +mounted Sultan, Xerxes-like, moves on: the Dawn his standard, East and +West his cymbals. + +"Oh, morning life!" cried Yoomy, with a Persian air; "would that all +time were a sunrise, and all life a youth." + +"Ah! but these striplings whimper of youth," said Mohi, caressing his +braids, "as if they wore this beard." + +"But natural, old man," said Babbalanja. "We Mardians never seem young +to ourselves; childhood is to youth what manhood is to age:--something +to be looked back upon, with sorrow that it is past. But childhood +reeks of no future, and knows no past; hence, its present passes in a +vapor." + +"Mohi, how's your appetite this morning?" said Media. + +"Thus, thus, ye gods," sighed Yoomy, "is feeling ever scouted. Yet, +what might seem feeling in me, I can not express." + +"A good commentary on old Bardianna, Yoomy," said Babbalanja, "who +somewhere says, that no Mardian can out with his heart, for his +unyielding ribs are in the way. And indeed, pride, or something akin +thereto, often holds check on sentiment. My lord, there are +those who like not to be detected in the possession of a heart." + +"Very true, Babbalanja; and I suppose that pride was at the bottom of +your old Ponderer's heartless, unsentimental, bald-pated style." + +"Craving pardon, my lord is deceived. Bardianna was not at all proud; +though he had a queer way of showing the absence of pride. In his +essay, entitled,--"On the Tendency to curl in Upper Lips," he thus +discourses. "We hear much of pride and its sinfulness in this Mardi +wherein we dwell: whereas, I glory in being brimmed with it;--my sort +of pride. In the presence of kings, lords, palm-trees, and all those +who deem themselves taller than myself, I stand stiff as a pike, and +will abate not one vertebra of my stature. But accounting no Mardian +my superior, I account none my inferior; hence, with the social, I am +ever ready to be sociable." + +"An agrarian!" said Media; "no doubt he would have made the headsman +the minister of equality." + +"At bottom we are already equal, my honored lord," said Babbalanja, +profoundly bowing--"One way we all come into Mardi, and one way we +withdraw. Wanting his yams a king will starve, quick as a clown; and +smote on the hip, saith old Bardianna, he will roar as loud as the +next one." + +"Roughly worded, that, Babbalanja.--Vee-Vee! my crown!--So; now, +Babbalanja, try if you can not polish Bardianna's style in that last +saying you father upon him." + +"I will, my ever honorable lord," said Babbalanja, salaming. "Thus +we'll word it, then: In their merely Mardian nature, the sublimest +demi-gods are subject to infirmities; for struck by some keen shaft, +even a king ofttimes dons his crown, fearful of future darts." + +"Ha, ha!--well done, Babbalanja; but I bade you polish, not sharpen +the arrow." + +"All one, my thrice honored lord;--to polish is not to blunt." + + + +CHAPTER XLVII +Babbalanja Philosophizes, And My Lord Media Passes Round The +Calabashes + + +An interval of silence passed; when Media cried, "Out upon thee, +Yoomy! curtail that long face of thine." + +"How can he, my lord," said Mohi, "when he is thinking of furlongs?" + +"Fathoms you mean, Mohi; see you not he is musing over the gunwale? +And now, minstrel, a banana for thy thoughts. Come, tell me how you +poets spend so many hours in meditation." + +"My lord, it is because, that when we think, we think so little of +ourselves." + +"I thought as much," said Mohi, "for no sooner do I undertake to be +sociable with myself, than I am straightway forced to beat a retreat." + +"Ay, old man," said Babbalanja, "many of us Mardians are but sorry +hosts to ourselves. Some hearts are hermits." + +"If not of yourself, then, Yoomy, of whom else do you think?" +asked Media. + +"My lord, I seldom think," said Yoomy, "I but give ear to the voices +in my calm." + +"Did Babbalanja speak?" said Media. "But no more of your reveries;" +and so saying Media gradually sunk into a reverie himself. + +The rest did likewise; and soon, with eyes enchanted, all reclined: +gazing at each other, witless of what we did. + +It was Media who broke the spell; calling for Vee-Vee our page, his +calabashes and cups, and nectarines for all. + +Eyeing his goblet, Media at length threw himself back, and said: +"Babbalanja, not ten minutes since, we were all absent-minded; now, +how would you like to step out of your body, in reality; and, as a +spirit, haunt some shadowy grove?" + +"But our lungs are not wholly superfluous, my lord," said Babbalanja, +speaking loud. + +"No, nor our lips," said Mohi, smacking his over his wine. + +"But could you really be disembodied here in Mardi, Babbalanja, how +would you fancy it?" said Media. + +"My lord," said Babbalanja, speaking through half of a nectarine, +"defer putting that question, I beseech, till after my appetite is +satisfied; for, trust me, no hungry mortal would forfeit his palate, +to be resolved into the impalpable." + +"Yet pure spirits we must all become at last, Babbalanja," said Yoomy, +"even the most ignoble." + +"Yes, so they say, Yoomy; but if all boors be the immortal sires of +endless dynasties of immortals, how little do our pious patricians +bear in mind their magnificent destiny, when hourly they scorn their +companionship. And if here in Mardi they can not abide an equality +with plebeians, even at the altar; how shall they endure them, side by +side, throughout eternity? But since the prophet Alma asserts, that +Paradise is almost entirely made up of the poor and despised, no +wonder that many aristocrats of our isles pursue a career, which, +according to some theologies, must forever preserve the social +distinctions so sedulously maintained in Mardi. And though some say, +that at death every thing earthy is removed from the spirit, so that +clowns and lords both stand on a footing; yet, according to the +popular legends, it has ever been observed of the ghosts of boors when +revisiting Mardi, that invariably they rise in their smocks. And +regarding our intellectual equality here, how unjust, my lord, that +after whole years of days end nights consecrated to the hard gaining +of wisdom, the wisest Mardian of us all should in the end find +the whole sum of his attainments, at one leap outstripped by the +veriest dunce, suddenly inspired by light divine. And though some +hold, that all Mardian lore is vain, and that at death all mysteries +will be revealed; yet, none the less, do they toil and ponder now. +Thus, their tongues have one mind, and their understanding another." + +"My lord," said Mohi, "we have come to the lees; your pardon, +Babbalanja." + +"Then, Vee-Vee, another calabash! Fill up, Mohi; wash down wine with +wine. Your cup, Babbalanja; any lees?" + +"Plenty, my lord; we philosophers come to the lees very soon." + +"Flood them over, then; but cease not discoursing; thanks be to the +gods, your mortal palates and tongues can both wag together; fill up, +I say, Babbalanja; you are no philosopher, if you stop at the tenth +cup; endurance is the test of philosophy all Mardi over; drink, I say, +and make us wise by precept and example.--Proceed, Yoomy, you look as +if you had something to say." + +"Thanks, my lord. Just now, Babbalanja, you flew from the subject;-- +you spoke of boors; but has not the lowliest peasant an eye that can +take in the vast horizon at a sweep: mountains, vales, plains, and +oceans? Is such a being nothing?" + +"But can that eye see itself, Yoomy?" said Babbalanja, winking. "Taken +out of its socket, will it see at all? Its connection with the body +imparts to it its virtue." + +"He questions every thing," cried Mohi. "Philosopher, have you a head?" + +"I have," said Babbalanja, feeling for it; "I am finished off at the +helm very much as other Mardians, Mohi." + +"My lord, the first yea that ever came from him." + +"Ah, Mohi," said Media, "the discourse waxes heavy. I fear me we have +again come to the lees. Ho, Vee-Vee, a fresh calabash; and with +it we will change the subject. Now, Babbalanja, I have this cup to +drink, and then a question to propound. Ah, Mohi, rare old wine this; +it smacks of the cork. But attention, Philosopher. Supposing you had a +wife--which, by the way, you have not--would you deem it sensible in +her to imagine you no more, because you happened to stroll out of her +sight?" + +"However that might be," murmured Yoomy, "young Nina bewailed herself +a widow, whenever Arhinoo, her lord, was absent from her side." + +"My lord Media," said Babbalanja, "During my absence, my wife would +have more reason to conclude that I was not living, than that I was. +To the former supposition, every thing tangible around her would tend; +to the latter, nothing but her own fond fancies. It is this +imagination of ours, my lord, that is at the bottom of these things. +When I am in one place, there exists no other. Yet am I but too apt to +fancy the reverse. Nevertheless, when I am in Odo, talk not to me of +Ohonoo. To me it is not, except when I am there. If it be, prove it. +To prove it, you carry me thither but you only prove, that to its +substantive existence, as cognizant to me, my presence is +indispensable. I say that, to me, all Mardi exists by virtue of my +sovereign pleasure; and when I die, the universe will perish with me." + +"Come you of a long-lived race," said Mohi, "one free from apoplexies? +I have many little things to accomplish yet, and would not be left in +the lurch." + +"Heed him not, Babbalanja," said Media. "Dip your beak again, my +eagle, and soar." + +"Let us be eagles, then, indeed, my lord: eagle-like, let us look at +this red wine without blinking; let us grow solemn, not boisterous, +with good cheer." + +Then, lifting his cup, "My lord, serenely do I pity all who are +stirred one jot from their centers by ever so much drinking of this +fluid. Ply him hard as you will, through the live-long polar +night, a wise man can not be made drunk. Though, toward sunrise, his +body may reel, it will reel round its center; and though he make many +tacks in going home, he reaches it at last; while scores of over-plied +fools are foundering by the way. My lord, when wild with much thought, +'tis to wine I fly, to sober me; its magic fumes breathe over me like +the Indian summer, which steeps all nature in repose. To me, wine is +no vulgar fire, no fosterer of base passions; my heart, ever open, is +opened still wider; and glorious visions are born in my brain; it is +then that I have all Mardi under my feet, and the constellations of +the firmament in my soul." + +"Superb!" cried Yoomy. + +"Pooh, pooh!" said Mohi, "who does not see stars at such times? I see +the Great Bear now, and the little one, its cub; and Andromeda, and +Perseus' chain-armor, and Cassiopea in her golden chair, and the +bright, scaly Dragon, and the glittering Lyre, and all the jewels in +Orion's sword-hilt." + +"Ay," cried Media, "the study of astronomy is wonderfully facilitated +by wine. Fill up, old Ptolemy, and tell us should you discover a new +planet. Methinks this fluid needs stirring. Ho, Vee-Vee, my scepter! +be we sociable. But come, Babbalanja, my gold-headed aquila, return to +your theme;--the imagination, if you please." + +"Well, then, my lord, I was about to say, that the imagination is the +Voli-Donzini; or, to speak plainer, the unical, rudimental, and all- +comprehending abstracted essence of the infinite remoteness of things. +Without it, we were grass-hoppers." + +"And with it, you mortals are little else; do you not chirp all over, +Mohi? By my demi-god soul, were I not what I am, this wine would +almost get the better of me." + +"Without it--" continued Babbalanja. + +"Without what?" demanded Media, starting to his feet. "This +wine? Traitor, I'll stand by this to the last gasp, you are +inebriated, Babbalanja." + +"Perhaps so, my lord; but I was treating of the imagination, may it +please you." + +"My lord," added Mohi, "of the unical, and rudimental fundament of +things, you remember." + +"Ah! there's none of them sober; proceed, proceed, Azzageddi!" + +"My lord waves his hand like a banner," murmured Yoomy. + +"Without imagination, I say, an armless man, born, blind, could not be +made to believe, that he had a head of hair, since he could neither +see it, nor feel it, nor has hair any feeling of itself." + +"Methinks though," said Mohi, "if the cripple had a Tartar for a wife, +he would not remain skeptical long." + +"You all fly off at tangents," cried Media, "but no wonder: your +mortal brains can not endure much quaffing. Return to your subject, +Babbalanja. Assume now, Babbalanja,--assume, my dear prince--assume +it, assume it, I say!--Why don't you?" + +"I am willing to assume any thing you please, my lord: what is it?" + +"Ah! yes!--Assume that--that upon returning home, you should find your +wife had newly wedded, under the--the--the metaphysical presumption, +that being no longer visible, you--_you_ Azzageddi, had departed this +life; in other words, out of sight, out of mind; what then, my dear +prince?" + +"Why then, my lord, I would demolish my rival in a trice." + +"Would you?--then--then so much for your metaphysics, Bab--Babbalanja." + +Babbalanja rose to his feet, muttering to himself--"Is this assumed, +or real?--Can a demi-god be mastered by wine? Yet, the old mythologies +make bacchanals of the gods. But he was wondrous keen! He +felled me, ere he fell himself." + +"Yoomy, my lord Media is in a very merry mood to-day," whispered Mohi, +"but his counterfeit was not well done. No, no, a bacchanal is not +used to be so logical in his cups." + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII +They Sail Round An Island Without Landing; And Talk Round A Subject +Without Getting At It + + +Purposing a visit to Kaleedoni, a country integrally united to +Dominora, our course now lay northward along the western white cliffs +of the isle. But finding the wind ahead, and the current too strong +for our paddlers, we were fain to forego our destination; Babbalanja +observing, that since in Dominora we had not found Yillah, then in +Kaleedoni the maiden could not be lurking. + +And now, some conversation ensued concerning the country we were +prevented from visiting. Our chronicler narrated many fine things of +its people; extolling their bravery in war, their amiability in peace, +their devotion in religion, their penetration in philosophy, their +simplicity and sweetness in song, their loving-kindness and frugality +in all things domestic:--running over a long catalogue of heroes, +meta-physicians, bards, and good men. + +But as all virtues are convertible into vices, so in some cases did +the best traits of these people degenerate. Their frugality too often +became parsimony; their devotion grim bigotry; and all this in a +greater degree perhaps than could be predicated of the more immediate +subjects of King Bello. + +In Kaleedoni was much to awaken the fervor of its bards. Upland and +lowland were full of the picturesque; and many unsung lyrics yet +lurked in her glens. Among her blue, heathy hills, lingered many +tribes, who in their wild and tattooed attire, still preserved the +garb of the mightiest nation of old times. They bared the knee, in +token that it was honorable as the face, since it had never been bent. + +While Braid-Beard was recounting these things, the currents were +sweeping us over a strait, toward a deep green island, bewitching to +behold. + +Not greener that midmost terrace of the Andes, which under a torrid +meridian steeps fair Quito in the dews of a perpetual spring;--not +greener the nine thousand feet of Pirohitee's tall peak, which, rising +from out the warm bosom of Tahiti, carries all summer with it into the +clouds;--nay, not greener the famed gardens of Cyrus,--than the vernal +lawn, the knoll, the dale of beautiful Verdanna. + +"Alas, sweet isle! Thy desolation is overrun with vines," sighed +Yoomy, gazing. + +"Land of caitiff curs!" cried Media. + +"Isle, whose future is in its past. Hearth-stone, from which its +children run," said Babbalanja. + +"I can not read thy chronicles for blood, Verdanna," murmured Mohi. + +Gliding near, we would have landed, but the rolling surf forbade. Then +thrice we circumnavigated the isle for a smooth, clear beach; but it +was not found. + +Meanwhile all still conversed. + +"My lord," said Yoomy, "while we tarried with King Bello, I heard much +of the feud between Dominora and this unhappy shore. Yet is not +Verdanna as a child of King Bello's?" + +"Yes, minstrel, a step-child," said Mohi. + +"By way of enlarging his family circle," said Babbalanja, "an old lion +once introduced a deserted young stag to his den; but the stag never +became domesticated, and would still charge upon his foster-brothers. +--Verdanna is not of the flesh and blood of Dominora, whence, in good +part, these dissensions." + +"But Babbalanja, is there no way of reconciling these foes?" + +"But one way, Yoomy:--By filling up this strait with dry land; for, +divided by water, we Mardians must ever remain more or less +divided at heart. Though Kaleedoni was united to Dominora long +previous to the union of Verdanna, yet Kaleedoni occasions Bello no +disquiet; for, geographically one, the two populations insensibly +blend at the point of junction. No hostile strait flows between the +arms, that to embrace must touch." + +"But, Babbalanja," said Yoomy, "what asks Verdanna of Dominora, that +Verdanna so clamors at the denial?" + +"They are arrant cannibals, Yoomy," said Media, "and desire the +privilege of eating each other up." + +"King Bello's idea," said Babbalanja; "but, in these things, my lord, +you demi-gods are ever unanimous. But, whatever be Verdanna's demands, +Bello persists in rejecting them." + +"Why not grant every thing she asks, even to renouncing all claim upon +the isle," said Mohi; "for thus, Bello would rid himself of many +perplexities." + +"And think you, old man," said Media, "that, bane or blessing, Bello +will yield his birthright? Will a tri-crowned king resign his triple +diadem? And even did Bello what you propose he would only breed still +greater perplexities. For if granted, full soon would Verdanna be glad +to surrender many things she demands. And all she now asks, she has +had in times past; but without turning it to advantage:--and is she +wiser now?" + +"Does she not demand her harvests, my lord?" said +Yoomy, "and has not the reaper a right to his sheaf?" + +"Cant! cant! Yoomy. If you reap for me, the sheaf is mine." + +"But if the reaper reaps on his own harvest-field, whose then the +sheaf, my lord?" said Babbalanja. + +"His for whom he reaps--his lord's!" + +"Then let the reaper go with sickle and with sword," said Yoomy, "with +one hand, cut down the bearded grain; and with the other, smite his +bearded lords." + +"Thou growest fierce, in thy lyric moods, my warlike dove," +said 'Media, blandly. "But for thee, philosopher, know thou, that +Verdanna's men are of blood and brain inferior to Bello's native race; +and the better Mardian must ever rule." + +"Verdanna inferior to Dominora, my lord!--Has she produced no bards, +no orators, no wits, no patriots? Mohi, unroll thy chronicles! Tell +me, if Verdanna may not claim full many a star along King Bello's +tattooed arm of Fame? + +"Even so," said Mohi. "Many chapters bear you out." + +"But my lord," said Babbalanja, "as truth, omnipresent, lurks in all +things, even in lies: so, does some germ of it lurk in the calumnies +heaped on the people of this land. For though they justly boast of +many lustrous names, these jewels gem no splendid robe. And though +like a bower of grapes, Verdanna is full of gushing juices, spouting +out in bright sallies of wit, yet not all her grapes make wine; and +here and there, hang goodly clusters mildewed; or half devoured by +worms, bred in their own tendrils." + +"Drop, drop your grapes and metaphors!" cried Media. "Bring forth your +thoughts like men; let them come naked into Mardi.--What do you mean, +Babbalanja?" + +"This, my lord, Verdanna's worst evils are her own, not of another's +giving. Her own hand is her own undoer. She stabs herself with +bigotry, superstition, divided councils, domestic feuds, ignorance, +temerity; she wills, but does not; her East is one black storm-cloud, +that never bursts; her utmost fight is a defiance; she showers +reproaches, where she should rain down blows. She stands a mastiff +baying at the moon." + +"Tropes on tropes!" said. Media. "Let me tell the tale,--straight- +forward like a line. Verdanna is a lunatic--" + +"A trope! my lord," cried Babbalanja. + +"My tropes are not tropes," said Media, "but yours are.--Verdanna is a +lunatic, that after vainly striving to cut another's throat, +grimaces before a standing pool and threatens to cut his own. And is +such a madman to be intrusted with himself? No; let another govern +him, who is ungovernable to himself Ay, and tight hold the rein; and +curb, and rasp the bit. Do I exaggerate?--Mohi, tell me, if, save one +lucid interval, Verdanna, while independent of Dominora, ever +discreetly conducted her affairs? Was she not always full of fights +and factions? And what first brought her under the sway of Bello's +scepter? Did not her own Chief Dermoddi fly to Bello's ancestor for +protection against his own seditious subjects? And thereby did not her +own king unking himself? What wonder, then, and where the wrong, if +Henro, Bello's conquering sire, seized the diadem?" + +"What my lord cites is true," said Mohi, "but cite no more, I pray; +lest, you harm your cause." + +"Yet for all this, Babbalanja," said Media, "Bello but holds lunatic +Verdanna's lands in trust." + +"And may the guardian of an estate also hold custody of the ward, my +lord?" + +"Ay, if he can. What _can_ be done, may be: that's the Greed of demi- +gods." + +"Alas, alas!" cried Yoomy, "why war with words over this poor, +suffering land. See! for all her bloom, her people starve; perish her +yams, ere taken from the soil; the blight of heaven seems upon them." + +"Not so," said Media. "Heaven sends no blights. Verdanna will not +learn. And if from one season's rottenss, rottenness they sow again, +rottenness must they reap. But Yoomy, you seem earnest in this +matter;--come: on all hands it is granted that evils exist in +Verdanna; now sweet Sympathizer, what must the royal Bello do to mend +them?" + +"I am no sage," said Yoomy, "what would my lord Media do?" + +"What would _you_ do, Babbalanja," said Media. + +"Mohi, what you?" asked the philosopher. + +"And what would the company do?" added Mohi. + +"Now, though these evils pose us all," said Babbalanja, "there lately +died in Verdanna, one, who set about curing them in a humane and +peaceable way, waving war and bloodshed. That man was Konno. Under a +huge caldron, he kept a roaring fire." + +"Well, Azzageddi, how could that answer his purpose?" asked Media. + +"Nothing better, my lord. His fire boiled his bread-fruit; and so +convinced were his countrymen, that he was well employed, that they +almost stripped their scanty orchards to fill his caldron." + +"Konno was a knave," said Mohi. + +"Your pardon, old man, but that is only known to his ghost, not to us. +At any rate he was a great man; for even assuming he cajoled his +country, no common man could have done it." + +"Babbalanja," said Mohi, "my lord has been pleased to pronounce +Verdanna crazy; now, may not her craziness arise from the irritating, +tantalizing practices of Dominora?" + +"Doubtless, Braid-Beard, many of the extravagances of Verdanna, are in +good part to be ascribed to the cause you mention; but, to be +impartial, none the less does Verdanna essay to taunt and provoke +Dominora; yet not with the like result. Perceive you, Braid-Beard, +that the trade-wind blows dead across this strait from Dominora, and +not from Verdanna? Hence, when King Bello's men fling gibes and +insults, every missile hits; but those of Verdanna are blown back in +its teeth: her enemies jeering her again and again." + +"King Bello's men are dastards for that," cried Yoomy. "It shows +neither sense, nor spirit, nor humanity," said Babbalanja. + +"All wide of the mark," cried Media. "What is to be done for +Verdanna?" + +"What will she do for herself?" said Babbalanja. + +"Philosopher, you are an extraordinary sage; and since sages should be +seers, reveal Verdanna's future." + +"My lord, you will ever find true prophets, prudent; nor will any +prophet risk his reputation upon predicting aught concerning this +land. The isles are Oro's. Nevertheless, he who doctors Verdanna +aright, will first medicine King Bello; who in some things is, himself +a patient, though he would fain be a physician. However, my lord, +there is a demon of a doctor in Mardi, who at last deals with these +desperate cases. He employs only pills, picked off the Conroupta +Quiancensis tree." + +"And what sort of a vegetable is that?" asked Mohi. "Consult the +botanists," said Babbalanja. + + + +CHAPTER XLIX +They Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption + + +Gliding away from Verdanna at the turn of the tide, we cleared the +strait, and gaining the more open lagoon, pointed our prows for +Porpheero, from whose magnificent monarchs my lord Media promised +himself a glorious reception. + +"They are one and all demi-gods," he cried, "and have the old demi-god +feeling. We have seen no great valleys like theirs:--their scepters +are long as our spears; to their sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo's are +but inns:--their banquetting halls are as vistas; no generations run +parallel to theirs:--their pedigrees reach back into chaos. + +"Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:--the whole land +checkered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, manners, +and mind. Here you will find science and sages; manuscripts in miles; +bards singing in choirs. + +"Mohi! here you will flag over your page; in Porpheero the ages have +hived all their treasures: like a pyramid, the past shadows over the +land. + +"Yoomy! here you will find stuff for your songs:--blue rivers flowing +through forest arches, and vineyards; velvet meads, soft as ottomans: +bright maidens braiding the golden locks of the harvest; and a +background of mountains, that seem the end of the world. Or if nature +will not content you, then turn to the landscapes of art. See! mosaic +walls, tattooed like our faces; paintings, vast as horizons; +and into which, you feel you could rush: See! statues to which you +could off turban; cities of columns standing thick as mankind; and +firmanent domes forever shedding their sunsets of gilding: See! spire +behind spire, as if the land were the ocean, and all Bello's great +navy were riding at anchor. + +"Noble Taji! you seek for your Yillah;--give over despair! Porpheero's +such a scene of enchantment, that there, the lost maiden must lurk." + +"A glorious picture!" cried Babbalanja, but turn the medal, my lord;-- +what says the reverse?" + +"Cynic! have done.--But bravo! we'll ere long be in Franko, the +goodliest vale of them all; how I long to take her old king by the +hand!" + +The sun was now setting behind us, lighting up the white cliffs of +Dominora, and the green capes of Verdanna; while in deep shade lay +before us the long winding shores of Porpheero. + +It was a sunset serene. + +"How the winds lowly warble in the dying day's ear," murmured Yoomy. + +"A mild, bright night, we'll have," said Media. + +"See you not those clouds over Franko, my lord," said Mohi, shaking +his head. + +"Ah, aged and weather-wise as ever, sir chronicler;--I predict a fair +night, and many to follow." + +"Patience needs no prophet," said Babbalanja. "The night, is at hand." + +Hitherto the lagoon had been smooth: but anon, it grew black, and +stirred; and out of the thick darkness came clamorous sounds. Soon, +there shot into the air a vivid meteor, which bursting at the zenith, +radiated down the firmament in fiery showers, leaving treble darkness +behind. + +Then as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted an eruption, +which seemed to plant all Mardi in the foreground. + +As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept +surges in Naples' bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed +Franko's multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch's +palace blazed, fast by the burning mountain. + +"By my eternal throne!" cried Media, starting, "the old volcano has +burst forth again!" + +"But a new vent, my lord," said Babbalanja. + +"More fierce this, than the eruption which happened in my youth," said +Mohi--"methinks that Franko's end has come." + +"You look pale, my lord," said Babbalanja, "while all other faces +glow;--Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of a king." + +Over the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the din of warfare, +and thwarted by showers of embers that fell not, for the whirling +blasts. + +"Off shore! off shore!" cried Media; and with all haste we gained a +place of safety. + +Down the valley now poured Rhines and Rhones of lava, a fire-freshet, +flooding the forests from their fastnesses, and leaping with them into +the seething sea. + +The shore was lined with multitudes pushing off wildly in canoes. + +Meantime, the fiery storm from Franko, kindled new flames in the +distant valleys of Porpheero; while driven over from Verdanna came +frantic shouts, and direful jubilees. Upon Dominora a baleful glare +was resting. + +"Thrice cursed flames!" cried Media. "Is Mardi to be one +conflagration? How it crackles, forks, and roars!--Is this our funeral +pyre?" + +"Recline, recline, my lord," said Babbalanja. "Fierce flames are ever +brief--a song, sweet Yoomy! Your pipe, old Mohi! Greater fires than +this have ere now blazed in Mardi. Let us be calm;--the isles were +made to burn;--Braid-Beard! hereafter, in some quiet cell, of this +whole scene you will but make one chapter;--come, digest it now." + +"My face is scorched," cried Media. + +"The last, last day!" cried Mohi. + +"Not so, old man," said Babbalanja, "when that day dawns, 'twill dawn +serene. Be calm, be calm, my potent lord." + +"Talk not of calm brows in storm-time!" cried Media fiercely. "See! +how the flames blow over upon Dominora!" + +"Yet the fires they kindle there are soon extinguished," said +Babbalanja. "No, no; Dominora ne'er can burn with Franko's fires; only +those of her own kindling may consume her." + +"Away! Away!" cried Media. "We may not touch Porpheero now.--Up sails! +and westward be our course." + +So dead before the blast, we scudded. + +Morning broke, showing no sign of land. + +"Hard must it go with Franko's king," said Media, "when his people +rise against him with the red volcanoes. Oh, for a foot to crush them! +Hard, too, with all who rule in broad Porpheero. And may she we seek, +survive this conflagration!" + +"My lord," said Babbalanja, "where'ere she hide, ne'er yet did Yillah +lurk in this Porpheero; nor have we missed the maiden, noble Taji! in +not touching at its shores." + +"This fire must make a desert of the land," said Mohi; "burn up and +bury all her tilth." + +"Yet, Mohi, vineyards flourish over buried villages," murmured Yoomy. + +"True, minstrel," said Babbalanja, "and prairies are purified by fire. +Ashes breed loam. Nor can any skill make the same surface forever +fruitful. In all times past, things have been overlaid; and though the +first fruits of the marl are wild and poisonous, the palms at last +spring forth; and once again the tribes repose in shade. My lord, if +calms breed storms, so storms calms; and all this dire commotion must +eventuate in peace. It may be, that Perpheero's future has been +cheaply won." + + + +CHAPTER L +Wherein King Media Celebrates The Glories Of Autumn, The Minstrel, The +Promise Of Spring + + +"Ho, now!" cried Media, "across the wide waters, for that New Mardi, +Vivenza! Let us indeed see, whether she who eludes us elsewhere, he at +last found in Vivenza's vales." + +"There or nowhere, noble Taji," said Yoomy. + +"Be not too sanguine, gentle Yoomy," said Babbalanja. + +"Does Yillah choose rather to bower in the wild wilderness of Vivenza, +than in the old vineyards of Porpheero?" said Braid-Beard. + +Sang Yoomy:-- + Her bower is not of the vine, + But the wild, wild eglantine! + Not climbing a moldering arch, + But upheld by the fir-green larch. + Old ruins she flies: + To new valleys she hies:-- + Not the hoar, moss-wood, + Ivied trees each a rood-- + Not in Maramma she dwells, + Hollow with hermit cells. + + 'Tis a new, new isle! + An infant's its smile, + Soft-rocked by the sea. + Its bloom all in bud; + No tide at its flood, + In that fresh-born sea! + + Spring! Spring! where she dwells, + In her sycamore dells, + Where Mardi is young and new: + Its verdure all eyes with dew. + + There, there! in the bright, balmy morns, + The young deer sprout their horns, + Deep-tangled in new-branching groves, + Where the Red-Rover Robin roves,-- + + Stooping his crest, + To his molting breast-- + Rekindling the flambeau there! + Spring! Spring! where she dwells, + In her sycamore dells:-- + Where, fulfilling their fates, + All creatures seek mates-- + The thrush, the doe, and the hare! + +"Thou art most musical, sweet Yoomy," said Media. "concerning this +spring-land Vivenza. But are not the old autumnal valleys of Porpheero +more glorious than those of vernal Vivenza? Vivenza shows no trophies +of the summer time, but Dominora's full-blown rose hangs blushing on +her garden walls; her autumn groves are glory-dyed." + +"My lord, autumn soon merges in winter, but the spring has all the +seasons before. The full-blown rose is nearer withering than the bud. +The faint morn is a blossom: the crimson sunset the flower." + + + +CHAPTER LI +In Which Azzageddi Seems To Use Babbalanja For A Mouth-Piece + + +Porpheero far astern, the spirits of the company rose. Once again, old +Mohi serenely unbraided, and rebraided his beard; and sitting Turk- +wise on his mat, my lord Media smoking his gonfalon, diverted himself +with the wild songs of Yoomy, the wild chronicles of Mohi, or the +still wilder speculations of Babbalanja; now and then, as from pitcher +to pitcher, pouring royal old wine down his soul. + +Among other things, Media, who at times turned over Babbalanja for an +encyclopaedia, however unreliable, demanded information upon the +subject of neap tides and their alleged slavish vassalage to the moon. + +When true to his cyclopaediatic nature, Babbalanja quoted from a still +older and better authority than himself; in brief, from no other than +eternal Bardianna. It seems that that worthy essayist had discussed +the whole matter in a chapter thus headed: "On Seeing into Mysteries +through Mill-Stones;" and throughout his disquisitions he evinced such +a profundity of research, though delivered in a style somewhat +equivocal, that the company were much struck by the erudition +displayed. + +"Babbalanja, that Bardianna of yours must have been a wonderful +student," said Media after a pause, "no doubt he consumed whole +thickets of rush-lights." + +"Not so, my lord.--'Patience, patience, philosophers,' said Bardianna; +'blow out your tapers, bolt not your dinners, take time, wisdom will +be plenty soon.'" + +"A notable hint! Why not follow it, Babbalanja?" + +"Because, my lord, I have overtaken it, and passed on." + +"True to your nature, Babbalanja; you stay nowhere." + +"Ay, keep moving is my motto; but speaking of hard students, did my +lord ever hear of Midni the ontologist and entomologist?" + +"No." + +"Then, my lord, you shall hear of him now. Midni was of opinion that +day-light was vulgar; good enough for taro-planting and traveling; but +wholly unadapted to the sublime ends of study. He toiled by night; +from sunset to sunrise poring over the works of the old logicans. Like +most philosophers, Midni was an amiable man; but one thing invariably +put him out. He read in the woods by glow-worm light; insect in hand, +tracing over his pages, line by line. But glow-worms burn not long: +and in the midst of some calm intricate thought, at some imminent +comma, the insect often expired, and Midni groped for a meaning. Upon +such an occasion, 'Ho, Ho,' he cried; 'but for one instant of sun- +light to see my way to a period!' But sun-light there was none; so +Midni sprang to his feet, and parchment under arm, raced about among +the sloughs and bogs for another glow-worm. Often, making a rapid +descent with his turban, he thought he had caged a prize; but nay. +Again he tried; yet with no better succcess. Nevertheless, at last he +secured one; but hardly had he read three lines by its light, when out +it went. Again and again this occurred. And thus he forever went +halting and stumbling through his studies, and plunging through his +quagmires after a glim." + +At this ridiculous tale, one of our silliest paddlers burst into +uncontrollable mirth. Offended at which breach of decorum, Media +sharply rebuked him. + +But he protested he could not help laughing. + +Again Media was about to reprimand him, when Babbalanja begged leave +to interfere. + +"My lord, he is not to blame. Mark how earnestly he struggles to +suppress his mirth; but he can not. It has often been the same with +myself. And many a time have I not only vainly sought to check my +laughter, but at some recitals I have both laughed and cried. But can +opposite emotions be simultaneous in one being? No. I wanted to weep; +but my body wanted to smile, and between us we almost choked. My lord +Media, this man's body laughs; not the man himself." + +"But his body is his own, Babbalanja; and he should have it under +better control." + +"The common error, my lord. Our souls belong to our bodies, not our +bodies to our souls. For which has the care of the other? which keeps +house? which looks after the replenishing of the aorta and auricles, +and stores away the secretions? Which toils and ticks while the other +sleeps? Which is ever giving timely hints, and elderly warnings? Which +is the most authoritative?--Our bodies, surely. At a hint, you must +move; at a notice to quit, you depart. Simpletons show us, that a body +can get along almost without a soul; but of a soul getting along +without a body, we have no tangible and indisputable proof. My lord, +the wisest of us breathe involuntarily. And how many millions there +are who live from day to day by the incessant operation of subtle +processes in them, of which they know nothing, and care less? Little +ween they, of vessels lacteal and lymphatic, of arteries femoral and +temporal; of pericranium or pericardium; lymph, chyle, fibrin, +albumen, iron in the blood, and pudding in the head; they live by the +charity of their bodies, to which they are but butlers. I say, my +lord, our bodies are our betters. A soul so simple, that it prefers +evil to good, is lodged in a frame, whose minutest action is full of +unsearchable wisdom. Knowing this superiority of theirs, our bodies +are inclined to be willful: our beards grow in spite of us; and as +every one knows, they sometimes grow on dead men." + +"You mortals are alive, then, when you are dead, Babbalanja." + +"No, my lord; but our beards survive us." + +"An ingenious distinction; go on, philosopher." + +"Without bodies, my lord, we Mardians would be minus our strongest +motive-passions, those which, in some way or other, root under our +every action. Hence, without bodies, we must be something else than we +essentially are. Wherefore, that saying imputed to Alma, and which, by +his very followers, is deemed the most hard to believe of all his +instructions, and the most at variance with all preconceived notions +of immortality, I Babbalanja, account the most reasonable of his +doctrinal teachings. It is this;--that at the last day, every man +shall rise in the flesh." + +"Pray, Babbalanja, talk not of resurrections to a demi-god." + +"Then let me rehearse a story, my lord. You will find it in the 'Very +Merry Marvelings' of the Improvisitor Quiddi; and a quaint book it is. +Fugle-fi is its finis:--fugle-fi, fugle-fo, fugle-fogle-orum!" + +"That wild look in his eye again," murmured Yoomy. "Proceed, +Azzageddi," said Media. + +"The philosopher Grando had a sovereign contempt for his carcass. +Often he picked a quarrel with it; and always was flying out in its +disparagement. 'Out upon you, you beggarly body! you clog, drug, drag! +You keep me from flying; I could get along better without you. Out +upon you, I say, you vile pantry, cellar, sink, sewer; abominable +body! what vile thing are you not? And think you, beggar! to have the +upper hand of me? Make a leg to that man if you dare, without my +permission. This smell is intolerable; but turn from it, if you can, +unless I give the word. Bolt this yam!--it is done. Carry me across +yon field!--off we go. Stop!--it's a dead halt. There, I've trained +you enough for to-day; now, sirrah, crouch down in the shade, and be +quiet.--I'm rested. So, here's for a stroll, and a reverie homeward:-- +Up, carcass, and march.' So the carcass demurely rose and +paced, and the philosopher meditated. He was intent upon squaring the +circle; but bump he came against a bough. 'How now, clodhopping +bumpkin! you would take advantage of my reveries, would you? But I'll +be even with you;' and seizing a cudgel, he laid across his shoulders +with right good will. But one of his backhanded thwacks injured his +spinal cord; the philosopher dropped; but presently came to. 'Adzooks! +I'll bend or break you! Up, up, and I'll run you home for this.' But +wonderful to tell, his legs refused to budge; all sensation had left +them. But a huge wasp happening to sting his foot, not him, for he +felt it not, the leg incontinently sprang into the air, and of itself, +cut all manner of capers. Be still! Down with you!' But the leg +refused. 'My arms are still loyal,' thought Grando; and with them he +at last managed to confine his refractory member. But all commands, +volitions, and persuasions, were as naught to induce his limbs to +carry him home. It was a solitary place; and five days after, Grando +the philosopher was found dead under a tree." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed Media, "Azzageddi is full as merry as ever." + +"But, my lord," continued Babbalanja, "some creatures have still more +perverse bodies than Grando's. In the fables of Ridendiabola, this is +to be found. 'A fresh-water Polyp, despising its marine existence; +longed to live upon air. But all it could do, its tentacles or arms +still continued to cram its stomach. By a sudden preternatural +impulse, however, the Polyp at last turned itself inside out; +supposing that after such a proceeding it would have no gastronomic +interior. But its body proved ventricle outside as well as in. Again +its arms went to work; food was tossed in, and digestion continued.'" + +"Is the literal part of that a fact?" asked Mohi. + +"True as truth," said Babbalanja; "the Polyp will live turned inside out." + +"Somewhat curious, certainly," said Media.--"But me-thinks, +Babbalanja, that somewhere I have heard something about organic +functions, so called; which may account for the phenomena you mention; +and I have heard too, me-thinks, of what are called reflex actions of +the nerves, which, duly considered, might deprive of its strangeness +that story of yours concerning Grande and his body." + +"Mere substitutions of sounds for inexplicable meanings, my lord. In +some things science cajoles us. Now, what is undeniable of the Polyp +some physiologists analogically maintain with regard to us Mardians; +that forasmuch, as the lining of our interiors is nothing more than a +continuation of the epidermis, or scarf-skin, therefore, that in a +remote age, we too must have been turned wrong side out: an +hypothesis, which, indirectly might account for our moral +perversities: and also, for that otherwise nonsensical term--'the coat +of the stomach;' for originally it must have been a surtout, instead +of an inner garment." + +"Pray, Azzageddi," said Media, "are you not a fool?" + +"One of a jolly company, my lord; but some creatures besides wearing +their surtouts within, sport their skeletons without: witness the +lobster and turtle, who alive, study their own anatomies." + +"Azzageddi, you are a zany." + +"Pardon, my lord," said Mohi, "I think him more of a lobster; it's +hard telling his jaws from his claws." + +"Yes, Braid-Beard, I am a lobster, a mackerel, any thing you please; +but my ancestors were kangaroos, not monkeys, as old Boddo erroneously +opined. My idea is more susceptible of demonstration than his. Among +the deepest discovered land fossils, the relics of kangaroos are +discernible, but no relics of men. Hence, there were no giants in +those days; but on the contrary, kangaroos; and those kangaroos formed +the first edition of mankind, since revised and corrected." + +"What has become of our finises, or tails, then?" asked Mohi, +wriggling in his seat. + +"The old question, Mohi. But where are the tails of the tadpoles, +after their gradual metamorphosis into frogs? Have frogs any tails, +old man? Our tails, Mohi, were worn off by the process of +civilization; especially at the period when our fathers began to adopt +the sitting posture: the fundamental evidence of all civilization, for +neither apes, nor savages, can be said to sit; invariably, they squat +on their hams. Among barbarous tribes benches and settles are unknown. +But, my lord Media, as your liege and loving subject I can not +sufficiently deplore the deprivation of your royal tail. That stiff +and vertebrated member, as we find it in those rustic kinsmen we have +disowned, would have been useful as a supplement to your royal legs; +and whereas my good lord is now fain to totter on two stanchions, were +he only a kangaroo, like the monarchs of old, the majesty of Odo would +be dignified, by standing firm on a tripod." + +"A very witty conceit! But have a care, Azzageddi; your theory applies +not to me." + +"Babbalanja," said Mohi, "you must be the last of the kangaroos." + +"I am, Mohi." + +"But the old fashioned pouch or purse of your grandams?" hinted Media. + +"My lord, I take it, that must have been transferred; nowadays our sex +carries the purse." + +"Ha, ha!" + +"My lord, why this mirth? Let us be serious. Although man is no longer +a kangaroo, he may be said to be an inferior species of plant. Plants +proper are perhaps insensible of the circulation of their sap: we +mortals are physically unconscious of the circulation of the blood; +and for many ages were not even aware of the fact. Plants know nothing +of their interiors:--three score years and ten we trundle about ours, +and never get a peep at them; plants stand on their stalks:--we stalk +on our legs; no plant flourishes over its dead root:--dead in the +grave, man lives no longer above ground; plants die without +food:--so we. And now for the difference. Plants elegantly inhale +nourishment, without looking it up: like lords, they stand still and +are served; and though green, never suffer from the colic:--whereas, +we mortals must forage all round for our food: we cram our insides; +and are loaded down with odious sacks and intestines. Plants make love +and multiply; but excel us in all amorous enticements, wooing and +winning by soft pollens and essences. Plants abide in one place, and +live: we must travel or die. Plants flourish without us: we must +perish without them." + +"Enough Azzageddi!" cried Media. "Open not thy lips till to-morrow."' + + + +CHAPTER LII +The Charming Yoomy Sings + + +The morrow came; and three abreast, with snorting prows, we raced +along; our mat-sails panting to the breeze. All present partook of the +life of the air; and unanimously Yoomy was called upon for a song. The +canoes were passing a long, white reef, sparkling with shells, like a +jeweler's case: and thus Yoomy sang in the same old strain as of yore; +beginning aloud, where he had left off in his soul:-- + + Her sweet, sweet mouth! + The peach-pearl shell:-- + Red edged its lips, + That softly swell, + Just oped to speak, + With blushing cheek, + That fisherman + With lonely spear + On the reef ken, + And lift to ear + Its voice to hear,-- + Soft sighing South! + Like this, like this,-- + The rosy kiss!-- + That maiden's mouth. + A shell! a shell! + A vocal shell! + Song-dreaming, + In its inmost dell! + + Her bosom! Two buds half blown, they tell; + A little valley between perfuming; + That roves away, + Deserting the day,-- + The day of her eyes illuming;-- + That roves away, o'er slope and fell, + Till a soft, soft meadow becomes the dell. + +Thus far, old Mohi had been wriggling about in his seat, twitching his +beard, and at every couplet looking up expectantly, as if he desired +the company to think, that he was counting upon that line as the last; +But now, starting to his feet, he exclaimed, "Hold, minstrel! thy +muse's drapery is becoming disordered: no more!" + +"Then no more it shall be," said Yoomy, "But you have lost a glorious +sequel." + + + +CHAPTER LIII +They Draw Nigh Unto Land + + +In good time, after many days sailing, we snuffed the land from afar, +and came to a great country, full of inland mountains, north and south +stretching far out of sight. "All hail, Kolumbo!" cried Yoomy. + +Coasting by a portion of it, which Mohi called Kanneeda, a province of +King Bello's, we perceived the groves rocking in the wind; their +flexible boughs bending like bows; and the leaves flying forth, and +darkening the landscape, like flocks of pigeons. + +"Those groves must soon fall," said Mohi. + +"Not so," said Babbalanja. "My lord, as these violent gusts are formed +by the hostile meeting of two currents, one from over the lagoon, the +other from land; they may be taken as significant of the occasional +variances between Kanneeda and Dominora." + +"Ay," said Media, "and as Mohi hints, the breeze from Dominora must +soon overthrow the groves of Kanneeda." + +"Not if the land-breeze holds, my lord;--one breeze oft blows another +home.--Stand up, and gaze! From cape to cape, this whole main we see, +is young and froward. And far southward, past this Kanneeda and +Vivenza, are haughty, overbearing streams, which at their mouths dam +back the ocean, and long refuse to mix their freshness with the +foreign brine:--so bold, so strong, so bent on hurling off aggression +is this brave main, Kolumbo;--last sought, last found, Mardi's estate, +so long kept back;--pray Oro, it be not squandered foolishly. +Here lie plantations, held in fee by stout hearts and arms; and +boundless fields, that may be had for seeing. Here, your foes are +forests, struck down with bloodless maces.--Ho! Mardi's Poor, and +Mardi's Strong! ye, who starve or beg; seventh-sons who slave for +earth's first-born--here is your home; predestinated yours; Come over, +Empire-founders! fathers of the wedded tribes to come!--abject now, +illustrious evermore:--Ho: Sinew, Brawn, and Thigh!" + +"A very fine invocation," said Media, "now Babbalanja, be seated; and +tell us whether Dominora and the kings of Porpheero do not own some +small portion of this great continent, which just now you poetically +pronounced as the spoil of any vagabonds who may choose to settle +therein? Is not Kanneeda, Dominora's?" + +"And was not Vivenza once Dominora's also? And what Vivenza now is, +Kanneeda soon must be. I speak not, my lord, as wishful of what I say, +but simply as foreknowing it. The thing must come. Vain for Dominora +to claim allegiance from all the progeny she spawns. As well might the +old patriarch of the flood reappear, and claim the right of rule over +all mankind, as descended from the loins of his three roving sons. + +"'Tis the old law:--the East peoples the West, the West the East; flux +and reflux. And time may come, after the rise and fall of nations yet +unborn, that, risen from its future ashes, Porpheero shall be the +promised land, and from her surplus hordes Kolumbo people it." + +Still coasting on, next day, we came to Vivenza; and as Media desired +to land first at a point midway between its extremities, in order to +behold the convocation of chiefs supposed to be assembled at this +season, we held on our way, till we gained a lofty ridge, jutting out +into the lagoon, a bastion to the neighboring land. It terminated in a +lofty natural arch of solid trap. Billows beat against its base. But +above, waved an inviting copse, wherein was revealed an open +temple of canes, containing one only image, that of a helmeted female, +the tutelar deity of Vivenza. + +The canoes drew near. + +"Lo! what inscription is that?" cried Media, "there, chiseled over the +arch?" + +Studying those immense hieroglyphics awhile, antiquarian Mohi still +eyeing them, said slowly:--"In-this-re-publi-can-land-all-men-are- +born-free-and-equal." + +"False!" said Media. + +"And how long stay they so?" said Babbalanja. + +"But look lower, old man," cried Media, "methinks there's a small +hieroglyphic or two hidden away in yonder angle.--Interpret them, old +man." + +After much screwing of his eyes, for those characters were very +minute, Champollion Mohi thus spoke--" Except-the-tribe-of-Hamo." + +"That nullifies the other," cried Media. "Ah, ye republicans!" + +"It seems to have been added for a postscript," rejoined Braid-Beard, +screwing his eyes again. + +"Perhaps so," said Babbalanja, "but some wag must have done it." + +Shooting through the arch, we rapidly gained the beach. + + + +CHAPTER LIV +They Visit The Great Central Temple Of Vivenza + + +The throng that greeted us upon landing were exceedingly boisterous. + +"Whence came ye?" they cried. "Whither bound? Saw ye ever such a land +as this? Is it not a great and extensive republic? Pray, observe how +tall we are; just feel of our thighs; Are we not a glorious people? +Here, feel of our beards. Look round; look round; be not afraid; +Behold those palms; swear now, that this land surpasses all others. +Old Bello's mountains are mole-hills to ours; his rivers, rills; his +empires, villages; his palm-trees, shrubs." + +"True," said Babbalanja. "But great Oro must have had some hand in +making your mountains and streams.--Would ye have been as great in a +desert?" + +"Where is your king?" asked Media, drawing himself up in his robe, and +cocking his crown. + +"Ha, ha, my fine fellow! We are all kings here; royalty breathes in +the common air. But come on, come on. Let us show you our great Temple +of Freedom." + +And so saying, irreverently grasping his sacred arm, they conducted us +toward a lofty structure, planted upon a bold hill, and supported by +thirty pillars of palm; four quite green; as if recently added; and +beyond these, an almost interminable vacancy, as if all the palms in +Mardi, were at some future time, to aid in upholding that fabric. + +Upon the summit of the temple was a staff; and as we drew nigh, a man +with a collar round his neck, and the red marks of stripes upon his +back, was just in the act of hoisting a tappa standard-- +correspondingly striped. Other collared menials were going in and out +of the temple. + +Near the porch, stood an image like that on the top of the arch we had +seen. Upon its pedestal, were pasted certain hieroglyphical notices; +according to Mohi, offering rewards for missing men, so many hands high. + +Entering the temple, we beheld an amphitheatrical space, in the middle +of which, a great fire was burning. Around it, were many chiefs, robed +in long togas, and presenting strange contrasts in their style of +tattooing. + +Some were sociably laughing, and chatting; others diligently making +excavations between their teeth with slivers of bamboo; or turning +their heads into mills, were grinding up leaves and ejecting their +juices. Some were busily inserting the down of a thistle into their +ears. Several stood erect, intent upon maintaining striking attitudes; +their javelins tragically crossed upon their chests. They would have +looked very imposing, were it not, that in rear their vesture was +sadly disordered. Others, with swelling fronts, seemed chiefly +indebted to their dinners for their dignity. Many were nodding and +napping. And, here and there, were sundry indefatigable worthies, +making a great show of imperious and indispensable business; +sedulously folding banana leaves into scrolls, and recklessly placing +them into the hands of little boys, in gay turbans and trim little +girdles, who thereupon fled as if with salvation for the dying. + +It was a crowded scene; the dusky chiefs, here and there, grouped +together, and their fantastic tattooings showing like the carved work +on quaint old chimney-stacks, seen from afar. But one of their number +overtopped all the rest. As when, drawing nigh unto old Rome, amid the +crowd of sculptured columns and gables, St. Peter's grand dome soars +far aloft, serene in the upper air; so, showed one calm grand forehead +among those of this mob of chieftains. That head was Saturnina's. Gall +and Spurzheim! saw you ever such a brow?--poised like an avalanche, +under the shadow of a forest! woe betide the devoted valleys +below! Lavatar! behold those lips,--like mystic scrolls! Those eyes,-- +like panthers' caves at the base of Popocatepetl! + +"By my right hand, Saturnina," cried Babbalanja, "but thou wert made +in the image of thy Maker! Yet, have I beheld men, to the eye as +commanding as thou; and surmounted by heads globe-like as thine, who +never had thy caliber. We must measure brains, not heads, my lord; else, +the sperm whale, with his tun of an occiput, would transcend us all." + +Near by, were arched ways, leading to subterranean places, whence +issued a savory steam, and an extraordinary clattering of calabashes, +and smacking of lips, as if something were being eaten down there by +the fattest of fat fellows, with the heartiest of appetites, and the +most irresistible of relishes. It was a quaffing, guzzling, gobbling +noise. Peeping down, we beheld a company, breasted up against a board, +groaning under numerous viands. In the middle of all, was a mighty +great gourd, yellow as gold, and jolly round like a pumpkin in +October, and so big it must have grown in the sun. Thence flowed a +tide of red wine. And before it, stood plenty of paunches being filled +therewith like portly stone jars at a fountain. Melancholy to tell, +before that fine flood of old wine, and among those portly old topers, +was a lean man; who occasionally ducked in his bill. He looked like an +ibis standing in the Nile at flood tide, among a tongue-lapping herd +of hippopotami. + +They were jolly as the jolliest; and laughed so uproariously, that +their hemispheres all quivered and shook, like vast provinces in an +earthquake. Ha! ha! ha! how they laughed, and they roared. A deaf man +might have heard them; and no milk could have soured within a forty- +two-pounder ball shot of that place. + +Now, the smell of good things is no very bad thing in itself. It is +the savor of good things beyond; proof positive of a glorious good meal. +So snuffing up those zephyrs from Araby the blest, those boisterous +gales, blowing from out the mouths of baked boars, stuffed with bread- +fruit, bananas, and sage, we would fain have gone down and partaken. + +But this could not be; for we were told that those worthies below, +were a club in secret conclave; very busy in settling certain weighty +state affairs upon a solid basis, They were all chiefs of immense +capacity:--how many gallons, there was no finding out. + +Be sure, now, a most riotous noise came up from those catacombs, which +seemed full of the ghosts of fat Lamberts; and this uproar it was, +that heightened the din above-ground. + +But heedless of all, in the midst of the amphitheater, stood a tall, +gaunt warrior, ferociously tattooed, with a beak like a buzzard; long +dusty locks; and his hands full of headless arrows. He was laboring +under violent paroxysms; three benevolent individuals essaying to hold +him. But repeatedly breaking loose, he burst anew into his delirium; +while with an absence of sympathy, distressing to behold, the rest of +the assembly seemed wholly engrossed with themselves; nor did they +appear to care how soon the unfortunate lunatic might demolish himself +by his frantic proceedings. + +Toward one side of the amphitheatrical space, perched high upon an +elevated dais, sat a white-headed old man with a tomahawk in his hand: +earnestly engaged in overseeing the tumult; though not a word did he +say. Occasionally, however, he was regarded by those present with a +mysterious sort of deference; and when they chanced to pass between +him and the crazy man, they invariably did so in a stooping position; +probably to elude the atmospheric grape and cannister, continually +flying from the mouth of the lunatic. + +"What mob is this?" cried Media. + +"'Tis the grand council of Vivenza," cried a bystander. "Hear ye not +Alanno?" and he pointed to the lunatic. + +Now coming close to Alanno, we found, that with incredible volubility, +he was addressing the assembly upon some all-absorbing subject +connected with King Bello, and his presumed encroachments toward the +northwest of Vivenza. + +One hand smiting his hip, and the other his head, the lunatic thus +proceeded; roaring like a wild beast, and beating the air like a +windmill:-- + +"I have said it! the thunder is flashing, the lightning is crashing! +already there's an earthquake in Dominora! Full soon will old Bello +discover that his diabolical machinations against this ineffable land +must soon come to naught. Who dare not declare, that we are not +invincible? I repeat it, we are. Ha! ha! Audacious Bello must bite the +dust! Hair by hair, we will trail his gory gray beard at the end of +our spears! Ha, ha! I grow hoarse; but would mine were a voice like +the wild bulls of Bullorom, that I might be heard from one end of this +great and gorgeous land to its farthest zenith; ay, to the uttermost +diameter of its circumference. Awake! oh Vivenza. The signs of the +times are portentous; nay, extraordinary; I hesitate not to add, +peculiar! Up! up! Let us not descend to the bathos, when we should +soar to the climax! Does not all Mardi wink and look on? Is the great +sun itself a frigid spectator? Then let us double up our mandibles to +the deadly encounter. Methinks I see it now. Old Bello is crafty, and +his oath is recorded to obliterate us! Across this wide lagoon he +casts his serpent eyes; whets his insatiate bill; mumbles his +barbarous tusks; licks his forked tongues; and who knows when we shall +have the shark in our midst? Yet be not deceived; for though as yet, +Bello has forborn molesting us openly, his emissaries are at work; his +infernal sappers, and miners, and wet-nurses, and midwives, and grave- +diggers are busy! His canoe-yards are all in commotion! In navies his +forests are being launched upon the wave; and ere long typhoons, +zephyrs, white-squalls, balmy breezes, hurricanes, and besoms will be +raging round us!" + +His philippic concluded, Alanno was conducted from the place; and +being now quite exhausted, cold cobble-stones were applied to his +temples, and he was treated to a bath in a stream. + +This chieftain, it seems, was from a distant western valley, called +Hio-Hio, one of the largest and most fertile in Vivenza, though but +recently settled. Its inhabitants, and those of the vales adjoining,-- +a right sturdy set of fellows,--were accounted the most dogmatically +democratic and ultra of all the tribes in Vivenza; ever seeking to +push on their brethren to the uttermost; and especially were they +bitter against Bello. But they were a fine young tribe, nevertheless. +Like strong new wine they worked violently in becoming clear. Time, +perhaps, would make them all right. + +An interval of greater uproar than ever now ensued; during which, with +his tomahawk, the white-headed old man repeatedly thumped and pounded +the seat where he sat, apparently to augment the din, though he looked +anxious to suppress it. + +At last, tiring of his posture, he whispered in the ear of a chief, +his friend; who, approaching a portly warrior present, prevailed upon +him to rise and address the assembly. And no sooner did this one do +so, than the whole convocation dispersed, as if to their yams; and +with a grin, the little old man leaped from his seat, and stretched +his legs on a mat. + +The fire was now extinguished, and the temple deserted. + + + +CHAPTER LV +Wherein Babbalanja Comments Upon The Speech Of Alanno + + +As we lingered in the precincts of the temple after all others had +departed, sundry comments were made upon what we had seen; and having +remarked the hostility of the lunatic orator toward Dominora, +Babbalanja thus addressed Media:-- + +"My lord, I am constrained to believe, that all Vivenza can not be of +the same mind with the grandiloquent chief from Hio-Hio. Nevertheless, +I imagine, that between Dominora and this land, there exists at bottom +a feeling akin to animosity, which is not yet wholly extinguished; +though but the smoldering embers of a once raging fire. My lord, you +may call it poetry if you will, but there are nations in Mardi, that +to others stand in the relation of sons to sires. Thus with Dominora +and Vivenza. And though, its majority attained, Vivenza is now its own +master, yet should it not fail in a reverential respect for its +parent. In man or nation, old age is honorable; and a boy, however +tall, should never take his sire by the beard. And though Dominora did +indeed ill merit Vivenza's esteem, yet by abstaining from +criminations, Vivenza should ever merit its own. And if in time to +come, which Oro forbid, Vivenza must needs go to battle with King +Bello, let Vivenza first cross the old veteran's spear with all +possible courtesy. On the other hand, my lord, King Bello should never +forget, that whatever be glorious in Vivenza, redounds to himself. And +as some gallant old lord proudly measures the brawn and stature of his +son; and joys to view in his noble young lineaments the +likeness of his own; bethinking him, that when at last laid in his +tomb, he will yet survive in the long, strong life of his child, the +worthy inheritor of his valor and renown; even so, should King Bello +regard the generous promise of this young Vivenza of his own lusty +begetting. My lord, behold these two states! Of all nations in the +Archipelago, they alone are one in blood. Dominora is the last and +greatest Anak of Old Times; Vivenza, the foremost and goodliest +stripling of the Present. One is full of the past; the other brims +with the future. Ah! did this sire's old heart but beat to free +thoughts, and back his bold son, all Mardi would go down before them. +And high Oro may have ordained for them a career, little divined by +the mass. Methinks, that as Vivenza will never cause old Bello to weep +for his son; so, Vivenza will not, this many a long year, be called to +weep over the grave of its sire. And though King Bello may yet lay +aside his old-fashioned cocked hat of a crown, and comply with the +plain costume of the times; yet will his, frame remain sturdy as of +yore, and equally grace any habiliments he may don. And those who say, +Dominora is old and worn out, may very possibly err. For if, as a +nation, Dominora be old--her present generation is full as young as +the youths in any land under the sun. Then, Ho! worthy twain! Each +worthy the other, join hands on the instant, and weld them together. +Lo! the past is a prophet. Be the future, its prophecy fulfilled." + + + +CHAPTER LVI +A Scene In Tee Land Of Warwicks, Or King-Makers + + +Wending our way from the temple, we were accompanied by a fluent, +obstreperous wight, one Znobbi, a runaway native of Porpheero, but now +an enthusiastic inhabitant of Vivenza. + +"Here comes our great chief!" he cried. "Behold him! It was _I_ that +had a hand in making him what he is!" + +And so saying, he pointed out a personage, no way distinguished, +except by the tattooing on his forehead--stars, thirty in number; and +an uncommonly long spear in his hand. Freely he mingled with the +crowd. + +"Behold, how familiar I am with him!" cried Znobbi, approaching, and +pitcher-wise taking him by the handle of his face. + +"Friend," said the dignitary, "thy salute is peculiar, but welcome. I +reverence the enlightened people of this land." + +"Mean-spirited hound!" muttered Media, "were I him, I had impaled that +audacious plebeian." + +"There's a Head-Chief for you, now, my fine fellow!" cried Znobbi. +"Hurrah! Three cheers! Ay, ay! All kings here--all equal. Every +thing's in common." + +Here, a bystander, feeling something grazing his side, looked down; +and perceived Znobbi's hand in clandestine vicinity to the pouch at +his girdle-end. + +Whereupon the crowd shouted, "A thief! a thief!" And with a loud voice +the starred chief cried--"Seize him, people, and tie him to yonder tree." + +And they seized, and tied him on the spot. + +"Ah," said Media, "this chief has something to say, after all; +he pinions a king at a word, though a plebeian takes him by the nose. +Beshrew me, I doubt not, that spear of his, though without a tassel, +is longer and sharper than mine." + +"There's not so much freedom here as these freemen think," said +Babbalanja, turning; "I laugh and admire." + + + +CHAPTER LVII +They Hearken Unto A Voice From The Gods + + +Next day we retraced our voyage northward, to visit that section of +Vivenza. + +In due time we landed. + +To look round was refreshing. Of all the lands we had seen, none +looked more promising. The groves stood tall and green; the fields +spread flush and broad; the dew of the first morning seemed hardly +vanished from the grass. On all sides was heard the fall of waters, +the swarming of bees, and the rejoicing hum of a thriving population. + +"Ha, ha!" laughed Yoomy, "Labor laughs in this land; and claps his +hands in the jubilee groves! methinks that Yillah will yet be found." + +Generously entertained, we tarried in this land; till at length, from +over the Lagoon, came full tidings of the eruption we had witnessed in +Franko, with many details. The conflagration had spread through +Porpheero and the kings were to and fro hunted, like malefactors by +blood-hounds; all that part of Mardi was heaving with throes. + +With the utmost delight, these tidings were welcomed by many; yet +others heard them with boding concern. + +Those, too, there were, who rejoiced that the kings were cast down; +but mourned that the people themselves stood not firmer. A victory, +turned to no wise and enduring account, said they, is no victory at +all. Some victories revert to the vanquished. + +But day by day great crowds ran down to the beach, in wait for canoes +periodically bringing further intelligence. + +Every hour new cries startled the air. "Hurrah! another, kingdom is +burnt down to the earth's edge; another demigod is unhelmed; another +republic is dawning. Shake hands, freemen, shake hands! Soon will we +hear of Dominora down in the dust; of hapless Verdanna free as +ourselves; all Porpheero's volcanoes are bursting! Who may withstand +the people? The times tell terrible tales to tyrants! Ere we die, +freemen, all Mardi will be free." + +Overhearing these shouts, Babbalanja thus addressed Media:--"My lord, +I can not but believe, that these men, are far more excited than those +with whom they so ardently sympathize. But no wonder. The single +discharges which are heard in Porpheero; here come condensed in one +tremendous report. Every arrival is a firing off of events by platoons." + +Now, during this tumultuous interval, King Media very prudently kept +himself exceedingly quiet. He doffed his regalia; and in all things +carried himself with a dignified discretion. And many hours he +absented himself; none knowing whither he went, or what his employment. + +So also with Babbalanja. But still pursuing our search, at last we all +journeyed into a great valley, whose inhabitants were more than +commonly inflated with the ardor of the times. + +Rambling on, we espied a clamorous crowd gathered about a conspicuous +palm, against which, a scroll was fixed. + +The people were violently agitated; storming out maledictions against +the insolent knave, who, over night must have fixed there, that +scandalous document. But whoever he may have been, certain it was, he +had contrived to hood himself effectually. + +After much vehement discussion, during which sundry inflammatory +harangues were made from the stumps of trees near by, it was +proposed, that the scroll should be read aloud, so that all might give +ear. + +Seizing it, a fiery youth mounted upon the bowed shoulders of +an old man, his sire; and with a shrill voice, ever and anon +interrupted by outcries, read as follows:-- + +"Sovereign-kings of Vivenza! it is fit you should hearken to wisdom. +But well aware, that you give ear to little wisdom except of your own; +and that as freemen, you are free to hunt down him who dissents from +your majesties; I deem it proper to address you anonymously. + +"And if it please you, you may ascribe this voice to the gods: for +never will you trace it to man. + +"It is not unknown, sovereign-kings! that in these boisterous days, +the lessons of history are almost discarded, as superseded by present +experiences. And that while all Mardi's Present has grown out of its +Past, it is becoming obsolete to refer to what has been. Yet, +peradventure, the Past is an apostle. + +"The grand error of this age, sovereign-kings! is the general +supposition, that the very special Diabolus is abroad; whereas, the +very special Diabolus has been abroad ever since Mardi began. + +"And the grand error of your nation, sovereign-kings! seems this:--The +conceit that Mardi is now in the last scene of the last act of her +drama; and that all preceding events were ordained, to bring about the +catastrophe you believe to be at hand,--a universal and permanent +Republic. + +"May it please you, those who hold to these things are fools, and not +wise. + +"Time is made up of various ages; and each thinks its own a novelty. +But imbedded in the walls of the pyramids, which outrun all +chronologies, sculptured stones are found, belonging to yet older +fabrics. And as in the mound-building period of yore, so every age +thinks its erections will forever endure. But as your forests grow +apace, sovereign-kings! overrunning the tumuli in your western vales; +so, while deriving their substance from the past, succeeding +generations overgrow it; but in time, themselves decay. + +"Oro decrees these vicissitudes. + +"In chronicles of old, you read, sovereign kings! that an eagle from +the clouds presaged royalty to the fugitive Taquinoo; and a king, +Taquinoo reigned; No end to my dynasty, thought he. + +"But another omen descended, foreshadowing the fall of Zooperbi, his +son; and Zooperbi returning from his camp, found his country a +fortress against him. No more kings would she have. And for five +hundred twelve-moons the Regifugium or King's-flight, was annually +celebrated like your own jubilee day. And rampant young orators +stormed out detestation of kings; and augurs swore that their birds +presaged immortality to freedom. + +"Then, Romara's free eagles flew over all Mardi, and perched on the +topmost diadems of the east. + +"Ever thus must it be. + +"For, mostly, monarchs are as gemmed bridles upon the world, checking +the plungings of a steed from the Pampas. And republics are as vast +reservoirs, draining down all streams to one level; and so, breeding a +fullness which can not remain full, without overflowing. And thus, +Romara flooded all Mardi, till scarce an Ararat was left of the lofty +kingdoms which had been. + +"Thus, also, did Franko, fifty twelve-moons ago. Thus may she do +again. And though not yet, have you, sovereign-kings! in any large +degree done likewise, it is because you overflow your redundancies +within your own mighty borders; having a wild western waste, which +many shepherds with their flocks could not overrun in a day. Yet +overrun at last it will be; and then, the recoil must come. + +"And, may it please you, that thus far your chronicles had narrated a +very different story, had your population been pressed and packed, +like that of your old sire-land Dominora. Then, your great experiment +might have proved an explosion; like the chemist's who, stirring his +mixture, was blown by it into the air. + +"For though crossed, and recrossed by many brave quarterings, and +boasting the great Bull in your pedigree; yet, sovereign-kings! you +are not meditative philosophers like the people of a small republic of +old; nor enduring stoics, like their neighbors. Pent up, like them, +may it please you, your thirteen original tribes had proved more +turbulent, than so many mutinous legions. Free horses need wide +prairies; and fortunate for you, sovereign-kings! that you have room +enough, wherein to be free. + +"And, may it please you, you are free, partly, because you are young. +Your nation is like a fine, florid youth, full of fiery impulses, and +hard to restrain; his strong hand nobly championing his heart. On all +sides, freely he gives, and still seeks to acquire. The breath of his +nostrils is like smoke in spring air; every tendon is electric with +generous resolves. The oppressor he defies to his beard; the high +walls of old opinions he scales with a bound. In the future he sees +all the domes of the East. + +"But years elapse, and this bold boy is transformed. His eyes open not +as of yore; his heart is shut up as a vice. He yields not a groat; and +seeking no more acquisitions, is only bent on preserving his hoard. +The maxims once trampled under foot, are now printed on his front; and +he who hated oppressors, is become an oppressor himself. + +"Thus, often, with men; thus, often, with nations. Then marvel not, +sovereign-kings! that old states are different from yours; and think +not, your own must forever remain liberal as now. + +"Each age thinks its own is eternal. But though for five hundred +twelve-moons, all Romara, by courtesy of history, was republican; yet, +at last, her terrible king-tigers came, and spotted themselves with +gore. + +"And time was, when Dominora was republican, down to her sturdy back- +bone. The son of an absolute monarch became the man Karolus; and his +crown and head, both rolled in the dust. And Dominora had her patriots +by thousands; and lusty Defenses, and glorious Areopagiticas +were written, not since surpassed; and no turban was doffed save in +homage of Oro. + +"Yet, may it please you, to the sound of pipe and tabor, the second +King Karolus returned in good time; and was hailed gracious majesty by +high and low. + +"Throughout all eternity, the parts of the past are but parts of the +future reversed. In the old foot-prints, up and down, you mortals go, +eternally traveling your Sierras. And not more infallible the +ponderings of the Calculating Machine than the deductions from the +decimals of history. + +"In nations, sovereign-kings! there is a transmigration of souls; in +you, is a marvelous destiny. The eagle of Romara revives in your own +mountain bird, and once more is plumed for her flight. Her screams are +answered by the vauntful cries of a hawk; his red comb yet reeking +with slaughter. And one East, one West, those bold birds may fly, till +they lock pinions in the midmost beyond. + +"But, soaring in the sky over the nations that shall gather their +broods under their wings, that bloody hawk may hereafter be taken for +the eagle. + +"And though crimson republics may rise in constellations, like fiery +Aldebarans, speeding to their culminations; yet, down must they sink +at last, and leave the old sultan-sun in the sky; in time, again to be +deposed. + +"For little longer, may it please you, can republics subsist now, than +in days gone by. For, assuming that Mardi is wiser than of old; +nevertheless, though all men approached sages in intelligence, some +would yet be more wise than others; and so, the old degrees be +preserved. And no exemption would an equality of knowledge furnish, +from the inbred servility of mortal to mortal; from all the organic +causes, which inevitably divide mankind into brigades and battalions, +with captains at their head. + +"Civilization has not ever been the brother of equality. Freedom was +born among the wild eyries in the mountains; and barbarous +tribes have sheltered under her wings, when the enlightened people of +the plain have nestled under different pinions. + +"Though, thus far, for you, sovereign-kings! your republic has been +fruitful of blessings; yet, in themselves, monarchies are not utterly +evil. For many nations, they are better than republics; for many, they +will ever so remain. And better, on all hands, that peace should rule +with a scepter, than than the tribunes of the people should brandish +their broadswords. Better be the subject of a king, upright and just; +than a freeman in Franko, with the executioner's ax at every corner. + +"It is not the prime end, and chief blessing, to be politically free. +And freedom is only good as a means; is no end in itself Nor, did man +fight it out against his masters to the haft, not then, would he +uncollar his neck from the yoke. A born thrall to the last, yelping +out his liberty, he still remains a slave unto Oro; and well is it for +the universe, that Oro's scepter is absolute. + +"World-old the saying, that it is easier to govern others, than +oneself. And that all men should govern themselves as nations, needs +that all men be better, and wiser, than the wisest of one-man rulers. +But in no stable democracy do all men govern themselves. Though an +army be all volunteers, martial law must prevail. Delegate your power, +you leagued mortals must. The hazard you must stand. And though unlike +King Bello of Dominora, your great chieftain, sovereign-kings! may not +declare war of himself; nevertheless, has he done a still more +imperial thing:--gone to war without declaring intentions. You +yourselves were precipitated upon a neighboring nation, ere you knew +your spears were in your hands. + +"But, as in stars you have written it on the welkin, sovereign-kings! +you are a great and glorious people. And verily, yours is the best and +happiest land under the sun. But not wholly, because you, in your +wisdom, decreed it: your origin and geography necessitated it. +Nor, in their germ, are all your blessings to be ascribed to the noble +sires, who of yore fought in your behalf, sovereign-kings! Your nation +enjoyed no little independence before your Declaration declared it. +Your ancient pilgrims fathered your liberty; and your wild woods +harbored the nursling. For the state that to-day is made up of slaves, +can not to-morrow transmute her bond into free; though lawlessness may +transform them into brutes. Freedom is the name for a thing that is +_not_ freedom; this, a lesson never learned in an hour or an age. By +some tribes it will never be learned. + +"Yet, if it please you, there may be such a thing as being free under +Caesar. Ages ago, there were as many vital freemen, as breathe vital +air to-day. + +"Names make not distinctions; some despots rule without swaying +scepters. Though King Bello's palace was not put together by yoked +men; your federal temple of freedom, sovereign-kings! was the +handiwork of slaves. + +"It is not gildings, and gold maces, and crown jewels alone, that make +a people servile. There is much bowing and cringing among you +yourselves, sovereign-kings! Poverty is abased before riches, all +Mardi over; any where, it is hard to be a debtor; any where, the wise +will lord it over fools; every where, suffering is found. + +"Thus, freedom is more social than political. And its real felicity is +not to be shared. _That_ is of a man's own individual getting and +holding. It is not, who rules the state, but who rules me. Better be +secure under one king, than exposed to violence from twenty millions +of monarchs, though oneself be of the number. + +"But superstitious notions you harbor, sovereign kings! Did you visit +Dominora, you would not be marched straight into a dungeon. And though +you would behold sundry sights displeasing, you would start to inhale +such liberal breezes; and hear crowds boasting of their privileges; as +you, of yours. Nor has the wine of Dominora, a monarchical flavor. + +"Now, though far and wide, to keep equal pace with the times, great +reforms, of a verity, be needed; nowhere are bloody revolutions +required. Though it be the most certain of remedies, no prudent +invalid opens his veins, to let out his disease with his life. And +though all evils may be assuaged; all evils can not be done away. For +evil is the chronic malady of the universe; and checked in one place, +breaks forth in another. + +"Of late, on this head, some wild dreams have departed. + +"There are many, who erewhile believed that the age of pikes and +javelins was passed; that after a heady and blustering youth, old +Mardi was at last settling down into a serene old age; and that the +Indian summer, first discovered in your land, sovereign kings! was the +hazy vapor emitted from its tranquil pipe. But it has not so proved. +Mardi's peaces are but truces. Long absent, at last the red comets +have returned. And return they must, though their periods be ages. And +should Mardi endure till mountain melt into mountain, and all the isles +form one table-land; yet, would it but expand the old battle-plain. + +"Students of history are horror-struck at the massacres of old; but in +the shambles, men are being murdered to-day. Could time be reversed, +and the future change places with the past, the past would cry out +against us, and our future, full as loudly, as we against the ages +foregone. All the Ages are his children, calling each other names. + +"Hark ye, sovereign-kings! cheer not on the yelping pack too +furiously: Hunters have been torn by their hounds. Be advised; wash +your hands. Hold aloof. Oro has poured out an ocean for an everlasting +barrier between you and the worst folly which other republics have +perpetrated. That barrier hold sacred. And swear never to cross over +to Porpheero, by manifesto or army, unless you traverse dry land. + +"And be not too grasping, nearer home. It is not freedom to filch. +Expand not your area too widely, now. Seek you proselytes? +Neighboring nations may be free, without coming under your banner. And +if you can not lay your ambition, know this: that it is best served, +by waiting events. + +"Time, but Time only, may enable you to cross the equator; and give +you the Arctic Circles for your boundaries." + + +So read the anonymous scroll; which straightway, was torn into shreds. + +"Old tory, and monarchist!" they shouted, "Preaching over his +benighted sermons in these enlightened times! Fool! does he not know +that all the Past and its graves are being dug over?" + +They were furious; so wildly rolling their eyes after victims, that +well was it for King Media, he wore not his crown; and in silence, we +moved unnoted from out the crowd. + +"My lord, I am amazed at the indiscretion of a demigod," said +Babbalanja, as we passed on our way; "I recognized your sultanic style +the very first sentence. This, then, is the result of your hours of +seclusion." + +"Philosopher! I am astounded at your effrontery. I detected your +philosophy the very first maxim. Who posted that parchment for you?" + +So, each charged the other with its authorship: and there was no +finding out, whether, indeed, either knew aught of its origin. + +Now, could it have been Babbalanja? Hardly. For, philosophic as the +document was, it seemed too dogmatic and conservative for him. King +Media? But though imperially absolute in his political sentiments, +Media delivered not himself so boldly, when actually beholding the +eruption in Franko. + +Indeed, the settlement of this question must be left to the +commentators on Mardi, some four or five hundred centuries hence. + + + +CHAPTER LVIII +They Visit The Extreme South Of Vivenza + + +We penetrated further and further into the valleys around; but, +though, as elsewhere, at times we heard whisperings that promised an +end to our wanderings;--we still wandered on; and once again, even +Yoomy abated his sanguine hopes. + +And now, we prepared to embark for the extreme south of the land. + +But we were warned by the people, that in that portion of Vivenza, +whither we were going, much would be seen repulsive to strangers. Such +things, however, indulgent visitors overlooked. For themselves, they +were well aware of those evils. Northern Vivenza had done all it could +to assuage them; but in vain; the inhabitants of those southern +valleys were a fiery, and intractable race; heeding neither +expostulations, nor entreaties. They were wedded to their ways. Nay, +they swore, that if the northern tribes persisted in intermeddlings, +they would dissolve the common alliance, and establish a distinct +confederacy among themselves. + +Our coasting voyage at an end, our keels grated the beach among many +prostrate palms, decaying, and washed by the billows. Though part and +parcel of the shore we had left, this region seemed another land. +Fewer thriving thingswere seen; fewer cheerful sounds were heard. + +"Here labor has lost his laugh!" cried Yoomy. + +It was a great plain where we landed; and there, under a burning sun, +hundreds of collared men were toiling in trenches, filled with +the taro plant; a root most flourishing in that soil. Standing grimly +over these, were men unlike them; armed with long thongs, which +descended upon the toilers, and made wounds. Blood and sweat mixed; +and in great drops, fell. + +"Who eat these plants thus nourished?" cried Yoomy. "Are these men?" +asked Babbalanja. + +"Which mean you?" said Mohi. + +Heeding him not, Babbalanja advanced toward the fore-most of those +with the thongs,--one Nulli: a cadaverous, ghost-like man; with a low +ridge of forehead; hair, steel-gray; and wondrous eyes;--bright, +nimble, as the twin Corposant balls, playing about the ends of ships' +royal-yards in gales. + +The sun passed under a cloud; and Nulli, darting at Babbalanja those +wondrous eyes, there fell upon him a baleful glare. + +"Have they souls?" he asked, pointing to the serfs. + +"No," said Nulli, "their ancestors may have had; but their souls have +been bred out of their descendants; as the instinct of scent is killed +in pointers." + +Approaching one of the serfs, Media took him by the hand, and felt of +it long; and looked into his eyes; and placed his ear to his side; and +exclaimed, "Surely this being has flesh that is warm; he has Oro in +his eye; and a heart in him that beats. I swear he is a man." + +"Is this our lord the king?" cried Mohi, starting. + +"What art thou," said Babbalanja to the serf. "Dost ever feel in thee +a sense of right and wrong? Art ever glad or sad?--They tell us thou +art not a man:--speak, then, for thyself; say, whether thou beliest +thy Maker." + +"Speak not of my Maker to me. Under the lash, I believe my masters, +and account myself a brute; but in my dreams, bethink myself an angel. +But I am bond; and my little ones;--their mother's milk is gall." + +"Just Oro!" cried Yoomy, "do no thunders roll,--no lightnings flash in +this accursed land!" + +"Asylum for all Mardi's thralls!" cried Media. + +"Incendiaries!" cried he with the wondrous eyes, "come ye, firebrands, +to light the flame of revolt? Know ye not, that here are many serfs, +who, incited to obtain their liberty, might wreak some dreadful +vengeance? Avaunt, thou king! _thou_ horrified at this? Go back to +Odo, and right her wrongs! These serfs are happier than thine; though +thine, no collars wear; more happy as they are, than if free. Are they +not fed, clothed, and cared for? Thy serfs pine for food: never yet +did these; who have no thoughts, no cares." + +"Thoughts and cares are life, and liberty, and immortality!" cried +Babbalanja; "and are their souls, then, blown out as candles?" + +"Ranter! they are content," cried Nulli. "They shed no tears." + +"Frost never weeps," said Babbalanja; "and tears are frozen in those +frigid eyes." + +"Oh fettered sons of fettered mothers, conceived and born in +manacles," cried Yoomy; "dragging them through life; and falling with +them, clanking in the grave:--oh, beings as ourselves, how my stiff +arm shivers to avenge you! 'Twere absolution for the matricide, to +strike one rivet from your chains. My heart outswells its home!" + +"Oro! Art thou?" cried Babbalanja; "and doth this thing exist? It +shakes my little faith." Then, turning upon Nulli, "How can ye abide to +sway this curs'd dominion?" + +"Peace, fanatic! Who else may till unwholesome fields, but these? And +as these beings are, so shall they remain; 'tis right and righteous! +Maramma champions it!--I swear it! The first blow struck for them, +dissolves the union of Vivenza's vales. The northern tribes well know +it; and know me." + +Said Media, "Yet if--" + +"No more! another word, and, king as thou art, thou shalt be +dungeoned:--here, there is such a law; thou art not among the northern +tribes." + +"And this is freedom!" murmured Media; "when heaven's own voice is +throttled. And were these serfs to rise, and fight for it; like dogs, +they would be hunted down by her pretended sons!" + +"Pray, heaven!" cried Yoomy, "they may yet find a way to loose their +bonds without one drop of blood. But hear me, Oro! were there no other +way, and should their masters not relent, all honest hearts must cheer +this tribe of Hamo on; though they cut their chains with blades thrice +edged, and gory to the haft! 'Tis right to fight for freedom, whoever +be the thrall." + +"These South savannahs may yet prove battle-fields," said Mohi; +gloomily, as we retraced our steps. + +"Be it," said Yoomy. "Oro will van the right." + +"Not always has it proved so," said Babbalanja. "Oft-times, the right +fights single-handed against the world; and Oro champions none. In all +things, man's own battles, man himself must fight. Yoomy: so far as +feeling goes, your sympathies are not more hot than mine; but for +these serfs you would cross spears; yet, I would not. Better present +woes for some, than future woes for all." + +"No need to fight," cried Yoomy, "to liberate that tribe of Hamo +instantly; a way may be found, and no irretrievable evil ensue." + +"Point it out, and be blessed, Yoomy." + +"That is for Vivenza; but the head is dull, where the heart is cold." + +"My lord," said Babbalanja, "you have startled us by your kingly +sympathy for suffering; say thou, then, in what wise manner it shall +be relieved." + +"That is for Vivenza," said Media. + +"Mohi, you are old: speak thou." + +"Let Vivenza speak," said Mohi. + +"Thus then we all agree; and weeping all but echo hard-hearted +Nulli. Tears are not swords and wrongs seem almost natural as rights. +For the righteous to suppress an evil, is sometimes harder than for +others to uphold it. Humanity cries out against this vast enormity:-- +not one man knows a prudent remedy. Blame not, then, the North; and +wisely judge the South. Ere, as a nation, they became responsible, +this thing was planted in their midst. Such roots strike deep. Place +to-day those serfs in Dominora; and with them, all Vivenza's Past;-- +and serfs, for many years, in Dominora, they would be. Easy is it to +stand afar and rail. All men are censors who have lungs. We can say, +the stars are wrongly marshaled. Blind men say the sun is blind. A +thousand muscles wag our tongues; though our tongues were housed, that +they might have a home. Whose is free from crime, let him cross +himself--but hold his cross upon his lips. That he is not bad, is not +of him. Potters' clay and wax are all, molded by hands invisible. The +soil decides the man. And, ere birth, man wills not to be born here or +there. These southern tribes have grown up with this thing; bond-women +were their nurses, and bondmen serve them still. Nor are all their +serfs such wretches as those we saw. Some seem happy: yet not as men. +Unmanned, they know not what they are. And though, of all the south, +Nulli must stand almost alone in his insensate creed; yet, to all +wrong-doers, custom backs the sense of wrong. And if to every Mardian, +conscience be the awarder of its own doom; then, of these tribes, many +shall be found exempted from the least penalty of this sin. But sin it +is, no less;--a blot, foul as the crater-pool of hell; it puts out the +sun at noon; it parches all fertility; and, conscience or no +conscience--ere he die--let every master who wrenches bond-babe from +mother, that the nipple tear; unwreathes the arms of sisters; or cuts +the holy unity in twain; till apart fall man and wife, like one +bleeding body cleft:--let that master thrice shrive his soul; take +every sacrament; on his bended knees give up the ghost;--yet +shall he die despairing; and live again, to die forever damned. The +future is all hieroglyphics. Who may read? But, methinks the great +laggard Time must now march up apace, and somehow befriend these +thralls. It can not be, that misery is perpetually entailed; though, +in a land proscribing primogeniture, the first-born and last of Hamo's +tribe must still succeed to all their sires' wrongs. Yes. Time--all- +healing Time--Time, great Philanthropist!--Time must befriend these +thralls!" + +"Oro grant it!" cried Yoomy "and let Mardi say, amen!" + +"Amen! amen! amen!" cried echoes echoing echoes. + +We traversed many of these southern vales; but as in Dominora,--so, +throughout Vivenza, North and South,--Yillah harbored not. + + + +CHAPTER LIX +They Converse Of The Mollusca, Kings, Toad-Stools And Other Matters + + +Once more embarking, we gained Vivenza's southwestern side and there, +beheld vast swarms of laborers discharging from canoes, great loads of +earth; which they tossed upon the beach. + +"It is true, then," said Media "that these freemen are engaged in +digging down other lands, and adding them to their own, piece-meal. +And this, they call extending their dominions agriculturally, and +peaceably." + +"My lord, they pay a price for every canoe-load," said Mohi. + +"Ay, old man, holding the spear in one hand, and striking the bargain +with the other." + +"Yet charge it not upon all Vivenza," said Babbalanja. "Some of her +tribes are hostile to these things: and when their countryman fight +for land, are only warlike in opposing war." + +"And therein, Babbalanja, is involved one of those anomalies in the +condition of Vivenza," said Media, "which I can hardly comprehend. How +comes it, that with so Many things to divide them, the valley-tribes +still keep their mystic league intact?" + +"All plain, it is because the model, whence they derive their union, +is one of nature's planning. My lord, have you ever observed the +mysterious federation subsisting among the molluscs of the Tunicata +order,--in other words, a species of cuttle-fish, abounding at the +bottom of the lagoon?" + +"Yes: in clear weather about the reefs, I have beheld them time and +again: but never with an eye to their political condition." + +"Ah! my lord king, we should not cut off the nervous communication +between our eyes, and our cerebellums." + +"What were you about to say concerning the Tunicata order of mollusca, +sir philosopher?" + +"My very honorable lord, I hurry to conclude. They live in a compound +structure; but though connected by membranous canals, freely +communicating throughout the league--each member has a heart and +stomach of its own; provides and digests its own dinners; and grins +and bears its own gripes, without imparting the same to its neighbors. +But if a prowling shark touches one member, it ruffles all. Precisely +thus now with Vivenza. In that confederacy, there are as many +consciences as tribes; hence, if one member on its own behalf, assumes +aught afterwards repudiated, the sin rests on itself alone; is not +participated." + +"A very subtle explanation, Babbalanja. You must allude, then, to +those recreant tribes; which, while in their own eyes presenting a +sublime moral spectacle to Mardi,--in King Bello's, do but present a +hopeless example of bad debts. And these, the tribes that boast of +boundless wealth." + +"Most true, my lord. But Bello errs, when for this thing, he +stigmatizes all Vivenza, as a unity." + +"Babbalanja, you yourself are made up of members:--then, if you be +sick of a lumbago,--'tis not _you_ that are unwell; but your spine." + +"As you will, my lord. I have said. But to speak no more on that head +--what sort of a sensation, think you, life is to such creatures as +those mollusca?" + +"Answer your own question, Babbalanja." + +"I will; but first tell me what sort of a sensation life is to you, +yourself, my lord." + +"Pray answer that along with the other, Azzageddi." + +"Directly; but tell me, if you will, my lord, what sort of a sensation +life is to a toad-stool." + +"Pray, Babbalanja put all three questions together; and then, do what +you have often done before, pronounce yourself a lunatic." + +"My lord, I beseech you, remind me not of that fact so often. It is +true, but annoying. Nor will any wise man call another a fool." + +"Do you take me for a mere man, then, Babbalanja, that you talk to me +thus?" + +"My demi-divine lord and master, I was deeply concerned at your +indisposition last night:--may a loving subject inquire, whether his +prince is completely recovered from the effect of those guavas?" + +"Have a care, Azzageddi; you are far too courteous, to be civil. But +proceed." + +"I obey. In kings, mollusca, and toad-stools, life is one thing and +the same. The Philosopher Dumdi pronounces it a certain febral +vibration of organic parts, operating upon the vis inertia of +unorganized matter. But Bardianna says nay. Hear him. 'Who put +together this marvelous mechanism of mine; and wound it up, to go for +three score years and ten; when it runs out, and strikes Time's hours +no more? And what is it, that daily and hourly renews, and by a +miracle, creates in me my flesh and my blood? What keeps up the +perpetual telegraphic communication between my outpost toes and +digits, and that domed grandee up aloft, my brain?--It is not I; nor +you; nor he; nor it. No; when I place my hand to that king muscle my +heart, I am appalled. I feel the great God himself at work in me. Oro +is life.'" + +"And what is death?" demanded Media. + +"Death, my lord!--it is the deadest of all things." + + + +CHAPTER LX +Wherein, That Gallant Gentleman And Demi-God, King Media, Scepter In +Hand, Throws Himself Into The Breach + + +Sailing south from Vivenza, not far from its coast, we passed a +cluster of islets, green as new fledged grass; and like the mouths of +floating cornucopias, their margins brimmed over upon the brine with +flowers. On some, grew stately roses; on others stood twin-pillars; +across others, tri-hued rainbows rested. + +Cried Babbalanja, pointing to the last, "Franko's pledge of peace! +with that, she loudly vaunts she'll span the reef!--Strike out all +hues but red,--and the token's nearer truth." + +All these isles were prolific gardens; where King Bello, and the +Princes of Porpheero grew their most delicious fruits,--nectarines and +grapes. + +But, though hard by, Vivenza owned no garden here; yet longed and +lusted; and her hottest tribes oft roundly swore, to root up all roses +the half-reef over; pull down all pillars; and dissolve all rainbows. +"Mardi's half is ours;" said they. Stand back invaders! Full of +vanity; and mirroring themselves in the future; they deemed all +reflected there, their own. + +'Twas now high noon. + +"Methinks the sun grows hot," said Media, retreating deeper under the +canopy. "Ho! Vee-Vee; have you no cooling beverage? none of that +golden wine distilled from torrid grapes, and then sent northward to +be cellared in an iceberg? That wine was placed among our +stores. Search, search the crypt, little Vee-Vee! Ha, I see it!--that +yellow gourd!--Come: drag it forth, my boy. Let's have the amber cups: +so: pass them round;--fill all! Taji! my demi-god, up heart! Old Mohi, +my babe, may you live ten thousand centuries! Ah! this way you mortals +have of dying out at three score years and ten, is but a craven habit. +So, Babbalanja! may you never die. Yoomy! my sweet poet, may you live +to sing to me in Paradise. Ha, ha! would that we floated in this +glorious stuff, instead of this pestilent brine.--Hark ye! were I to +make a Mardi now, I'd have every continent a huge haunch of venison; +every ocean a wine-vat! I'd stock every cavern with choice old +spirits, and make three surplus suns to ripen the grapes all the year +round. Let's drink to that!--Brimmers! So: may the next Mardi that's +made, be one entire grape; and mine the squeezing!" + +"Look, look! my lord," cried Yoomy, "what a glorious shore we pass." + +Sallying out into the high golden noon, with golden-beaming goblets +suspended, we gazed. + +"This must be Kolumbo of the south," said Mohi. + +It was a long, hazy reach of land; piled up in terraces, traced here +and there with rushing streams, that worked up gold dust alluvian, and +seemed to flash over pebbled diamonds. Heliotropes, sun-flowers, +marigolds gemmed, or starred the violet meads, and vassal-like, still +sunward bowed their heads. The rocks were pierced with grottoes, +blazing with crystals, many-tinted. + +It was a land of mints and mines; its east a ruby; west a topaz. +Inland, the woodlands stretched an ocean, bottomless with foliage; its +green surges bursting through cable-vines; like Xerxes' brittle chains +which vainly sought to bind the Hellespont. Hence flowed a tide of +forest sounds; of parrots, paroquets, macaws; blent with the howl of +jaguars, hissing of anacondas, chattering of apes, and herons +screaming. + +Out from those depths up rose a stream. + +The land lay basking in the world's round torrid brisket, hot with +solar fire. + +"No need here to land," cried Yoomy, "Yillah lurks not here." + +"Heat breeds life, and sloth, and rage," said Babbalanja. "Here live +bastard tribes and mongrel nations; wrangling and murdering to prove +their freedom.--Refill, my lord." + +"Methinks, Babbalanja, you savor of the mysterious parchment, in +Vivenza read:--Ha? Yes, philosopher, these are the men, who toppled +castles to make way for hovels; these, they who fought for freedom, +but find it despotism to rule themselves. These, Babbalanja, are of +the race, to whom a tyrant would prove a blessing." So saying he +drained his cup. + +"My lord, that last sentiment decides the authorship of the scroll. +But, with deference, tyrants seldom can prove blessings; inasmuch as +evil seldom eventuates in good. Yet will these people soon have a +tyrant over them, if long they cleave to war. Of many javelins, one +must prove a scepter; of many helmets, one a crown. It is but in the +wearing.--Refill, my lord." + +"Fools, fools!" cried Media, "these tribes hate us kings; yet know +not, that Peace is War against all kings. We seldom are undone by +spears, which are our ministers.--This wine is strong." + +"Ha, now's the time! In his cups learn king-craft from a king. Ay, ay, +my lord, your royal order will endure, so long as men will fight. +Break the spears, and free the nations. Kings reap the harvests that +wave on battle-fields. And oft you kings do snatch the aloe-flower, +whose slow blossoming mankind watches for a hundred years.--Say on, my +lord." + +"All this I know; and, therefore, rest content. My children's children +will be kings; though, haply, called by other titles. Mardi grows +fastidious in names: we royalties will humor it. The steers +would burst their yokes, but have not hands. The whole herd rears and +plunges, but soon will bow again: the old, old way!" + +"Yet, in Porpheero, strong scepters have been wrested from anointed +hands. Mankind seems in arms." + +"Let them arm on. They hate us:--good;--they always have; yet still +we've reigned, son after sire. Sometimes they slay us, Babbalanja; +pour out our marrow, as I this wine; but they spill no kinless blood. +'Twas justly held of old, that but to touch a monarch, was to strike +at Oro.--Truth. The palest vengeance is a royal ghost; and regicides +but father slaves. Thrones, not scepters, have been broken. Mohi, what +of the past? Has it not ever proved so?" + +"Pardon, my lord; the times seem changed. 'Tis held, that demi-gods no +more rule by right divine. In Vivenza's land, they swear the last +kings now reign in Mardi." + +"Is the last day at hand, old man? Mohi, your beard is gray; but, +Yoomy, listen. When you die, look around; mark then if any mighty +change be seen. Old kingdoms may be on the wane; but new dynasties +advance. Though revolutions rise to high spring-tide, monarchs will +still drown hard;--monarchs survived the flood!" + +"Are all our dreams, then, vain?" sighed Yoomy. "Is this no dawn of +day that streaks the crimson East! Naught but the false and flickering +lights which sometimes mock Aurora in the north! Ah, man, my brother! +have all martyrs for thee bled in vain; in vain we poets sang, and +prophets spoken? Nay, nay; great Mardi, helmed and mailed, strikes at +Oppression's shield, and challenges to battle! Oro will defend the +right, and royal crests must roll." + +"Thus, Yoomy, ages since, you mortal poets sang; but the world may not +be moved from out the orbit in which first it rolled. On the map that +charts the spheres, Mardi is marked 'the world of kings.' Round +centuries on centuries have wheeled by:--has all this been its +nonage? Now, when the rocks grow gray, does man first sprout his +beard? Or, is your golden time, your equinoctial year, at hand, that +your race fast presses toward perfection; and every hand grasps at a +scepter, that kings may be no more?" + +"But free Vivenza! Is she not the star, that must, ere long, lead up +the constellations, though now unrisen? No kings are in Vivenza; yet, +spite her thralls, in that land seems more of good than elsewhere. Our +hopes are not wild dreams: Vivenza cheers our hearts. She is a rainbow +to the isles!" + +"Ay, truth it is, that in Vivenza they have prospered. But thence it +comes not, that all men may be as they. Are all men of one heart and +brain; one bone and sinew? Are all nations sprung of Dominora's loins? +Or, has Vivenza yet proved her creed? Yoomy! the years that prove a +man, prove not a nation. But two kings'-reigns have passed since +Vivenza was a monarch's. Her climacteric is not come; hers is not yet +a nation's manhood even; though now in childhood, she anticipates her +youth, and lusts for empire like any czar. Yoomy! judge not yet. Time +hath tales to tell. Many books, and many long, long chapters, are +wanting to Vivenza's history; and whet history but is full of blood?" + +"There stop, my lord," said Babbalanja, "nor aught predict. Fate +laughs at prophets; and of all birds, the raven is a liar!" + + + +CHAPTER LXI +They Round The Stormy Cape Of Capes + + +Long leagues, for weary days, we voyaged along that coast, till we +came to regions where we multiplied our mantles. + +The sky grew overcast. Each a night, black storm-clouds swept the +wintry sea; and like Sahara caravans, which leave their sandy wakes-- +so, thick and fleet, slanted the scud behind. Through all this rack +and mist, ten thousand foam-flaked dromedary-humps uprose. + +Deep among those panting, moaning fugitives, the three canoes raced on. + +And now, the air grew nipping cold. The clouds shed off their fleeces; +a snow-hillock, each canoe; our beards, white-frosted. + +And so, as seated in our shrouds, we sailed in among great mountain +passes of ice-isles; from icy ledges scaring shivering seals, and +white bears, musical with icicles, jingling from their shaggy ermine. + +Far and near, in towering ridges, stretched the glassy Andes; with +their own frost, shuddering through all their domes and pinnacles. +Ice-splinters rattled down the cliffs, and seethed into the sea. + +Broad away, in amphitheaters undermined by currents, whole cities of +ice-towers, in crashes, toward one center, fell.--In their +earthquakes, Lisbon and Lima never saw the like. Churned and broken in +the boiling tide, they swept off amain;--over and over rolling; like +porpoises to vessels tranced in calms, bringing down the gale. + +At last, rounding an antlered headland, that seemed a moose at +bay--ere long, we launched upon blue lake-like waters, serene as +Windermere, or Horicon. Thus, from the boisterous storms of youth, we +glide upon senility. + +But as we northward voyaged, another aspect wore the sea. + +In far-off, endless vistas, colonnades of water-spouts were seen: all +heaven's dome upholding on their shafts: and bright forms gliding up +and down within. So at Luz, in his strange vision, Jacob saw the angels. + +A boundless cave of stalactites, it seemed; the cloud-born vapors +downward spiraling, till they met the whirlpool-column from the sea; +then, uniting, over the waters stalked, like ghosts of gods. Or midway +sundered--down, sullen, sunk the watery half; and far up into heaven, +was drawn the vapory. As, at death, we mortals part in twain; our +earthy half still here abiding; but our spirits flying whence they came. + +In good time, we gained the thither side of great Kolumbo of the South; +and sailing on, long waited for the day; and wondered at the darkness. + +"What steadfast clouds!" cried Yoomy, "yonder! far aloft: that ridge, +with many points; it fades below, but shows a faint white crest." + +"Not clouds, but mountains," said Babbalanja, "the vast spine, that +traverses Kolumbo; spurring off in ribs, that nestle loamy valleys, +veined with silver streams, and silver ores." + +It was a long, embattled line of pinnacles. And high posted in the +East, those thousand bucklered peaks stood forth, and breasted back +the Dawn. Before their purple bastions bold, Aurora long arrayed her +spears, and clashed her golden shells. The summons dies away. But now, +her lancers charge the steep, and gain its crest a-glow;--their +glittering spears and blazoned shields triumphant in the morn. + +But ere that sight, we glided on for hours in twilight; when, on those +mountains' farther side, the hunters must have been abroad, morning- +glories all astir. + + + +CHAPTER LXII +They Encounter Gold-Hunters + + +Now, northward coasting along Kolumbo's Western shore, whence came the +same wild forest-sounds, as from the Eastern; and where we landed not, +to seek among those wrangling tribes;--after many, many days, we spied +prow after prow, before the wind all northward bound: sails wide- +spread, and paddles plying: scaring the fish from before them. + +Their inmates answered not our earnest hail. + +But as they sped, with frantic glee, in one long chorus thus they +sang:-- + + We rovers bold, + To the land of Gold, + Over bowling billows are gliding: + Eager to toil, + For the golden spoil, + And every hardship biding. + See! See! + Before our prows' resistless dashes, + The gold-fish fly in golden flashes! + 'Neath a sun of gold, + We rovers bold, + On the golden land are gaining; + And every night, + We steer aright, + By golden stars unwaning! + All fires burn a golden glare: + No locks so bright as golden hair! + All orange groves have golden gushings: + All mornings dawn with golden flushings! + In a shower of gold, say fables old, + A maiden was won by the god of gold! + In golden goblets wine is beaming: + On golden couches kings are dreaming! + The Golden Rule dries many tears! + The Golden Number rules the spheres! + Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations: + Gold! gold! the center of all rotations! + On golden axles worlds are turning: + With phosphorescence seas are burning! + All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings: + Gold-hunters' hearts with golden dreamings! + With golden arrows kings are slain: + With gold we'll buy a freeman's name! + In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings, + At home we've slaved, with stifled yearnings: + No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe! + When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow. + But joyful now, with eager eye, + Fast to the Promised Land we fly: + Where in deep mines, + The treasure shines; + Or down in beds of golden streams, + The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams! + How we long to sift, + That yellow drift! + Rivers! Rivers! cease your going! + Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide! + 'Till we've gained the golden flowing; + And in the golden haven ride! + +"Quick, quick, my lord," cried Yoomy, "let us follow them; and from +the golden waters where she lies, our Yillah may emerge." + +"No, no," said Babbalanja,--"no Yillah there!--from yonder promised- +land, fewer seekers will return, than go. Under a gilded guise, +happiness is still their instinctive aim. But vain, Yoomy, to snatch +at Happiness. Of that we may not pluck and eat. It is the fruit of our +own toilsome planting; slow it grows, nourished by many teats, and all +our earnest tendings. Yet ere it ripen, frosts may nip;--and then, we +plant again; and yet again. Deep, Yoomy, deep, true treasure lies; +deeper than all Mardi's gold, rooted to Mardi's axis. But unlike gold, +it lurks in every soil,--all Mardi over. With golden pills and +potions is sickness warded off?--the shrunken veins of age, dilated +with new wine of youth? Will gold the heart-ache cure? turn toward us +hearts estranged? will gold, on solid centers empires fix? 'Tis toil +world-wasted to toil in mines. Were all the isles gold globes, set in +a quicksilver sea, all Mardi were then a desert. Gold is the only +poverty; of all glittering ills the direst. And that man might not +impoverish himself thereby, Oro hath hidden it, with all other +banes,--saltpeter and explosives, deep in mountain bowels, and river- +beds. But man still will mine for it; and mining, dig his doom.-- +Yoomy, Yoomy!--she we seek, lurks not in the Golden Hills!" + +"Lo, a vision!" cried Yoomy, his hands wildly passed across his eyes. +"A vast and silent bay, belted by silent villages:--gaunt dogs howling +over grassy thresholds at stark corpses of old age and infancy; gray +hairs mingling with sweet flaxen curls; fields, with turned furrows, +choked with briers; arbor-floors strown over with hatchet-helves, +rotting in the iron; a thousand paths, marked with foot-prints, all +inland leading, none villageward; and strown with traces, as of a +flying host. On: over forest--hill, and dale--and lo! the golden +region! After the glittering spoil, by strange river-margins, and +beneath impending cliffs, thousands delve in quicksands; and, sudden, +sink in graves of their own making: with gold dust mingling their own +ashes. Still deeper, in more solid ground, other thousands slave; and +pile their earth so high, they gasp for air, and die; their comrades +mounting on them, and delving still, and dying--grave pile on grave! +Here, one haggard hunter murders another in his pit; and murdering, +himself is murdered by a third. Shrieks and groans! cries and curses! +It seems a golden Hell! With many camels, a sleek stranger comes-- +pauses before the shining heaps, and shows _his_ treasures: yams and +bread-fruit. 'Give, give,' the famished hunters cry--, 'a thousand +shekels for a yam!--a prince's ransom for a meal!--Oh, +stranger! on our knees we worship thee:--take, take our gold; but let +us live!' Yams are thrown them and they fight. Then he who toiled not, +dug not, slaved not, straight loads his caravans with gold; regains +the beach, and swift embarks for home. 'Home! home!' the hunters cry, +with bursting eyes. 'With this bright gold, could we but join our +waiting wives, who wring their hands on distant shores, all then were +well. But we can not fly; our prows lie rotting on the beach. Ah! +home! thou only happiness!--better thy silver earnings than all these +golden findings. Oh, bitter end to all our hopes--we die in golden +graves." + + + +CHAPTER LXIII +They Seek Through The Isles Of Palms; And Pass The Isles Of Myrrh + + +Now, our prows we turned due west, across the blue lagoon. + +Soon, no land appeared. Far as the eye could sweep, one azure plain; +all over flaked with foamy fleeces:--a boundless flock upon a +boundless mead! + +Again, all changed. Like stars in multitude, bright islets multiplied +around. Emerald-green, they dotted shapes fantastic: circles, arcs, +and crescents;--atolls all, or coral carcanets, begemmed and flashing +in the sun. + +By these we glided, group after group; and through the foliage, spied +sweet forms of maidens, like Eves in Edens ere the Fall, or +Proserpines in Ennas. Artless airs came from the shore; and from the +censer-swinging roses, a bloom, as if from Hebe's cheek. + +"Here, at last, we find sweet Yillah!" murmured Yoomy. "Here must she +lurk in innocence! Quick! Let us land and search." + +"If here," said Babbalanja, "Yillah will not stay our coming, but fly +before us through the groves. Wherever a canoe is beached, see you not +the palm-trees pine? Not so, where never keel yet smote the strand. In +mercy, let us fly from hence. I know not why, but our breath here, +must prove a blight." + +These regions passed, we came to savage islands, where the glittering +coral seemed bones imbedded, bleaching in the sun. Savage men stood +naked on the strand, and brandished uncouth clubs, and gnashed their +teeth like boars. + +The full red moon was rising; and, in long review there passed before +it, phantom shapes of victims, led bound to altars through the groves. +Death-rattles filled the air. But a cloud descended, and all was gloom. + +Again blank water spread before us; and after many days, there came a +gentle breeze, fraught with all spicy breathings; cinnamon aromas; and +in the rose-flushed evening air, like glow worms, glowed the islets, +where this incense burned. + +"Sweet isles of myrh! oh crimson groves," cried Yoomy. "Woe, woe's +your fate! your brightness and your bloom, like musky fire-flies, +double-lure to death! On ye, the nations prey like bears that gorge +themselves with honey." + +Swan-like, our prows sailed in among these isles; and oft we landed; +but in vain; and leaving them, we still pursued the setting sun. + + + +CHAPTER LXIV +Concentric, Inward, With Mardi's Reef, They Leave Their Wake Around +The World + + +West, West! West, West! Whitherward point Hope and prophet-fingers; +whitherward, at sun-set, kneel all worshipers of fire; whitherward in +mid-ocean, the great whales turn to die; whitherward face all the +Moslem dead in Persia; whitherward lie Heaven and Hell!--West, West! +Whitherward mankind and empires--flocks, caravans, armies, navies; +worlds, suns, and stars all wend!--West, West!--Oh boundless boundary! +Eternal goal! Whitherward rush, in thousand worlds, ten thousand +thousand keels! Beacon, by which the universe is steered!--Like the +north-star, attracting all needles! Unattainable forever; but forever +leading to great things this side thyself!--Hive of all sunsets!-- +Gabriel's pinions may not overtake thee! + +Over balmy waves, still westward sailing! From dawn till eve, the +bright, bright days sped on, chased by the gloomy nights; and, in +glory dying, lent their luster to the starry skies. So, long the +radiant dolphins fly before the sable sharks but seized, and torn in +flames--die, burning:--their last splendor left, in sparkling scales +that float along the sea. + +Cymbals, drums and psalteries! the air beats like a pulse with music! +--High land! high land! and moving lights, and painted lanterns!--What +grand shore is this? + +"Reverence we render thee, Old Orienda!" cried Media, with bared brow, +"Original of all empires and emperors!--a crowned king salutes thee!" + +"Mardi's father-land!" cried Mohi, "grandsire of the nations,--hail!" + +"All hail!" cried Yoomy. "Kings and sages hither coming, should come +like palmers,--scrip and staff! Oh Orienda! thou wert our East, where +first dawned song and science, with Mardi's primal mornings! But now, +how changed! the dawn of light become a darkness, which we kindle with +the gleam of spears! On the world's ancestral hearth, we spill our +brothers' blood!" + +"Herein," said Babbalanja, "have many distant tribes proved +parricidal. In times gone by, Luzianna hither sent her prom; Franko, +her scores of captains; and the Dykemen, their peddler hosts, with +yard-stick spears! But thou, oh Bello! lord of the empire lineage! +Noah of the moderns. Sire of the long line of nations yet in germ!-- +thou, Bello, and thy locust armies, are the present curse of Orienda. +Down ancient streams, from holy plains, in rafts thy murdered float! +The pestilence that thins thy armies here, is bred of corpses, made by +thee. Maramma's priests, thy pious heralds, loud proclaim that of all +pagans, Orienda's most resist the truth!--ay! vain all pious voices, +that speak from clouds of war! The march of conquest through wild +provinces, may be the march of Mind; but not the march of Love." + +"Thou, Bello!" cried Yoomy, "would'st wrest the crook from Alma's +hand, and place in it a spear. But vain to make a conqueror of him, +who put off the purple when he came to Mardi; and declining gilded +miters, entered the nations meekly on an ass." + +"Oh curse of commerce!" cried Babbalanja, "that it barters souls for +gold. Bello! with opium, thou wouldst drug this land, and murder it in +sleep!--And what boot thy conquests here? Seed sown by spears but +seldom springs; and harvests reaped thereby, are poisoned by the +sickle's edge." + +Yet on, and on we coasted; counting not the days. + +"Oh, folds and flocks of nations! dusky tribes innumerable!" cried +Yoomy, "camped on plains and steppes; on thousand mountains, +worshiping the stars; in thousand valleys, offering up first-fruits, +till all the forests seem in flames;--where, in fire, the widow's +spirit mounts to meet her lord!--Oh, Orienda, in thee 'tis vain to +seek our Yillah!" + +"How dark as death the night!" said Mohi, shaking the dew from his +braids, "the Heavens blaze not here with stars, as over Dominora's +land, and broad Vivenza." + +One only constellation was beheld; but every star was brilliant as the +one, that promises the morning. That constellation was the Crux- +Australis,--the badge, and type of Alma. + +And now, southwest we steered, till another island vast, was reached; +--Hamora! far trending toward the Antarctic Pole. + +Coasting on by barbarous beaches, where painted men, with spears, +charged on all attempts to land, at length we rounded a mighty bluff, +lit by a beacon; and heard a bugle call:--Bello's! hurrying to their +quarters, the World-End's garrison. + +Here, the sea rolled high, in mountain surges: mid which, we toiled +and strained, as if ascending cliffs of Caucasus. + +But not long thus. As when from howling Rhoetian heights, the traveler +spies green Lombardy below, and downward rushes toward that pleasant +plain; so, sloping from long rolling swells, at last we launched upon +the calm lagoon. + +But as we northward sailed, once more the storm-trump blew, and +charger-like, the seas ran mustering to the call; and in battalions +crouched before a towering rock, far distant from the main. No moon, +eclipsed in Egypt's skies, looked half so lone. But from out that +darkness, on the loftiest peak, Bello's standard waved. + +"Oh rifled tomb!" cried Babbalanja. "Wherein lay the Mars and +Moloch of our times, whose constellated crown, was gemmed with +diadems. Thou god of war! who didst seem the devouring Beast of the +Apocalypse; casting so vast a shadow over Mardi, that yet it lingers +in old Franko's vale; where still they start at thy tremendous ghost; +and, late, have hailed a phantom, King! Almighty hero-spell! that +after the lapse of half a century, can so bewitch all hearts! But one +drop of hero-blood will deify a fool. + +"Franko! thou wouldst be free; yet thy free homage is to the buried +ashes of a King; thy first choice, the exaltation of his race. In +furious fires, thou burn'st Ludwig's throne; and over thy new-made +chieftain's portal, in golden letters print'st--'The Palace of our +Lord!' In thy New Dispensation, thou cleavest to the exploded Law. And +on Freedom's altar--ah, I fear--still, may slay thy hecatombs. But +Freedom turns away; she is sick with burnt blood of offerings. Other +rituals she loves; and like Oro, unseen herself, would be worshiped +only by invisibles. Of long drawn cavalcades, pompous processions, +frenzied banners, mystic music, marching nations, she will none. Oh, +may thy peaceful Future, Franko, sanctify thy bloody Past. Let not +history say; 'To her old gods, she turned again.'" + +This rocky islet passed, the sea went down; once more we neared +Hamora's western shore. In the deep darkness, here and there, its +margin was lit up by foam-white, breaking billows rolled over from +Vivenza's strand, and down from northward Dominora; marking places +where light was breaking in, upon the interior's jungle-gloom. + +In heavy sighs, the night-winds from shore came over us. + +"Ah, vain to seek sweet Yillah here," cried Yoomy.--"Poor land! curst +of man, not Oro! how thou faintest for thy children, torn from thy +soil, to till a stranger's. Vivenza! did these winds not spend their +plaints, ere reaching thee, thy every vale would echo them. Oh, tribe +of Hamo! thy cup of woe so brims, that soon it must overflow upon the +land which holds ye thralls. No misery born of crime, but +spreads and poisons wide. Suffering hunteth sin, as the gaunt hound +the hare, and tears it in the greenest brakes." + +Still on we sailed: and after many tranquil days and nights, a storm +came down, and burst its thousand bombs. The lightnings forked and +flashed; the waters boiled; our three prows lifted themselves in +supplication; but the billows smote them as they reared. + +Said Babbalanja, bowing to the blast: "Thus, oh Vivenza! retribution +works! Though long delayed, it comes at last--Judgment, with all her +bolts." + +Now, a current seized us, and like three darts, our keels sped +eastward, through a narrow strait, far in, upon a smooth expanse, an +inland ocean, without a throb. + +On our left, Porpheero's southwest point, a mighty rock, long tiers of +galleries within, deck on deck; and flag-staffs, like an admiral's +masts: a line-of-battle-ship, all purple stone, and anchored in the +sea. Here Bello's lion crouched; and, through a thousand port-holes, +eyed the world. + +On our right, Hamora's northern shore gleamed thick with crescents; +numerous as the crosses along the opposing strand. + +"How vain to say, that progress is the test of truth, my lord," said +Babbalanja, "when, after many centuries, those crescents yet unwaning +shine, and count a devotee for every worshiper of yonder crosses. +Truth and Merit have other symbols than success; and in this mortal +race, all competitors may enter; and the field is clear for all. Side +by side, Lies run with Truths, and fools with wise; but, like +geometric lines, though they pierce infinity, never may they join." + +Over that tideless sea we sailed; and landed right, and landed left; +but the maiden never found; till, at last, we gained the water's +limit; and inland saw great pointed masses, crowned with halos. + +"Granite continents," cried Babbalanja, "that seem created like the +planets, not built with human hands. Lo, Landmarks! upon whose flanks +Time leaves its traces, like old tide-rips of diluvian seas." + +As, after wandering round and round some purple dell, deep in a +boundless prairie's heart, the baffled hunter plunges in; then, +despairing, turns once more to gain the open plain; even so we seekers +now curved round our keels; and from that inland sea emerged. The +universe again before us; our quest, as wide. + + + +CHAPTER LXV +Sailing On + + +Morning dawned upon the same mild, blue Lagoon as erst; and all the +lands that we had passed, since leaving Piko's shore of spears, were +faded from the sight. + +Part and parcel of the Mardian isles, they formed a cluster by +themselves; like the Pleiades, that shine in Taurus, and are eclipsed +by the red splendor of his fiery eye, and the thick clusterings of the +constellations round. + +And as in Orion, to some old king-astronomer,--say, King of Rigel, or +Betelguese,--this Earth's four quarters show but four points afar; so, +seem they to terrestrial eyes, that broadly sweep the spheres. + +And, as the sun, by influence divine, wheels through the Ecliptic; +threading Cancer, Leo, Pisces, and Aquarius; so, by some mystic +impulse am I moved, to this fleet progress, through the groups in +white-reefed Mardi's zone. + +Oh, reader, list! I've chartless voyaged. With compass and the lead, +we had not found these Mardian Isles. Those who boldly launch, cast +off all cables; and turning from the common breeze, that's fair for +all, with their own breath, fill their own sails. Hug the shore, +naught new is seen; and "Land ho!" at last was sung, when a new world +was sought. + +That voyager steered his bark through seas, untracked before; ploughed +his own path mid jeers; though with a heart that oft was heavy with +the thought, that he might only be too bold, and grope where land was +none. + +So I. + +And though essaying but a sportive sail, I was driven from my course, +by a blast resistless; and ill-provided, young, and bowed to the brunt +of things before my prime, still fly before the gale;--hard have I +striven to keep stout heart. + +And if it harder be, than e'er before, to find new climes, when now +our seas have oft been circled by ten thousand prows,--much more the +glory! + +But this new world here sought, is stranger far than his, who +stretched his vans from Palos. It is the world of mind; wherein the +wanderer may gaze round, with more of wonder than Balboa's band roving +through the golden Aztec glades. + +But fiery yearnings their own phantom-future make, and deem it +present. So, if after all these fearful, fainting trances, the verdict +be, the golden haven was not gained;--yet, in bold quest thereof, +better to sink in boundless deeps, than float on vulgar shoals; and +give me, ye gods, an utter wreck, if wreck I do. + + + +CHAPTER LXVI +A Flight Of Nightingales From Yoomy's Mouth + + +By noon, down came a calm. + +"Oh Neeva! good Neeva! kind Neeva! thy sweet breath, dear Neeva!" + +So from his shark's-mouth prayed little Vee-Vee to the god of Fair +Breezes. And along they swept; till the three prows neighed to the +blast; and pranced on their path, like steeds of Crusaders. + +Now, that this fine wind had sprung up; the sun riding joyously in the +heavens; and the Lagoon all tossed with white, flying manes; Media +called upon Yoomy to ransack his whole assortment of songs:--warlike, +amorous, and sentimental,--and regale us with something inspiring for +too long the company had been gloomy. + +"Thy best," he cried. + +Then will I e'en sing you a song, my lord, which is a song-full of +songs. I composed it long, long since, when Yillah yet bowered in Odo. +Ere now, some fragments have been heard. Ah, Taji! in this my lay, +live over again your happy hours. Some joys have thousand lives; can +never die; for when they droop, sweet memories bind them up.--My lord, +I deem these verses good; they came bubbling out of me, like live +waters from a spring in a silver mine. And by your good leave, my +lord, I have much faith in inspiration. Whoso sings is a seer." + +"Tingling is the test," said Babbalanja, "Yoomy, did you tingle, when +that song was composing?" + +"All over, Babbalanja." + +"From sole to crown?" + +"From finger to finger." + +"My life for it! true poetry, then, my lord! For this self-same +tingling, I say, is the test." + +"And infused into a song," cried Yoomy, "it evermore causes it so to +sparkle, vivify, and irradiate, that no son of man can repeat it +without tingling himself. This very song of mine may prove what I +say." + +"Modest youth!" sighed Media. + +"Not more so, than sincere," said Babbalanja. "He who is frank, will +often appear vain, my lord. Having no guile, he speaks as freely of +himself, as of another; and is just as ready to honor his own merits, +even if imaginary, as to lament over undeniable deficiencies. Besides, +such men are prone to moods, which to shallow-minded, unsympathizing +mortals, make their occasional distrust of themselves, appear but as a +phase of self-conceit. Whereas, the man who, in the presence of his +very friends, parades a barred and bolted front,--that man so highly +prizes his sweet self, that he cares not to profane the shrine he +worships, by throwing open its portals. He is locked up; and Ego is +the key. Reserve alone is vanity. But all mankind are egotists. The +world revolves upon an I; and we upon ourselves; for we are our own +worlds:--all other men as strangers, from outlandish, distant climes, +going clad in furs. Then, whate'er they be, let us show our worlds; +and not seek to hide from men, what Oro knows." + +"Truth, my lord," said Yoomy, "but all this applies to men in mass; +not specially, to my poor craft. Of all mortals, we poets are most +subject to contrary moods. Now, heaven over heaven in the skies; now +layer under layer in the dust. This, the penalty we pay for being what +we are. But Mardi only sees, or thinks it sees, the tokens of our +self-complacency: whereas, all our agonies operate unseen. Poets are +only seen when they soar." + +"The song! the song!" cried Media. "Never mind the metaphysics of +genius." + +And Yoomy, thus clamorously invoked, hemmed thrice, tuning his voice +for the air. + +But here, be it said, that the minstrel was miraculously gifted with +three voices; and, upon occasions, like a mocking-bird, was a concert +of sweet sounds in himself. Had kind friends died, and bequeathed him +their voices? But hark! in a low, mild tenor, he begins:-- + + Half-railed above the hills, yet rosy bright, + Stands fresh, and fair, the meek and blushing morn! + So Yillah looks! her pensive eyes the stars, + That mildly beam from out her cheek's young dawn! + + But the still meek Dawn, + Is not aye the form + Of Yillah nor Morn! + Soon rises the sun, + Day's race to run: + His rays abroad, + Flash each a sword,-- + And merrily forth they flare! + Sun-music in the air! + So Yillah now rises and flashes! + Rays shooting from ont her long lashes,-- + Sun-music in the air! + + Her laugh! How it bounds! + Bright cascade of sounds! + Peal after peal, and ringing afar,-- + Ringing of waters, that silvery jar, + From basin to basin fast falling! + Fast falling, and shining, and streaming:-- + Yillah's bosom, the soft, heaving lake, + Where her laughs at last dimple, and flake! + + Oh beautiful Yillah! Thy step so free!-- + Fast fly the sea-ripples, + Revealing their dimples, + When forth, thou hi'st to the frolicsome sea! + + All the stars laugh, + When upward she looks: + All the trees chat + In their woody nooks: + All the brooks sing; + All the caves ring; + All the buds blossom; + All the boughs bound; + All the birds carol; + And leaves turn round, + Where Yillah looks! + + Light wells from her soul's deep sun + Causing many toward her to run! + Vines to climb, and flowers to spring; + And youths their love by hundreds bring! + +"Proceed, gentle Yoomy," said Babbalanja. + +"The meaning," said Mohi. + +"The sequel," said Media. + +"My lord, I have ceased in the middle; the end is not yet." + +"Mysticism!" cried Babbalanja. "What, minstrel; must nothing ultimate +come of all that melody? no final and inexhaustible meaning? nothing +that strikes down into the soul's depths; till, intent upon itself, it +pierces in upon its own essence, and is resolved into its pervading +original; becoming a thing constituent of the all embracing deific; +whereby we mortals become part and parcel of the gods; our souls to +them as thoughts; and we privy to all things occult, ineffable, and +sublime? Then, Yoomy, is thy song nothing worth. Alla Mollolla saith, +'That is no true, vital breath, which leaves no moisture behind.' I +mistrust thee, minstrel! that thou hast not yet been impregnated by +the arcane mysteries; that thou dost not sufficiently ponder on the +Adyta, the Monads, and the Hyparxes; the Dianoias, the Unical +Hypostases, the Gnostic powers of the Psychical Essence, and the +Supermundane and Pleromatic Triads; to say nothing of the Abstract +Noumenons." + +"Oro forbid!" cried Yoomy; "the very sound of thy words affrights me." +Then, whispering to Mohi--"Is he daft again?" + +"My brain is battered," said Media. "Azzageddi! you must diet, and be +bled." + +"Ah!" sighed Babbalanja, turning; "how little they ween of the +Rudimental Quincunxes, and the Hecatic Spherula!" + + + +CHAPTER LXVII +They Visit One Doxodox + + +Next morning, we came to a deep, green wood, slowly nodding over the +waves; its margin frothy-white with foam. A charming sight! + +While delighted, all our paddlers gazed, Media, observing Babbalanja +plunged in reveries, called upon him to awake; asking what might so +absorb him. + +"Ah, my lord! what seraphic sounds have ye driven from me!" + +"Sounds! Sure, there's naught heard but yonder murmuring surf; what +other sound heard you?" + +"The thrilling of my soul's monochord, my lord. But prick not your +ears to hear it; that divine harmony is overheard by the rapt spirit +alone; it comes not by the auditory nerves." + +"No more, Azzageddi! No more of that. Look yonder!" + +"A most lovely wood, in truth. And methinks it is here the sage +Doxodox, surnamed the Wise One, dwells." + +"Hark, I hear the hootings of his owls," said Mohi. + +"My lord, you must have read of him. He is said to have penetrated +from the zoned, to the unzoned principles. Shall we seek him out, that +we may hearken to his wisdom? Doubtless he knows many things, after +which we pant." + +The lagoon was calm, as we landed; not a breath stirred the plumes of +the trees; and as we entered the voiceless shades, lifting his hand, +Babbalanja whispered:--"This silence is a fit introduction to the +portals of Telestic lore. Somewhere, beneath this moss, lurks +the mystic stone Mnizuris; whereby Doxodox hath attained unto a +knowledge of the ungenerated essences. Nightly, he bathes his soul in +archangelical circumlucencies. Oh, Doxodox! whip me the Strophalunian +top! Tell o'er thy Jynges!" + +"Down, Azzageddi! down!" cried Media. "Behold: there sits the Wise +One; now, for true wisdom!" + +From the voices of the party, the sage must have been aware of our +approach: but seated on a green bank, beneath the shade of a red +mulberry, upon the boughs of which, many an owl was perched, he seemed +intent upon describing divers figures in the air, with a jet-black wand. + +Advancing with much deference and humility, Babbalanja saluted him. + +"Oh wise Doxodox! Drawn hither by thy illustrious name, we seek +admittance to thy innermost wisdom. Of all Mardian, thou alone +comprehendest those arcane combinations, whereby to drag to day the +most deftly hidden things, present and to come. Thou knowest what we +are, and what we shall be. We beseech thee, evoke thy Tselmns!" + +"Tetrads; Pentads; Hexads; Heptads; Ogdoads:--meanest thou those?" + +"New terms all!" + +"Foiled at thy own weapons," said Media. + +"Then, if thou comprehendest not my nomenclature:--how my science? But +let me test thee in the portico.--Why is it, that as some things +extend more remotely than others; so, Quadammodotatives are larger +than Qualitatives; forasmuch, as Quadammodotatives extend to those +things, which include the Quadammodotatives themselves." + +"Azzageddi has found his match," said Media. + +"Still posed, Babbalanja?" asked Mohi. + +"At a loss, most truly! But I beseech thee, wise Doxodox! instruct me +in thy dialectics, that I may embrace thy more recondite lore." + +"To begin then, my child:--all Dicibles reside in the mind." + +"But what are Dicibles?" said Media. + +"Meanest thou, Perfect or Imperfect Dicibles?" Any kind you please;-- +but what are they?" + +"Perfect Dicibles are of various sorts: Interrogative; Percontative; +Adjurative; Optative; Imprecative; Execrative; Substitutive; +Compellative; Hypothetical; and lastly, Dubious." + +"Dubious enough! Azzageddi! forever, hereafter, hold thy peace." + +"Ah, my children! I must go back to my Axioms." + +"And what are they?" said old Mohi. + +"Of various sorts; which, again, are diverse. Thus: my contrary axioms +are Disjunctive, and Subdisjunctive; and so, with the rest. So, too, +in degree, with my Syllogisms." + +"And what of them?" + +"Did I not just hint what they were, my child? I repeat, they are of +various sorts: Connex, and Conjunct, for example." + +"And what of them?" persisted Mohi; while Babbalanja, arms folded, +stood serious and mute; a sneer on his lip. + +"As with other branches of my dialectics: so, too, in their way, with +my Syllogisms. Thus: when I say,--If it be warm, it is not cold:-- +that's a simple Sumption. If I add, But it is warm:--that's an +_Ass_umption." + +"So called from the syllogist himself, doubtless;" said Mohi, stroking +his beard. + +"Poor ignorant babe! no. Listen:--if finally, I say,--Therefore it is +not cold that's the final inference." + +"And a most triumphant one it is!" cried Babbalanja. "Thrice profound, +and sapient Doxodox! Light of Mardi! and Beacon of the Universe! didst +ever hear of the Shark-Syllogism?" + +"Though thy epithets be true, my child, I distrust thy sincerity. I +have not yet heard of the syllogism to which thou referrest." + +"It was thus. A shark seized a swimmer by the leg; addressing him: +'Friend, I will liberate you, if you truly answer whether you think I +purpose harm.' Well knowing that sharks seldom were magnanimous, he +replied: Kind sir, you mean me harm; now go your ways.' 'No, no; my +conscience forbids. Nor will I falsify the words of so veracious a +mortal. You were to answer truly; but you say I mean you harm:--so +harm it is:--here goes your leg.'" + +"Profane jester! Would'st thou insult me with thy torn-foolery? +Begone--all of ye! tramp! pack! I say: away with ye!" and into the +woods Doxodox himself disappeared. + +"Bravely done, Babbalanja!" cried Media. "You turned the corner to +admiration." + +"I have hopes of our Philosopher yet," said Mohi. + +"Outrageous impostor! fool, dotard, oaf! Did he think to bejuggle me +with his preposterous gibberish? And is this shallow phraseman the +renowned Doxodox whom I have been taught so highly to reverence? Alas, +alas--Odonphi there is none!" + +"His fit again," sighed Yoomy. + + + +CHAPTER LXVIII +King Media Dreams + + +That afternoon was melting down to eve; all but Media broad awake; yet +all motionless, as the slumberer upon the purple mat. Sailing on, with +open eyes, we slept the wakeful sleep of those, who to the body only +give repose, while the spirit still toils on, threading her mountain +passes. + +King Media's slumbers were like the helmed sentry's in the saddle. +From them, he started like an antlered deer, bursting from out a +copse. Some said he never slept; that deep within himself he but +intensified the hour; or, leaving his crowned brow in marble quiet, +unseen, departed to far-off councils of the gods. Howbeit, his lids +never closed; in the noonday sun, those crystal eyes, like diamonds, +sparkled with a fixed light. + +As motionless we thus reclined, Media turned and muttered:--"Brother +gods, and demi-gods, it is not well. These mortals should have less or +more. Among my subjects is a man, whose genius scorns the common +theories of things; but whose still mortal mind can not fathom the +ocean at his feet. His soul's a hollow, wherein he raves." + +"List, list," whispered Yoomy--"our lord is dreaming; and what a royal +dream." + +"A very royal and imperial dream," said Babbalanja--"he is arraigning +me before high heaven;--ay, ay; in dreams, at least, he deems himself +a demi-god." + +"Hist," said Mohi--"he speaks again." + +"Gods and demi-gods! With one gesture all abysses we may disclose; and +before this Mardi's eyes, evoke the shrouded time to come. Were this +well? Like lost children groping in the woods, they falter +through their tangled paths; and at a thousand angles, baffled, start +upon each other. And even when they make an onward move, 'tis but an +endless vestibule, that leads to naught. In my own isle of Odo--Odo! +Odo! How rules my viceroy there?--Down, down, ye madding mobs! Ho, +spearmen, charge! By the firmament, but my halberdiers fly!" + +"His dream has changed," said Babbalanja. "He is in Odo, whither his +anxieties impel him." + +"Hist, hist," said Yoomy. + +"I leap upon the soil! Render thy account, Almanni! Where's my throne? +Mohi, am I not a king? Do not thy chronicles record me? Yoomy, am I +not the soul of some one glorious song? Babbalanja, speak.--Mohi! Yoomy!" + +"What is it, my lord? thou dost but dream." + +Staring wildly; then calmly gazing round, Media smiled. "Ha! how we +royalties ramble in our dreams! I've told no secrets?" + +"While he seemed to sleep, my lord spoke much," said Mohi. + +"I knew it not, old man; nor would now; but that ye tell me." + +"We dream not ourselves," said Babbalanja, "but the thing within us." + +"Ay?--good-morrow Azzageddi!--But come; no more dreams: Vee-Vee! wine." + +And straight through that livelong night, immortal Media plied the can. + + + +CHAPTER LXIX +After A Long Interval, By Night They Are Becalmed + + +Now suns rose, and set; moons grew, and waned; till, at last, the star +that erewhile heralded the dawn, presaged the eve; to us, sad token!-- +while deep within the deepest heart of Mardi's circle, we sailed from +sea to sea; and isle to isle; and group to group;--vast empires +explored, and inland valleys, to their utmost heads; and for every ray +in heaven, beheld a king. + +Needless to recount all that then befell; what tribes and caravans we +saw; what vast horizons; boundless plains: and sierras, in their every +intervale, a nation nestling. + +Enough that still we roamed. + +It was evening; and as the red sun, magnified, launched into the wave, +once more, from a wild strand, we launched our three canoes. + +Soon, from her clouds, hooded Night, like a nun from a convent, drew +nigh. Rustled her train, yet no spangles were there. But high on her +brow, still shone her pale crescent; haloed by bandelets--violet, red, +and yellow. So looked the lone watcher through her rainbow-iris; so +sad, the night without stars. + +The winds were laid; the lagoon, still, as a prairie of an August noon. + +"Let us dream out the calm," said Media. "One of ye paddlers, watch: +Ho companions! who's for Cathay?" + +Sleep reigned throughout the canoes, sleeping upon the waters. But +nearer and nearer, low-creeping along, came mists and vapors, a +thousand; spotted with twinklings of Will-o-Wisps from +neighboring shores. Dusky leopards, stealing on by crouches, those +vapors seemed. + +Hours silently passed. When startled by a cry, Taji sprang to his +feet; against which something rattled; then, a quick splash! and a +dark form bounded into the lagoon. + +The dozing watcher had called aloud; and, about to stab, the assassin, +dropping his stiletto, plunged. + +Peering hard through those treacherous mists, two figures in a +shallop, were espied; dragging another, dripping, from the brine. + +"Foiled again, and foiled forever. No foe's corpse was I." + +As we gazed, in the gloom quickly vanished the shallop; ere ours could +be reversed to pursue. + +Then, from the opposite mists, glided a second canoe; and beneath the +Iris round the moon, shone now another:--Hautia's flowery flag! + +Vain to wave the sirens off; so still they came. + +One waved a plant of sickly silver-green. + +"The Midnight Tremmella!" cried Yoomy; "the falling-star of flowers!-- +Still I come, when least foreseen; then flee." + +The second waved a hemlock top, the spike just tapering its final +point. The third, a convolvulus, half closed. "The end draws nigh, and +all thy hopes are waning." Then they proffered grapes. + +But once more waved off, silently they vanished. + +Again the buried barb tore, at my soul; again Yillah was invoked, but +Hautia made reply. + +Slowly wore out the night. But when uprose the sun, fled clouds, and +fled sadness. + + + +CHAPTER LXX +They Land At Hooloomooloo + + +"Keep all three prows, for yonder rock." cried Media; "No sadness on +this merry morn! And now for the Isle of Cripples,--even +Hooloomooloo." + +"The Isle of Cripples?" + +"Ay; why not? Mohi, tell how they came to club." In substance, this +was the narration. + +Averse to the barbarous custom of destroying at birth all infants not +symmetrically formed; but equally desirous of removing from their +sight those unfortunate beings; the islanders of a neighboring group +had long ago established an asylum for cripples; where they lived, +subject to their own regulations; ruled by a king of their own +election; in short, forming a distinct class of beings by themselves. + +One only restriction was placed upon them: on no account must they +quit the isle assigned them. And to the surrounding islanders, so +unpleasant the sight of a distorted mortal, that a stranger landing at +Hooloomooloo, was deemed a prodigy. Wherefore, respecting any +knowledge of aught beyond them, the cripples were well nigh as +isolated, as if Hooloomooloo was the only terra-firma extant. + +Dwelling in a community of their own, these unfortunates, who +otherwise had remained few in number, increased and multiplied +greatly. Nor did successive generations improve in symmetry upon those +preceding them. + +Soon, we drew nigh to the isle. + +Heaped up, and jagged with rocks; and, here and there, covered with +dwarfed, twisted thickets, it seemed a fit place for its denizens. + +Landing, we were surrounded by a heterogeneous mob; and thus escorted, +took our way inland, toward the abode of their lord, King Yoky. + +What a scene! + +Here, helping himself along with two crotched roots, hobbled a dwarf +without legs; another stalked before, one arm fixed in the air, like a +lightning rod; a third, more active than any, seal-like, flirted a +pair of flippers, and went skipping along; a fourth hopped on a +solitary pin, at every bound, spinning round like a top, to gaze; +while still another, furnished with feelers or fins, rolled himself up +in a ball, bowling over the ground in advance. + +With curious instinct, the blind stuck close to our side; with their +chattering finger, the deaf and the dumb described angles, obtuse and +acute in the air; and like stones rolling down rocky ravines, scores +of stammerers stuttered. Discord wedded deformity. All asses' brays +were now harmonious memories; all Calibans, as angels. + +Yet for every stare we gave them, three stares they gave us. + +At last, we halted before a tenement of rude stones; crooked Banian +boughs its rafters, thatched with fantastic leaves. So rambling and +irregular its plan, it seemed thrown up by the eruption, according to +sage Mohi, the origin of the isle itself. + +Entering, we saw King Yoky. + +Ah! sadly lacking was he, in all the requisites of an efficient ruler. +Deaf and dumb he was; and save arms, minus every thing but an +indispensable trunk and head. So huge his all-comprehensive mouth, it +seemed to swallow up itself. + +But shapeless, helpless as was Yoky,--as king of Hooloomooloo, he was +competent; the state being a limited monarchy, of which his Highness +was but the passive and ornamental head. + +As his visitors advanced, he fell to gossiping with his fingers: a +servitor interpreting. Very curious to note the rapidity with +which motion was translated into sound; and the simultaneousness with +which meaning made its way through four successive channels to the +mind--hand, sight, voice, and tympanum. + +Much amazement His Highness now expressed; horrified his glances. + +"Why club such frights as ye? Herd ye, to keep in countenance; or are +afraid of your own hideousness, that ye dread to go alone? Monsters! +speak." + +"Great Oro!" cried Mohi, "are we then taken for cripples, by the very +King of the Cripples? My lord, are not our legs and arms all right?" + +"Comelier ones were never turned by turners, Mohi. But royal Yoky! in +sooth we feel abashed before thee." + +Some further stares were then exchanged; when His Highness sought to +know, whether there were any Comparative Anatomists among his +visitors. + +"Comparative Anatomists! not one." + +"And why may King Yoky ask that question?" inquired Babbalanja. + +Then was made the following statement. + +During the latter part of his reign, when he seemed fallen into his +dotage, the venerable predecessor of King Yoky had been much attached +to an old gray-headed Chimpanzee, one day found meditating in the +woods. Rozoko was his name. He was very grave, and reverend of aspect; +much of a philosopher. To him, all gnarled and knotty subjects were +familiar; in his day he had cracked many a crabbed nut. And so in love +with his Timonean solitude was Rozoko, that it needed many bribes and +bland persuasions, to induce him to desert his mossy, hillside, +misanthropic cave, for the distracting tumult of a court. + +But ere long, promoted to high offices, and made the royal favorite, +the woodland sage forgot his forests; and, love for love, returned the +aged king's caresses. Ardent friends they straight became; dined and +drank together; with quivering lips, quaffed long-drawn, sober +bumpers; comparing all their past experiences; and canvassing those +hidden themes, on which octogenarians dilate. + +For when the fires and broils of youth are passed, and Mardi wears its +truer aspect--then we love to think, not act; the present seems more +unsubstantial than the past; then, we seek out gray-beards like +ourselves; and hold discourse of palsies, hearses, shrouds, and tombs; +appoint our undertakers; our mantles gather round us, like to winding- +sheets; and every night lie down to die. Then, the world's great +bubble bursts; then, Life's clouds seem sweeping by, revealing heaven +to our straining eyes; then, we tell our beads, and murmur pater- +nosters; and in trembling accents cry--"Oro! be merciful." + +So, the monarch and Rozoko. + +But not always were they thus. Of bright, cheerful mornings, they took +slow, tottering rambles in the woods; nodding over grotesque walking- +sticks, of the Chimpanzee's handiwork. For sedate Rozoko was a +dilletante-arborist: an amateur in canes. Indeed, canes at last became +his hobby. For half daft with age, sometimes he straddled his good +staff and gently rode abroad, to take the salubrious evening air; +deeming it more befitting exercise, at times, than walking. Into this +menage, he soon initiated his friend, the king; and side by side they +often pranced; or, wearying of the saddle, dismounted; and paused to +ponder over prostrate palms, decaying across the path. Their mystic +rings they counted; and, for every ring, a year in their own +calendars. + +Now, so closely did the monarch cleave to the Chimpanzee, that, in +good time, summoning his subjects, earnestly he charged it on them, +that at death, he and his faithful friend should be buried in one +tomb. + +It came to pass, the monarch died; and Poor Rozoko, now reduced to +second childhood, wailed most dismally:--no one slept that night in +Hooloomooloo. Never did he leave the body; and at last, slowly going +round it thrice, he laid him down; close nestled; and +noiselessly expired. + +The king's injunctions were remembered; and one vault received them +both. + +Moon followed moon; and wrought upon by jeers and taunts, the people +of the isle became greatly scandalized, that a base-born baboon should +share the shroud of their departed lord; though they themselves had +tucked in the aged AEneas fast by the side of his Achates. + +They straight resolved, to build another vault; and over it, a lofty +cairn; and thither carry the remains they reverenced. + +But at the disinterring, a sad perplexity arose. For lo surpassing +Saul and Jonathan, not even in decay were these fast friends divided. +So mingled every relic,--ilium and ulna, carpus and metacarpus;--and +so similar the corresponding parts, that like the literary remains of +Beaumont and of Fletcher, which was which, no spectacles could tell. +Therefore, they desisted; lest the towering monument they had reared, +might commemorate an ape, and not a king. + +Such the narration; hearing which, my lord Media kept stately silence. +But in courtly phrase, as beseemed him, Babbalanja, turban in hand, +thus spoke:-- + +"My concern is extreme, King Yoky, at the embarrassment into which +your island is thrown. Nor less my grief, that I myself am not the +man, to put an end to it. I could weep that Comparative Anatomists are +not so numerous now, as hereafter they assuredly must become; when +their services shall be in greater request; when, at the last, last +day of all, millions of noble and ignoble spirits will loudly clamor +for lost skeletons; when contending claimants shall start up for one +poor, carious spine; and, dog-like, we shall quarrel over our own +bones." + +Then entered dwarf-stewards, and major-domos; aloft bearing twisted +antlers; all hollowed out in goblets, grouped; announcing dinner. + +Loving not, however, to dine with misshapen Mardians, King Media was +loth to move. But Babbalanja, quoting the old proverb--"Strike me in +the face, but refuse not my yams," induced him to sacrifice his +fastidiousness. + +So, under a flourish of ram-horn bugles, court and company proceeded +to the banquet. + +Central was a long, dislocated trunk of a wild Banian; like a huge +centipede crawling on its hundred branches, sawn of even lengths for +legs. This table was set out with wry-necked gourds; deformities of +calabashes; and shapeless trenchers, dug out of knotty woods. + +The first course was shrimp-soup, served in great clampshells; the +second, lobsters, cuttle-fish, crabs, cockles, cray-fish; the third, +hunchbacked roots of the Taro-plant--plantains, perversely curling at +the end, like the inveterate tails of pertinacious pigs; and for +dessert, ill-shaped melons, huge as idiots' heads, plainly suffering +from water in the brain. + +Now these viands were commended to the favorable notice of all guests; +not only for their delicacy of flavor, but for their symmetry. + +And in the intervals of the courses, we were bored with hints to +admire numerous objects of vertu: bow-legged stools of mangrove wood; +zig-zag rapiers of bone; armlets of grampus-vertebrae; outlandish +tureens of the callipees of terrapin; and cannakins of the skulls of +baboons. + +The banquet over, with many congees, we withdrew. + +Returning to the water-side, we passed a field, where dwarfs were +laboring in beds of yams, heaping the soil around the roots, by +scratching it backward; as a dog. + +All things in readiness, Yoky's valet, a tri-armed dwarf, treated us +to a glorious start, by giving each canoe a vigorous triple-push, +crying, "away with ye, monsters!" + +Nor must it be omitted that just previous to embarking, Vee-Vee, +spying a curious looking stone, turned it over, and found a snake. + + + +CHAPTER LXXI +A Book From The "Ponderings Of Old Bardianna" + + +"Now," said Babbalanja, lighting his trombone as we sailed from the +isle, "who are the monsters, we or the cripples?" + +"You yourself are a monster, for asking the question," said Mohi. + +"And so, to the cripples I am; though not, old man, for the reason you +mention. But I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends upon +who is made judge. There is no supreme standard yet revealed, whereby +to judge of ourselves; 'Our very instincts are prejudices,' saith Alla +Mallolla; 'Our very axioms, and postulates are far from infallible.' +'In respect of the universe, mankind is but a sect,' saith Diloro: +'and first principles but dogmas.' What ethics prevail in the +Pleiades? What things have the synods in Sagittarius decreed?" + +"Never mind your old authors," said Media. "Stick to the cripples; +enlarge upon them." + +"But I have done with them now, my lord; the sermon is not the text. +Give ear to old Bardianna. I know him by heart. Thus saith the sage in +Book X. of the Ponderings, 'Zermalmende,' the title: 'Je pense,' the +motto:--'My supremacy over creation, boasteth man, is declared in my +natural attitude:--I stand erect! But so do the palm-trees; and the +giraffes that graze off their tops. And the fowls of the air fly high +over our heads; and from the place where we fancy our heaven to be, +defile the tops of our temples. Belike, the eagles, from their eyries +look down upon us Mardians, in our hives, even as upon the +beavers in their dams, marveling at our incomprehensible ways. And +cunning though we be, some things, hidden from us, may not be +mysteries to them. Having five keys, hold we all that open to +knowledge? Deaf, blind, and deprived of the power of scent, the bat +will steer its way unerringly:--could we? Yet man is lord of the bat +and the brute; lord over the crows; with whom, he must needs share the +grain he garners. We sweat for the fowls, as well as ourselves. The +curse of labor rests only on us. Like slaves, we toil: at their good +leisure they glean. + +"'Mardi is not wholly ours. We are the least populous part of +creation. To say nothing of other tribes, a census of the herring +would find us far in the minority. And what life is to us,--sour or +sweet,--so is it to them. Like us, they die, fighting death to the +last; like us, they spawn and depart. We inhabit but a crust, rough +surfaces, odds and ends of the isles; the abounding lagoon being its +two-thirds, its grand feature from afar; and forever unfathomable. + +"'What shaft has yet been sunk to the antipodes? What underlieth the +gold mines? + +"'But even here, above-ground, we grope with the sun at meridian. +Vainly, we seek our Northwest Passages,--old alleys, and thoroughfares +of the whales. + +"'Oh men! fellow men! we are only what we are; not what we would be; +nor every thing we hope for. We are but a step in a scale, that +reaches further above us than below. We breathe but oxygen. Who in +Arcturus hath heard of us? They know us not in the Milky Way. We prate +of faculties divine: and know not how sprouteth a spear of grass; we +go about shrugging our shoulders: when the firmament-arch is over us; +we rant of etherealities: and long tarry over our banquets; we demand +Eternity for a lifetime: when our mortal half-hours too often prove +tedious. We know not of what we talk. The Bird of Paradise out-flies +our flutterings. What it is to be immortal, has not yet entered +into our thoughts. At will, we build our futurities; tier above tier, +all galleries full of laureates: resounding with everlasting +oratorios! Pater-nosters forever, or eternal Misereres! forgetting +that in Mardi, our breviaries oft fall from our hands. But divans +there are, some say, whereon we shall recline, basking in effulgent +suns, knowing neither Orient nor Occident. Is it so? Fellow men! our +mortal lives have an end; but that end is no goal: no place of repose. +Whatever it may be, it will prove but as the beginning of another +race. We will hope, joy, weep, as before; though our tears may be such +as the spice-trees shed. Supine we can only be, annihilated. + +"'The thick film is breaking; the ages have long been circling. +Fellow-men! if we live hereafter, it will not be in lyrics; nor shall +we yawn, and our shadows lengthen, while the eternal cycles are +revolving. To live at all, is a high vocation; to live forever, and +run parallel with Oro, may truly appall us. Toil we not here? and +shall we be forever slothful elsewhere? Other worlds differ not much +from this, but in degree. Doubtless, a pebble is a fair specimen of +the universe. + +"'We point at random. Peradventure at this instant, there are beings +gazing up to this very world as their future heaven. But the universe +is all over a heaven: nothing but stars on stars, throughout +infinities of expansion. All we see are but a cluster. Could we get to +Bootes, we would be no nearer Oro, than now he hath no place; but is +here. Already, in its unimaginable roamings, our system may have +dragged us through and through the spaces, where we plant cities of +beryl and jasper. Even now, we may be inhaling the ether, which we +fancy seraphic wings are fanning. But look round. There is much to be +seen here, and now. Do the archangels survey aught more glorious than +the constellations we nightly behold? Continually we slight the +wonders, we deem in reserve. We await the present. With marvels we are +glutted, till we hold them no marvels at all. But had these +eyes first opened upon all the prodigies in the Revelation of the +Dreamer, long familiarity would have made them appear, even as these +things we see. Now, _now_, the page is out-spread: to the simple, easy +as a primer; to the wise, more puzzling than hieroglyphics. The +eternity to come, is but a prolongation of time present: and the +beginning may be more wonderful than the end. + +"'Then let us be wise. But much of the knowledge we seek, already we +have in our cores. Yet so simple it is, we despise it; so bold, we +fear it. + +"'In solitude, let us exhume our ingots. Let us hear our own thoughts. +The soul needs no mentor, but Oro; and Oro, without proxy. Wanting +Him, it is both the teacher and the taught. Undeniably, reason was the +first revelation; and so far as it tests all others, it has precedence +over them. It comes direct to us, without suppression or +interpolation; and with Oro's indisputable imprimatur. But inspiration +though it be, it is not so arrogant as some think. Nay, far too +humble, at times it submits to the grossest indignities. Though in its +best estate, not infallible; so far as it goes, for us, it is +reliable. When at fault, it stands still. We speak not of visionaries. +But if this our first revelation stops short of the uttermost, so with +all others. If, often, it only perplexes: much more the rest. They +leave much unexpounded; and disclosing new mysteries, add to the +enigma. Fellow-men; the ocean we would sound is unfathomable; and +however much we add to our line, when it is out, we feel not the +bottom. Let us be truly lowly, then; not lifted up with a Pharisaic +humility. We crawl not like worms; nor wear we the liveries of angels. + +"'The firmament-arch has no key-stone; least of all, is man its prop. +He stands alone. We are every thing to ourselves, but how little to +others. What are others to us? Assure life everlasting to this +generation, and their immediate forefathers--and what tears would +flow, were there no resurrection for the countless generations +from the first man to five cycles since? And soon we ourselves shall +have fallen in with the rank and file of our sires. At a blow, +annihilate some distant tribe, now alive and jocund--and what would we +reck? Curiosity apart, do we really care whether the people in +Bellatrix are immortal or no? + +"'Though they smite us, let us not turn away from these things, if +they be really thus. + +"'There was a time, when near Cassiopeia, a star of the first +magnitude, most lustrous in the North, grew lurid as a fire, then dim +as ashes, and went out. Now, its place is a blank. A vast world, with +all its continents, say the astronomers, blazing over the heads of our +fathers; while in Mardi were merry-makings, and maidens given in +marriage. Who now thinks of that burning sphere? How few are aware +that ever it was? + +"'These things are so. + +"'Fellow-men! we must go, and obtain a glimpse of what we are from the +Belts of Jupiter and the Moons of Saturn, ere we see ourselves aright. +The universe can wax old without us; though by Oro's grace we may live +to behold a wrinkle in the sky. Eternity is not ours by right; and, +alone, unrequited sufferings here, form no title thereto, unless +resurrections are reserved for maltreated brutes. Suffering is +suffering; be the sufferer man, brute, or thing. + +"'How small;--how nothing, our deserts! Let us stifle all vain +speculations; we need not to be told what righteousness is; we were +born with the whole Law in our hearts. Let us do: let us act: let us +down on our knees. And if, after all, we should be no more forever;-- +far better to perish meriting immortality, than to enjoy it +unmeritorious. While we fight over creeds, ten thousand fingers point +to where vital good may be done. All round us, Want crawls to her +lairs; and, shivering, dies unrelieved. Here, _here_, fellow-men, we +can better minister as angels, than in heaven, where want and misery +come not. + +"'We Mardians talk as though the future was all in all; but act as +though the present was every thing. Yet so far as, in our theories, we +dwarf our Mardi; we go not beyond an archangel's apprehension of it, +who takes in all suns and systems at a glance. Like pebbles, were the +isles to sink in space, Sirius, the Dog-star, would still flame in the +sky. But as the atom to the animalculae, so Mardi to us. And lived +aright, these mortal lives are long; looked into, these souls, +fathomless as the nethermost depths. + +"'Fellow-men; we split upon hairs; but stripped, mere words and +phrases cast aside, the great bulk of us are orthodox. None who think, +dissent from the grand belief. The first man's thoughts were as ours. +The paramount revelation prevails with us; and all that clashes +therewith, we do not so much believe, as believe that we can not +disbelieve. Common sense is a sturdy despot; that, for the most part, +has its own way. It inspects and ratifies much independent of it. But +those who think they do wholly reject it, are but held in a sly sort +of bondage; under a semblance of something else, wearing the old yoke.'" + +"Cease, cease, Babbalanja," said Media, "and permit me to insinuate a +word in your ear. You have long been in the habit, philosopher, of +regaling us with chapters from your old Bardianna; and with infinite +gusto, you have just recited the longest of all. But I do not observe, +oh, Sage! that for all these things, you yourself are practically the +better or wiser. You live not up to Bardianna's main thought. Where he +stands, he stands immovable; but you are a Dog-vane. How is this?" + +"Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum!" + +"Mad, mad again," cried Yoomy. + + + +CHAPTER LXXII +Babbalanja Starts To His Feet + + +For twenty-four hours, seated stiff, and motionless, Babbalanja spoke +not a word; then, almost without moving a muscle, muttered thus:--"At +banquets surfeit not, but fill; partake, and retire; and eat not again +till you crave. Thereby you give nature time to work her magic +transformings; turning all solids to meat, and wine into blood. After +a banquet you incline to repose:--do so: digestion commands. All this +follow those, who feast at the tables of Wisdom; and all such are +they, who partake of the fare of old Bardianna." + +"Art resuscitated, then, Babbalanja?" said Media. "Ay, my lord, I am +just risen from the dead." + +"And did Azzageddi conduct you to their realms?" + +"Fangs off! fangs off! depart, thou fiend!--unhand me! or by Oro, I +will die and spite thee!" + +"Quick, quick, Mohi! let us change places," cried Yoomy. + +"How now, Babbalanja?" said Media. + +"Oh my lord man--not _you_ my lord Media!--high and mighty Puissance! +great King of Creation!--thou art but the biggest of braggarts! In +every age, thou boastest of thy valorous advances:--flat fools, old +dotards, and numskulls, our sires! All the Past, wasted time! the +Present knows all! right lucky, fellow-beings, we live now! every man +an author! books plenty as men! strike a light in a minute! teeth sold +by the pound! all the elements fetching and carrying! lightning +running on errands! rivers made to order! the ocean a puddle!-- +But ages back they boasted like us; and ages to come, forever and +ever, they'll boast. Ages back they black-balled the past, thought the +last day was come; so wise they were grown. Mardi could not stand +long; have to annex one of the planets; invade the great sun; colonize +the moon;--conquerors sighed for new Mardis; and sages for heaven-- +having by heart all the primers here below. Like us, ages back they +groaned under their books; made bonfires of libraries, leaving ashes +behind, mid which we reverentially grope for charred pages, forgetting +we are so much wiser than they.--But amazing times! astounding +revelations; preternatural divulgings!--How now?--more wonderful than +all our discoveries is this: that they never were discovered before. +So simple, no doubt our ancestors overlooked them; intent on deeper +things--the deep things of the soul. All we discover has been with us +since the sun began to roll; and much we discover, is not worth the +discovering. We are children, climbing trees after birds' nests, and +making a great shout, whether we find eggs in them or no. But where +are our wings, which our fore-fathers surely had not? Tell us, ye +sages! something worth an archangel's learning; discover, ye +discoverers, something new. Fools, fools! Mardi's not changed: the sun +yet rises in its old place in the East; all things go on in the same +old way; we cut our eye-teeth just as late as they did, three thousand +years ago." + +"Your pardon," said Mohi, "for beshrew me, they are not yet all cut. +At threescore and ten, here have I a new tooth coming now." + +"Old man! it but clears the way for another. The teeth sown by the +alphabet-founder, were eye-teeth, not yet all sprung from the soil. +Like spring-wheat, blade by blade, they break ground late; like +spring-wheat, many seeds have perished in the hard winter glebe. Oh, +my lord! though we galvanize corpses into St. Vitus' dances, we raise +not the dead from their graves! Though we have discovered the +circulation of the blood, men die as of yore; oxen graze, sheep +bleat, babies bawl, asses bray--loud and lusty as the day before the +flood. Men fight and make up; repent and go at it; feast and starve; +laugh and weep; pray and curse; cheat, chaffer, trick, truckle, cozen, +defraud, fib, lie, beg, borrow, steal, hang, drown--as in the laughing +and weeping, tricking and truckling, hanging and drowning times that +have been. Nothing changes, though much be new-fashioned: new fashions +but revivals of things previous. In the books of the past we learn +naught but of the present; in those of the present, the past. All +Mardi's history--beginning middle, and finis--was written out in +capitals in the first page penned. The whole story is told in a title- +page. An exclamation point is entire Mardi's autobiography." + +"Who speaks now?" said Media, "Bardianna, Azzageddi, or Babbalanja?" + +"All three: is it not a pleasant concert?" + +"Very fine: very fine.--Go on; and tell us something of the future." + +"I have never departed this life yet, my lord." + +"But just now you said you were risen from the dead." "From the buried +dead within me; not from myself, my lord." + +"If you, then, know nothing of the future--did Bardianna?" + +"If he did, naught did he reveal. I have ever observed, my lord, that +even in their deepest lucubrations, the profoundest, frankest, +ponderers always reserve a vast deal of precious thought for their own +private behoof. They think, perhaps, that 'tis too good, or too bad; +too wise, or too foolish, for the multitude. And this unpleasant +vibration is ever consequent upon striking a new vein of ideas in the +soul. As with buried treasures, the ground over them sounds strange +and hollow. At any rate, the profoundest ponderer seldom tells us all +he thinks; seldom reveals to us the ultimate, and the innermost; +seldom makes us open our eyes under water; seldom throws open +the totus-in-toto; and never carries us with him, to the +unconsubsistent, the ideaimmanens, the super-essential, and the One." + +Confusion! Remember the Quadammodatatives!" + +"Ah!" said Braid-Beard, "that's the crack in his calabash, which all +the Dicibles of Doxdox will not mend." + +"And from that crazy calabash he gives us to drink, old Mohi." + +"But never heed his leaky gourd nor its contents, my lord. Let these +philosophers muddle themselves as they will, we wise ones refuse to +partake." + +"And fools like me drink till they reel," said Babbalanja. "But in +these matters one's calabash must needs go round to keep afloat. +Fogle-orum!" + + + +CHAPTER LXXIII +At Last, The Last Mention Is Made Of Old Bardianna; And His Last Will +And Testament Is Recited At Length + + +The day was waning. And, as after many a tale of ghosts, around their +forest fire, Hungarian gipsies silent sit; watching the ruddy glow +kindling each other's faces;--so, now we solemn sat; the crimson West +our fire; all our faces flushed. + +"Testators!" then cried Media, when your last wills are all round +settled, speak, and make it known!" + +"Mine, my lord, has long been fixed," said Babbalanja. + +"And how runs it?" + +"Fugle-fogle--" + +"Hark ye, intruding Azzageddi! rejoin thy merry mates below;--go +there, and wag thy saucy tail; or I will nail it to our bow, till ye +roar for liberation. Begone, I say." + +"Down, devil! deeper down!" rumbled Babbalanja. + +"My lord, I think he's gone. And now, by your good leave, I'll repeat +old Bardianna's Will. It's worth all Mardi's hearing; and I have so +studied it, by rote I know it." + +"Proceed then; but I mistrust that Azzageddi is not yet many thousand +fathoms down." + +"Attend my lord:---'Anno Mardis 50,000,000, o.s. I, Bardianna, of the +island of Vamba, and village of the same name, having just risen from +my yams, in high health, high spirits, and sound mind, do hereby +cheerfully make and ordain this my last will and testament. + +"'Imprimis: + +"'All my kith and kin being well to do in Mardi, I wholly leave them +out of this my will. + +"'Item. Since, in divers ways, verbally and otherwise, my good friend +Pondo has evinced a strong love for me, Bardianna, as the owner and +proprietor of all that capital messuage with the appurtenances, in +Vamba aforesaid, called 'The Lair,' wherein I now dwell; also for all +my Bread-fruit orchards, Palm-groves, Banana-plantations, Taro- +patches, gardens, lawns, lanes, and hereditaments whatsoever, +adjoining the aforesaid messuage;--I do hereby give and bequeath the +same to Bomblum of the island of Adda; the aforesaid Bomblum having +never expressed any regard for me, as a holder of real estate. + +"'Item. My esteemed neighbor Lakreemo having since the last lunar +eclipse called daily to inquire after the state of my health: and +having nightly made tearful inquiries of my herb-doctor, concerning +the state of my viscera;--I do hereby give and bequeath to the +aforesaid Lakreemo all and sundry those vegetable pills, potions, +powders, aperients, purgatives, expellatives, evacuatives, tonics, +emetics, cathartics, clysters, injections, scarifiers, cataplasms, +lenitives, lotions, decoctions, washes, gargles, and phlegmagogues; +together with all the jars, calabashes, gourds, and galipots, +thereunto pertaining; situate, lying, and being, in the west-by-north +corner of my east-southeast crypt, in my aforesaid tenement known as +'The Lair.' + +"'Item. The woman Pesti; a native of Vamba, having oftentimes hinted +that I, Bardianna, sorely needed a spouse, and having also intimated +that she bore me a conjugal affection; I do hereby give and bequeath +to the aforesaid Pesti:--my blessing; forasmuch, as by the time of +the opening of this my last will and testament, I shall have been +forever delivered from the aforesaid Pesti's persecutions. + +"'Item. Having a high opinion of the probity of my worthy and +excellent friend Bidiri, I do hereby entirely, and wholly, give, will, +grant, bestow, devise, and utterly hand over unto the said Bidiri, all +that tenement where my servant Oram now dwelleth; with all the lawns, +meadows, uplands and lowlands, fields, groves, and gardens, thereunto +belonging:--IN TRUST NEVERTHELESS to have and to hold the same for the +sole use and benefit of Lanbranka Hohinna, spinster, now resident of +the aforesaid island of Vamba. + +"'Item. I give and bequeath my large carved drinking gourd to my good +comrade Topo. + +"'Item. My fast friend Doldrum having at sundry times, and in sundry +places, uttered the prophecy, that upon my decease his sorrow would be +great; I do hereby give and bequeath to the aforesaid Doldrum, ten +yards of my best soft tappa, to be divided into handkerchiefs for his +sole benefit and behoof. + +"'Item. My sensible friend Solo having informed me, that he intended +to remain a bachelor for life; I give and devise to the aforesaid +Solo, the mat for one person, whereon I nightly repose. + +"'Item. Concerning my private Arbor and Palm-groves, adjoining, lying, +and being in the isle of Vamba, I give and devise the same, with all +appurtenances whatsoever, to my friend Minta the Cynic, to have and to +hold, in trust for the first through-and-through honest man, issue of +my neighbor Mondi; and in default of such issue, for the first +through-and-through honest man, issue of my neighbor Pendidda; and in +default of such issue, for the first through-and-through honest man, +issue of my neighbor Wynodo: and in default of such issue, to any +through-and-through honest man, issue of any body, to be found through +the length and breadth of Mardi. + +"'Item. My friend Minta the Cynic to be sole judge of all claims to +the above-mentioned devise; and to hold the said premises for his own +use, until the aforesaid person be found. + +"'Item. Knowing my devoted scribe Marko to be very sensitive touching +the receipt of a favor; I willingly spare him that pain; and hereby +bequeath unto the aforesaid scribe, three milk-teeth, not as a +pecuniary legacy, but as a very slight token of my profound regard. + +"'Item. I give to the poor of Vamba the total contents of my red- +labeled bags of bicuspids and canines (which I account three-fourths +of my whole estate); to my body servant Fidi, my staff, all my robes +and togas, and three hundred molars in cash; to that discerning and +sagacious philosopher my disciple Krako, one complete set of +denticles, to buy him a vertebral bone ring; and to that pious and +promising youth Vangi, two fathoms of my best kaiar rope, with the +privilege of any bough in my groves. + +"'All the rest of my goods, chattels and household stuff whatsoever; +and all my loose denticles, remaining after my debts and legacies are +paid, and my body is out of sight, I hereby direct to be distributed +among the poor of Vamba. + +"'Ultimo. I give and bequeath to all Mardi this my last advice and +counsel:--videlicet: live as long as you can; close your own eyes when +you die. + +"'I have no previous wills to revoke; and publish this to be my first +and last. + +"'In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my right hand; and hereunto +have caused a true copy of the tattooing on my right temple to be +affixed, during the year first above written. + +"'By me, BARDIANNA.'" + +"Babbalanja, that's an extraordinary document," said Media. + +"Bardianna was an extraordinary man, my lord." + +"Were there no codicils?" + +"The will is all codicils; all after-thoughts; Ten thoughts for one +act, was Bardianna's motto." + +"Left he nothing whatever to his kindred?" + +"Not a stump." + +"Prom his will, he seems to have lived single." + +"Yes: Bardianna never sought to improve upon nature; a bachelor he +was born, and a bachelor he died." + +"According to the best accounts, how did he depart, Babbalanja?" asked +Mohi. + +"With a firm lip, and his hand on his heart, old man." + +"His last words?" + +"Calmer, and better!" + +"Where think you, he is now?" + +"In his Ponderings. And those, my lord, we all inherit; for like the +great chief of Romara, who made a whole empire his legatee; so, great +authors have all Mardi for an heir." + + + +CHAPTER LXXIV +A Death-Cloud Sweeps By Them, As They Sail + + +Next day, a fearful sight! + +As in Sooloo's seas, one vast water-spout will, sudden, form: and +whirling, chase the flying Malay keels; so, before a swift-winged +cloud, a thousand prows sped by, leaving braided, foaming wakes; their +crowded inmates' arms, in frenzied supplications wreathed; like +tangled forest-boughs. + +"See, see," cried Yoomy, "how the Death-cloud flies! Let us dive down +in the sea." + +"Nay," said Babbalanja. "All things come of Oro; if we must drown, let +Oro drown us." + +"Down sails: drop paddles," said Media: "here we float." + +Like a rushing bison, sweeping by, the Death-cloud grazed us with its +foam; and whirling in upon the thousand prows beyond, sudden burst in +deluges; and scooping out a maelstrom, dragged down every plank and soul. + +Long we rocked upon the circling billows, which expanding from that +center, dashed every isle, till, moons after-ward, faint, they laved +all Mardi's reef. + +"Thanks unto Oro," murmured Mohi, "this heart still beats." + +That sun-flushed eve, we sailed by many tranquil harbors, whence fled +those thousand prows. Serene, the waves ran up their strands; and +chimed around the unharmed stakes of palm, to which the thousand prows +that morning had been fastened. + +"Flying death, they ran to meet it," said Babbalanja. "But 'tie not +that they fled, they died; for maelstroms, of these harbors, the +Death-cloud might have made. But they died, because they might not +longer live. Could we gain one glimpse of the great calendar of +eternity, all our names would there be found, glued against their +dates of death. We die by land, and die by sea; we die by earthquakes, +famines, plagues, and wars; by fevers, agues; woe, or mirth excessive. +This mortal air is one wide pestilence, that kills us all at last. +Whom the Death-cloud spares, sleeping, dies in silent watches of the +night. He whom the spears of many battles could not slay, dies of a +grape-stone, beneath the vine-clad bower he built, to shade declining +years. We die, because we live. But none the less does Babbalanja +quake. And if he flies not, 'tis because he stands the center of a +circle; its every point a leveled dart; and every bow, bent back:--a +twang, and Babbalanja dies." + + + +CHAPTER LXXV +They Visit The Palmy King Abrazza + + +Night and morn departed; and in the afternoon, we drew nigh to an +island, overcast with shadows; a shower was falling; and pining, +plaintive notes forth issued from the groves: half-suppressed, and +sobbing whisperings of leaves. The shore sloped to the water; thither +our prows were pointed. + +"Sheer off! no landing here," cried Media, "let us gain the sunny +side; and like the care-free bachelor Abrazza, who here is king, turn +our back on the isle's shadowy side, and revel in its morning-meads." + +"And lord Abrazza:--who is he?" asked Yoomy. + +"The one hundred and twentieth in lineal descent from Phipora," said +Mohi; "and connected on the maternal side to the lord seigniors of +Klivonia. His uttermost uncle was nephew to the niece of Queen +Zmiglandi; who flourished so long since, she wedded at the first +Transit of Venus. His pedigree is endless." + +"But who is lord Abrazza?" + +"Has he not said?" answered Babbalanja. "Why so dull?--Uttermost +nephew to him, who was nephew to the niece of the peerless Queen +Zmiglandi; and the one hundred and twentieth in descent from the +illustrious Phipora." + +"Will none tell, who Abrazza is?" + +"Can not a man then, be described by running off the catalogue of his +ancestors?" said Babbalanja. "Or must we e'en descend to himself. +Then, listen, dull Yoomy! and know that lord Abrazza is six feet two: +plump thighs; blue eyes; and brown hair; likes his bread-fruit baked, +not roasted; sometimes carries filberts in his crown: and has a +way of winking when he speaks. His teeth are good." + +"Are you publishing some decamped burglar," said Media, "that you +speak thus of my royal friend, the lord Abrazza? Go on, sir! and say +he reigns sole king of Bonovona!" + +"My lord, I had not ended. Abrazza, Yoomy, is a fine and florid king: +high-fed, and affluent of heart; of speech, mellifluent. And for a +royalty extremely amiable. He is a sceptered gentleman, who does much +good. Kind king! in person he gives orders for relieving those, who +daily dive for pearls, to grace his royal robe; and gasping hard, with +blood-shot eyes, come up from shark-infested depths, and fainting, lay +their treasure at his feet. Sweet lord Abrazza! how he pities those, +who in his furthest woodlands day-long toil to do his bidding. Yet +king-philosopher, he never weeps; but pities with a placid smile; and +that but seldom." + +"There seems much iron in your blood," said Media. "But say your say." + +"Say I not truth, my lord? Abrazza, I admire. Save his royal pity all +else is jocund round him. He loves to live for life's own sake. He +vows he'll have no cares; and often says, in pleasant reveries,-- +'Sure, my lord Abrazza, if any one should be care-free, 'tis thou; who +strike down none, but pity all the fallen!' Yet none he lifteth up." + +At length we gained the sunny side, and shoreward tended. Vee-Vee's +horn was sonorous; and issuing from his golden groves, my lord +Abrazza, like a host that greets you on the threshold, met us, as we +keeled the beach. + +"Welcome! fellow demi-god, and king! Media, my pleasant guest!" + +His servitors salamed; his chieftains bowed; his yeoman-guard, in +meadow-green, presented palm-stalks,--royal tokens; and hand in hand, +the nodding, jovial, regal friends, went up a lane of salutations; +dragging behind, a train of envyings. + +Much we marked Abrazza's jeweled crown; that shot no honest blaze of +ruddy rubies; nor looked stern-white like Media's pearls; but cast a +green and yellow glare; rays from emeralds, crossing rays from many a +topaz. In those beams, so sinister, all present looked cadaverous: +Abrazza's cheek alone beamed bright, but hectic. + +Upon its fragrant mats a spacious hall received the kings; and +gathering courtiers blandly bowed; and gushing with soft flatteries, +breathed idol-incense round them. + +The hall was terraced thrice; its elevated end was curtained; and +thence, at every chime of words, there burst a girl, gay scarfed, with +naked bosom, and poured forth wild and hollow laughter, as she raced +down all the terraces, and passed their merry kingships. + +Wide round the hall, in avenues, waved almond-woods; their whiteness +frosted into bloom. But every vine-clad trunk was hollow-hearted; +hollow sounds came from the grottos: hollow broke the billows on the +shore: and hollow pauses filled the air, following the hollow +laughter. + +Guards, with spears, paced the groves, and in the inner shadows, oft +were seen to lift their weapons, and backward press some ugly phantom, +saying, "Subjects! haunt him not; Abrazza would be merry; Abrazza +feasts his guests." + +So, banished from our sight seemed all things uncongenial; and +pleasant times were ours, in these dominions. Not a face passed by, +but smiled; mocking-birds perched on the boughs; and singing, made us +vow the woods were warbling forth thanksgiving, with a thousand +throats! The stalwart yeomen grinned beneath their trenchers, heaped +with citrons pomegrantes, grapes; the pages tittered, pouring out the +wine; and all the lords loud laughed, smote their gilded spears, and +swore the isle was glad. + +Such the isle, in which we tarried; but in our rambles, found no +Yillah. + + + +CHAPTER LXXVI +Some Pleasant, Shady Talk In The Groves, Between My Lords Abrazza And +Media, Babbalanja, Mohi, And Yoomy + + +Abrazza had a cool retreat--a grove of dates; where we were used to +lounge of noons, and mix our converse with the babble of the rills; +and mix our punches in goblets chased with grapes. And as ever, King +Abrazza was the prince of hosts. + +"Your crown," he said to Media; and with his own, he hung it on a +bough. + +"Be not ceremonious:" and stretched his royal legs upon the turf. + +"Wine!" and his pages poured it out. + +So on the grass we lounged; and King Abrazza, who loved his antique +ancestors; and loved old times; and would not talk of moderns;--bade +Yoomy sing old songs; bade Mohi rehearse old histories; bade +Babbalanja tell of old ontologies; and commanded all, meanwhile, to +drink his old, old wine. + +So, all round we quaffed and quoted. + +At last, we talked of old Homeric bards:--those who, ages back, +harped, and begged, and groped their blinded way through all this +charitable Mardi; receiving coppers then, and immortal glory now. + +ABRAZZA--How came it, that they all were blind? + +BABBALANJA--It was endemical, your Highness. Few grand poets have +good eyes; for they needs blind must be, who ever gaze upon the sun. +Vavona himself was blind: +when, in the silence of his secret bower, he said--"I will build +another world. Therein, let there be kings and slaves, philosophers +and wits; whose checkered actions--strange, grotesque, and merry-sad, +will entertain my idle moods." So, my lord, Vavona played at kings and +crowns, and men and manners; and loved that lonely game to play. + +ABRAZZA--Vavona seemed a solitary Mardian; who seldom went abroad; +had few friends; and shunning others, was shunned by them. + +BABBALANJA--But shunned not himself, my lord; like gods, great poets +dwell alone; while round them, roll the worlds they build. + +MEDIA--You seem to know all authors:--you must have heard of +Lombardo, Babbalanja; he who flourished many ages since. + +BABBALANJA--I have; and his grand Kortanza know by heart. + +MEDIA (_to Abrazza._)--A very curious work, that, my lord. + +ABRAZZA--Yes, my dearest king. But, Babbalanja, if Lombardo had aught +to tell to Mardi--why choose a vehicle so crazy? + +BABBALANJA--It was his nature, I suppose. + +ABRAZZA--But so it would not have been, to me. + +BABBALANJA--Nor would it have been natural, for my noble lord +Abrazza, to have worn Lombardo's head:--every man has his own, thank +Oro! + +ABBRAZZA--A curious work: a very curious work. Babbalanja, are you +acquainted with the history of Lombardo? + +BABBALANJA--None better. All his biographies have I read. + +ABRAZZA--Then, tell us how he came to write that work. For one, I can +not imagine how those poor devils contrive to roll such thunders +through all Mardi. + +MEDIA--Their thunder and lightning seem spontaneous combustibles, my +lord. + +ABRAZZA--With which, they but consume themselves, my prince beloved. + +BABBALANJA--In a measure, true, your Highness. But pray you, listen; +and I will try to tell the way in which Lombardo produced his great +Kortanza. + +MEDIA--But hark you, philosopher! this time no incoherencies; gag +that devil, Azzageddi. And now, what was it that originally impelled +Lombardo to the undertaking? + +BABBALANJA--Primus and forever, a full heart:--brimful, bubbling, +sparkling; and running over like the flagon in your hand, my lord. +Secundo, the necessity of bestirring himself to procure his yams. + +ABRAZZA--Wanting the second motive, would the first have sufficed, +philosopher? + +BABBALANJA--Doubtful. More conduits than one to drain off the soul's +overflowings. Besides, the greatest fullnesses overflow not +spontaneously; and, even when decanted, like rich syrups, slowly ooze; +whereas, poor fluids glibly flow, wide-spreading. Hence, when great +fullness weds great indolence;--that man, to others, too often proves +a cipher; though, to himself, his thoughts form an Infinite Series, +indefinite, from its vastness; and incommunicable;--not for lack of +power, but for lack of an omnipotent volition, to move his strength. +His own world is full before him; the fulcrum set; but lever there is +none. To such a man, the giving of any boor's resoluteness, with +tendons braided, would be as hanging a claymore to Valor's side, +before unarmed. Our minds are cunning, compound mechanisms; and one +spring, or wheel, or axle wanting, the movement lags, or halts. +Cerebrum must not overbalance cerebellum; our brains should be round +as globes; and planted on capacious chests, inhaling mighty morning- +inspirations. We have had vast developments of parts of men; but none +of manly wholes. Before a full-developed man, Mardi would fall down +and worship. We are idiot, younger-sons of gods, begotten in dotages +divine; and our mothers all miscarry. Giants are in our germs; +but we are dwarfs, staggering under heads overgrown. Heaped, our +measures burst. We die of too much life. + +MEDIA (_to Abrazza_)--Be not impatient, my lord; he'll recover +presently. You were talking of Lombardo, Babbalanja. + +BABBALANJA--I was, your Highness. Of all Mardians, by nature, he was +the most inert. Hast ever seen a yellow lion, all day basking in the +yellow sun:--in reveries, rending droves of elephants; but his vast +loins supine, and eyelids winking? Such, Lombardo; but fierce Want, +the hunter, came and roused his roar. In hairy billows, his great mane +tossed like the sea; his eyeballs flamed two hells; his paw had +stopped a rolling world. + +ABRAZZA--In other words, yams were indispensable, and, poor devil, he +roared to get them. + +BABBALANJA (_bowing_)--Partly so, my literal lord. And as with your +own golden scepter, at times upon your royal teeth, indolent tattoos +you beat; then, potent, sway it o'er your isle; so, Lombardo. And ere +Necessity plunged spur and rowel into him, he knew not his own paces. +_That_ churned him into consciousness; and brought ambition, ere then +dormant, seething to the top, till he trembled at himself. No mailed +hand lifted up against a traveler in woods, can so, appall, as we +ourselves. We are full of ghosts and spirits; we are as grave-yards +full of buried dead, that start to life before us. And all our dead +sires, verily, are in us; _that_ is their immortality. From sire to +son, we go on multiplying corpses in ourselves; for all of which, are +resurrections. Every thought's a soul of some past poet, hero, sage. +We are fuller than a city. Woe it is, that reveals these things. He +knows himself, and all that's in him, who knows adversity. To scale +great heights, we must come out of lowermost depths. The way to heaven +is through hell. We need fiery baptisms in the fiercest flames of our +own bosoms. We must feel our hearts hot--hissing in us. And ere +their fire is revealed, it must burn its way out of us; though it +consume us and itself. Oh, sleek-cheeked Plenty! smiling at thine own +dimples;--vain for thee to reach out after greatness. Turn! turn! from +all your tiers of cushions of eider-down--turn! and be broken on the +wheels of many woes. At white-heat, brand thyself; and count the +scars, like old war-worn veterans, over camp-fires. Soft poet! +brushing tears from lilies--this way! and howl in sackcloth and in +ashes! Know, thou, that the lines that live are turned out of a +furrowed brow. Oh! there is a fierce, a cannibal delight, in the grief +that shrieks to multiply itself. That grief is miserly of its own; it +pities all the happy. Some damned spirits would not be otherwise, +could they. + +ABRAZZA (_to Media_)--Pray, my lord, is this good gentleman a devil? + +MEDIA.--No, my lord; but he's possessed by one. His name is Azzageddi. +You may hear more of him. But come, Babbalanja, hast forgotten all +about Lombardo? How set he about that great undertaking, his Kortanza? + +ABRAZZA (_to Media_)--Oh, for all the ravings of your Babbalanja, +Lombardo took no special pains; hence, deserves small commendation. +For, genius must be somewhat like us kings,--calm, content, in +consciousness of power. And to Lombardo, the scheme of his Kortanza +must have come full-fledged, like an eagle from the sun. + +BABBALANJA--No, your Highness; but like eagles, his thoughts were +first callow; yet, born plumeless, they came to soar. + +ABRAZZA--Very fine. I presume, Babbalanja, the first thing he did, +was to fast, and invoke the muses. + +BABBALANJA--Pardon, my lord; on the contrary he first procured a ream +of vellum, and some sturdy quills: indispensable preliminaries, my +worshipful lords, to the writing of the sublimest epics. + +ABRAZZA--Ah! then the muses were afterward invoked. + +BABBALANJA--Pardon again. Lombardo next sat down to a fine plantain +pudding. + +YOOMY--When the song-spell steals over me, I live upon olives. + +BABBALANJA--Yoomy, Lombardo eschewed olives. Said he, "What fasting +soldier can fight? and the fight of all fights is to write." In ten +days Lombardo had written-- + +ABRAZZA--Dashed off, you mean. + +BABBALANJA--He never dashed off aught. + +ABRAZZA--As you will. + +BABBALANJA--In ten days, Lombardo had written full fifty folios; he +loved huge acres of vellum whereon to expatiate. + +MEDIA--What then? + +BABBALANJA--He read them over attentively; made a neat package of the +whole: and put it into the fire. + +ALL--How? + +MEDIA--What! these great geniuses writing trash? + +ABRAZZA--I thought as much. + +BABBALANJA--My lords, they abound in it! more than any other men in +Mardi. Genius is full of trash. But genius essays its best to keep it +to itself; and giving away its ore, retains the earth; whence, the too +frequent wisdom of its works, and folly of its life. + +ABRAZZA--Then genius is not inspired, after all. How they must slave +in their mines! I weep to think of it. + +BABBALANJA--My lord, all men are inspired; fools are inspired; your +highness is inspired; for the essence of all ideas is infused. Of +ourselves, and in ourselves, we originate nothing. When Lombardo set +about his work, he knew not what it would become. He did not build +himself in with plans; he wrote right on; and so doing, got deeper and +deeper into himself; and like a resolute traveler, plunging through +baffling woods, at last was rewarded for his toils. "In good time," +saith he, in his autobiography, "I came out into a serene, sunny, +ravishing region; full of sweet scents, singing birds, wild +plaints, roguish laughs, prophetic voices. "Here we are at last, +then," he cried; "I have created the creative." And now the whole +boundless landscape stretched away. Lombardo panted; the sweat was on +his brow; he off mantle; braced himself; sat within view of the ocean; +his face to a cool rushing breeze; placed flowers before him; and gave +himself plenty of room. On one side was his ream of vellum-- + +ABBRAZZA--And on the other, a brimmed beaker. + +BABBALANJA--No, your Highness; though he loved it, no wine for +Lombardo while actually at work. + +MOHI--Indeed? Why, I ever thought that it was to the superior quality +of Lombardo's punches, that Mardi was indebted for that abounding +humor of his. + +BABBALANJA--Not so; he had another way of keeping himself well +braced. + +YOOMY--Quick! tell us the secret. + +BABBALANJA--He never wrote by rush-light. His lamp swung in heaven.-- +He rose from his East, with the sun; he wrote when all nature was +alive. + +MOHI--Doubtless, then, he always wrote with a grin; and none laughed +louder at his quips, than Lombardo himself. + +BABBALANJA--Hear you laughter at the birth of a man child, old man? +The babe may have many dimples; not so, the parent. Lombardo was a +hermit to behold. + +MEDIA--What! did Lombardo laugh with a long face? + +BABBALANJA--His merriment was not always merriment to him, your +Highness. For the most part, his meaning kept him serious. Then he was +so intensely riveted to his work, he could not pause to laugh. + +MOHI--My word for it; but he had a sly one, now and then. + +BABBALANJA--For the nonce, he was not his own master: a mere +amanuensis writing by dictation. + +YOOMY--Inspiration, that! + +BABBALANJA.--Call it as you will, Yoomy, it was a sort of sleep- +walking of the mind. Lombardo never threw down his pen: it dropped +from him; and then, he sat disenchanted: rubbing his eyes; staring; +and feeling faint--sometimes, almost unto death. + +MEDIA--But pray, Babbalanja, tell us how he made acquaintance with +some of those rare worthies, he introduces us to, in his Koztanza. + +BABBALANJA--He first met them in his reveries; they were walking +about in him, sour and moody: and for a long time, were shy of his +advances; but still importuned, they at last grew ashamed of their +reserve; stepped forward; and gave him their hands. After that, they +were frank and friendly. Lombardo set places for them at his board; +when he died, he left them something in his will. + +MEDIA--What! those imaginary beings? + +ABRAZZA--Wondrous witty! infernal fine! + +MEDIA--But, Babbalanja; after all, the Koztanza found no favor in the +eyes of some Mardians. + +ABRAZZA--Ay: the arch-critics Verbi and Batho denounced it. + +BABBALANJA--Yes: on good authority, Verbi is said to have detected a +superfluous comma; and Batho declared that, with the materials he +could have constructed a far better world than Lombardo's. But, didst +ever hear of his laying his axis? + +ABRAZZA--But the unities; Babbalanja, the unities! they are wholly +wanting in the Koztanza. + +BABBALANJA--Your Highness; upon that point, Lombardo was frank. Saith +he, in his autobiography: "For some time, I endeavored to keep in the +good graces of those nymphs; but I found them so captious, and +exacting; they threw me into such a violent passion with their fault- +findings; that, at last, I renounced them." + +ABRAZZA--Very rash! + +BABBALANJA--No, your Highness; for though Lombardo abandoned +all monitors from without; he retained one autocrat within--his +crowned and sceptered instinct. And what, if he pulled down one gross +world, and ransacked the etherial spheres, to build up something of +his own--a composite:--what then? matter and mind, though matching +not, are mates; and sundered oft, in his Koztanza they unite:--the +airy waist, embraced by stalwart arms. + +MEDIA--Incoherent again! I thought we were to have no more of this! + +BABBALANJA--My lord Media, there are things infinite in the finite; +and dualities in unities. Our eyes are pleased with the redness of the +rose, but another sense lives upon its fragrance. Its redness you must +approach, to view: its invisible fragrance pervades the field. So, +with the Koztanza. Its mere beauty is restricted to its form: its +expanding soul, past Mardi does embalm. Modak is Modako; but fogle- +foggle is not fugle-fi. + +MEDIA (_to Abrazza_)--My lord, you start again; but 'tis only another +phase of Azzageeddi; sometimes he's quite mad. But all this you must +needs overlook. + +ABRAZZA--I will, my dear prince; what one can not see through, one +must needs look over, as you say. + +YOOMY--But trust me, your Highness, some of those strange things fall +far too melodiously upon the ear, to be wholly deficient in meaning. + +ABRAZZA--Your gentle minstrel, _this_ must be, my lord. But +Babbalanja, the Koztanza lacks cohesion; it is wild, unconnected, all +episode. + +BABBALANJA--And so is Mardi itself:--nothing but episodes; valleys +and hills; rivers, digressing from plains; vines, roving all over; +boulders and diamonds; flowers and thistles; forests and thickets; +and, here and there, fens and moors. And so, the world in the +Koztanza. + +ABRAZZA--Ay, plenty of dead-desert chapters there; horrible sands to +wade through. + +MEDIA--Now, Babbalanja, away with your tropes; and tell us of +the work, directly it was done. What did Lombardo then? Did he show it +to any one for an opinion? + +BABBALANJA--Yes, to Zenzori; who asked him where he picked up so much +trash; to Hanto, who bade him not be cast down, it was pretty good; to +Lucree, who desired to know how much he was going to get for it; to +Roddi, who offered a suggestion. + +MEDIA--And what was that? + +BABBALANJA--That he had best make a faggot of the whole; and try +again. + +ABRAZZA--Very encouraging. + +MEDIA--Any one else? + +BABBALANJA--To Pollo; who, conscious his opinion was sought, was +thereby puffed up; and marking the faltering of Lombardo's voice, when +the manuscript was handed him, straightway concluded, that the man who +stood thus trembling at the bar, must needs be inferior to the judge. +But his verdict was mild. After sitting up all night over the work; +and diligently taking notes:--"Lombardo, my friend! here, take your +sheets. I have run through them loosely. You might have done better; +but then you might have done worse. Take them, my friend; I have put +in some good things for you:" + +MEDIA--And who was Pollo? + +BABBALANJA--Probably some one who lived in Lombardo's time, and went +by that name. He is incidentally mentioned, and cursorily immortalized +in one of the posthumous notes to the Koztanza. + +MEDIA--What is said of him there? + +BABBALANJA--Not much. In a very old transcript of the work--that of +Aldina--the note alludes to a brave line in the text, and runs thus:-- +"Diverting to tell, it was this passage that an old prosodist, one +Pollo, claimed for his own. He maintained he made a free-will offering +of it to Lombardo. Several things are yet extant of this Pollo, who +died some weeks ago. He seems to have been one of those, who +would do great things if they could; but are content to compass the +small. He imagined, that the precedence of authors he had established +in his library, was their Mardi order of merit. He condemned the +sublime poems of Vavona to his lowermost shelf. 'Ah,' thought he, 'how +we library princes, lord it over these beggarly authors!' Well read in +the history of their woes, Pollo pitied them all, particularly the +famous; and wrote little essays of his own, which he read to himself." + +MEDIA--Well: and what said Lombardo to those good friends of his,-- +Zenzori, Hanto, and Roddi? + +BABBALANJA--Nothing. Taking home his manuscript, he glanced it over; +making three corrections. + +ABRAZZA--And what then? + +BABBALANJA--Then, your Highness, he thought to try a conclave of +professional critics; saying to himself, "Let them privately point out +to me, now, all my blemishes; so that, what time they come to review +me in public, all will be well." But curious to relate, those +professional critics, for the most part, held their peace, concerning +a work yet unpublished. And, with some generous exceptions, in their +vague, learned way, betrayed such base, beggarly notions of +authorship, that Lombardo could have wept, had tears been his. But in +his very grief, he ground his teeth. Muttered he, "They are fools. In +their eyes, bindings not brains make books. They criticise my tattered +cloak, not my soul, caparisoned like a charger. He is the great +author, think they, who drives the best bargain with his wares: and no +bargainer am I. Because he is old, they worship some mediocrity of an +ancient, and mock at the living prophet with the live coal on his +lips. They are men who would not be men, had they no books. Their +sires begat them not; but the authors they have read. Feelings they +have none: and their very opinions they borrow. They can not say yea, +nor nay, without first consulting all Mardi as an Encyclopedia. And +all the learning in them, is as a dead corpse in a coffin. Were +they worthy the dignity of being damned, I would damn them; but they +are not. Critics?--Asses! rather mules!--so emasculated, from vanity, +they can not father a true thought. Like mules, too, from dunghills, +they trample down gardens of roses: and deem that crushed fragrance +their own.--Oh! that all round the domains of genius should lie thus +unhedged, for such cattle to uproot! Oh! that an eagle should be +stabbed by a goose-quill! But at best, the greatest reviewers but prey +on my leavings. For I am critic and creator; and as critic, in cruelty +surpass all critics merely, as a tiger, jackals. For ere Mardi sees +aught of mine, I scrutinize it myself, remorseless as a surgeon. I cut +right and left; I probe, tear, and wrench; kill, burn, and destroy; +and what's left after that, the jackals are welcome to. It is I that +stab false thoughts, ere hatched; I that pull down wall and tower, +rejecting materials which would make palaces for others. Oh! could +Mardi but see how we work, it would marvel more at our primal chaos, +than at the round world thence emerging. It would marvel at our +scaffoldings, scaling heaven; marvel at the hills of earth, banked all +round our fabrics ere completed.--How plain the pyramid! In this grand +silence, so intense, pierced by that pointed mass,--could ten thousand +slaves have ever toiled? ten thousand hammers rung?--There it stands, +--part of Mardi: claiming kin with mountains;--was this thing piecemeal +built?--It was. Piecemeal?--atom by atom it was laid. The world is +made of mites." + +YOOMY (_musing._)--It is even so. + +ABRAZZA--Lombardo was severe upon the critics; and they as much so +upon him;--of that, be sure. + +BABBALANGA--Your Highness, Lombardo never presumed to criticise true +critics; who are more rare than true poets. A great critic is a sultan +among satraps; but pretenders are thick as ants, striving to scale a +palm, after its aerial sweetness. And they fight among themselves. +Essaying to pluck eagles, they themselves are geese, stuck full +of quills, of which they rob each other. + +ABRAZZA (_to Media._)--Oro help the victim that falls in Babbalanja's +hands! + +MEDIA.--Ay, my lord; at times, his every finger is a dagger: every +thought a falling tower that whelms! But resume, philosopher--what of +Lombardo now? + +BABBALANJA--"For this thing," said he, "I have agonized over it +enough.--I can wait no more. It has faults--all mine;--its merits all +its own;--but I can toil no longer. The beings knit to me implore; my +heart is full; my brain is sick. Let it go--let it go--and Oro with +it. Somewhere Mardi has a mighty heart---_that_ struck, all the isles +shall resound!" + +ABRAZZA--Poor devil! he took the world too hard. + +MEDIA.-As most of these mortals do, my lord. That's the load, self- +imposed, under which Babbalanja reels. But now, philosopher, ere Mardi +saw it, what thought Lombardo of his work, looking at it objectively, +as a thing out of him, I mean. + +ABRAZZA--No doubt, he hugged it. + +BABBALANJA--Hard to answer. Sometimes, when by himself, he thought +hugely of it, as my lord Abrazza says; but when abroad, among men, he +almost despised it; but when he bethought him of those parts, written +with full eyes, half blinded; temples throbbing; and pain at the +heart-- + +ABRAZZA--Pooh! pooh! + +BABBALANJA--He would say to himself, "Sure, it can not be in vain!" +Yet again, when he bethought him of the hurry and bustle of Mardi, +dejection stole over him. "Who will heed it," thought he; "what care +these fops and brawlers for me? But am I not myself an egregious +coxcomb? Who will read me? Say one thousand pages--twenty-five lines +each--every line ten words--every word ten letters. That's two million +five hundred thousand _a_'s, and _i_'s, and _o_'s to read! How +many are superfluous? Am I not mad to saddle Mardi with such a task? +Of all men, am I the wisest, to stand upon a pedestal, and teach the +mob? Ah, my own Kortanza! child of many prayers!--in whose earnest +eyes, so fathomless, I see my own; and recall all past delights and +silent agonies-thou may'st prove, as the child of some fond dotard:-- +beauteous to me; hideous to Mardi! And methinks, that while so much +slaving merits that thou should'st not die; it has not been intense, +prolonged enough, for the high meed of immortality. Yet, things +immortal have been written; and by men as me;--men, who slept and +waked; and ate; and talked with tongues like mine. Ah, Oro! how may we +know or not, we are what we would be? Hath genius any stamp and +imprint, obvious to possessors? Has it eyes to see itself; or is it +blind? Or do we delude ourselves with being gods, and end in grubs? +Genius, genius?--a thousand years hence, to be a household-word?--I?-- +Lombardo? but yesterday cut in the market-place by a spangled fool!-- +Lombardo immortal?--Ha, ha, Lombardo! but thou art an ass, with vast +ears brushing the tops of palms! Ha, ha, ha! Methinks I see thee +immortal! 'Thus great Lombardo saith; and thus; and thus; and thus:-- +thus saith he--illustrious Lombardo!--Lombardo, our great countryman! +Lombardo, prince of poets--Lombardo! great Lombardo!'--Ha, ha, ha!-- +go, go! dig thy grave, and bury thyself!" + +ABRAZZA--He was very funny, then, at times. + +BABBALANJA--Very funny, your Highness:--amazing jolly! And from my +nethermost soul, would to Oro, thou could'st but feel one touch of +that jolly woe! It would appall thee, my Right Worshipful lord +Abrazza! + +ABRAZZA (_to Media_)--My dear lord, his teeth are marvelously white +and sharp: some she-shark must have been his dam:--does he often grin +thus? It was infernal! + +MEDIA--Ah! that's Azzageddi. But, prithee, Babbalanja, proceed. + +BABBALANJA--Your Highness, even in his calmer critic moods, Lombardo +was far from fancying his work. He confesses, that it ever seemed to +him but a poor scrawled copy of something within, which, do what he +would, he could not completely transfer. "My canvas was small," said +he; "crowded out were hosts of things that came last. But Fate is in +it." And Fate it was, too, your Highness, which forced Lombardo, ere +his work was well done, to take it off his easel, and send it to be +multiplied. "Oh, that I was not thus spurred!" cried he; "but like +many another, in its very childhood, this poor child of mine must go +out into Mardi, and get bread for its sire." + +ABRAZZA (_with a sigh_)--Alas, the poor devil! But methinks 'twas +wondrous arrogant in him to talk to all Mardi at that lofty rate.--Did +he think himself a god? + +BABBALANJA--He himself best knew what he thought; but, like all +others, he was created by Oro to some special end; doubtless, partly +answered in his Koztanza. + +MEDIA--And now that Lombardo is long dead and gone--and his work, +hooted during life, lives after him--what think the present company of +it? Speak, my lord Abrazza! Babbalanja! Mohi! Yoomy! + +ABRAZZA (_tapping his sandal with his scepter__)--I never read it. + +BABBALANJA (_looking upward_)--It was written with a divine intent. + +Mohi (_stroking his beard_)--I never hugged it in a corner, and +ignored it before Mardi. + +Yoomy (_musing_)--It has bettered my heart. + +MEDIA (_rising_)--And I have read it through nine times. + +BABBALANJA (_starting up_)--Ah, Lombardo! this must make thy ghost +glad! + + + +CHAPTER LXXVII +They Sup + + +There seemed something sinister, hollow, heartless, about Abrazza, and +that green-and-yellow, evil-starred crown that he wore. + +But why think of that? Though we like not something in the curve of +one's brow, or distrust the tone of his voice; yet, let us away with +suspicions if we may, and make a jolly comrade of him, in the name of +the gods. Miserable! thrice miserable he, who is forever turning over +and over one's character in his mind, and weighing by nice +avoirdupois, the pros and the cons of his goodness and badness. For we +are all good and bad. Give me the heart that's huge as all Asia; and +unless a man, be a villain outright, account him one of the best +tempered blades in the world. + +That night, in his right regal hall, King Abrazza received us. And in +merry good time a fine supper was spread. + +Now, in thus nocturnally regaling us, our host was warranted by many +ancient and illustrious examples. + +For old Jove gave suppers; the god Woden gave suppers; the Hindoo +deity Brahma gave suppers; the Red Man's Great Spirit gave suppers:-- +chiefly venison and game. + +And many distinguished mortals besides. + +Ahasuerus gave suppers; Xerxes gave suppers; Montezuma gave suppers; +Powhattan gave suppers; the Jews' Passovers were suppers; the Pharaohs +gave suppers; Julius Caesar gave suppers:--and rare ones they were; +Great Pompey gave suppers; Nabob Crassus gave suppers; and +Heliogabalus, surnamed the Gobbler, gave suppers. + +It was a common saying of old, that King Pluto gave suppers; some say +he is giving them still. If so, he is keeping tip-top company, old +Pluto:--Emperors and Czars; Great Moguls and Great Khans; Grand Lamas +and Grand Dukes; Prince Regents and Queen Dowagers:--Tamerlane hob-a- +nobbing with Bonaparte; Antiochus with Solyman the Magnificent; +Pisistratus pledging Pilate; Semiramis eating bon-bons with Bloody +Mary, and her namesake of Medicis; the Thirty Tyrants quaffing three +to one with the Council of Ten; and Sultans, Satraps, Viziers, +Hetmans, Soldans, Landgraves, Bashaws, Doges, Dauphins, Infantas, +Incas, and Caciques looking on. + +Again: at Arbela, the conqueror of conquerors, conquering son of +Olympia by Jupiter himself, sent out cards to his captains,-- +Hephestion, Antigonus, Antipater, and the rest--to join him at ten, +p.m., in the Temple of Belus; there, to sit down to a victorious +supper, off the gold plate of the Assyrian High Priests. How +majestically he poured out his old Madeira that night!--feeling grand +and lofty as the Himmalehs; yea, all Babylon nodded her towers in his +soul! + +Spread, heaped up, stacked with good things; and redolent of citrons +and grapes, hilling round tall vases of wine; and here and there, +waving with fresh orange-boughs, among whose leaves, myriads of small +tapers gleamed like fire-flies in groves,--Abrazza's glorious board +showed like some banquet in Paradise: Ceres and Pomona presiding; and +jolly Bacchus, like a recruit with a mettlesome rifle, staggering back +as he fires off the bottles of vivacious champagne. + +In ranges, roundabout stood living candelabras:--lackeys, gayly +bedecked, with tall torches in their hands; and at one end, stood +trumpeters, bugles at their lips. + +"This way, my dear Media!--this seat at my left--Noble Taji!--my +right. Babbalanja!--Mohi--where you are. But where's pretty Yoomy?-- +Gone to meditate in the moonlight? ah!--Very good. Let the +banquet begin. A blast there!" + +And charge all did. + +The venison, wild boar's meat, and buffalo-humps, were extraordinary; +the wine, of rare vintages, like bottled lightning; and the first +course, a brilliant affair, went off like a rocket. + +But as yet, Babbalanja joined not in the revels. His mood was on him; +and apart he sat; silently eyeing the banquet; and ever and anon +muttering,--"Fogle-foggle, fugle-fi.--" + +The first fury of the feast over, said King Media, pouring out from a +heavy flagon into his goblet, "Abrazza, these suppers are wondrous +fine things." + +"Ay, my dear lord, much better than dinners." + +"So they are, so they are. The dinner-hour is the summer of the day: +full of sunshine, I grant; but not like the mellow autumn of supper. A +dinner, you know, may go off rather stiffly; but invariably suppers +are jovial. At dinners, 'tis not till you take in sail, furl the +cloth, bow the lady-passengers out, and make all snug; 'tis not till +then, that one begins to ride out the gale with complacency. But at +these suppers--Good Oro! your cup is empty, my dear demi-god!--But at +these suppers, I say, all is snug and ship-shape before you begin; and +when you begin, you waive the beginning, and begin in the middle. And +as for the cloth,--but tell us, Braid-Beard, what that old king of +Franko, Ludwig the Fat, said of that matter. The cloth for suppers, +you know. It's down in your chronicles." + +"My lord,"--wiping his beard,--"Old Ludwig was of opinion, that at +suppers the cloth was superfluous, unless on the back of some jolly +good friar. Said he, 'For one, I prefer sitting right down to the +unrobed table.'" + +"High and royal authority, that of Ludwig the Fat," said Babbalanja, +"far higher than the authority of Ludwig the Great:--the one, only +great by courtesy; the other, fat beyond a peradventure. But +they are equally famous; and in their graves, both on a par. For after +devouring many a fair province, and grinding the poor of his realm, +Ludwig the Great has long since, himself, been devoured by very small +worms, and ground into very fine dust. And after stripping many a +venison rib, Ludwig the Fat has had his own polished and bleached in +the Valley of Death; yea, and his cranium chased with corrodings, like +the carved flagon once held to its jaws." + +"My lord! my lord!"--cried Abrazza to Media--"this ghastly devil of +yours grins worse than a skull. I feel the worms crawling over me!--By +Oro we must eject him!" + +"No, no, my lord. Let him sit there, as of old the Death's-head graced +the feasts of the Pharaohs--let him sit--let him sit--for Death but +imparts a flavor to Life--Go on: wag your tongue without fear, +Azzageddi!--But come, Braid-Beard! let's hear more of the Ludwigs." + +"Well, then, your Highness, of all the eighteen royal Ludwigs of +Franko--" + +"Who like so many ten-pins, all in a row," interposed Babbalanja-- +"have been bowled off the course by grim Death." + +"Heed him not," said Media--"go on." + +"The Debonnaire, the Pious, the Stammerer, the Do-Nothing, the +Juvenile, the Quarreler:--of all these, I say, Ludwig the Fat was the +best table-man of them all. Such a full orbed paunch was his, that no +way could he devise of getting to his suppers, but by getting right +into them. Like the Zodiac his table was circular, and full in the +middle he sat, like a sun;--all his jolly stews and ragouts revolving +around him." + +"Yea," said Babbalanja, "a very round sun was Ludwig the Fat. No +wonder he's down in the chronicles; several ells about the waist, and +King of cups and Tokay. Truly, a famous king: three hundred-weight of +lard, with a diadem on top: lean brains and a fat doublet--a +demijohn of a demi-god!" + +"Is this to be longer borne?" cried Abrazza, starting up. "Quaff that +sneer down, devil! on the instant! down with it, to the dregs! This +comes, my lord Media, of having a slow drinker at one's board. Like an +iceberg, such a fellow frosts the whole atmosphere of a banquet, and +is felt a league off We must thrust him out. Guards!" + +"Back! touch him not, hounds!"--cried Media. "Your pardon, my lord, +but we'll keep him to it; and melt him down in this good wine. Drink! +I command it, drink, Babbalanja!" + +"And am I not drinking, my lord? Surely you would not that I should +imbibe more than I can hold. The measure being full, all poured in +after that is but wasted. I am for being temperate in these things, my +good lord. And my one cup outlasts three of yours. Better to sip a +pint, than pour down a quart. All things in moderation are good; +whence, wine in moderation is good. But all things in excess are bad: +whence wine in excess is bad." + +"Away with your logic and conic sections! Drink!--But no, no: I am too +severe. For of all meals a supper should be the most social and free. +And going thereto we kings, my lord, should lay aside our scepters.-- +Do as you please Babbalanja." + +"You are right, you are right, after all, my dear demi-god," said +Abrazza. "And to say truth, I seldom worry myself with the ways of +these mortals; for no thanks do we demi-gods get. We kings should be +ever indifferent. Nothing like a cold heart; warm ones are ever +chafing, and getting into trouble. I let my mortals here in this isle +take heed to themselves; only barring them out when they would thrust +in their petitions. This very instant, my lord, my yeoman-guard is on +duty without, to drive off intruders.--Hark!--what noise is that?--Ho, +who comes?" + +At that instant, there burst into the hall, a crowd of +spearmen, driven before a pale, ragged rout, that loudly +invoked King Abrazza. + +"Pardon, my lord king, for thus forcing an entrance! But long in vain +have we knocked at thy gates! Our grievances are more than we can +bear! Give ear to our spokesman, we beseech!" + +And from their tumultuous midst, they pushed forward a tall, grim, +pine-tree of a fellow, who loomed up out of the throng, like the Peak +of Teneriffe among the Canaries in a storm. + +"Drive the knaves out! Ho, cowards, guards, turn about! charge upon +them! Away with your grievances! Drive them out, I say, drive them +out!--High times, truly, my lord Media, when demi-gods are thus +annoyed at their wine. Oh, who would reign over mortals!" + +So at last, with much difficulty, the ragged rout were ejected; the +Peak of Teneriffe going last, a pent storm on his brow; and muttering +about some black time that was corning. + +While the hoarse murmurs without still echoed through the hall, King +Abrazza refilling his cup thus spoke:--"You were saying, my dear lord, +that of all meals a supper is the most social and free. Very true. And +of all suppers those given by us bachelor demi-gods are the best. Are +they not?" + +"They are. For Benedict mortals must be home betimes: bachelor demi- +gods are never away." + +"Ay, your Highnesses, bachelors are all the year round at home;" said +Mohi: "sitting out life in the chimney corner, cozy and warm as the +dog, whilome turning the old-fashioned roasting jack." + +"And to us bachelor demi-gods," cried Media "our to-morrows are as +long rows of fine punches, ranged on a board, and waiting the hand." + +"But my good lords," said Babbalanja, now brightening with wine; "if, +of all suppers those given by bachelors be the best:--of all +bachelors, are not your priests and monks the jolliest? I mean, behind +the scenes? Their prayers all said, and their futurities securely +invested,--who so carefree and cozy as they? Yea, a supper for two in +a friar's cell in Maramma, is merrier far, than a dinner for five-and- +twenty, in the broad right wing of Donjalolo's great Palace of the Morn." + +"Bravo, Babbalanja!" cried Media, "your iceberg is thawing. More of +that, more of that. Did I not say, we would melt him down at last, my +lord?" + +"Ay," continued Babbalanja, "bachelors are a noble fraternity: I'm a +bachelor myself. One of ye, in that matter, my lord demi-gods. And if +unlike the patriarchs of the world, we father not our brigades and +battalions; and send not out into the battles of our country whole +regiments of our own individual raising;--yet do we oftentimes leave +behind us goodly houses and lands; rare old brandies and mountain +Malagas; and more especially, warm doublets and togas, and +spatterdashes, wherewithal to keep comfortable those who survive us;-- +casing the legs and arms, which others beget. Then compare not +invidiously Benedicts with bachelors, since thus we make an equal +division of the duties, which both owe to posterity." + +"Suppers forever!" cried Media. "See, my lord, what yours has done for +Babbalanja. He came to it a skeleton; but will go away, every bone +padded!" + +"Ay, my lord demi-gods," said Babbalanja, drop by drop refilling his +goblet. "These suppers are all very fine, very pleasant, and merry. +But we pay for them roundly. Every thing, my good lords, has its +price, from a marble to a world. And easier of digestion, and better +for both body and soul, are a half-haunch of venison and a gallon of +mead, taken under the sun at meridian, than the soft bridal breast of +a partridge, with some gentle negus, at the noon of night!" + +"No lie that!" said Mohi. "Beshrew me, in no well-appointed +mansion doth the pantry lie adjoining the sleeping chamber. A good +thought: I'll fill up, and ponder on it." + +"Let not Azzageddi get uppermost again, Babbalanja," cried Media. +"Your goblet is only half-full." + +"Permit it to remain so; my lord. For whoso takes much wine to bed +with him, has a bedfellow, more restless than a somnambulist. And +though Wine be a jolly blade at the board, a sulky knave is he under a +blanket. I know him of old. Yet, your Highness, for all this, to many +a Mardian, suppers are still better than dinners, at whatever cost +purchased. Forasmuch, as many have more leisure to sup, than dine. And +though you demi-gods, may dine at your ease; and dine it out into +night: and sit and chirp over your Burgundy, till the morning larks +join your crickets, and wed matins to vespers;--far otherwise, with us +plebeian mortals. From our dinners, we must hie to our anvils: and the +last jolly jorum evaporates in a cark and a care." + +"Methinks he relapses," said Abrazza. + +"It waxes late," said Mohi; "your Highnesses, is it not time to break +up?" + +"No, no!", cried Abrazza; "let the day break when it will: but no +breakings for us. It's only midnight. This way with the wine; pass it +along, my dear Media. We are young yet, my sweet lord; light hearts +and heavy purses; short prayers and long rent-rolls. Pass round the +Tokay! We demi-gods have all our old age for a dormitory. Come!--Round +and round with the flagons! Let them disappear like mile-stones on a +race-course!" + +"Ah!" murmured Babbalanja, holding his full goblet at arm's length on +the board, "not thus with the hapless wight, born with a hamper on his +back, and blisters in his palms.--Toil and sleep--sleep and toil, are +his days and his nights; he goes to bed with a lumbago, and wakes with +the rheumatics;--I know what it is;--he snatches lunches, not dinners, +and makes of all life a cold snack! Yet praise be to Oro, +though to such men dinners are scarce worth the eating; nevertheless, +praise Oro again, a good supper is something. Off jack-boots; nay, off +shirt, if you will, and go at it. Hurrah! the fagged day is done: the +last blow is an echo. Twelve long hours to sunrise! And would it were +an Antarctic night, and six months to to-morrow! But, hurrah! the very +bees have their hive, and after a day's weary wandering, hie home to +their honey. So they stretch out their stiff legs, rub their lame +elbows, and putting their tired right arms in a sling, set the others +to fetching and carrying from dishes to dentals, from foaming flagon +to the demijohn which never pours out at the end you pour in. Ah! +after all, the poorest devil in Mardi lives not in vain. There's a +soft side to the hardest oak-plank in the world!" + +"Methinks I have heard some such sentimental gabble as this before +from my slaves, my lord," said Abrazza to Media. "It has the old +gibberish flavor." + +"Gibberish, your Highness? Gibberish? I'm full of it--I'm a gibbering +ghost, my right worshipful lord! Here, pass your hand through me-- +here, _here_, and scorch it where I most burn. By Oro! King! but I +will gibe and gibber at thee, till thy crown feels like another skull +clapped on thy own. Gibberish? ay, in hell we'll gibber in concert, +king! we'll howl, and roast, and hiss together!" + +"Devil that thou art, begone! Ho, guards! seize him!" + +"Back, curs!" cried Media. "Harm not a hair of his head. I crave +pardon, King Abrazza, but no violence must be done Babbalanja." + +"Trumpets there!" said Abrazza; "so: the banquet is done--lights for +King Media! Good-night, my lord!" + +Now, thus, for the nonce, with good cheer, we close. And after many +fine dinners and banquets--through light and through shade; through +mirth, sorrow, and all--drawing nigh to the evening end of these +wanderings wild--meet is it that all should be regaled with a supper. + + + +CHAPTER LXXVIII +They Embark + + +Next morning, King Abrazza sent frigid word to Media that the day was +very fine for yachting; but he much regretted that indisposition would +prevent his making one of the party, who that morning doubtless would +depart his isle. + +"My compliments to your king," said Media to the chamberlains, "and +say the royal notice to quit was duly received." + +"Take Azzageddi's also," said Babbalanja; "and say, I hope his +Highness will not fail in his appointment with me:--the first midnight +after he dies; at the grave-yard corner;--there I'll be, and grin again!" + +Sailing on, the next land we saw was thickly wooded: hedged round +about by mangrove trees; which growing in the water, yet lifted high +their boughs. Here and there were shady nooks, half verdure and half +water. Fishes rippled, and canaries sung. + +"Let us break through, my lord," said Yoomy, "and seek the shore. Its +solitudes must prove reviving." "Solitudes they are," cried Mohi. + +"Peopled but not enlivened," said Babbalanja. "Hard landing here, +minstrel! see you not the isle is hedged?" + +"Why, break through, then," said Media. "Yillah is not here." + +"I mistrusted it," sighed Yoomy; "an imprisoned island! full of +uncomplaining woes: like many others we must have glided by, +unheedingly. Yet of them have I heard. This isle many pass, marking +its outward brightness, but dreaming not of the sad secrets +here embowered. Haunt of the hopeless! In those inland woods brood +Mardians who have tasted Mardi, and found it bitter--the draught so +sweet to others!--maidens whose unimparted bloom has cankered in the +bud; and children, with eyes averted from life's dawn--like those new- +oped morning blossoms which, foreseeing storms, turn and close." + +"Yoomy's rendering of the truth," said Mohi. + +"Why land, then?" said Media. "No merry man of sense--no demi-god like +me, will do it. Let's away; let's see all that's pleasant, or that +seems so, in our circuit, and, if possible, shun the sad." + +"Then we have circled not the round reef wholly," said Babbalanja, +"but made of it a segment. For this is far from being the first sad +land, my lord, that we have slighted at your instance." + +"No more. I will have no gloom. A chorus! there, ye paddlers! spread +all your sails; ply paddles; breeze up, merry winds!" + +And so, in the saffron sunset, we neared another shore. + +A gloomy-looking land! black, beetling crags, rent by volcanic clefts; +ploughed up with water-courses, and dusky with charred woods. The +beach was strewn with scoria and cinders; in dolorous soughs, a chill +wind blew; wails issued from the caves; and yellow, spooming surges, +lashed the moaning strand. + +"Shall we land?" said Babbalanja. + +"Not here," cried Yoomy; "no Yillah here." + +"No," said Media. "This is another of those lands far better to +avoid." + +"Know ye not," said Mohi, "that here are the mines of King Klanko, +whose scourged slaves, toiling in their pits, so nigh approach the +volcano's bowels, they hear its rumblings? 'Yet they must work on,' +cries Klanko, 'the mines still yield!' And daily his slaves' bones are +brought above ground, mixed with the metal masses." + +"Set all sail there, men! away!" + +"My lord," said Babbalanja; "still must we shun the unmitigated evil; +and only view the good; or evil so mixed therewith, the mixture's +both?" + +Half vailed in misty clouds, the harvest-moon now rose; and in that +pale and haggard light, all sat silent; each man in his own secret +mood: best knowing his own thoughts. + + + +CHAPTER LXXIX +Babbalanja At The Full Of The Moon + + +"Ho, mortals! Go we to a funeral, that our paddles seem thus muffled? +Up heart, Taji! or does that witch Hautia haunt thee? Be a demi-god +once more, and laugh. Her flowers are not barbs; and the avengers' +arrows are too blunt to slay. Babbalanja! Mohi! Yoomy! up heart! up +heart!--By Oro! I will debark the whole company on the next land we +meet. No tears for me. Ha, ha! let us laugh. Ho, Vee-Vee! awake; +quick, boy,--some wine! and let us make glad, beneath the glad moon. +Look! it is stealing forth from its clouds. Perdition to Hautia! Long +lives, and merry ones to ourselves! Taji, my charming fellow, here's +to you:--May your heart be a stone! Ha, ha!--will nobody join me? My +laugh is lonely as his who laughed in his tomb. Come, laugh; will no +one quaff wine, I say? See! the round moon is abroad." + +"Say you so, my lord? then for one, I am with you;" cried Babbalanja. +"Fill me a brimmer. Ah! but this wine leaps through me like a panther. +Ay, let us laugh: let us roar: let us yell! What, if I was sad but +just now? Life is an April day, that both laughs and weeps in a +breath. But whoso is wise, laughs when he can. Men fly from a groan; +but run to a laugh. Vee-Vee! your gourd. My lord, let me help you. Ah, +how it sparkles! Cups, cups, Vee-Vee, more cups! Here, Taji, take +that: Mohi, take that: Yoomy, take that. And now let us drown away +grief. Ha! ha! the house of mourning, is deserted, though of old good +cheer kept the funeral guests; and so keep I mine; here I sit +by my dead, and replenish your wine cups. Old Mohi, your cup: Yoomy, +yours: ha! ha! let us laugh, let us scream! Weeds are put off at a +fair; no heart bursts but in secret; it is good to laugh, though the +laugh be hollow; and wise to make merry, now and for aye. Laugh, and +make friends: weep, and they go. Women sob, and are rid of their +grief: men laugh, and retain it. There is laughter in heaven, and +laughter in hell. And a deep thought whose language is laughter. +Though wisdom be wedded to woe, though the way thereto is by tears, +yet all ends in a shout. But wisdom wears no weeds; woe is more merry +than mirth; 'tis a shallow grief that is sad. Ha! ha! how demoniacs +shout; how all skeletons grin; we all die with a rattle. Laugh! laugh! +Are the cherubim grave? Humor, thy laugh is divine; whence, mirth- +making idiots have been revered; and therefore may I. Ho! let us be +gay, if it be only for an hour, and Death hand us the goblet. Vee-Vee! +bring on your gourds! Let us pledge each other in bumpers!--let us +laugh, laugh, laugh it out to the last. All sages have laughed,--let +us; Bardianna laughed, let us; Demorkriti laughed,--let us: Amoree +laughed,--let us; Rabeelee roared,--let us; the hyenas grin, the +jackals yell,--let us.--But you don't laugh, my lord? laugh away!" + +"No, thank you, Azzageddi, not after that infernal fashion; better +weep." + +"He makes me crawl all over, as if I were an ant-hill," said Mohi. + +"He's mad, mad, mad!" cried Yoomy. + +"Ay, mad, mad, mad!--mad as the mad fiend that rides me!--But come, +sweet minstrel, wilt list to a song?--We madmen are all poets, you +know:--Ha! ha!-- + + Stars laugh in the sky: + Oh fugle-fi I + The waves dimple below: + Oh fugle-fo! + +"The wind strikes her dulcimers; the groves give a shout; the +hurricane is only an hysterical laugh; and the lightning that blasts, +blasts only in play. We must laugh or we die; to laugh is to live. Not +to laugh is to have the tetanus. Will you weep? then laugh while you +weep. For mirth and sorrow are kin; are published by identical nerves. +Go, Yoomy: go study anatomy: there is much to be learned from the +dead, more than you may learn from the living and I am dead though I +live; and as soon dissect myself as another; I curiously look into my +secrets: and grope under my ribs. I have found that the heart is not +whole, but divided; that it seeks a soft cushion whereon to repose; +that it vitalizes the blood; which else were weaker than water: I have +found that we can not live without hearts; though the heartless live +longest. Yet hug your hearts, ye handful that have them; 'tis a +blessed inheritance! Thus, thus, my lord, I run on; from one pole to +the other; from this thing to that. But so the great world goes round, +and in one Somerset, shows the sun twenty-five thousand miles of a +landscape!" + +At that instant, down went the fiery full-moon, and the Dog-Star; and +far down into Media, a Tivoli of wine. + + + +CHAPTER LXXX +Morning + + +Life or death, weal or woe, the sun stays not his course. On: over +battle-field and bower; over tower, and town, he speeds,--peers in at +births, and death-beds; lights up cathedral, mosque, and pagan +shrine;--laughing over all;--a very Democritus in the sky; and in one +brief day sees more than any pilgrim in a century's round. + +So, the sun; nearer heaven than we:--with what mind, then, may blessed +Oro downward look. + +It was a purple, red, and yellow East;--streaked, and crossed. And +down from breezy mountains, robust and ruddy Morning came,--a plaided +Highlander, waving his plumed bonnet to the isles. + +Over the neighboring groves the larks soared high; and soaring, sang +in jubilees; while across our bows, between two isles, a mighty moose +swam stately as a seventy-four; and backward tossed his antlered +wilderness in air. + +Just bounding from fresh morning groves, with the brine he mixed the +dew of leaves,--his antlers dripping on the swell, that rippled before +his brown and bow-like chest. + +"Five hundred thousand centuries since," said Babbalanja, "this same +sight was seen. With Oro, the sun is co-eternal; and the same life +that moves that moose, animates alike the sun and Oro. All are parts +of One. In me, in _me_, flit thoughts participated by the beings +peopling all the stars. Saturn, and Mercury, and Mardi, are brothers, +one and all; and across their orbits, to each other talk, like souls. +Of these things what chapters might be writ! Oh! that flesh can not +keep pace with spirit. Oh! that these myriad germ-dramas in me, +should so perish hourly, for lack of power mechanic.--Worlds pass +worlds in space, as men, men,--in thoroughfares; and after periods of +thousand years, cry:--"Well met, my friend, again!"--To me to _me_, +they talk in mystic music; I hear them think through all their zones. +--Hail, furthest worlds! and all the beauteous beings in ye! Fan me, +sweet Zenora! with thy twilight wings!--Ho! let's voyage to +Aldebaran.--Ha! indeed, a ruddy world! What a buoyant air! Not like to +Mardi, this. Ruby columns: minarets of amethyst: diamond domes! Who is +this?--a god? What a lake-like brow! transparent as the morning air. I +see his thoughts like worlds revolving--and in his eyes--like unto +heavens--soft falling stars are shooting.--How these thousand passing +wings winnow away my breath:--I faint:--back, back to some small +asteroid.--Sweet being! if, by Mardian word I may address thee-- +speak!--'I bear a soul in germ within me; I feel the first, faint +trembling, like to a harp-string, vibrate in my inmost being. Kill me, +and generations die.'--So, of old, the unbegotten lived within the +virgin; who then loved her God, as new-made mothers their babes ere +born. Oh, Alma, Alma, Alma!--Fangs off, fiend!--will that name ever +lash thee into foam?--Smite not my face so, forked flames!" + +"Babbalanja! Babbalanja! rouse, man! rouse! Art in hell and damned, +that thy sinews so snake-like coil and twist all over thee? Thy brow +is black as Ops! Turn, turn! see yonder moose!" + +"Hail! mighty brute!--thou feelest not these things: never canst +_thou_ be damned. Moose! would thy soul were mine; for if that +scorched thing, mine, be immortal--so thine; and thy life hath not the +consciousness of death. I read profound placidity--deep--million-- +violet fathoms down, in that soft, pathetic, woman eye! What is man's +shrunk form to thine, thou woodland majesty?--Moose, moose!--my soul +is shot again--Oh, Oro! Oro!" + +"He falls!" cried Media. + +"Mark the agony in his waning eye," said Yoomy;--"alas, poor +Babbalanja! Is this thing of madness conscious to thyself? If ever +thou art sane again, wilt thou have reminiscences? Take my robe:-- +here, I strip me to cover thee and all thy woes. Oro! by this, thy +being's side, I kneel:--grant death or happiness to Babbalanja!" + + + +CHAPTER LXXXI +L'ultima Sera + + +Thus far, through myriad islands, had we searched: of all, no one pen +may write: least, mine;--and still no trace of Yillah. + +But though my hopes revived not from their ashes; yet, so much of +Mardi had we searched, it seemed as if the long pursuit must, ere many +moons, be ended; whether for weal or woe, my frenzy sometimes reeked not. + +After its first fair morning flushings, all that day was overcast. We +sailed upon an angry sea, beneath an angry sky. Deep scowled on deep; +and in dun vapors, the blinded sun went down, unseen; though full +toward the West our three prows were pointed; steadfast as three +printed points upon the compass-card. + +"When we set sail from Odo, 'twas a glorious morn in spring," said +Yoomy; "toward the rising sun we steered. But now, beneath autumnal +night-clouds, we hasten to its setting." + +"How now?" cried Media; "why is the minstrel mournful?--He whose place +it is to chase away despondency: not be its minister." + +"Ah, my lord, so _thou_ thinkest. But better can my verses soothe the +sad, than make them light of heart. Nor are we minstrels so gay of +soul as Mardi deems us. The brook that sings the sweetest, murmurs +through the loneliest woods: + + The isles hold thee not, thou departed! + From thy bower, now issues no lay:-- + In vain we recall perished warblings: + Spring birds, to far climes, wing their way!" + +As Yoomy thus sang; unmindful of the lay, with paddle plying, in low, +pleasant tones, thus hummed to himself our bowsman, a gamesome wight:-- + + Ho! merrily ho! we paddlers sail! + Ho! over sea-dingle, and dale!-- + Our pulses fly, + Our hearts beat high, + Ho! merrily, merrily, ho! + +But a sudden splash, and a shrill, gurgling sound, like that of a +fountain subsiding, now broke upon the air. Then all was still, save +the rush of the waves by our keels. + +"Save him! Put back!" + +From his elevated seat, the merry bowsman, too gleefully reaching +forward, had fallen into the lagoon. + +With all haste, our speeding canoes were reversed; but not till we had +darted in upon another darkness than that in which the bowsman fell. + +As, blindly, we groped back, deep Night dived deeper down in the sea. + +"Drop paddles all, and list." + +Holding their breath, over the six gunwales all now leaned; but the +only moans were the wind's. + +Long time we lay thus; then slowly crossed and recrossed our track, +almost hopeless; but yet loth to leave him who, with a song in his +mouth, died and was buried in a breath. + +"Let us away," said Media--"why seek more? He is gone." + +"Ay, gone," said Babbalanja, "and whither? But a moment since, he was +among us: now, the fixed stars are not more remote than he. So far +off, can he live? Oh, Oro! this death thou ordainest, unmans the +manliest. Say not nay, my lord. Let us not speak behind Death's back. +Hard and horrible is it to die: blindfold to leap from life's verge! +But thus, in clouds of dust, and with a trampling as of hoofs, the +generations disappear; death driving them all into his treacherous +fold, as wild Indians the bison herds. Nay, nay, Death is +Life's last despair. Hard and horrible is it to die. Oro himself, in +Alma, died not without a groan. Yet why, why live? Life is wearisome +to all: the same dull round. Day and night, summer and winter, round +about us revolving for aye. One moment lived, is a life. No new stars +appear in the sky; no new lights in the soul. Yet, of changes there +are many. For though, with rapt sight, in childhood, we behold many +strange things beneath the moon, and all Mardi looks a tented fair-- +how soon every thing fades. All of us, in our very bodies, outlive our +own selves. I think of green youth as of a merry playmate departed; +and to shake hands, and be pleasant with my old age, seems in prospect +even harder, than to draw a cold stranger to my bosom. But old age is +not for me. I am not of the stuff that grows old. This Mardi is not +our home. Up and down we wander, like exiles transported to a planet +afar:--'tis not the world _we_ were born in; not the world once so +lightsome and gay; not the world where we once merrily danced, dined, +and supped; and wooed, and wedded our long-buried wives. Then let us +depart. But whither? We push ourselves forward then, start back in +affright. Essay it again, and flee. Hard to live; hard to die; +intolerable suspense! But the grim despot at last interposes; and with +a viper in our winding-sheets, we are dropped in the sea." + +"To me," said Mohi, his gray locks damp with night-dews, "death's dark +defile at times seems at hand, with no voice to cheer. That all have +died, makes it not easier for me to depart. And that many have been +quenched in infancy seems a mercy to the slow perishing of my old age, +limb by limb and sense by sense. I have long been the tomb of my +youth. And more has died out of me, already, than remains for the last +death to finish. Babbalanja says truth. In childhood, death stirred me +not; in middle age, it pursued me like a prowling bandit on the road; +now, grown an old man, it boldly leads the way; and ushers me +on; and turns round upon me its skeleton gaze: poisoning the +last solaces of life. Maramma but adds to my gloom." + +"Death! death!" cried Yoomy, "must I be not, and millions be? Must I +go, and the flowers still bloom? Oh, I have marked what it is to be +dead;--how shouting boys, of holidays, hide-and-seek among the tombs, +which must hide all seekers at last." + +"Clouds on clouds!" cried Media, "but away with them all! Why not leap +your graves, while ye may? Time to die, when death comes, without +dying by inches. 'Tis no death, to die; the only death is the fear of +it. I, a demi-god, fear death not." + +"But when the jackals howl round you?" said Babbalanja. + +"Drive them off! Die the demi-god's death! On his last couch of +crossed spears, my brave old sire cried, 'Wine, wine; strike up, conch +and cymbal; let the king die to martial melodies!'" + +"More valiant dying, than dead," said Babbalanja. "Our end of the +winding procession resounds with music and flaunts with banners with +brave devices: 'Cheer up!' 'Fear not!' 'Millions have died before!'-- +but in the endless van, not a pennon streams; all there, is silent and +solemn. The last wisdom is dumb." + +Silence ensued; during which, each dip of the paddles in the now calm +water, fell full and long upon the ear. + +Anon, lifting his head, Babbalanja thus:--"Yillah still eludes us. And +in all this tour of Mardi, how little have we found to fill the heart +with peace: how much to slaughter all our yearnings." + +"Croak no more, raven!" cried Media. "Mardi is full of spring-time +sights, and jubilee sounds. I never was sad in my life." + +"But for thy one laugh, my lord, how many groans! Were all happy, or +all miserable,--more tolerable then, than as it is. But happiness and +misery are so broadly marked, that this Mardi may be the +retributive future of some forgotten past.--Yet vain our surmises. +Still vainer to say, that all Mardi is but a means to an end; that +this life is a state of probation: that evil is but permitted for a +term; that for specified ages a rebel angel is viceroy.--Nay, nay. Oro +delegates his scepter to none; in his everlasting reign there are no +interregnums; and Time is Eternity; and we live in Eternity now. Yet, +some tell of a hereafter, where all the mysteries of life will be +over; and the sufferings of the virtuous recompensed. Oro is just, +they say.--Then always,--now, and evermore. But to make restitution +implies a wrong; and Oro can do no wrong. Yet what seems evil to us, +may be good to him. If he fears not, nor hopes,--he has no other +passion; no ends, no purposes. He lives content; all ends are +compassed in Him; He has no past, no future; He is the everlasting +now; which is an everlasting calm; and things that are, have been,-- +will be. This gloom's enough. But hoot! hoot! the night-owl ranges +through the woodlands of Maramma; its dismal notes pervade our lives; +and when we would fain depart in peace, that bird flies on before:-- +cloud-like, eclipsing our setting suns, and filling the air with +dolor." + +"Too true!" cried Yoomy. "Our calms must come by storms. Like helmless +vessels, tempest-tossed, our only anchorage is when we founder." + +"Our beginnings," murmured Mohi, "are lost in clouds; we live in +darkness all our days, and perish without an end." + +"Croak on, cowards!" cried Media, "and fly before the hideous phantoms +that pursue ye." + +"No coward he, who hunted, turns and finds no foe to fight," said +Babbalanja. "Like the stag, whose brow is beat with wings of hawks, +perched in his heavenward antlers; so I, blinded, goaded, headlong, +rush! this way and that; nor knowing whither; one forest wide around!" + + + +CHAPTER LXXXII +They Sail From Night To Day + + +Ere long the three canoes lurched heavily in a violent swell. Like +palls, the clouds swept to and fro, hooding the gibbering winds. At +every head-beat wave, our arching prows reared up, and shuddered; the +night ran out in rain. + +Whither to turn we knew not; nor what haven to gain; so dense the +darkness. + +But at last, the storm was over. Our shattered prows seemed gilded. +Day dawned; and from his golden vases poured red wine upon the waters. + +That flushed tide rippled toward us; floating from the east, a lone +canoe; in which, there sat a mild, old man; a palm-bough in his hand: +a bird's beak, holding amaranth and myrtles, his slender prow. + +"Alma's blessing upon ye, voyagers! ye look storm-worn." + +"The storm we have survived, old man; and many more, we yet must +ride," said Babbalanja. + +"The sun is risen; and all is well again. We but need to repair our +prows," said Media. + +"Then, turn aside to Serenia, a pleasant isle, where all are welcome; +where many storm-worn rovers land at last to dwell." + +"Serenia?" said Babbalanja; "methinks Serenia is that land of +enthusiasts, of which we hear, my lord; where Mardians pretend to the +unnatural conjunction of reason with things revealed; where Alma, they +say, is restored to his divine original; where, deriving their +principles from the same sources whence flow the persecutions of +Maramma,--men strive to live together in gentle bonds of peace +and charity;--folly! folly!" + +"Ay," said Media; "much is said of those people of Serenia; but their +social fabric must soon fall to pieces; it is based upon the idlest of +theories. Thanks for thy courtesy, old man, but we care not to visit +thy isle. Our voyage has an object, which, something tells me, will +not be gained by touching at thy shores. Elsewhere we may refit. +Farewell! 'Tis breezing; set the sails! Farewell, old man." + +"Nay, nay! think again; the distance is but small; the wind fair,--but +'tis ever so, thither;--come: we, people of Serenia, are most anxious +to be seen of Mardi; so that if our manner of life seem good, all +Mardi may live as we. In blessed Alma's name, I pray ye, come!" + +"Shall we then, my lord?" + +"Lead on, old man! We will e'en see this wondrous isle." + +So, guided by the venerable stranger, by noon we descried an island +blooming with bright savannas, and pensive with peaceful groves. + +Wafted from this shore, came balm of flowers, and melody of birds: a +thousand summer sounds and odors. The dimpled tide sang round our +splintered prows; the sun was high in heaven, and the waters were deep +below. + +"The land of Love!" the old man murmured, as we neared the beach, +where innumerable shells were gently rolling in the playful surf, and +murmuring from their tuneful valves. Behind, another, and a verdant +surf played against lofty banks of leaves; where the breeze, likewise, +found its shore. + +And now, emerging from beneath the trees, there came a goodly +multitude in flowing robes; palm-branches in their hands; and as they +came, they sang:-- + + Hail! voyagers, hail! + Whence e'er ye come, where'er ye rove, + No calmer strand, + No sweeter land, + Will e'er ye view, than the Land of Love! + + Hail! voyagers, hail! + To these, our shores, soft gales invite: + The palm plumes wave, + The billows lave, + And hither point fix'd stars of light! + + Hail! voyagers, hail! + Think not our groves wide brood with gloom; + In this, our isle, + Bright flowers smile: + Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom. + + Hail! voyagers, hail! + Be not deceived; renounce vain things; + Ye may not find + A tranquil mind, + Though hence ye sail with swiftest wings. + + Hail! voyagers, hail! + Time flies full fast; life soon is o'er; + And ye may mourn, + That hither borne, + Ye left behind our pleasant shore. + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIII +They Land + + +The song was ended; and as we gained the strand, the crowd embraced +us; and called us brothers; ourselves and our humblest attendants. + +"Call ye us brothers, whom ere now ye never saw?" + +"Even so," said the old man, "is not Oro the father of all? Then, are +we not brothers? Thus Alma, the master, hath commanded." + +"This was not our reception in Maramma," said Media, "the appointed +place of Alma; where his precepts are preserved." + +"No, no," said Babbalanja; "old man! your lesson of brotherhood was +learned elsewhere than from Alma; for in Maramma and in all its +tributary isles true brotherhood there is none. Even in the Holy +Island many are oppressed; for heresies, many murdered; and thousands +perish beneath the altars, groaning with offerings that might relieve +them." + +"Alas! too true. But I beseech ye, judge not Alma by all those who +profess his faith. Hast thou thyself his records searched?" + +"Fully, I have not. So long, even from my infancy, have I witnessed +the wrongs committed in his name; the sins and inconsistencies of his +followers; that thinking all evil must flow from a congenial fountain, +I have scorned to study the whole record of your Master's life. By +parts I only know it." + +"Ah! baneful error! But thus is it, brothers!! that the wisest are set +against the Truth, because of those who wrest it from itself." + +"Do ye then claim to live what your Master hath spoken? Are your +precepts practices?" + +"Nothing do we claim: we but 'earnestly endeavor." + +"Tell me not of your endeavors, but of your life. What hope for the +fatherless among ye?" + +"Adopted as a son." + +"Of one poor, and naked?" + +"Clothed, and he wants for naught." + +"If ungrateful, he smite you?" + +"Still we feed and clothe him." + +"If yet an ingrate?" + +"Long, he can not be; for Love is a fervent fire." + +"But what, if widely he dissent from your belief in Alma;--then, +surely, ye must cast him forth?" + +"No, no; we will remember, that if he dissent from us, we then equally +dissent from him; and men's faculties are Oro-given. Nor will we say +that he is wrong, and we are right; for this we know not, absolutely. +But we care not for men's words; we look for creeds in actions; which +are the truthful symbols of the things within. He who hourly prays to +Alma, but lives not up to world-wide love and charity--that man is +more an unbeliever than he who verbally rejects the Master, but does +his bidding. Our lives are our Amens." + +"But some say that what your Alma teaches is wholly new--a revelation +of things before unimagined, even by the poets. To do his bidding, +then, some new faculty must be vouchsafed, whereby to apprehend aright." + +"So have I always thought," said Mohi. + +"If Alma teaches love, I want no gift to learn," said Yoomy. + +"All that is vital in the Master's faith, lived here in Mardi, and in +humble dells was practiced, long previous to the Master's coming. But +never before was virtue so lifted up among us, that all might see; +never before did rays from heaven descend to glorify it, But are +Truth, Justice, and Love, the revelations of Alma alone? Were they +never heard of till he came? Oh! Alma but opens unto us our own +hearts. Were his precepts strange we would recoil--not one feeling +would respond; whereas, once hearkened to, our souls embrace them as +with the instinctive tendrils of a vine." + +"But," said Babbalanja, "since Alma, they say, was solely intent upon +the things of the Mardi to come--which to all, must seem uncertain--of +what benefit his precepts for the daily lives led here?" + +"Would! would that Alma might once more descend! Brother! were the +turf our everlasting pillow, still would the Master's faith answer a +blessed end;--making us more truly happy _here_. _That_ is the first +and chief result; for holy here, we must be holy elsewhere. 'Tis +Mardi, to which loved Alma gives his laws; not Paradise." + +"Full soon will I be testing all these things," murmured Mohi. + +"Old man," said Media, "thy years and Mohi's lead ye both to dwell +upon the unknown future. But speak to me of other themes. Tell me of +this island and its people. From all I have heard, and now behold, I +gather that here there dwells no king; that ye are left to yourselves; +and that this mystic Love, ye speak of, is your ruler. Is it so? Then, +are ye full as visionary, as Mardi rumors. And though for a time, ye +may have prospered,--long, ye can not be, without some sharp lesson to +convince ye, that your faith in Mardian virtue is entirely vain." + +"Truth. We have no king; for Alma's precepts rebuke the arrogance of +place and power. He is the tribune of mankind; nor will his true faith +be universal Mardi's, till our whole race is kingless. But think not +we believe in man's perfection. Yet, against all good, he is not +absolutely set. In his heart, there is a germ. _That_ we seek to +foster. To _that_ we cling; else, all were hopeless!" + +"Your social state?" + +"It is imperfect; and long must so remain. But we make not the +miserable many support the happy few. Nor by annulling reason's laws, +seek to breed equality, by breeding anarchy. In all things, equality +is not for all. Each has his own. Some have wider groves of palms than +others; fare better; dwell in more tasteful arbors; oftener renew +their fragrant thatch. Such differences must be. But none starve +outright, while others feast. By the abounding, the needy are +supplied. Yet not by statute, but from dictates, born half dormant in +us, and warmed into life by Alma. Those dictates we but follow in all +we do; we are not dragged to righteousness; but go running. Nor do we +live in common. For vice and virtue blindly mingled, form a union +where vice too often proves the alkali. The vicious we make dwell +apart, until reclaimed. And reclaimed they soon must be, since every +thing invites. The sin of others rests not upon our heads: none we +drive to crime. Our laws are not of vengeance bred, but Love and +Alma." + +"Fine poetry all this," said Babbalanja, "but not so new. Oft do they +warble thus in bland Maramma!" + +"It sounds famously, old man!" said Media, "but men are men. Some must +starve; some be scourged.--Your doctrines are impracticable." + +"And are not these things enjoined by Alma? And would Alma inculcate +the impossible? of what merit, his precepts, unless they may be +practiced? But, I beseech ye, speak no more of Maramma. Alas! did Alma +revisit Mardi, think you, it would be among those Morals he would lay +his head?" + +"No, no," said Babbalanja, "as an intruder he came; and an intruder +would he be this day. On all sides, would he jar our social systems." + +"Not here, not here! Rather would we welcome Alma hungry and athirst, +than though he came floating hither on the wings of seraphs; the +blazing zodiac his diadem! In all his aspects we adore him; needing no +pomp and power to kindle worship. Though he came from Oro; though he +did miracles; though through him is life;--not for these things alone, +do we thus love him. We love him from, an instinct in us;--a fond, +filial, reverential feeling. And this would yet stir in our souls, +were death our end; and Alma incapable of befriending us. We love him +because we do." + +"Is this man divine?" murmured Babbalanja. "But thou speakest most +earnestly of adoring Alma:--I see no temples in your groves." + +"Because this isle is all one temple to his praise; every leaf is +consecrated his. We fix not Alma here and there; and say,--'those +groves for Him, and these broad fields for us.' It is all his own; and +we ourselves; our every hour of life; and all we are, and have." + +"Then, ye forever fast and pray; and stand and sing; as at long +intervals the censer-bearers in Maramma supplicate their gods." + +"Alma forbid! We never fast; our aspirations are our prayers; our +lives are worship. And when we laugh, with human joy at human things, +--_then_ do we most sound great Oro's praise, and prove the merit of +sweet Alma's love! Our love in Alma makes us glad, not sad. Ye speak +of temples;--behold! 'tis by not building _them_, that we widen +charity among us. The treasures which, in the islands round about, are +lavished on a thousand fanes;--with these we every day relieve the +Master's suffering disciples. In Mardi, Alma preached in open fields, +--and must his worshipers have palaces?" + +"No temples, then no priests;" said Babbalanja, "for few priests will +enter where lordly arches form not the portal." + +"We have no priests, but one; and he is Alma's self. We have his +precepts: we seek no comments but our hearts." + +"But without priests and temples, how long will flourish this your +faith?" said Media. + +"For many ages has not this faith lived, in spite of priests and +temples? and shall it not survive them? What we believe, we hold +divine; and things divine endure forever." + +"But how enlarge your bounds? how convert the vicious, without +persuasion of some special seers? Must your religion go hand in hand +with all things secular?" + +"We hold not, that one man's words should be a gospel to the rest; but +that Alma's words should be a gospel to us all. And not by precepts +would we have some few endeavor to persuade; but all, by practice, fix +convictions, that the life we lead is the life for all. We are +apostles, every one. Where'er we go, our faith we carry in our hands, +and hearts. It is our chiefest joy. We do not put it wide away six +days out of seven; and then, assume it. In it we all exult, and joy; +as that which makes us happy here; as that, without which, we could be +happy nowhere; as something meant for this time present, and +henceforth for aye. It is our vital mode of being; not an incident. +And when we die, this faith shall be our pillow; and when we rise, our +staff; and at the end, our crown. For we are all immortal. Here, Alma +joins with our own hearts, confirming nature's promptings." + +"How eloquent he is!" murmured Babbalanja. "Some black cloud seems +floating from me. I begin to see. I come out in light. The sharp fang +tears me less. The forked flames wane. My soul sets back like ocean +streams, that sudden change their flow. Have I been sane? Quickened in +me is a hope. But pray you, old man--say on--methinks, that in your +faith must be much that jars with reason." + +"No, brother! Right-reason, and Alma, are the same; else Alma, not +reason, would we reject. The Master's great command is Love; and here +do all things wise, and all things good, unite. Love is all in all. +The more we love, the more we know; and so reversed. Oro we love; this +isle; and our wide arms embrace all Mardi like its reef. How can we +err, thus feeling? We hear loved Alma's pleading, prompting voice, in +every breeze, in every leaf; we see his earnest eye in every star and +flower." + +"Poetry!" cried Yoomy; "and poetry is truth! He stirs me." + +"When Alma dwelt in Mardi, 'twas with the poor and friendless. He fed +the famishing; he healed the sick; he bound up wounds. For every +precept that he spoke, he did ten thousand mercies. And Alma is our +loved example." + +"Sure, all this is in the histories!" said Mohi, starting. + +"But not alone to poor and friendless, did Alma wend his charitable +way. From lowly places, he looked up; and long invoked great +chieftains in their state; and told them all their pride was vanity; +and bade them ask their souls. 'In _me_,' he cried, 'is that heart of +mild content, which in vain ye seek in rank and title. I am Love: love +ye then me.'" + +"Cease, cease, old man!" cried Media; "thou movest me beyond my +seeming. What thoughts are these? Have done! Wouldst thou unking me?" + +"Alma is for all; for high and low. Like heaven's own breeze, he lifts +the lily from its lowly stem, and sweeps, reviving, through the palmy +groves. High thoughts he gives the sage, and humble trust the simple. +Be the measure what it may, his grace doth fill it to the brim. He +lays the lashings of the soul's wild aspirations after things unseen; +oil he poureth on the waters; and stars come out of night's black +concave at his great command. In him is hope for all; for all, +unbounded joys. Fast locked in his loved clasp, no doubts dismay. He +opes the eye of faith and shuts the eye of fear. He is all we pray +for, and beyond; all, that in the wildest hour of ecstasy, rapt fancy +paints in bright Auroras upon the soul's wide, boundless Orient!" + +"Oh, Alma, Alma! prince divine!" cried Babbalanja, sinking on his +knees--"in _thee_, at last, I find repose. Hope perches in my heart a +dove;--a thousand rays illume;--all Heaven's a sun. Gone, gone! are +all distracting doubts. Love and Alma now prevail. I see with other +eyes:--Are these my hands? What wild, wild dreams were mine;--I have +been mad. Some things there are, we must not think of. Beyond one +obvious mark, all human lore is vain. Where have I lived till now? Had +dark Maramma's zealot tribe but murmured to me as this old man, long +since had I, been wise! Reason no longer domineers; but still doth +speak. All I have said ere this, that wars with Alma's precepts, I +here recant. Here I kneel, and own great Oro and his sovereign son." + +"And here another kneels and prays," cried Yoomy. + +"In Alma all my dreams are found, my inner longings for the Love +supreme, that prompts my every verse. Summer is in my soul." + +"Nor now, too late for these gray hairs," cried Mohi, with devotion. +"Alma, thy breath is on my soul. I see bright light." + +"No more a demigod," cried Media, "but a subject to our common chief. +No more shall dismal cries be heard from Odo's groves. Alma, I am +thine." + +With swimming eyes the old man kneeled; and round him grouped king, +sage, gray hairs, and youth. + +There, as they kneeled, and as the old man blessed them, the setting +sun burst forth from mists, gilded the island round about, shed rays +upon their heads, and went down in a glory--all the East radiant with +red burnings, like an altar-fire. + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIV +Babbalanja Relates To Them A Vision + + +Leaving Babbalanja in the old man's bower, deep in meditation; +thoughtfully we strolled along the beach, inspiring the musky, +midnight air; the tropical stars glistening in heaven, like drops of +dew among violets. + +The waves were phosphorescent, and laved the beach with a fire that +cooled it. + +Returning, we espied Babbalanja advancing in his snow-white mantle. +The fiery tide was ebbing; and in the soft, moist sand, at every step, +he left a lustrous foot-print. + +"Sweet friends! this isle is full of mysteries," he said. "I have +dreamed of wondrous things. After I had laid me down, thought pressed +hard upon me. By my eyes passed pageant visions. I started at a low, +strange melody, deep in my inmost soul. At last, methought my eyes +were fixed on heaven; and there, I saw a shining spot, unlike a star. +Thwarting the sky, it grew, and grew, descending; till bright wings +were visible: between them, a pensive face angelic, downward beaming; +and, for one golden moment, gauze-vailed in spangled Berenice's Locks. + +"Then, as white flame from yellow, out from that starry cluster it +emerged; and brushed the astral Crosses, Crowns, and Cups. And as in +violet, tropic seas, ships leave a radiant-white, and fire-fly wake; +so, in long extension tapering, behind the vision, gleamed another +Milky-Way. + +"Strange throbbings seized me; my soul tossed on its own tides. But +soon the inward harmony bounded in exulting choral strains. I heard a +feathery rush; and straight beheld a form, traced all over with veins +of vivid light. The vision undulated round me. + +"'Oh! Spirit!! angel! god! whate'er thou art,'--I cried, 'leave me; I +am but man.' + +"Then, I heard a low, sad sound, no voice. It said, or breathed upon +me,--'Thou hast proved the grace of Alma: tell me what thou'st +learned.' + +"Silent replied my soul, for voice was gone,--'This have I learned, +oh! spirit!--In things mysterious, to seek no more; but rest content, +with knowing naught but Love.' + +"'Blessed art thou for that: thrice blessed,' then I heard, and since +humility is thine, thou art one apt to learn. That which thy own +wisdom could not find, thy ignorance confessed shall gain. Come, and +see new things.' + +"Once more it undulated round me; its lightning wings grew dim; nearer, +nearer; till I felt a shock electric,--and nested 'neath its wing. + +"We clove the air; passed systems, suns, and moons: what seem from +Mardi's isles, the glow-worm stars. + +"By distant fleets of worlds we sped, as voyagers pass far sails at +sea, and hail them not. Foam played before them as they darted on; +wild music was their wake; and many tracks of sound we crossed, where +worlds had sailed before. + +"Soon, we gained a point, where a new heaven was seen; whence all our +firmament seemed one nebula. Its glories burned like thousand +steadfast-flaming lights. + +"Here hived the worlds in swarms: and gave forth sweets ineffable. + +"We lighted on a ring, circling a space, where mornings seemed forever +dawning over worlds unlike. + +"'Here,' I heard, 'thou viewest thy Mardi's Heaven. Herein each world +is portioned.' + +"As he who climbs to mountain tops pants hard for breath; so panted I +for Mardi's grosser air. But that which caused my flesh to faint, was +new vitality to my soul. My eyes swept over all before me. The spheres +were plain as villages that dot a landscape. I saw most beauteous +forms, yet like our own. Strange sounds I heard of gladness that +seemed mixed with sadness:--a low, sweet harmony of both. Else, I know +not how to phrase what never man but me e'er heard. + +"'In these blest souls are blent,' my guide discoursed, 'far higher +thoughts, and sweeter plaints than thine. Rude joy were discord here. +And as a sudden shout in thy hushed mountain-passes brings down the +awful avalanche; so one note of laughter here, might start some white +and silent world.' + +"Then low I murmured:--'Is their's, oh guide! no happiness supreme? +their state still mixed? Sigh these yet to know? Can these sin?' + +"Then I heard:--'No mind but Oro's can know all; no mind that knows +not all can be content; content alone approximates to happiness. +Holiness comes by wisdom; and it is because great Oro is supremely +wise, that He's supremely holy. But as perfect wisdom can be only +Oro's; so, perfect holiness is his alone. And whoso is otherwise than +perfect in his holiness, is liable to sin. + +"'And though death gave these beings knowledge, it also opened other +mysteries, which they pant to know, and yet may learn. And still they +fear the thing of evil; though for them, 'tis hard to fall. Thus +hoping and thus fearing, then, their's is no state complete. And since +Oro is past finding out, and mysteries ever open into mysteries +beyond; so, though these beings will for aye progress in wisdom and in +good; yet, will they never gain a fixed beatitude. Know, then, oh +mortal Mardian! that when translated hither, thou wilt but put off +lowly temporal pinings, for angel and eternal aspirations. Start not: +thy human joy hath here no place: no name. + +"Still, I mournful mused; then said:--'Many Mardians live, who have no +aptitude for Mardian lives of thought: how then endure more earnest, +everlasting, meditations?' + +"'Such have their place,' I heard. + +"'Then low I moaned, 'And what, oh! guide! of those who, living +thoughtless lives of sin, die unregenerate; no service done to Oro or +to Mardian?' + +"'They, too, have their place,' I heard; 'but 'tis not here. And +Mardian! know, that as your Mardian lives are long preserved through +strict obedience to the organic law, so are your spiritual lives +prolonged by fast keeping of the law of mind. Sin is death.' + +"'Ah, then,' yet lower moan made I; 'and why create the germs that sin +and suffer, but to perish?' + +"'That,' breathed my guide; 'is the last mystery which underlieth all +the rest. Archangel may not fathom it; that makes of Oro the +everlasting mystery he is; that to divulge, were to make equal to +himself in knowledge all the souls that are; that mystery Oro guards; +and none but him may know.' + +"Alas! were it recalled, no words have I to tell of all that now my +guide discoursed, concerning things unsearchable to us. My sixth sense +which he opened, sleeps again, with all the wisdom that it gained. + +"Time passed; it seemed a moment, might have been an age; when from +high in the golden haze that canopied this heaven, another angel came; +its vans like East and West; a sunrise one, sunset the other. As +silver-fish in vases, so, in his azure eyes swam tears unshed. + +"Quick my guide close nested me; through its veins the waning light +throbbed hard. + +"'Oh, spirit! archangel! god! whate'er thou art,' it breathed; 'leave +me: I am but blessed, not glorified.' + +"So saying, as down from doves, from its wings dropped sounds. Still +nesting me, it crouched its plumes. + +"Then, in a snow of softest syllables, thus breathed the greater and +more beautiful:--'From far away, in fields beyond thy ken, I heard thy +fond discourse with this lone Mardian. It pleased me well; for thy +humility was manifeat; no arrogance of knowing. Come _thou_ and learn +new things.' + +"And straight it overarched us with its plumes; which, then, down- +sweeping, bore us up to regions where my first guide had sunk, but for +the power that buoyed us, trembling, both. + +"My eyes did wane, like moons eclipsed in overwhelming dawns: such +radiance was around; such vermeil light, born of no sun, but pervading +all the scene. Transparent, fleck-less, calm, all glowed one flame. + +"Then said the greater guide This is the night of all ye here behold-- +its day ye could not bide. Your utmost heaven is far below.' + +"Abashed, smote down, I, quaking, upward gazed; where, to and fro, the +spirits sailed, like broad-winged crimson-dyed flamingos, spiraling in +sunset-clouds. But a sadness glorified, deep-fringed their mystic +temples, crowned with weeping halos, bird-like, floating o'er them, +whereso'er they roamed. + +"Sights and odors blended. As when new-morning winds, in summer's +prime, blow down from hanging gardens, wafting sweets that never pall; +so, from those flowery pinions, at every motion, came a flood of +fragrance. + +"And now the spirits twain discoursed of things, whose very terms, to +me, were dark. But my first guide grew wise. For me, I could but +blankly list; yet comprehended naught; and, like the fish that's +mocked with wings, and vainly seeks to fly;--again I sought my lower +element. + +"As poised, we hung in this rapt ether, a sudden trembling seized the +four wings now folding me. And afar of, in zones still upward +reaching, suns' orbits off, I, tranced, beheld an awful glory. Sphere +in sphere, it burned:--the one Shekinah! The air was flaked with +fire;--deep in which, fell showers of silvery globes, tears magnified +--braiding the flame with rainbows. I heard a sound; but not for me, +nor my first guide, was that unutterable utterance. Then, my second +guide was swept aloft, as rises a cloud of red-dyed leaves in autumn +whirlwinds. + +"Fast clasping me, the other drooped, and, instant, sank, as in a +vacuum; myriad suns' diameters in a breath;--my five senses merged in +one, of falling; till we gained the nether sky, descending still. + +"Then strange things--soft, sad, and faint, I saw or heard; as, when, +in sunny, summer seas, down, down, you dive, starting at pensive +phantoms, that you can not fix. + +"'These,' breathed my guide, 'are spirits in their essences; sad, even +in undevelopment. With these, all space is peopled;--all the air is +vital with intelligence, which seeks embodiment. This it is, that +unbeknown to Mardians, causes them to strangely start in solitudes of +night, and in the fixed flood of their enchanted noons. From hence, +are formed your mortal souls; and all those sad and shadowy dreams, +and boundless thoughts man hath, are vague remembrances of the time +when the soul's sad germ, wide wandered through these realms. And +hence it is, that when ye Mardians feel most sad, then ye feel most +immortal. + +"Like a spark new-struck from flint, soon Mardi showed afar. It glowed +within a sphere, which seemed, in space, a bubble, rising from vast +depths to the sea's surface. Piercing it, my Mardian strength +returned; but the angel's veins once more grew dim. + +"Nearing the isles, thus breathed my guide:--'Loved one, love on! But +know, that heaven hath no roof. To know all is to be all. Beatitude +there is none. And your only Mardian happiness is but exemption from +great woes--no more. Great Love is sad; and heaven is Love. Sadness +makes the silence throughout the realms of space; sadness is universal +and eternal; but sadness is tranquillity; tranquillity the uttermost +that souls may hope for.' + +"Then, with its wings it fanned adieu; and disappeared where the sun +flames highest." + +We heard the dream and, silent, sought repose, to dream away our +wonder. + + + +CHAPTER LXXXV +They Depart From Serenia + + +At sunrise, we stood upon the beach. + +Babbalanja thus:--"My voyage is ended. Not because what we sought is +found; but that I now possess all which may be had of what I sought in +Mardi. Here, tarry to grow wiser still:--then I am Alma's and the +world's. Taji! for Yillah thou wilt hunt in vain; she is a phantom +that but mocks thee; and while for her thou madly huntest, the sin +thou didst cries out, and its avengers still will follow. But here +they may not come: nor those, who, tempting, track thy path. Wise +counsel take. Within our hearts is all we seek: though in that search +many need a prompter. Him I have found in blessed Alma. Then rove no +more. Gain now, in flush of youth, that last wise thought, too often +purchased, by a life of woe. Be wise: be wise. + +"Media! thy station calls thee home. Yet from this isle, thou earnest +that, wherewith to bless thy own. These flowers, that round us spring, +may be transplanted: and Odo made to bloom with amaranths and myrtles, +like this Serenia. Before thy people act the things, thou here hast +heard. Let no man weep, that thou may'st laugh; no man toil too hard, +that thou may'st idle be. Abdicate thy throne: but still retain the +scepter. None need a king; but many need a ruler. + +"Mohi! Yoomy! do we part? then bury in forgetfulness much that +hitherto I've spoken. But let not one syllable of this old man's words +be lost. + +"Mohi! Age leads thee by the hand. Live out thy life; and die, calm- +browed. + +"But Yoomy! many days are thine. And in one life's span, great circles +may be traversed, eternal good be done. Take all Mardi for thy home. +Nations are but names; and continents but shifting sands. + +"Once more: Taji! be sure thy Yillah never will be found; or found, +will not avail thee. Yet search, if so thou wilt; more isles, thou +say'st, are still unvisited; and when all is seen, return, and find +thy Yillah here. + +"Companions all! adieu." + +And from the beach, he wended through the woods. + +Our shallops now refitted, we silently embarked; and as we sailed +away, the old man blessed us. + +For a time, each prow's ripplings were distinctly heard: ripple after +ripple. + +With silent, steadfast eyes, Media still preserved his noble mien; +Mohi his reverend repose; Yoomy his musing mood. + +But as a summer hurricane leaves all nature still, and smiling to the +eye; yet, in deep woods, there lie concealed some anguished roots torn +up:--so, with these. + +Much they longed, to point our prows for Odo's isle; saying our search +was over. + +But I was fixed as fate. + +On we sailed, as when we first embarked; the air was bracing as +before. More isles we visited:--thrice encountered the avengers: but +unharmed; thrice Hautia's heralds but turned not aside;--saw many +checkered scenes--wandered through groves, and open fields--traversed +many vales--climbed hill-tops whence broad views were gained--tarried +in towns--broke into solitudes--sought far, sought near:--Still Yillah +there was none. + +Then again they all would fain dissuade me. + +"Closed is the deep blue eye," said Yoomy. + +"Fate's last leaves are turning, let me home and die," said Mohi. + +"So nigh the circuit's done," said Media, "our morrow's sun must rise +o'er Odo; Taji! renounce the hunt." + +"I am the hunter, that never rests! the hunter without a home! She I +seek, still flies before; and I will follow, though she lead me beyond +the reef; through sunless seas; and into night and death. Her, will I +seek, through all the isles and stars; and find her, whate'er betide!" + +Again they yielded; and again we glided on;--our storm-worn prows, now +pointed here, now there;--beckoned, repulsed;--their half-rent sails, +still courting every breeze. + +But that same night, once more, they wrestled with me. Now, at last, +the hopeless search must be renounced: Yillah there was none: back +must I hie to blue Serenia. + +Then sweet Yillah called me from the sea;--still must I on! but gazing +whence that music seemed to come, I thought I saw the green corse +drifting by: and striking 'gainst our prow, as if to hinder. Then, +then! my heart grew hard, like flint; and black, like night; and +sounded hollow to the hand I clenched. Hyenas filled me with their +laughs; death-damps chilled my brow; I prayed not, but blasphemed. + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVI +They Meet The Phantoms + + +That starless midnight, there stole from out the darkness, the Iris +flag of Hautia. + +Again the sirens came. They bore a large and stately urn-like flower, +white as alabaster, and glowing, as if lit up within. From its calyx, +flame-like, trembled forked and crimson stamens, burning with +intensest odors. + +The phantoms nearer came; their flower, as an urn of burning niter. +Then it changed, and glowed like Persian dawns; or passive, was shot +over by palest lightnings;--so variable its tints. + +"The night-blowing Cereus!" said Yoomy, shuddering, "that never blows +in sun-light; that blows but once; and blows but for an hour.--For the +last time I come; now, in your midnight of despair, and promise you +this glory. Take heed! short time hast thou to pause; through me, +perhaps, thy Yillah may be found." + +"Away! away! tempt me not by that, enchantress! Hautia! I know thee +not; I fear thee not; but instinct makes me hate thee. Away! my eyes +are frozen shut; I will not be tempted more." + +"How glorious it burns!" cried Media. I reel with incense:--can such +sweets be evil?" + +"Look! look!" cried Yoomy, "its petals wane, and creep; one moment +more, and the night-flower shuts up forever the last, last hope of +Yillah!" + +"Yillah! Yillah! Yillah!" bayed three vengeful voices far behind. + +"Yillah! Yillah!--dash the urn! I follow, Hautia! though thy lure be +death." + +The Cereus closed; and in a mist the siren prow went on before; we, +following. + +When day dawned, three radiant pilot-fish swam in advance: three +ravenous sharks astern. + +And, full before us, rose the isle of Hautia. + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVII +They Draw Nigh To Flozella + + +As if Mardi were a poem, and every island a canto, the shore now in +sight was called Flozella-a-Nina, or The-Last-Verse-of-the-Song. + +According to Mohi, the origin of this term was traceable to the +remotest antiquity. + +In the beginning, there were other beings in Mardi besides Mardians; +winged beings, of purer minds, and cast in gentler molds, who would +fain have dwelt forever with mankind. But the hearts of the Mardians +were bitter against them, because of their superior goodness. Yet +those beings returned love for malice, and long entreated to virtue +and charity. But in the end, all Mardi rose up against them, and +hunted them from isle to isle; till, at last, they rose from the +woodlands like a flight of birds, and disappeared in the skies. +Thereafter, abandoned of such sweet influences, the Mardians fell into +all manner of sins and sufferings, becoming the erring things their +descendants were now. Yet they knew not, that their calamities were of +their own bringing down. For deemed a victory, the expulsion of the +winged beings was celebrated in choruses, throughout Mardi. And among +other jubilations, so ran the legend, a pean was composed, +corresponding in the number of its stanzas, to the number of islands. +And a band of youths, gayly appareled, voyaged in gala canoes all +round the lagoon, singing upon each isle, one verse of their song. And +Flozella being the last isle in their circuit, its queen commemorated +the circumstance, by new naming her realm. + +That queen had first incited Mardi to wage war against the beings with +wings. She it was, who had been foremost in every assault. And that +queen was ancestor of Hautia, now ruling the isle. + +Approaching the dominions of one who so long had haunted me, +conflicting emotions tore up my soul in tornadoes. Yet Hautia had held +out some prospect of crowning my yearnings. But how connected were +Hautia and Yillah? Something I hoped; yet more I feared. Dire +presentiments, like poisoned arrows, shot through me. Had they pierced +me before, straight to Flozella would I have voyaged; not waiting for +Hautia to woo me by that last and victorious temptation. But unchanged +remained my feelings of hatred for Hautia; yet vague those feelings, +as the language of her flowers. Nevertheless, in some mysterious way +seemed Hautia and Yillah connected. But Yillah was all beauty, and +innocence; my crown of felicity; my heaven below;--and Hautia, my +whole heart abhorred. Yillah I sought; Hautia sought me. One, openly +beckoned me here; the other dimly allured me there. Yet now was I +wildly dreaming to find them together. But so distracted my soul, I +knew not what it was, that I thought. + +Slowly we neared the land. Flozella-a-Nina!--An omen? Was this isle, +then, to prove the last place of my search, even as it was the Last- +Verse-of-the-Song? + + + +CHAPTER LXXXVIII +They Land + + +A jeweled tiara, nodding in spray, looks flowery Flozella, approached +from the sea. For, lo you! the glittering foam all round its white +marge; where, forcing themselves underneath the coral ledge, and up +through its crevices, in fountains, the blue billows gush. While, +within, zone above zone, thrice zoned in belts of bloom, all the isle, +as a hanging-garden soars; its tapering cone blending aloft, with +heaven's own blue. + +"What flies through the spray! what incense is this?" cried Media. + +"Ha! you wild breeze! you have been plundering the gardens of Hautia," +cried Yoomy. + +"No sweets can be sweeter," said Braid-Beard, "but no Upas more deadly." + +Anon we came nearer; sails idly flapping, and paddles suspended; sleek +currents our coursers. And round about the isle, like winged rainbows, +shoals of dolphins were leaping over floating fragments of wrecks:-- +dark-green, long-haired ribs, and keels of canoes. For many shallops, +inveigled by the eddies, were oft dashed to pieces against that +flowery strand. But what cared the dolphins? Mardian wrecks were their +homes. Over and over they sprang: from east to west: rising and +setting: many suns in a moment; while all the sea, like a harvest +plain, was stacked with their glittering sheaves of spray. + +And far down, fathoms on fathoms, flitted rainbow hues:--as seines- +full of mermaids; half-screening the bones of the drowned. + +Swifter and swifter the currents now ran; till with a shock, our prows +were beached. + +There, beneath an arch of spray, three dark-eyed maidens stood; +garlanded with columbines, their nectaries nodding like jesters' +bells; and robed in vestments blue. + +"The pilot-fish transformed!" cried Yoomy. + +"The night-eyed heralds three!" said Mohi. + +Following the maidens, we now took our way along a winding vale; +where, by sweet-scented hedges, flowed blue-braided brooks; their +tributaries, rivulets of violets, meandering through the meads. + +On one hand, forever glowed the rosy mountains with a tropic dawn; and +on the other; lay an Arctic eve;--the white daisies drifted in long +banks of snow, and snowed the blossoms from the orange boughs. There, +summer breathed her bridal bloom; her hill-top temples crowned with +bridal wreaths. + +We wandered on, through orchards arched in long arcades, that seemed +baronial halls, hung o'er with trophies:--so spread the boughs in +antlers. This orchard was the frontlet of the isle. + +The fruit hung high in air, that only beaks, not hands, might pluck. + +Here, the peach tree showed her thousand cheeks of down, kissed often +by the wooing winds; here, in swarms; the yellow apples hived, like +golden bees upon the boughs; here, from the kneeling, fainting trees, +thick fell the cherries, in great drops of blood; and here, the +pomegranate, with cold rind and sere, deep pierced by bills of birds +revealed the mellow of its ruddy core. So, oft the heart, that cold +and withered seems, within yet hides its juices. + +This orchard passed, the vale became a lengthening plain, that seemed +the Straits of Ormus bared so thick it lay with flowery gems: +torquoise-hyacinths, ruby-roses, lily-pearls. Here roved the vagrant +vines; their flaxen ringlets curling over arbors, which laughed and +shook their golden locks. From bower to bower, flew the wee bird, that +ever hovering, seldom lights; and flights of gay canaries passed, like +jonquils, winged. + +But now, from out half-hidden bowers of clematis, there issued swarms +of wasps, which flying wide, settled on all the buds. + +And, fifty nymphs preceding, who now follows from those bowers, with +gliding, artful steps:--the very snares of love!--Hautia. A gorgeous +amaryllis in her hand; Circe-flowers in her ears; her girdle tied with +vervain. + +She came by privet hedges, drooping; downcast honey-suckles; she trod +on pinks and pansies, blue-bells, heath, and lilies. She glided on: +her crescent brow calm as the moon, when most it works its evil +influences. + +Her eye was fathomless. + +But the same mysterious, evil-boding gaze was there, which long before +had haunted me in Odo, ere Yillah fled.--Queen Hautia the incognito! +Then two wild currents met, and dashed me into foam. + +"Yillah! Yillah!--tell me, queen!" But she stood motionless; radiant, +and scentless: a dahlia on its stalk. "Where? Where?" + +"Is not thy voyage now ended?--Take flowers! Damsels, give him wine to +drink. After his weary hunt, be the wanderer happy." + +I dashed aside their cups, and flowers; still rang the vale with Yillah! + +"Taji! did I know her fate, naught would I now disclose; my heralds +pledged their queen to naught. Thou but comest here to supplant thy +mourner's night-shade, with marriage roses. Damsels! give him wreaths; +crowd round him; press him with your cups!" + +Once more I spilled their wine, and tore their garlands. Is not that, +the evil eye that long ago did haunt me? and thou, the Hautia who hast +followed me, and wooed, and mocked, and tempted me, through all this +long, long voyage? I swear! thou knowest all." + +"I am Hautia. Thou hast come at last. Crown him with your flowers! +Drown him in your wine! To all questions, Taji! I am mute.--Away!-- +damsels dance; reel round him; round and round!" + +Then, their feet made music on the rippling grass, like thousand +leaves of lilies on a lake. And, gliding nearer, Hautia welcomed +Media; and said, "Your comrade here is sad:--be ye gay. Ho, wine!--I +pledge ye, guests!" + +Then, marking all, I thought to seem what I was not, that I might +learn at last the thing I sought. + +So, three cups in hand I held; drank wine, and laughed; and half-way +met Queen Hautia's blandishments. + + + +CHAPTER LXXXIX +They Enter The Bower Of Hautia + + +Conducted to the arbor, from which the queen had emerged, we came to a +sweet-brier bower within; and reclined upon odorous mats. + +Then, in citron cups, sherbet of tamarinds was offered to Media, Mohi, +Yoomy; to me, a nautilus shell, brimmed with a light-like fluid, that +welled, and welled like a fount. + +"Quaff, Taji, quaff! every drop drowns a thought!" + +Like a blood-freshet, it ran through my veins. + +A philter?--How Hautia burned before me! Glorious queen! with all the +radiance, lighting up the equatorial night. + +"Thou art most magical, oh queen! about thee a thousand constellations +cluster." + +"They blaze to burn," whispered Mohi. + +"I see ten million Hautias!--all space reflects her, as a mirror." + +Then, in reels, the damsels once more mazed, the blossoms shaking from +their brows; till Hautia, glided near; arms lustrous as rainbows: +chanting some wild invocation. + +My soul ebbed out; Yillah there was none! but as I turned round open- +armed, Hautia vanished. + +"She is deeper than the sea," said Media. + +"Her bow is bent," said Yoomy. + +"I could tell wonders of Hautia and her damsels," said Mohi. + +"What wonders?" + +"Listen; and in his own words will I recount the adventure of the +youth Ozonna. It will show thee, Taji, that the maidens of Hautia are +all Yillahs, held captive, unknown to themselves; and that Hautia, +their enchantress, is the most treacherous of queens. + +"'Camel-like, laden with woe,' said Ozonna, 'after many wild rovings +in quest of a maiden long lost--beautiful Ady! and after being +repelled in Maramma; and in vain hailed to land at Serenia, +represented as naught but another Maramma;--with vague promises of +discovering Ady, three sirens, who long had pursued, at last inveigled +me to Flozella; where Hautia made me her thrall. But ere long, in Rea, +one of her maidens, I thought I discovered my Ady transformed. My arms +opened wide to embrace; but the damsel knew not Ozonna. And even, when +after hard wooing, I won her again, she seemed not lost Ady, but Rea. +Yet all the while, from deep in her strange, black orbs, Ady's blue +eyes seemed pensively looking:--blue eye within black: sad, silent +soul within merry. Long I strove, by fixed ardent gazing, to break the +spell, and restore in Rea my lost one's Past. But in vain. It was only +Rea, not Ady, who at stolen intervals looked on me now. One morning +Hautia started as she greeted me; her quick eye rested on my bosom; +and glancing there, affrighted, I beheld a distinct, fresh mark, the +impress of Rea's necklace drop. Fleeing, I revealed what had passed to +the maiden, who broke from my side; as I, from Hautia's. The queen +summoned her damsels, but for many hours the call was unheeded; and +when at last they came, upon each bosom lay a necklace-drop like +Rea's. On the morrow, lo! my arbor was strown over with bruised +Linden-leaves, exuding a vernal juice. Full of forbodings, again I +sought Rea: who, casting down her eyes, beheld her feet stained green. +Again she fled; and again Hautia summoned her damsels: malicious +triumph in her eye; but dismay succeeded: each maid had spotted feet. +That night Rea was torn from my side by three masks; who, stifling her +cries, rapidly bore her away; and as I pursued, disappeared in a cave. +Next morning, Hautia was surrounded by her nymphs, but Rea was absent. +Then, gliding near, she snatched from my hair, a jet-black tress, +loose-hanging. 'Ozonna is the murderer! See! Rea's torn hair entangled +with his!' Aghast, I swore that I knew not her fate. 'Then let the +witch Larfee be called!' The maidens darted from the bower; and soon +after, there rolled into it a green cocoa-nut, followed by the witch, +and all the damsels, flinging anemones upon it. Bowling this way and +that, the nut at last rolled to my feet.--'It is he!' cried all.--Then +they bound me with osiers; and at midnight, unseen and irresistible +hands placed me in a shallop; which sped far out into the lagoon, +where they tossed me to the waves; but so violent the shock, the +osiers burst; and as the shallop fled one way, swimming another, ere +long I gained land. + +"'Thus in Flozella, I found but the phantom of Ady, and slew the last +hope of Ady the true.'" + +This recital sank deep into my soul. In some wild way, Hautia had made +a captive of Yillah; in some one of her black-eyed maids, the blue- +eyed One was transformed. From side to side, in frenzy, I turned; but +in all those cold, mystical eyes, saw not the warm ray that I sought. + +"Hast taken root within this treacherous soil?" cried Media. "Away! +thy Yillah is behind thee, not before. Deep she dwells in blue +Serenia's groves; which thou would'st not search. Hautia mocks thee; +away! The reef is rounded; but a strait flows between this isle and +Odo, and thither its ruler must return. Every hour I tarry here, some +wretched serf is dying there, for whom, from blest Serenia, _I carry +life and joy. Away!_" + +"Art still bent on finding evil for thy good?" cried Mohi.--"How can +Yillah harbor here?--Beware!--Let not Hautia so enthrall thee." + +"Come away, come away," cried Yoomy. "Far hence is Yillah! and he who +tarries among these flowers, must needs burn juniper." + +"Look on me, Media, Mohi, Yoomy. Here I stand, my own monument, till +Hautia breaks the spell." + +In grief they left me. + +Vee-Vee's conch I heard no more. + + + +CHAPTER XC +Taji With Hautia + + +As their last echoes died away down the valley, Hautia glided near;-- +zone unbound, the amaryllis in her hand. Her bosom ebbed and flowed; +the motes danced in the beams that darted from her eyes. + +"Come! let us sin, and be merry. Ho! wine, wine, wine! and lapfuls of +flowers! let all the cane-brakes pipe their flutes. Damsels! dance; +reel, swim, around me:--I, the vortex that draws all in. Taji! Taji!-- +as a berry, that name is juicy in my mouth!--Taji, Taji!" and in +choruses, she warbled forth the sound, till it seemed issuing from her +syren eyes. + +My heart flew forth from out its bars, and soared in air; but as my +hand touched Hautia's, down dropped a dead bird from the clouds. + +"Ha! how he sinks!--but did'st ever dive in deep waters, Taji? Did'st +ever see where pearls grow?--To the cave!--damsels, lead on!" + +Then wending through constellations of flowers, we entered deep +groves. And thus, thrice from sun-light to shade, it seemed three +brief nights and days, ere we paused before the mouth of the cavern. + +A bow-shot from the sea, it pierced the hill-side like a vaulted way; +and glancing in, we saw far gleams of water; crossed, here and there, +by long-flung distant shadows of domes and columns. All Venice seemed +within. + +From a stack of golden palm-stalks, the damsels now made torches; then +stood grouped; a sheaf of sirens in a sheaf of frame. + +Illuminated, the cavern shone like a Queen of Kandy's casket: full of +dawns and sunsets. + +From rocky roof to bubbling floor, it was columned with stalactites; +and galleried all round, in spiral tiers, with sparkling, coral ledges. + +And now, their torches held aloft, into the water the maidens softly +glided; and each a lotus floated; while, from far above, into the air +Hautia flung her flambeau; then bounding after, in the lake, two +meteors were quenched. + +Where she dived, the flambeaux clustered; and up among them, Hautia +rose; hands, full of pearls. + +"Lo! Taji; all these may be had for the diving; and Beauty, Health, +Wealth, Long Life, and the Last Lost Hope of man. But through me +alone, may these be had. Dive thou, and bring up one pearl if thou +canst." + +Down, down! down, down, in the clear, sparkling water, till I seemed +crystalized in the flashing heart of a diamond; but from those +bottomless depths, I uprose empty handed. + +"Pearls, pearls! thy pearls! thou art fresh from the mines. Ah, Taji! +for thee, bootless deep diving. Yet to Hautia, one shallow plunge +reveals many Golcondas. But come; dive with me:--join hands--let me +show thee strange things." + +"Show me that which I seek, and I will dive with thee, straight +through the world, till we come up in oceans unknown." + +"Nay, nay; but join hands, and I will take thee, where thy Past shall +be forgotten; where thou wilt soon learn to love the living, not the +dead." + +"Better to me, oh Hautia! all the bitterness of my buried dead, than +all the sweets of the life thou canst bestow; even, were it eternal." + + + +CHAPTER XCI +Mardi Behind: An Ocean Before + + +Returned from the cave, Hautia reclined in her clematis bower, +invisible hands flinging fennel around her. And nearer, and nearer, +stole dulcet sounds dissolving my woes, as warm beams, snow. Strange +languors made me droop; once more within my inmost vault, side by +side, the Past and Yillah lay:--two bodies tranced;--while like a +rounding sun, before me Hautia magnified magnificence; and through her +fixed eyes, slowly drank up my soul. + +Thus we stood:--snake and victim: life ebbing out from me, to her. + +But from that spell, I burst again, as all the Past smote all the +Present in me. + +"Oh Hautia! thou knowest the mystery I die to fathom. I see it +crouching in thine eye:--Reveal!" + +"Weal or woe?" + +"Life or death!" + +"See, see!" and Yillah's rose-pearl danced before me. + +I snatched it from her hand:--"Yillah! Yillah!" + +"Rave on: she lies too deep to answer; stranger voices than thine she +hears:--bubbles are bursting round her." + +"Drowned! drowned then, even as she dreamed:--I come, I come!--Ha, +what form is this?--hast mosses? sea-thyme? pearls?--Help, help! I +sink!--Back, shining monster!---What, Hautia,--is it thou?--Oh +vipress, I could slay thee!" + +"Go, go,--and slay thyself: I may not make thee mine;--go,--dead to +dead!--There is another cavern in the hill." Swift I fled along the +valley-side; passed Hautia's cave of pearls; and gained a twilight +arch; within, a lake transparent shone. Conflicting currents met, and +wrestled; and one dark arch led to channels, seaward tending. + +Round and round, a gleaming form slow circled in the deepest eddies:-- +white, and vaguely Yillah. + +Straight I plunged; but the currents were as fierce headwinds off +capes, that beat back ships. + +Then, as I frenzied gazed; gaining the one dark arch, the revolving +shade darted out of sight, and the eddies whirled as before. + +"Stay, stay! let me go with thee, though thou glidest to gulfs of +blackness;--naught can exceed the hell of this despair!--Why beat +longer in this corpse oh, my heart!" + +As somnambulists fast-frozen in some horrid dream, ghost-like glide +abroad, and fright the wakeful world; so that night, with death-glazed +eyes, to and fro I flitted on the damp and weedy beach. + +"Is this specter, Taji?"--and Mohi and the minstrel stood before me. + +"Taji lives no more. So dead, he has no ghost. I am his spirit's +phantom's phantom." + +"Nay, then, phantom! the time has come to flee." + +They dragged me to the water's brink, where a prow was beached. Soon-- +Mohi at the helm--we shot beneath the far-flung shadow of a cliff; +when, as in a dream, I hearkened to a voice. + +Arrived at Odo, Media had been met with yells. Sedition was in arms, +and to his beard defied him. Vain all concessions then. Foremost stood +the three pale sons of him, whom I had slain, to gain the maiden lost. +Avengers, from the first hour we had parted on the sea, they had +drifted on my track survived starvation; and lived to hunt me round +all Mardi's reef; and now at Odo, that last threshold, waited to +destroy; or there, missing the revenge they sought, still swore to +hunt me round Eternity. + +Behind the avengers, raged a stormy mob, invoking Media to renounce +his rule. But one hand waving like a pennant above the smoke of some +sea-fight, straight through that tumult Media sailed serene: the +rioters parting from before him, as wild waves before a prow +inflexible. + +A haven gained, he turned to Mohi and the minstrel:--"Oh, friends! +after our long companionship, hard to part! But henceforth, for many +moons, Odo will prove no home for old age, or youth. In Serenia only, +will ye find the peace ye seek; and thither ye must carry Taji, who +else must soon be slain, or lost. Go: release him from the thrall of +Hautia. Outfly the avengers, and gain Serenia. Reek not of me. The +state is tossed in storms; and where I stand, the combing billows must +break over. But among all noble souls, in tempest-time, the headmost +man last flies the wreck. So, here in Odo will I abide, though every +plank breaks up beneath me. And then,--great Oro! let the king die +clinging to the keel! Farewell!" + +Such Mohi's tale. + +In trumpet-blasts, the hoarse night-winds now blew; the Lagoon, black +with the still shadows of the mountains, and the driving shadows of +the clouds. Of all the stars, only red Arcturus shone. But through the +gloom, and on the circumvallating reef, the breakers dashed ghost-white. + +An outlet in that outer barrier was nigh. + +"Ah! Yillah! Yillah!--the currents sweep thee ocean-ward; nor will I +tarry behind.--Mardi, farewell!--Give me the helm, old man!" + +"Nay, madman! Serenia is our haven. Through yonder strait, for thee, +perdition lies. And from the deep beyond, no voyager e'er puts back." + +"And why put back? is a life of dying worth living o'er again?--Let +_me_, then, be the unreturning wanderer. The helm! By Oro, I will +steer my own fate, old man.--Mardi, farewell!" + +"Nay, Taji: commit not the last, last crime!" cried Yoomy. + +"He's seized the helm! eternity is in his eye! Yoomy: for our lives we +must now swim." + +And plunging, they struck out for land: Yoomy buoying Mohi up, and the +salt waves dashing the tears from his pallid face, as through the +scud, he turned it on me mournfully. + +"Now, I am my own soul's emperor; and my first act is abdication! +Hail! realm of shades!"--and turning my prow into the racing tide, +which seized me like a hand omnipotent, I darted through. + +Churned in foam, that outer ocean lashed the clouds; and straight in +my white wake, headlong dashed a shallop, three fixed specters leaning +o'er its prow: three arrows poising. + +And thus, pursuers and pursued flew on, over an endless sea. + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, Vol. II +(of 2), by Herman Melville + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER, *** + +***** This file should be named 13721.txt or 13721.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/2/13721/ + +Produced by Geoff Palmer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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