I said: ‘I will arise now and see Babbulkund, City of Marvel. She is
of one age with the earth; the stars are her sisters. Pharaohs of
the old time coming conquering from Araby first saw her, a solitary
mountain in the desert, and cut the mountain into towers and terraces.
They destroyed one of the hills of God, but they made Babbulkund. She
is carven, not built; her palaces are one with her terraces, there is
neither join nor cleft. Hers is the beauty of the youth of the world.
She deemeth herself to be the middle of Earth, and hath four gates
facing outward to the Nations. There sits outside her eastern gate a
colossal god of stone. His face flushes with the lights of dawn. When
the morning sunlight warms his lips they part a little, and he giveth
utterance to the words “Oon Oom,” and the language is long since dead
in which he speaks, and all his worshippers are gathered to their
tombs, so that none knoweth what the words portend that he uttereth at
dawn. Some say that he greets the sun as one god greets another in the
language thereof, and others say that he proclaims the day, and others
that he uttereth warning. And at every gate is a marvel not credible
until beholden.’
And I gathered three friends and said to them: ‘We are what we have
seen and known. Let us journey now and behold Babbulkund, that our
minds may be beautified with it and our spirits made holier.’
So we took ship and travelled over the lifting sea, and remembered not
things done in the towns we knew, but laid away the thoughts of them
like soiled linen and put them by, and dreamed of Babbulkund.
But when we came to the land of which Babbulkund is the abiding glory,
we hired a caravan of camels and Arab guides, and passed southwards in
the afternoon on the three days’ journey through the desert that should
bring us to the white walls of Babbulkund. And the heat of the sun
shone upon us out of the bright grey sky, and the heat of the desert
beat up at us from below.
About sunset we halted and tethered our horses, while the Arabs
unloaded the provisions from the camels and prepared a fire out of
the dry scrub, for at sunset the heat of the desert departs from it
suddenly, like a bird. Then we saw a traveller approaching us on a
camel coming from the south. When he was come near we said to him:
‘Come and encamp among us, for in the desert all men are brothers, and
we will give thee meat to eat and wine, or, if thou art bound by thy
faith, we will give thee some other drink that is not accursed by the
prophet.’
The traveller seated himself beside us on the sand, and crossed his
legs and answered:
‘Hearken, and I will tell you of Babbulkund, City of Marvel. Babbulkund
stands just below the meeting of the rivers, where Oonrana, River of
Myth, flows into the Waters of Fable, even the old stream Plegáthanees.
These, together, enter her northern gate rejoicing. Of old they flowed
in the dark through the Hill that Nehemoth, the first of Pharaohs,
carved into the City of Marvel. Sterile and desolate they float far
through the desert, each in the appointed cleft, with life upon neither
bank, but give birth in Babbulkund to the sacred purple garden whereof
all nations sing. Thither all the bees come on a pilgrimage at evening
by a secret way of the air. Once, from his twilit kingdom, which he
rules equally with the sun, the moon saw and loved Babbulkund, clad
with her purple garden; and the moon wooed Babbulkund, and she sent
him weeping away, for she is more beautiful than all her sisters the
stars. Her sisters come to her at night into her maiden chamber. Even
the gods speak sometimes of Babbulkund, clad with her purple garden.
Listen, for I perceive by your eyes that ye have not seen Babbulkund;
there is a restlessness in them and an unappeased wonder. Listen. In
the garden whereof I spoke there is a lake that hath no twin or fellow
in the world; there is no companion for it among all the lakes. The
shores of it are of glass, and the bottom of it. In it are great fish
having golden and scarlet scales, and they swim to and fro. Here it is
the wont of the eighty-second Nehemoth (who rules in the city today) to
come, after the dusk has fallen, and sit by the lake alone, and at this
hour eight hundred slaves go down by steps through caverns into vaults
beneath the lake. Four hundred of them carrying purple lights march one
behind the other, from east to west, and four hundred carrying green
lights march one behind the other, from west to east. The two lines
cross and re-cross each other in and out as the slaves go round and
round, and the fearful fish flash up and down and to and fro.’
But upon that traveller speaking night descended, solemn and cold, and
we wrapped ourselves in our blankets and lay down upon the sand in
the sight of the astral sisters of Babbulkund. And all that night the
desert said many things, softly and in a whisper, but I knew not what
he said. Only the sand knew and arose and was troubled and lay down
again, and the wind knew. Then, as the hours of the night went by,
these two discovered the foot-tracks wherewith we had disturbed the
holy desert, and they troubled over them and covered them up; and then
the wind lay down and the sand rested. Then the wind arose again and
the sand danced. This they did many times. And all the while the desert
whispered what I shall not know.
Then I slept awhile and awoke just before sunrise, very cold. Suddenly
the sun leapt up and flamed upon our faces; we all threw off our
blankets and stood up. Then we took food, and afterwards started
southwards, and in the heat of the day rested, and afterwards pushed
on again. And all the while the desert remained the same, like a dream
that will not cease to trouble a tired sleeper.
And often travellers passed us in the desert, coming from the City of
Marvel, and there was a light and a glory in their eyes from having
seen Babbulkund.
That evening, at sunset, another traveller neared us, and we hailed
him, saying:
‘Wilt thou eat and drink with us, seeing that all men are brothers in
the desert?’
And he descended from his camel and sat by us and said:
‘When morning shines on the colossus Neb and Neb speaks, at once the
musicians of King Nehemoth in Babbulkund awake.
‘At first their fingers wander over their golden harps, or they stroke
idly their violins. Clearer and clearer the note of each instrument
ascends like larks arising from the dew, till suddenly they all blend
together and a new melody is born. Thus, every morning, the musicians
of King Nehemoth make a new marvel in the City of Marvel; for these
are no common musicians, but masters of melody, raided by conquest
long since, and carried away in ships from the Isles of Song. And, at
the sound of the music, Nehemoth awakes in the eastern chamber of his
palace, which is carved in the form of a great crescent, four miles
long, on the northern side of the city. Full in the windows of its
eastern chamber the sun rises, and full in the windows of its western
chamber the sun sets.
‘When Nehemoth awakes he summons slaves who bring a palanquin with
bells, which the King enters, having lightly robed. Then the slaves run
and bear him to the onyx Chamber of the Bath, with the sound of small
bells ringing as they run. And when Nehemoth emerges thence, bathed and
anointed, the slaves run on with their ringing palanquin and bear him
to the Orient Chamber of Banquets, where the King takes the first meal
of the day. Thence, through the great white corridor whose windows all
face sunwards, Nehemoth, in his palanquin, passes on to the Audience
Chamber of Embassies from the North, which is all decked with Northern
wares.
‘All about it are ornaments of amber from the North and carven chalices
of the dark brown Northern crystal, and on its floors lie furs from
Baltic shores.
‘In adjoining chambers are stored the wonted food of the hardy Northern
men, and the strong wine of the North, pale but terrible. Therein the
King receives barbarian princes from the frigid lands. Thence the
slaves bear him swiftly to the Audience Chamber of Embassies from the
East, where the walls are of turquoise, studded with the rubies of
Ceylon, where the gods are the gods of the East, where all the hangings
have been devised in the gorgeous heart of Ind, and where all the
carvings have been wrought with the cunning of the isles. Here, if a
caravan hath chanced to have come in from Ind or from Cathay, it is
the King’s wont to converse awhile with Moguls or Mandarins, for from
the East come the arts and knowledge of the world, and the converse
of their people is polite. Thus Nehemoth passes on through the other
Audience Chambers and receives, perhaps, some Sheikhs of the Arab
folk who have crossed the great desert from the West, or receives an
embassy sent to do him homage from the shy jungle people to the South.
And all the while the slaves with the ringing palanquin run westwards,
following the sun, and ever the sun shines straight into the chamber
where Nehemoth sits, and all the while the music from one or other of
his bands of musicians comes tinkling to his ears. But when the middle
of the day draws near, the slaves run to the cool groves that lie along
the verandahs on the northern side of the palace, forsaking the sun,
and as the heat overcomes the genius of the musicians, one by one their
hands fall from their instruments, till at last all melody ceases. At
this moment Nehemoth falls asleep, and the slaves put the palanquin
down and lie down beside it. At this hour the city becomes quite
still, and the palace of Nehemoth and the tombs of the Pharaohs of old
face to the sunlight, all alike in silence. Even the jewellers in the
market-place, selling gems to princes, cease from their bargaining and
cease to sing; for in Babbulkund the vendor of rubies sings the song of
the ruby, and the vendor of sapphires sings the song of the sapphire,
and each stone hath its song, so that a man, by his song, proclaims and
makes known his wares.
‘But all these sounds cease at the meridian hour, the jewellers in the
market-place lie down in what shadow they can find, and the princes
go back to the cool places in their palaces, and a great hush in
the gleaming air hangs over Babbulkund. But in the cool of the late
afternoon, one of the King’s musicians will awake from dreaming of his
home and will pass his fingers, perhaps, over the strings of his harp
and, with the music, some memory may arise of the wind in the glens of
the mountains that stand in the Isles of Song. Then the musician will
wrench great cries out of the soul of his harp for the sake of the old
memory, and his fellows will awake and all make a song of home, woven
of sayings told in the harbour when the ships came in, and of tales in
the cottages about the people of old time. One by one the other bands
of musicians will take up the song, and Babbulkund, City of Marvel,
will throb with this marvel anew. Just now Nehemoth awakes, the slaves
leap to their feet and bear the palanquin to the outer side of the
great crescent palace between the south and the west, to behold the sun
again. The palanquin, with its ringing bells, goes round once more;
the voices of the jewellers sing again, in the market-place, the song
of the emerald, the song of the sapphire; men talk on the housetops,
beggars wail in the streets, the musicians bend to their work, all the
sounds blend together into one murmur, the voice of Babbulkund speaking
at evening. Lower and lower sinks the sun, till Nehemoth, following
it, comes with his panting slaves to the great purple garden of which
surely thine own country has its songs, from wherever thou art come.
‘There he alights from his palanquin and goes up to a throne of ivory
set in the garden’s midst, facing full westwards, and sits there alone,
long regarding the sunlight until it is quite gone. At this hour
trouble comes into the face of Nehemoth. Men have heard him muttering
at the time of sunset: “Even I too, even I too.” Thus do King Nehemoth
and the sun make their glorious ambits about Babbulkund.
‘A little later, when the stars come out to envy the beauty of the City
of Marvel, the King walks to another part of the garden and sits in an
alcove of opal all alone by the marge of the sacred lake. This is the
lake whose shores and floors are of glass, which is lit from beneath
by slaves with purple lights and with green lights intermingling, and
is one of the seven wonders of Babbulkund. Three of the wonders are
in the city’s midst and four are at her gates. There is the lake, of
which I tell thee, and the purple garden of which I have told thee and
which is a wonder even to the stars, and there is Ong Zwarba, of which
I shall tell thee also. And the wonders at the gates are these. At the
eastern gate Neb. And at the northern gate the wonder of the river and
the arches, for the River of Myth, which becomes one with the Waters of
Fable in the desert outside the city, floats under a gate of pure gold,
rejoicing, and under many arches fantastically carven that are one with
either bank. The marvel at the western gate is the marvel of Annolith
and the dog Voth. Annolith sits outside the western gate facing towards
the city. He is higher than any of the towers or palaces, for his
head was carved from the summit of the old hill; he hath two eyes of
sapphire wherewith he regards Babbulkund, and the wonder of the eyes is
that they are today in the same sockets wherein they glowed when first
the world began, only the marble that covered them has been carven away
and the light of day let in and the sight of the envious stars. Larger
than a lion is the dog Voth beside him; every hair is carven upon the
back of Voth, his war hackles are erected and his teeth are bared. All
the Nehemoths have worshipped the god Annolith, but all their people
pray to the dog Voth, for the law of the land is that none but a
Nehemoth may worship the god Annolith. The marvel at the southern gate
is the marvel of the jungle, for he comes with all his wild untravelled
sea of darkness and trees and tigers and sunward-aspiring orchids right
through a marble gate in the city wall and enters the city, and there
widens and holds a space in its midst of many miles across. Moreover,
he is older than the City of Marvel, for he dwelt long since in one of
the valleys of the mountain which Nehemoth, first of Pharaohs, carved
into Babbulkund.
‘Now the opal alcove in which the King sits at evening by the lake
stands at the edge of the jungle, and the climbing orchids of the
jungle have long since crept from their homes through clefts of the
opal alcove, lured by the lights of the lake, and now bloom there
exultingly. Near to this alcove are the hareems of Nehemoth.
‘The King hath four hareems—one for the stalwart women from the
mountains to the north, one for the dark and furtive jungle women, one
for the desert women that have wandering souls and pine in Babbulkund,
and one for the princesses of his own kith, whose brown cheeks blush
with the blood of ancient Pharaohs and who exult with Babbulkund in
her surpassing beauty, and who know nought of the desert or the jungle
or the bleak hills to the north. Quite unadorned and clad in simple
garments go all the kith of Nehemoth, for they know well that he
grows weary of pomp. Unadorned all save one, the Princess Linderith,
who weareth Ong Zwarba and the three lesser gems of the sea. Such a
stone is Ong Zwarba that there are none like it even in the turban of
Nehemoth nor in all the sanctuaries of the sea. The same god that made
Linderith made long ago Ong Zwarba; she and Ong Zwarba shine together
with one light, and beside this marvellous stone gleam the three lesser
ones of the sea.
‘Now when the King sitteth in his opal alcove by the sacred lake with
the orchids blooming around him all sounds are become still. The sound
of the tramping of the weary slaves as they go round and round never
comes to the surface. Long since the musicians sleep, and their hands
have fallen dumb upon their instruments, and the voices in the city
have died away. Perhaps a sigh of one of the desert women has become
half a song, or on a hot night in summer one of the women of the
hills sings softly a song of snow; all night long in the midst of the
purple garden sings one nightingale; all else is still; the stars that
look on Babbulkund arise and set, the cold unhappy moon drifts lonely
through them, the night wears on; at last the dark figure of Nehemoth,
eighty-second of his line, rises and moves stealthily away.’
The traveller ceased to speak. For a long time the clear stars, sisters
of Babbulkund, had shone upon him speaking, the desert wind had arisen
and whispered to the sand, and the sand had long gone secretly to and
fro; none of us had moved, none of us had fallen asleep, not so much
from wonder at his tale as from the thought that we ourselves in two
days’ time should see that wondrous city. Then we wrapped our blankets
around us and lay down with our feet towards the embers of our fire and
instantly were asleep, and in our dreams we multiplied the fame of the
City of Marvel.
The sun arose and flamed upon our faces, and all the desert glinted
with its light. Then we stood up and prepared the morning meal, and,
when we had eaten, the traveller departed. And we commended his soul
to the god of the land whereto he went, of the land of his home to
the northward, and he commended our souls to the God of the people of
the land wherefrom we had come. Then a traveller overtook us going on
foot; he wore a brown cloak that was all in rags and he seemed to have
been walking all night, and he walked hurriedly but appeared weary, so
we offered him food and drink, of which he partook thankfully. When
we asked him where he was going, he answered ‘Babbulkund.’ Then we
offered him a camel upon which to ride, for we said, ‘We also go to
Babbulkund.’ But he answered strangely:
‘Nay, pass on before me, for it is a sore thing never to have seen
Babbulkund, having lived while yet she stood. Pass on before me and
behold her, and then flee away at once, returning northwards.’
Then, though we understood him not, we left him, for he was insistent,
and passed on our journey southwards through the desert, and we came
before the middle of the day to an oasis of palm trees standing by a
well and there we gave water to the haughty camels and replenished our
water-bottles and soothed our eyes with the sight of green things and
tarried for many hours in the shade. Some of the men slept, but of
those that remained awake each man sang softly the songs of his own
country, telling of Babbulkund. When the afternoon was far spent we
travelled a little way southwards, and went on through the cool evening
until the sun fell low and we encamped, and as we sat in our encampment
the man in rags overtook us, having travelled all the day, and we gave
him food and drink again, and in the twilight he spoke, saying:
‘I am the servant of the Lord the God of my people, and I go to do
his work on Babbulkund. She is the most beautiful city in the world;
there hath been none like her, even the stars of God go envious of her
beauty. She is all white, yet with streaks of pink that pass through
her streets and houses like flames in the white mind of a sculptor,
like desire in Paradise. She hath been carved of old out of a holy
hill, no slaves wrought the City of Marvel, but artists toiling at
the work they loved. They took no pattern from the houses of men, but
each man wrought what his inner eye had seen and carved in marble the
visions of his dream. All over the roof of one of the palace chambers
winged lions flit like bats, the size of every one is the size of the
lions of God, and the wings are larger than any wing created; they are
one above the other more than a man can number, they are all carven
out of one block of marble, the chamber itself is hollowed from it,
and it is borne aloft upon the carven branches of a grove of clustered
tree-ferns wrought by the hand of some jungle mason that loved the
tall fern well. Over the River of Myth, which is one with the Waters
of Fable, go bridges, fashioned like the wisteria tree and like the
drooping laburnum, and a hundred others of wonderful devices, the
desire of the souls of masons a long while dead. Oh! very beautiful is
white Babbulkund, very beautiful she is, but proud; and the Lord the
God of my people hath seen her in her pride, and looking towards her
hath seen the prayers of Nehemoth going up to the abomination Annolith
and all the people following after Voth. She is very beautiful,
Babbulkund; alas that I may not bless her. I could live always on one
of her inner terraces looking on the mysterious jungle in her midst and
the heavenward faces of the orchids that, clambering from the darkness,
behold the sun. I could love Babbulkund with a great love, yet am I the
servant of the Lord the God of my people, and the King hath sinned unto
the abomination Annolith, and the people lust exceedingly for Voth.
Alas for thee, Babbulkund, alas that I may not even now turn back,
for tomorrow I must prophesy against thee and cry out against thee,
Babbulkund. But ye travellers that have entreated me hospitably, rise
and pass on with your camels, for I can tarry no longer, and I go to do
the work on Babbulkund of the Lord the God of my people. Go now and see
the beauty of Babbulkund before I cry out against her, and then flee
swiftly northwards.’
A smouldering fragment fell in upon our camp fire and sent a strange
light into the eyes of the man in rags. He rose at once, and his
tattered cloak swirled up with him like a great wing; he said no more,
but turned round from us instantly southwards, and strode away into
the darkness towards Babbulkund. Then a hush fell upon our encampment,
and the smell of the tobacco of those lands arose. When the last flame
died down in our camp fire I fell asleep, but my rest was troubled by
shifting dreams of doom.
Morning came, and our guides told us that we should come to the city
ere nightfall. Again we passed southwards through the changeless
desert; sometimes we met travellers coming from Babbulkund, with the
beauty of its marvels still fresh in their eyes.
When we encamped near the middle of the day we saw a great number of
people on foot coming towards us running, from the southwards. These we
hailed when they were come near, saying, ‘What of Babbulkund?’
They answered: ‘We are not of the race of the people of Babbulkund, but
were captured in youth and taken away from the hills that are to the
northward. Now we have all seen in visions of the stillness the Lord
the God of our people calling to us from His hills, and therefore we
all flee northwards. But in Babbulkund King Nehemoth hath been troubled
in the nights by unkingly dreams of doom, and none may interpret what
the dreams portend. Now this is the dream that King Nehemoth dreamed
on the first night of his dreaming. He saw move through the stillness
a bird all black, and beneath the beatings of his wings Babbulkund
gloomed and darkened; and after him flew a bird all white, beneath
the beatings of whose wings Babbulkund gleamed and shone; and there
flew by four more birds alternately black and white. And, as the black
ones passed Babbulkund darkened, and when the white ones appeared her
streets and houses shone. But after the sixth bird there came no more,
and Babbulkund vanished from her place, and there was only the empty
desert where she had stood, and the rivers Oonrana and Plegáthanees
mourning alone. Next morning all the prophets of the King gathered
before their abominations and questioned them of the dream, and the
abominations spake not. But when the second night stepped down from the
halls of God, dowered with many stars, King Nehemoth dreamed again;
and in this dream King Nehemoth saw four birds only, black and white
alternately as before. And Babbulkund darkened again as the black ones
passed, and shone when the white came by; only after the four birds
came no more, and Babbulkund vanished from her place, leaving only the
forgetful desert and the mourning rivers.
‘Still the abominations spake not, and none could interpret the dream.
And when the third night came forth from the divine halls of her home
dowered like her sisters, again King Nehemoth dreamed. And he saw a
bird all black go by again, beneath whom Babbulkund darkened, and
then a white bird and Babbulkund shone; and after them came no more,
and Babbulkund passed away. And the golden day appeared, dispelling
dreams, and still the abominations were silent, and the King’s prophets
answered not to portend the omen of the dream. One prophet only spake
before the King, saying: “The sable birds, O King, are the nights, and
the white birds are the days. . .” This thing the King had feared, and
he arose and smote the prophet with his sword, whose soul went crying
away and had to do no more with nights and days.
‘It was last night that the King dreamed his third dream, and this
morning we fled away from Babbulkund. A great heat lies over it, and
the orchids of the jungle droop their heads. All night long the women
in the hareem of the North have wailed horribly for their hills. A fear
hath fallen upon the city, and a boding. Twice hath Nehemoth gone to
worship Annolith, and all the people have prostrated themselves before
Voth. Thrice the horologers have looked into the great crystal globe
wherein are foretold all happenings to be, and thrice the globe was
blank. Yea, though they went a fourth time yet was no vision revealed;
and the people’s voice is hushed in Babbulkund.’
Soon the travellers arose and pushed on northwards again, leaving us
wondering. Through the heat of the day we rested as well as we might,
but the air was motionless and sultry and the camels ill at ease.
The Arabs said that it boded a desert storm, and that a great wind
would arise full of sand. So we arose in the afternoon, and travelled
swiftly, hoping to come to shelter before the storm. And the air burned
in the stillness between the baked desert and the glaring sky.
Suddenly a wind arose out of the South, blowing from Babbulkund, and
the sand lifted and went by in great shapes, all whispering. And the
wind blew violently, and wailed as it blew, and hundreds of sandy
shapes went towering by, and there were little cries among them and the
sounds of a passing away. Soon the wind sank quite suddenly, and its
cries died, and the panic ceased among the driven sands. And when the
storm departed the air was cool, and the terrible sultriness and the
boding were passed away, and the camels had ease among them. And the
Arabs said that the storm which was to be had been, as was willed of
old by God.
The sun set and the gloaming came, and we neared the junction of
Oonrana and Plegáthanees, but in the darkness discerned not Babbulkund.
We pushed on hurriedly to reach the city ere nightfall, and came to the
junction of the River of Myth where he meets with the Waters of Fable,
and still saw not Babbulkund. All round us lay the sand and rocks of
the unchanging desert, save to the southwards where the jungle stood
with its orchids facing skywards. Then we perceived that we had arrived
too late, and that her doom had come to Babbulkund; and by the river in
the empty desert on the sand the man in rags was seated, with his face
hidden in his hands, weeping bitterly.
* * * * * * *
Thus passed away in the hour of her iniquities before Annolith, in the
two thousand and thirty-second year of her being, in the six thousand
and fiftieth year of the building of the World, Babbulkund, City of
Marvel, sometime called by those that hated her City of the Dog, but
hourly mourned in Araby and Ind and wide through jungle and desert;
leaving no memorial in stone to show that she had been, but remembered
with an abiding love, in spite of the anger of God, by all that knew
her beauty, whereof still they sing.