Oh! russet shores of Rhine and Rhone! oh, mellow memories of ripe oldvintages! oh, cobwebs in the Pyramids! oh, dust on Pharaoh's tomb!--all, all recur, as I bethink me of that glorious gourd, its contentscogent as Tokay, itself as old as Mohi's legends; more venerable tolook at than his beard. Whence came it? Buried in vases, so saith thelabel, with the heart of old Marjora, now dead one hundred thousandmoons. Exhumed at last, it looked no wine, but was shrunk into asubtile syrup.
This special calabash was distinguished by numerous trappings,caparisoned like the sacred bay steed led before the Great Khan ofTartary. A most curious and betasseled network encased it; and theroyal lizard was jealously twisted about its neck, like a hand on athroat containing some invaluable secret.
All Hail, Marzilla! King's Own Royal Particular! A vinous Percy!Dating back to the Conquest! Distilled of yore from purple berriesgrowing in the purple valley of Ardair! Thrice hail.
But the imperial Marzilla was not for all; gods only could partake;the Kings and demigods of the isles; excluding left-handeddescendants of sad rakes of immortals, in old times breaking headsand hearts in Mardi, bequeathing bars-sinister to many mortals, whonow in vain might urge a claim to a cup-full of right regal Marzilla.
The Royal Particular was pressed upon me, by the now jovialDonjalolo. With his own sceptered hand charging my flagon to thebrim, he declared his despotic pleasure, that I should quaff it offto the last lingering globule. No hard calamity, truly; for thedrinking of this wine was as the singing of a mighty ode, or frenziedlyric to the soul.
"Drink, Taji," cried Donjalolo, "drink deep. In this wine a king'sheart is dissolved. Drink long; in this wine lurk the seeds of thelife everlasting. Drink deep; drink long: thou drinkest wisdomand valor at every draught. Drink forever, oh Taji, for thou drinkestthat which will enable thee to stand up and speak out before mightyOro himself."
"Borabolla," he added, turning round upon a domed old king at hisleft, "Was it not the god Xipho, who begged of my great-great-grandsire a draught of this same wine, saying he was about to beget ahero?"
"Even so. And thy glorious Marzilla produced thrice valiant Ononna,who slew the giants of the reef."
"Ha, ha, hear'st that, oh Taji?" And Donjalolo drained another cup.
Amazing! the flexibility of the royal elbow, and the rigidity of theroyal spine! More especially as we had been impressed with a notionof their debility. But, sometimes these seemingly enervated youngblades approve themselves steadier of limb, than veteran revelers ofvery long standing.
"Discharge the basin, and refill it with wine," cried Donjalolo."Break all empty gourds! Drink, kings, and dash your cups at everydraught."
So saying, he started from his purple mat; and with one foot plantedunknowingly upon the skull of Marjora; while all the skeletonsgrinned at him from the pavement; Donjalolo, holding on high hisblood-red goblet, burst forth with the following invocation:--
Ha, ha, gods and kings; fill high, one and all; Drink, drink! shout and drink! mad respond to the call! Fill fast, and fill frill; 'gainst the goblet ne'er sin; Quaff there, at high tide, to the uttermost rim:-- Flood-tide, and soul-tide to the brim!
Who with wine in him fears? who thinks of his cares? Who sighs to be wise, when wine in him flares? Water sinks down below, in currents full slow; But wine mounts on high with its genial glow:-- Welling up, till the brain overflow!
As the spheres, with a roll, some fiery of soul, Others golden, with music, revolve round the pole;
So let our cups, radiant with many hued wines, Round and round in groups circle, our Zodiac's Signs:-- Round reeling, and ringing their chimes!
Then drink, gods and kings; wine merriment brings; It bounds through the veins; there, jubilant sings. Let it ebb, then, and flow; wine never grows dim; Drain down that bright tide at the foam beaded rim:-- Fill up, every cup, to the brim!
Caught by all present, the chorus resounded again and again. Thebeaded wine danced on many a beard; the cataract lifted higher itsvoice; the grotto sent back a shout; the ghosts of the Coral Monarchsseemed starting from their insulted bones. But ha, ha, ha, roaredforth the five-and-twenty kings--alive, not dead--holding both handsto their girdles, and baying out their laughter from abysses; likeNimrod's hounds over some fallen elk.
Mad and crazy revelers, how ye drank and roared! but kings no more:vestures loosed; and scepters rolling on the ground.
Glorious agrarian, thou wine! bringing all hearts on a level, and atlast all legs to the earth; even those of kings, who, to do themjustice, have been much maligned for imputed qualities not theirs.For whoso has touched flagons with monarchs, bear they their backbones never so stiffly on the throne, well know the rascals, to be atbottom royal good fellows; capable of a vinous frankness exceedingthat of base-born men. Was not Alexander a boon companion? And daftCambyses? and what of old Rowley, as good a judge of wine and othermatters, as ever sipped claret or kisses.
If ever Taji joins a club, be it a Beef-Steak Club of Kings!
Donjalolo emptied yet another cup.
The mirth now blew a gale; like a ship's shrouds in a Typhoon, everytendon vibrated; the breezes of Omi came forth with a rush; thehangings shook; the goblets danced fandangos; and Donjalolo,clapping his hands, called before him his dancing women.
Forth came from the grotto a reed-like burst of song, making allstart, and look that way to behold such enchanting strains. Soundsheralding sights! Swimming in the air, emerged the nymphs, lustrousarms interlocked like Indian jugglers' glittering snakes. Round thecascade they thronged; then paused in its spray. Of a sudden, seemedto spring from its midst, a young form of foam, that danced into thesoul like a thought. At last, sideways floating off, it subsided intothe grotto, a wave. Evening drawing on apace, the crimson draperieswere lifted, and festooned to the arms of the idol-pillars, admittingthe rosy light of the even.
Yielding to the re-action of the banquet, the kings now reclined; andtwo mute damsels entered: one with a gourd of scented waters; theother with napkins. Bending over Donjalolo's steaming head, the firstlet fall a shower of aromatic drops, slowly aborbed by her companion.Thus, in turn, all were served; nothing heard but deep breathing.
In a marble vase they now kindled some incense: a handful of spices.
Shortly after, came three of the king's beautiful smokers; who,lighting their tubes at this odorous fire, blew over the company thesedative fumes of the Aina.
Steeped in languor, I strove against it long; essayed to struggle outof the enchanted mist. But a syren hand seemed ever upon me, pressingme back.
Half-revealed, as in a dream, and the last sight that I saw, wasDonjalolo:--eyes closed, face pale, locks moist, borne slowly to hissedan, to cross the hollow, and wake in the seclusion of his harem.
CHAPTER LXXXVAfter Dinner
As in dreams I behold thee again, Willamila! as in dreams, once againI stroll through thy cool shady groves, oh fairest of the vallies ofMardi! the thought of that mad merry feasting steals over my soultill I faint.
Prostrate here and there over the bones of Donjalolo's sires, theroyal bacchanals lay slumbering till noon.
"Which are the deadest?" said Babbalanja, peeping in, "the livekings, or the dead ones?"
But the former were drooping flowers sought to be revived bywatering. At intervals the sedulous attendants went to and fro,besprinkling their heads with the scented contents of their vases.
At length, one by one, the five-and-twenty kings lifted theirambrosial curls; and shaking the dew therefrom, like eagles openedtheir right royal eyes, and dilated their aquiline nostrils, fullupon the golden rays of the sun.
But why absented himself, Donjalolo? Had he cavalierly left them tosurvive the banquet by themselves? But this apparent incivility wassoon explained by heralds, announcing to their prone majesties, thatthrough the over solicitude of his slaves, their lord the king hadbeen borne to his harem, without being a party to the act. But tomake amends, in his sedan
, Donjalolo was even now drawing nigh. Not,however, again to make merry; but socially to sleep in company withhis guests; for, together they had all got high, and together theymust all lie low.
So at it they went: each king to his bones, and slumbered likeheroes till evening; when, availing themselves of the cool moonlightapproaching, the royal guests bade adieu to their host; and summoningtheir followers, quitted the glen.
Early next day, having determined to depart for our canoes, weproceeded to the House of the Morning, to take leave of Donjalolo.
An amazing change, one night of solitude had wrought! Pale andlanguid, we found him reclining: one hand on his throbbing temples.
Near an overturned vessel of wine, the royal girdle lay tossed at hisfeet. He had waved off his frightened attendants, who crouched out ofsight.
We advanced.
"Do ye too leave me? Ready enough are ye to partake of mybanquetings, which, to such as ye, are but mad incidents in one roundof more tranquil diversions. But heed me not, Media;--I am mad. Oh,ye gods! am I forever a captive?--Ay, free king of Odo, when youlist, condescend to visit the poor slave in Willamilla. I accountthem but charity, your visits; would fain allure ye by sumptuousfare. Go, leave me; go, and be rovers again throughout bloomingMardi. For, me, I am here for aye.--Bring me wine, slaves! quick!that I may pledge my guests fitly. Alas, Media, at the bottom of thiscup are no sparkles as at top. Oh, treacherous, treacherous friend!full of smiles and daggers. Yet for such as me, oh wine, thou arte'en a prop, though it pierce the side; for man must lean. Thou wineart the friend of the friendless, though a foe to all. King Media,let us drink. More cups!--And now, farewell."
Falling back, he averted his face; and silently we quitted thepalace.
CHAPTER LXXXVIOf Those Scamps The Plujii
The beach gained, we embarked.
In good time our party recovered from the seriousness into which wehad been thrown; and a rather long passage being now before us, wewhiled away the hours as best we might.
Among many entertaining, narrations, old Braid-Beard, crossing hiscalves, and peaking his beard, regaled us with some account ofcertain invisible spirits, ycleped the Plujii, arrant little knavesas ever gulped moonshine.
They were spoken of as inhabiting the island of Quelquo, in a remotecorner of the lagoon; the innocent people of which island were sadlyfretted and put out by their diabolical proceedings. Not to bewondered at; since, dwelling as they did in the air, and completelyinaccessible, these spirits were peculiarly provocative of ire.
Detestable Plujii! With malice aforethought, they brought about highwinds that destroyed the banana plantations, and tumbled over theheads of its occupants many a bamboo dwelling. They cracked thecalabashes; soured the "poee;" induced the colic; begat the spleen;and almost rent people in twain with stitches in the side. In short,from whatever evil, the cause of which the Islanders could notdirectly impute to their gods, or in their own opinion was notreferable to themselves,--of that very thing must the invisiblePlujii be guilty. With horrible dreams, and blood-thirsty gnats, theyinvaded the most innocent slumbers.
All things they bedeviled. A man with a wry neck ascribed itto the Plujii; he with a bad memory railed against the Plujii; andthe boy, bruising his finger, also cursed those abominable spirits.
Nor, to some minds, at least, was there wanting strong presumptiveevidence, that at times, with invisible fingers, the above mentionedPlujii did leave direct and tangible traces of their presence;pinching and pounding the unfortunate Islanders; pulling their hair;plucking their ears, and tweaking their beards and their noses. Andthus perpetually vexing, incensing, tormenting, and exasperatingtheir helpless victims, the atrocious Plujii reveled in theirmalicious dominion over the souls and bodies of the people of Quelquo.
What it was, that induced them to enact such a part, Oro only knew;and never but once, it seems, did old Mohi endeavor to find out.
Once upon a time, visiting Quelquo, he chanced to encounter an oldwoman almost doubled together, both hands upon her abdomen; in thatmanner running about distracted.
"My good woman," said he, "what under the firmament is the matter?"
"The Plujii! the Plujii!" affectionately caressing the field of theiroperations.
"But why do they torment you?" he soothingly inquired. "How should Iknow? and what good would it do me if I did?"
And on she ran.
At this part of his narration, Mohi was interrupted by Media; who,much to the surprise of all present, observed, that, unbeknown to him(Braid-Beard), he happened to have been on that very island, at thatvery time, and saw that identical old lady in the very midst of thoseabdominal tribulations.
"That she was really in great distress," he went on to say, "wasplainly to be seen; but that in that particular instance, yourPlujii had any hand in tormenting her, I had some boisterous doubts.For, hearing that an hour or two previous she had been partaking ofsome twenty unripe bananas, I rather fancied that that circumstancemight have had something to do with her sufferings. But however itwas, all the herb-leeches on the island would not have altered herown opinions on the subject."
"No," said Braid-Beard; "a post-mortem examination would not havesatisfied her ghost."
"Curious to relate," he continued, "the people of that island neverabuse the Plujii, notwithstanding all they suffer at their hands,unless under direct provocation; and a settled matter of faith is it,that at such times all bitter words and hasty objurgations areentirely overlooked, nay, pardoned on the spot, by the unseen geniiagainst whom they are directed."
"Magnanimous Plujii!" cried Media. "But, Babbalanja, do you, who runa tilt at all things, suffer this silly conceit to be uttered withimpunity in your presence? Why so silent?"
"I have been thinking, my lord," said Babbalanja, "that though thepeople of that island may at times err, in imputing their calamitiesto the Plujii, that, nevertheless, upon the whole, they indulge in areasonable belief. For, Plujii or no Plujii, it is undeniable, thatin ten thousand ways, as if by a malicious agency, we mortals arewoefully put out and tormented; and that, too, by things inthemselves so exceedingly trivial, that it would seem almost impietyto ascribe them to the august gods. No; there must exist some greatlyinferior spirits; so insignificant, comparatively, as to beoverlooked by the supernal powers; and through them it must be, thatwe are thus grievously annoyed. At any rate; such a theory wouldsupply a hiatus in my system of meta-physics."
"Well, peace to the Plujii," said Media; "they trouble not me."
CHAPTER LXXXVIINora-Bamma
Still onward gliding, the lagoon a calm.
Hours pass; and full before us, round and green, a Moslem turban byus floats--Nora-Bamma, Isle of Nods.
Noon-tide rolls its flood. Vibrates the air, and trembles. And byillusion optical, thin-draped in azure haze, drift here and there thebrilliant lands: swans, peacock-plumaged, sailing through the sky.Down to earth hath heaven come; hard telling sun-clouds from the isles.
And high in air nods Nora-Bamma. Nid-nods its tufted summit likethree ostrich plumes; its beetling crags, bent poppies, shadows,willowy shores, all nod; its streams are murmuring down the hills;its wavelets hush the shore.
Who dwells in Nora-Bamma? Dreamers, hypochondriacs, somnambulists;who, from the cark and care of outer Mardi fleeing, in the poppy'sjaded odors, seek oblivion for the past, and ecstasies to come.
Open-eyed, they sleep and dream; on their roof-trees, grapes unheededdrop. In Nora-Bamma, whispers are as shouts; and at a zephyr's breath,from the woodlands shake the leaves, as of humming-birds, a flight.
All this spake Braid-Beard, of the isle. How that none ere touchedits strand, without rendering instant tribute of a nap; how thatthose who thither voyaged, in golden quest of golden gourds, fastdropped asleep, ere one was plucked; waking not till night; how thatyou must needs rub hard your eyes, would you wander through the isle;and how that silent specters would be met, haunting twilight groves,and dreamy meads; hither gliding, thither fading, end or purpose none.
True or false, so much for Mohi's Nora Bamma.
But as we floated on, it looked the place described. We yawned, andyawned, as crews of vessels may; as in warm Indian seas, theirwinnowing sails all swoon, when by them glides some opium argosie.
CHAPTER LXXXVIIIIn A Calm, Hautia's Heralds Approach
"How still!" cried Babbalanja. "This calm is like unto Oro'severlasting serenity, and like unto man's last despair."
But now the silence was broken by a strange, distant, intermittedmelody in the water.
Gazing over the side, we saw naught but a far-darting ray in itsdepths.
Then Yoomy, before buried in a reverie, burst forth with a verse,sudden as a jet from a Geyser.
Like the fish of the bright and twittering fin, Bright fish! diving deep as high soars the lark, So, far, far, far, doth the maiden swim, Wild song, wild light, in still ocean's dark.
"What maiden, minstrel?" cried Media.
"None of these," answered Yoomy, pointing out a shallop gliding near.
"The damsels three:--Taji, they pursue you yet." That still canoedrew nigh, the Iris in its prow.
Gliding slowly by, one damsel flung a Venus-car, the leaves yet fresh.
Said Yoomy--"Fly to love."
The second maiden flung a pallid blossom, buried in hemlock leaves.
Said Yoomy, starting--"I have wrought a death."
Then came showering Venus-cars, and glorious moss-roses numberless,and odorous handfuls of Verbena.
Said Yoomy--"Yet fly, oh fly to me: all rosy joys and sweets are mine."