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- 6489
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z
- extracted_by
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- start_line
- 6416
- text
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“Flood them over, then; but cease not discoursing; thanks be to the
gods, your mortal palates and tongues can both wag together; fill up, I
say, Babbalanja; you are no philosopher, if you stop at the tenth cup;
endurance is the test of philosophy all Mardi over; drink, I say, and
make us wise by precept and example.—Proceed, Yoomy, you look as if 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 can take
in the vast horizon at a sweep: mountains, vales, plains, and oceans?
Is such a being nothing?”
“But can that eye see itself, Yoomy?” said Babbalanja, winking. “Taken
out of its socket, will it see at all? Its connection with the body
imparts 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 the
helm 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 have
again come to the lees. Ho, Vee-Vee, a fresh calabash; and with it we
will change the subject. Now, Babbalanja, I have this cup to drink, and
then a question to propound. Ah, Mohi, rare old wine this; it smacks of
the cork. But attention, Philosopher. Supposing you had a wife—which,
by the way, you have not—would you deem it sensible in her to imagine
you no more, because you happened to stroll out of her sight?”
“However that might be,” murmured Yoomy, “young Nina bewailed herself a
widow, whenever Arhinoo, her lord, was absent from her side.”
“My lord Media,” said Babbalanja, “During my absence, my wife would
have 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 this imagination 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 to fancy the
reverse. Nevertheless, when I am in Odo, talk not to me of Ohonoo. 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 its substantive
existence, as cognizant to me, my presence is indispensable. I say
that, to me, all Mardi exists by virtue of my sovereign 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 in
the lurch.”
“Heed him not, Babbalanja,” said Media. “Dip your beak again, my eagle,
and soar.”
“Let us be eagles, then, indeed, my lord: eagle-like, let us look at
this 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 are stirred
one jot from their centers by ever so much drinking of this fluid. Ply
him hard as you will, through the live-long polar night, a wise man can
not be made drunk. Though, toward sunrise, his body may reel, it will
reel round its center; and though he make many tacks in going home, he
reaches it at last; while scores of over-plied fools 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 like the Indian summer, which
steeps all nature in repose. To me, wine is no vulgar fire, no fosterer
of base passions; my heart, ever open, is opened still wider; and
glorious visions are born in my brain; it is then that I have all Mardi
under my feet, and the constellations of the firmament in my soul.”
“Superb!” cried Yoomy.
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