- description
- # Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo
## Overview
This section, titled "Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo," is a segment of text extracted from the file `mardi_vol2.txt`. It is part of Chapter X of a larger work and focuses on a narrative shared by the character Mohi. The text details the story of Ravoo, a pontifical messenger, and his unique method of delivering messages across an island.
## Context
This section is contained within [Chapter X of the work](arke:01KG8AJQ15YACHJS0946CXB5WD), which is titled "Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo, And They Land To Visit Hevaneva, A Flourishing Artisan." The chapter itself is part of the collection [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW), sourced from the file `mardi_vol2.txt`. This section follows a previous part of the same chapter and precedes a section describing a visit to an artisan.
## Contents
The narrative begins with the travelers departing Yammo and circumnavigating the island towards Uma. Mohi recounts the sight of small altars dedicated to guardian spirits, which served as spiritual defenses. He then introduces Ravoo, the pontifical messenger, known for his incredible speed. Ravoo's duty involved delivering hieroglyphically stamped tappa to these altars, using a special pair of buskins for his journey. To manage the discomfort of his footwear, Ravoo established a system of relay stations where fresh pairs of buskins were hung from trees. The text also includes a philosophical exchange between Babbalanja and Mohi regarding the meaning and purpose of Ravoo's story, with Babbalanja seeking deeper truths beyond the surface narrative.
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- description_title
- Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo
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- text
- 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.
- title
- Mohi Tells Of One Ravoo