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Mardi And a Voyage Thither II

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MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER

“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

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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 Null, “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.”

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“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 hardhearted 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 today those serfs in Dominora; and with them, all Vivenza’s Past; – and serfs, for many years, in Dominora, they would be. Easy is

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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; bondwomen 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

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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?”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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

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