7. CHAPTER VII.
THEY VISIT THE LAKE OF YAMMO.
From the Morai, we bent our steps toward an unoccupied
arbor; and here, refreshing ourselves with the viands presented
by Borabolla, we passed the night. And next morning
proceeded to voyage round to the opposite quarter of the
island; where, in the sacred lake of Yammo, stood the
famous temple of Oro, also the great gallery of the inferior
deities.
The lake was but a portion of the smooth lagoon, made
separate by an arm of wooded reef, extending from the high
western shore of the island, and curving round toward a
promontory, leaving a narrow channel to the sea, almost
invisible, however, from the land-locked interior.
In this lake were many islets, all green with groves. Its
main-shore was a steep acclivity, with jutting points, each
crowned with mossy old altars of stone, or ruinous temples,
darkly reflected in the green, glassy water; while, from its
long line of stately trees, the low reef-side of the lake looked
one verdant bluff.
Gliding in upon Yammo, its many islets greeted us like a
little Mardi; but ever and anon we started at long lines of
phantoms in the water, reflections of the long line of images
on the shore.
Toward the islet of Dolzono we first directed our way;
and there we beheld the great gallery of the gods; a mighty
temple, resting on one hundred tall pillars of palm, each
based, below the surface, on the buried body of a man; its
nave one vista of idols; names carved on their foreheads:
Ogro, Tripoo, Indrimarvoki, Parzillo, Vivivi, Jojijojorora,
Jorkraki, and innumerable others.
Crowds of attendants were new-grouping the images.
“My lord, you behold one of their principal occupations,”
said Mohi.
Said Media: “I have heard much of the famed image of
Mujo, the Nursing Mother;—can you point it out, Braid-Beard?”
“My lord, when last here, I saw Mujo at the head of
this file; but they must have removed it; I see it not
now.”
“Do these attendants, then,” said Babbalanja, “so continually
new-marshal the idols, that visiting the gallery today,
you are at a loss to-morrow?”
“Even so,” said Braid-Beard. “But behold, my lord,
this image is Mujo.”
We stood before an obelisk-idol, so towering, that gazing
at it, we were fain to throw back our heads. According to
Mohi, winding stairs led up through its legs; its abdomen
a cellar, thick-stored with gourds of old wine; its head, a
hollow dome; in rude alto-relievo, its scores of hillock-breasts
were carved over with legions of baby deities, frog-like
sprawling; while, within, were secreted whole litters of
infant idols, there placed, to imbibe divinity from the knots
of the wood.
As we stood, a strange subterranean sound was heard,
mingled with a gurgling as of wine being poured. Looking
up, we beheld, through arrow-slits and port-holes, three
masks, cross-legged seated in the abdomen, and holding stout
wassail. But instantly upon descrying us, they vanished
deeper into the interior; and presently was heard a sepulchral
chant, and many groans and grievous tribulations.
Passing on, we came to an image, with a long anacondalike
posterior development, wound round and round its own
neck.
“This must be Oloo, the god of Suicides,” said Babbalanja.
“Yes,” said Mohi, “you perceive, my lord, how he lays
violent tail upon himself.”
At length, the attendants having, in due order, new-d
posed the long lines of sphinxes and griffins, and many-limbed
images, a band of them, in long flowing robes, began
their morning chant.
“Awake Rarni! awake Foloona!
Awake unnumbered deities!”
With many similar invocations, to which the images made
not the slightest rejoinder. Not discouraged, however, the
attendants now separately proceeded to offer up petitions on
behalf of various tribes, retaining them for that purpose.
One prayed for abundance of rain, that the yams of Valapee
might not wilt in the ground; another for dry sunshine,
as most favorable for the present state of the Bread-fruit
crop in Mondoldo.
Hearing all this, Babbalanja thus spoke:—“Doubtless,
my lord Media, besides these petitions we hear, there are
ten thousand contradictory prayers ascending to these idols.
But methinks the gods will not jar the eternal progression
of things, by any hints from below; even were it possible
to satisfy conflicting desires.”
Said Yoomy, “But I would pray, nevertheless, Babbalanja;
for prayer draws us near to our own souls, and purifies
our thoughts. Nor will I grant that our supplications
are altogether in vain.”
Still wandering among the images, Mohi had much to
say, concerning their respective claims to the reverence of
the devout.
For though, in one way or other, all Mardians bowed to
the supremacy of Oro, they were not so unanimous concerning
the inferior deities; those supposed to be intermediately
concerned in sublunary things. Some nations sacrificed to
one god; some to another; each maintaining, that their
own god was the most potential.
Observing that all the images were more or less defaced,
Babbalanja sought the reason.
To which, Braid-Beard made answer, that they had been
thus defaced by hostile devotees; who quarreling in the
great gallery of the gods, and getting beside themselves with
rage, often sought to pull down, and demolish each other's
favorite idols.
“But behold,” cried Babbalanja, “there seems not a
single image unmutilated. How is this, old man?”
“It is thus. While one faction defaces the images of its
adversaries, its own images are in like manner assailed;
whence it comes that no idol escapes.”
“No more, no more, Braid-Beard,” said Media. “Let
us depart, and visit the islet, where the god of all these
gods is enshrined.”
