Chapter 59 - Page 2

boundless wealth."

"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."

"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."