Still pursuing our quest, wide we wandered through all the sun andshade of Dominora; but nowhere was Yillah found.
CHAPTER XLVThey Behold King Bello's State Canoe
At last, bidding adieu to King Bello; and in the midst of the lowingof oxen, breaking away from his many hospitalities, we departed forthe beach. But ere embarking, we paused to gaze at an object, whichlong fixed our attention.
Now, as all bold cavaliers have ever delighted in special chargers,gayly caparisoned, whereon upon grand occasions to sally forth uponthe plains: even so have maritime potentates ever prided themselvesupon some holiday galley, splendidly equipped, wherein to sail overthe sea.
When of old, glory-seeking Jason, attended by his promising younglieutenants, Castor and Pollux, embarked on that hardy adventure toColchis, the brave planks of the good ship Argos he trod, its model aswan to behold.
And when Trojan Aeneas wandered West, and discovered the pleasant landof Latium, it was in the fine craft Bis Taurus that he sailed: itsstern gloriously emblazoned, its prow a leveled spear.
And to the sound of sackbut and psaltery, gliding down the Nile, inthe pleasant shade of its pyramids to welcome mad Mark, Cleopatra wasthroned on the cedar quarter-deck of a glorious gondola, silk andsatin hung; its silver plated oars, musical as flutes. So, too, QueenBess was wont to disport on old Thames.
And tough Torf-Egill, the Danish Sea-king, reckoned in his stud, aslender yacht; its masts young Zetland firs; its prow a seal, dog-likeholding a sword-fish blade. He called it the Grayhound, so swift wasits keel; the Sea-hawk, so blood-stained its beak.
And groping down his palace stairs, the blind old Doge Dandolo, oftembarked in his gilded barge, like the lord mayor setting forth incivic state from Guildhall in his chariot. But from another sort ofprow leaped Dandolo, when at Constantinople, he foremost sprangashore, and with a right arm ninety years old, planted the standard ofSt. Mark full among the long chin-pennons of the long-bearded Turks.
And Kumbo Sama, Emperor of Japan, had a dragon-beaked junk, a floatingJuggernaut, 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 scoresof warriors, that dipping their paddles in the sea, they made acommotion 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'swar-horse, or the charger Caligula deified; upon its stern awilderness 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, andmermaids, and Neptune only knows all.
And in this craft, Doge-like, yearly did King Bello stand up and wedwith the Lagoon. But the custom originated not in the manner of theDoge's, which was as follows; so, at least, saith Ghibelli, who tellsall about it:--
When, in a stout sea-fight, Ziani defeated Barbarossa's son Otho,sending his feluccas all flying, like frightened water-fowl from alake, then did his Holiness, the Pope, present unto him a ring;saying, "Take this, oh Ziani, and with it, the sea for thy bride; andevery year wed her again."
So the Doge's tradition; thus Bello's:--
Ages ago, Dominora was circled by a reef, which expanding inproportion to the extension of the isle's naval dominion, in due timeembraced 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, andled his navies a very boisterous life indeed.
And hostile prognosticators opined, that ere long she would desert herold lord, and marry again. Already, they held, she had made advancesin the direction of Vivenza.
But truly, should she abandon old Bello, he would straight-way afterher 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 exploringinto its spars.
Without heedful tending, any craft will decay; yet, for ever may itsfirst, fine model be preserved, though its prow be renewed everyspring, like the horns of the deer, if, in repairing, plank be put forplank, rib for rib, in exactest similitude. Even so, then, oh Bello!do thou with thy barge.
CHAPTER XLVIWherein Babbalanja Bows Thrice
The next morning's twilight found us once more afloat; and yielding tothat almost sullen feeling, but too apt to prevail with some mortalsat that hour, all but Media long remained silent.
But now, a bright mustering is seen among the myriad white Tartartents in the Orient; like lines of spears defiling upon some uplandplain, the sunbeams thwart the sky. And see! amid the blaze ofbanners, and the pawings of ten thousand thousand golden hoofs, day'smounted Sultan, Xerxes-like, moves on: the Dawn his standard, East andWest his cymbals.
"Oh, morning life!" cried Yoomy, with a Persian air; "would that alltime were a sunrise, and all life a youth."
"Ah! but these striplings whimper of youth," said Mohi, caressing hisbraids, "as if they wore this beard."
"But natural, old man," said Babbalanja. "We Mardians never seem youngto ourselves; childhood is to youth what manhood is to age:--somethingto be looked back upon, with sorrow that it is past. But childhoodreeks of no future, and knows no past; hence, its present passes in avapor."
"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, "whosomewhere says, that no Mardian can out with his heart, for hisunyielding ribs are in the way. And indeed, pride, or something akinthereto, often holds check on sentiment. My lord, there arethose who like not to be detected in the possession of a heart."
"Very true, Babbalanja; and I suppose that pride was at the bottom ofyour 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 hisessay, entitled,--"On the Tendency to curl in Upper Lips," he thusdiscourses. "We hear much of pride and its sinfulness in this Mardiwherein we dwell: whereas, I glory in being brimmed with it;--my sortof pride. In the presence of kings, lords, palm-trees, and all thosewho deem themselves taller than myself, I stand stiff as a pike, andwill abate not one vertebra of my stature. But accounting no Mardianmy superior, I account none my inferior; hence, with the social, I amever ready to be sociable."
"An agrarian!" said Media; "no doubt he would have made the headsmanthe 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 wewithdraw. Wanting his yams a king will starve, quick as a clown; andsmote on the hip, saith old Bardianna, he will roar as loud as thenext one."
"Roughly worded, that, Babbalanja.--Vee-Vee! my crown!--So; now,Babbalanja, try if you can not polish Bardianna's style in that lastsaying you father upon him."
"I will, my ever honorable lord," said Babbalanja, salaming. "Thuswe'll word it, then: In their merely Mardian nature, the sublimestdemi-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 sharpenthe arrow."
"All one, my thrice honored lord;--to polish is not to blunt."
CHAPTER XLVIIBabbalanja Philosophizes, And My Lord Media Passes Round TheCalabashes
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 yo
u mean, Mohi; see you not he is musing over the gunwale?And now, minstrel, a banana for thy thoughts. Come, tell me how youpoets spend so many hours in meditation."
"My lord, it is because, that when we think, we think so little ofourselves."
"I thought as much," said Mohi, "for no sooner do I undertake to besociable with myself, than I am straightway forced to beat a retreat."
"Ay, old man," said Babbalanja, "many of us Mardians are but sorryhosts 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 voicesin 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, hiscalabashes 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 aspirit, 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, howwould 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 issatisfied; 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 ofendless dynasties of immortals, how little do our pious patriciansbear in mind their magnificent destiny, when hourly they scorn theircompanionship. And if here in Mardi they can not abide an equalitywith plebeians, even at the altar; how shall they endure them, side byside, throughout eternity? But since the prophet Alma asserts, thatParadise is almost entirely made up of the poor and despised, nowonder that many aristocrats of our isles pursue a career, which,according to some theologies, must forever preserve the socialdistinctions so sedulously maintained in Mardi. And though some say,that at death every thing earthy is removed from the spirit, so thatclowns and lords both stand on a footing; yet, according to thepopular legends, it has ever been observed of the ghosts of boors whenrevisiting Mardi, that invariably they rise in their smocks. Andregarding our intellectual equality here, how unjust, my lord, thatafter whole years of days end nights consecrated to the hard gainingof wisdom, the wisest Mardian of us all should in the end findthe whole sum of his attainments, at one leap outstripped by theveriest dunce, suddenly inspired by light divine. And though somehold, that all Mardian lore is vain, and that at death all mysterieswill 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 withwine. 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 thegods, your mortal palates and tongues can both wag together; fill up,I say, Babbalanja; you are no philosopher, if you stop at the tenthcup; endurance is the test of philosophy all Mardi over; drink, I say,and make us wise by precept and example.--Proceed, Yoomy, you look asif 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 cantake in the vast horizon at a sweep: mountains, vales, plains, andoceans? Is such a being nothing?"
"But can that eye see itself, Yoomy?" said Babbalanja, winking. "Takenout of its socket, will it see at all? Its connection with the bodyimparts 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 thehelm 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 haveagain come to the lees. Ho, Vee-Vee, a fresh calabash; and withit we will change the subject. Now, Babbalanja, I have this cup todrink, and then a question to propound. Ah, Mohi, rare old wine this;it smacks of the cork. But attention, Philosopher. Supposing you had awife--which, by the way, you have not--would you deem it sensible inher to imagine you no more, because you happened to stroll out of hersight?"
"However that might be," murmured Yoomy, "young Nina bewailed herselfa widow, whenever Arhinoo, her lord, was absent from her side."
"My lord Media," said Babbalanja, "During my absence, my wife wouldhave 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 thisimagination 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 tofancy the reverse. Nevertheless, when I am in Odo, talk not to me ofOhonoo. 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 itssubstantive existence, as cognizant to me, my presence isindispensable. I say that, to me, all Mardi exists by virtue of mysovereign 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 inthe lurch."
"Heed him not, Babbalanja," said Media. "Dip your beak again, myeagle, and soar."
"Let us be eagles, then, indeed, my lord: eagle-like, let us look atthis 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 arestirred one jot from their centers by ever so much drinking of thisfluid. Ply him hard as you will, through the live-long polarnight, a wise man can not be made drunk. Though, toward sunrise, hisbody may reel, it will reel round its center; and though he make manytacks in going home, he reaches it at last; while scores of over-pliedfools 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 likethe Indian summer, which steeps all nature in repose. To me, wine isno vulgar fire, no fosterer of base passions; my heart, ever open, isopened still wider; and glorious visions are born in my brain; it isthen that I have all Mardi under my feet, and the constellations ofthe firmament in my soul."
"Superb!" cried Yoomy.
"Pooh, pooh!" said Mohi, "who does not see stars at such times? I seethe Great Bear now, and the little one, its cub; and Andromeda, andPerseus' chain-armor, and Cassiopea in her golden chair, and thebright, scaly Dragon, and the glittering Lyre, and all the jewels inOrion's sword-hilt."
"Ay," cried Media, "the study of astronomy is wonderfully facilitatedby wine. Fill up, old Ptolemy, and tell us should you discover a newplanet. Methinks this fluid needs stirring. Ho, Vee-Vee, my scepter!be we sociable. But come, Babbalanja, my gold-headed aquila, return toyour theme;--the imagination, if you please."
"Well, then, my lord, I was about to say, that the imagination is theVoli-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 wouldalmost get the better of me."
"Without it--" continued Babbalanja.
"Without what?" demanded Media, starting to his feet. "Thisw
ine? Traitor, I'll stand by this to the last gasp, you areinebriated, Babbalanja."
"Perhaps so, my lord; but I was treating of the imagination, may itplease you."
"My lord," added Mohi, "of the unical, and rudimental fundament ofthings, 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 bemade to believe, that he had a head of hair, since he could neithersee 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: yourmortal brains can not endure much quaffing. Return to your subject,Babbalanja. Assume now, Babbalanja,--assume, my dear prince--assumeit, 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 yourwife had newly wedded, under the--the--the metaphysical presumption,that being no longer visible, you--_you_ Azzageddi, had departed thislife; in other words, out of sight, out of mind; what then, my dearprince?"
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