Returning to the water-side, we passed a field, where dwarfs werelaboring in beds of yams, heaping the soil around the roots, byscratching it backward; as a dog.
All things in readiness, Yoky's valet, a tri-armed dwarf, treated usto 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 LXXIA Book From The "Ponderings Of Old Bardianna"
"Now," said Babbalanja, lighting his trombone as we sailed from theisle, "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 youmention. But I am, as I am; whether hideous, or handsome, depends uponwho is made judge. There is no supreme standard yet revealed, wherebyto judge of ourselves; 'Our very instincts are prejudices,' saith AllaMallolla; '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 thePleiades? 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 inBook X. of the Ponderings, 'Zermalmende,' the title: 'Je pense,' themotto:--'My supremacy over creation, boasteth man, is declared in mynatural attitude:--I stand erect! But so do the palm-trees; and thegiraffes that graze off their tops. And the fowls of the air fly highover our heads; and from the place where we fancy our heaven to be,defile the tops of our temples. Belike, the eagles, from their eyrieslook down upon us Mardians, in our hives, even as upon thebeavers in their dams, marveling at our incomprehensible ways. Andcunning though we be, some things, hidden from us, may not bemysteries to them. Having five keys, hold we all that open toknowledge? Deaf, blind, and deprived of the power of scent, the batwill steer its way unerringly:--could we? Yet man is lord of the batand the brute; lord over the crows; with whom, he must needs share thegrain he garners. We sweat for the fowls, as well as ourselves. Thecurse of labor rests only on us. Like slaves, we toil: at their goodleisure they glean.
"'Mardi is not wholly ours. We are the least populous part ofcreation. To say nothing of other tribes, a census of the herringwould find us far in the minority. And what life is to us,--sour orsweet,--so is it to them. Like us, they die, fighting death to thelast; like us, they spawn and depart. We inhabit but a crust, roughsurfaces, odds and ends of the isles; the abounding lagoon being itstwo-thirds, its grand feature from afar; and forever unfathomable.
"'What shaft has yet been sunk to the antipodes? What underlieth thegold mines?
"'But even here, above-ground, we grope with the sun at meridian.Vainly, we seek our Northwest Passages,--old alleys, and thoroughfaresof 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, thatreaches further above us than below. We breathe but oxygen. Who inArcturus hath heard of us? They know us not in the Milky Way. We prateof faculties divine: and know not how sprouteth a spear of grass; wego about shrugging our shoulders: when the firmament-arch is over us;we rant of etherealities: and long tarry over our banquets; we demandEternity for a lifetime: when our mortal half-hours too often provetedious. We know not of what we talk. The Bird of Paradise out-fliesour flutterings. What it is to be immortal, has not yet enteredinto our thoughts. At will, we build our futurities; tier above tier,all galleries full of laureates: resounding with everlastingoratorios! Pater-nosters forever, or eternal Misereres! forgettingthat in Mardi, our breviaries oft fall from our hands. But divansthere are, some say, whereon we shall recline, basking in effulgentsuns, knowing neither Orient nor Occident. Is it so? Fellow men! ourmortal 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 anotherrace. We will hope, joy, weep, as before; though our tears may be suchas 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 shallwe yawn, and our shadows lengthen, while the eternal cycles arerevolving. To live at all, is a high vocation; to live forever, andrun parallel with Oro, may truly appall us. Toil we not here? andshall we be forever slothful elsewhere? Other worlds differ not muchfrom this, but in degree. Doubtless, a pebble is a fair specimen ofthe universe.
"'We point at random. Peradventure at this instant, there are beingsgazing up to this very world as their future heaven. But the universeis all over a heaven: nothing but stars on stars, throughoutinfinities of expansion. All we see are but a cluster. Could we get toBootes, we would be no nearer Oro, than now he hath no place; but ishere. Already, in its unimaginable roamings, our system may havedragged us through and through the spaces, where we plant cities ofberyl and jasper. Even now, we may be inhaling the ether, which wefancy seraphic wings are fanning. But look round. There is much to beseen here, and now. Do the archangels survey aught more glorious thanthe constellations we nightly behold? Continually we slight thewonders, we deem in reserve. We await the present. With marvels we areglutted, till we hold them no marvels at all. But had theseeyes first opened upon all the prodigies in the Revelation of theDreamer, long familiarity would have made them appear, even as thesethings we see. Now, _now_, the page is out-spread: to the simple, easyas a primer; to the wise, more puzzling than hieroglyphics. Theeternity to come, is but a prolongation of time present: and thebeginning may be more wonderful than the end.
"'Then let us be wise. But much of the knowledge we seek, already wehave in our cores. Yet so simple it is, we despise it; so bold, wefear 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. WantingHim, it is both the teacher and the taught. Undeniably, reason was thefirst revelation; and so far as it tests all others, it has precedenceover them. It comes direct to us, without suppression orinterpolation; and with Oro's indisputable imprimatur. But inspirationthough it be, it is not so arrogant as some think. Nay, far toohumble, at times it submits to the grossest indignities. Though in itsbest estate, not infallible; so far as it goes, for us, it isreliable. When at fault, it stands still. We speak not of visionaries.But if this our first revelation stops short of the uttermost, so withall others. If, often, it only perplexes: much more the rest. Theyleave much unexpounded; and disclosing new mysteries, add to theenigma. Fellow-men; the ocean we would sound is unfathomable; andhowever much we add to our line, when it is out, we feel not thebottom. Let us be truly lowly, then; not lifted up with a Pharisaichumility. 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 toothers. What are others to us? Assure life everlasting to thisgeneration, and their immediate forefathers--and what tears wouldflow, were there no resurrection for the countless generationsfrom the first man to five cycles since? And soon we ourselves shallhave fallen in with the rank and file of our sires. At a blow,annihilate some distant tribe, now alive and jocund--and what would wereck? Curiosity apart, do we really care whether the people inBellatrix are immortal or no?
"'Though they smite us, let us not turn away from these things, ifthey be really thus.
"'There was a time, when near Cassiopeia, a star of the firstmagnitude, most lustrous in the North, grew lurid as a fire, then dimas ashes, and went out. Now, its place is a blank. A vast world, withall its continents, say the astronomers, blazing over the heads of ourfathers; while in Mardi were merry-makings, and maidens given inmarriage. Who now thinks of that burning sphere? How few are awarethat ever it was?
/> "'These things are so.
"'Fellow-men! we must go, and obtain a glimpse of what we are from theBelts 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 liveto behold a wrinkle in the sky. Eternity is not ours by right; and,alone, unrequited sufferings here, form no title thereto, unlessresurrections are reserved for maltreated brutes. Suffering issuffering; be the sufferer man, brute, or thing.
"'How small;--how nothing, our deserts! Let us stifle all vainspeculations; we need not to be told what righteousness is; we wereborn with the whole Law in our hearts. Let us do: let us act: let usdown on our knees. And if, after all, we should be no more forever;--far better to perish meriting immortality, than to enjoy itunmeritorious. While we fight over creeds, ten thousand fingers pointto where vital good may be done. All round us, Want crawls to herlairs; and, shivering, dies unrelieved. Here, _here_, fellow-men, wecan better minister as angels, than in heaven, where want and miserycome not.
"'We Mardians talk as though the future was all in all; but act asthough the present was every thing. Yet so far as, in our theories, wedwarf 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 theisles to sink in space, Sirius, the Dog-star, would still flame in thesky. But as the atom to the animalculae, so Mardi to us. And livedaright, these mortal lives are long; looked into, these souls,fathomless as the nethermost depths.
"'Fellow-men; we split upon hairs; but stripped, mere words andphrases 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 clashestherewith, we do not so much believe, as believe that we can notdisbelieve. Common sense is a sturdy despot; that, for the most part,has its own way. It inspects and ratifies much independent of it. Butthose who think they do wholly reject it, are but held in a sly sortof bondage; under a semblance of something else, wearing the old yoke.'"
"Cease, cease, Babbalanja," said Media, "and permit me to insinuate aword in your ear. You have long been in the habit, philosopher, ofregaling us with chapters from your old Bardianna; and with infinitegusto, you have just recited the longest of all. But I do not observe,oh, Sage! that for all these things, you yourself are practically thebetter or wiser. You live not up to Bardianna's main thought. Where hestands, 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 LXXIIBabbalanja Starts To His Feet
For twenty-four hours, seated stiff, and motionless, Babbalanja spokenot a word; then, almost without moving a muscle, muttered thus:--"Atbanquets surfeit not, but fill; partake, and retire; and eat not againtill you crave. Thereby you give nature time to work her magictransformings; turning all solids to meat, and wine into blood. Aftera banquet you incline to repose:--do so: digestion commands. All thisfollow those, who feast at the tables of Wisdom; and all such arethey, who partake of the fare of old Bardianna."
"Art resuscitated, then, Babbalanja?" said Media. "Ay, my lord, I amjust risen from the dead."
"And did Azzageddi conduct you to their realms?"
"Fangs off! fangs off! depart, thou fiend!--unhand me! or by Oro, Iwill 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! Inevery age, thou boastest of thy valorous advances:--flat fools, olddotards, and numskulls, our sires! All the Past, wasted time! thePresent knows all! right lucky, fellow-beings, we live now! every manan author! books plenty as men! strike a light in a minute! teeth soldby the pound! all the elements fetching and carrying! lightningrunning on errands! rivers made to order! the ocean a puddle!--But ages back they boasted like us; and ages to come, forever andever, they'll boast. Ages back they black-balled the past, thought thelast day was come; so wise they were grown. Mardi could not standlong; have to annex one of the planets; invade the great sun; colonizethe moon;--conquerors sighed for new Mardis; and sages for heaven--having by heart all the primers here below. Like us, ages back theygroaned under their books; made bonfires of libraries, leaving ashesbehind, mid which we reverentially grope for charred pages, forgettingwe are so much wiser than they.--But amazing times! astoundingrevelations; preternatural divulgings!--How now?--more wonderful thanall our discoveries is this: that they never were discovered before.So simple, no doubt our ancestors overlooked them; intent on deeperthings--the deep things of the soul. All we discover has been with ussince the sun began to roll; and much we discover, is not worth thediscovering. We are children, climbing trees after birds' nests, andmaking a great shout, whether we find eggs in them or no. But whereare our wings, which our fore-fathers surely had not? Tell us, yesages! something worth an archangel's learning; discover, yediscoverers, something new. Fools, fools! Mardi's not changed: the sunyet rises in its old place in the East; all things go on in the sameold way; we cut our eye-teeth just as late as they did, three thousandyears 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 thealphabet-founder, were eye-teeth, not yet all sprung from the soil.Like spring-wheat, blade by blade, they break ground late; likespring-wheat, many seeds have perished in the hard winter glebe. Oh,my lord! though we galvanize corpses into St. Vitus' dances, we raisenot the dead from their graves! Though we have discovered thecirculation of the blood, men die as of yore; oxen graze, sheepbleat, babies bawl, asses bray--loud and lusty as the day before theflood. 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 laughingand weeping, tricking and truckling, hanging and drowning times thathave been. Nothing changes, though much be new-fashioned: new fashionsbut revivals of things previous. In the books of the past we learnnaught but of the present; in those of the present, the past. AllMardi's history--beginning middle, and finis--was written out incapitals 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 burieddead 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, thateven in their deepest lucubrations, the profoundest, frankest,ponderers always reserve a vast deal of precious thought for their ownprivate behoof. They think, perhaps, that 'tis too good, or too bad;too wise, or too foolish, for the multitude. And this unpleasantvibration is ever consequent upon striking a new vein of ideas in thesoul. As with buried treasures, the ground over them sounds strangeand hollow. At any rate, the profoundest ponderer seldom tells us allhe thinks; seldom reveals to us the ultimate, and the innermost;seldom makes us open our eyes under water; seldom throws openthe totus-in-toto; and never carries us with him, to theunconsubsistent, the ideaimmanens, the super-essential, and the One."
Confusion! Remember the Quadammodatatives!"
"Ah!" said Braid-Beard, "that's the crack in his calabash, which allthe 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 thesephilosophers muddle themselves as they will, we wise ones ref
use topartake."
"And fools like me drink till they reel," said Babbalanja. "But inthese matters one's calabash must needs go round to keep afloat.Fogle-orum!"
CHAPTER LXXIIIAt Last, The Last Mention Is Made Of Old Bardianna; And His Last WillAnd Testament Is Recited At Length
The day was waning. And, as after many a tale of ghosts, around theirforest fire, Hungarian gipsies silent sit; watching the ruddy glowkindling each other's faces;--so, now we solemn sat; the crimson Westour fire; all our faces flushed.
"Testators!" then cried Media, when your last wills are all roundsettled, 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;--gothere, and wag thy saucy tail; or I will nail it to our bow, till yeroar 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 repeatold Bardianna's Will. It's worth all Mardi's hearing; and I have sostudied it, by rote I know it."
"Proceed then; but I mistrust that Azzageddi is not yet many thousandfathoms down."
"Attend my lord:---'Anno Mardis 50,000,000, o.s. I, Bardianna, of theisland of Vamba, and village of the same name, having just risen frommy yams, in high health, high spirits, and sound mind, do herebycheerfully make and ordain this my last will and testament.
"'Imprimis:
"'All my kith and kin being well to do in Mardi, I wholly leave themout of this my will.