IV.What are our duties in the world? What will ultimately become of Penguins? Where do we go to after death? Why were some birds created without feathers, some fish without fins, or animals without feet?My worldly experience often tempted me to wish to return to my egg. One day, after profound reflection, I fell asleep, and during my repose heard a noise, which was neither that of the waves nor any sound to which I was accustomed. “Wake up!” said the active part of my being, that which never seems to slumber, and is ever on the alert like a guardian angel to ward off danger. “Wake up, and you will behold something to rouse your curiosity.” “Certainly not,” said that other most excellent part of ourselves which requires sleep. “I am not curious, and have no desire to see anything. I have already seen too much.” Still the other insisted, and I continued: “It would be wrong to break my slumber for anything spurious; besides you deceive me, the sound has gone. It is a dream; let me sleep! let me sleep!” I really wished to sleep, stubbornly closed my eyes as best I might, and folded and fondled myself to repose with all those little cares common to sleepers. But, alas! all was of no avail; I woke up. What shall I come to? I, who vainly thought myself the most considerable creature living, the only bird in creation. I sank into utter insignificance before the sight that met my gaze. There, before me, I beheld at least a dozen most charming creatures, some with expanded wings floating in mid-air, others diving into the waves, and again rising to display their snow-white plumage in the morning sun. Surely, I thought, these are the inhabitants of a happier and more perfect world. Had they descended from the sun or moon? What unknown caprice had brought them to my rock?They were endowed with a sublime mastery over the elements, skimming the waves as if to laugh at their fury, resting for an instant on the solid earth, and, as if disdaining its support, again cleaving the air with their glorious wings. So wrapt was I in admiring the grace and perfection of their movements, that jealousy never clouded my mind. At last, carried away by the ardour of youth, and the emotion with which the beautiful fills the breast, I rushed into their midst, exclaiming: “Celestial birds, fairies of the air!” Here I had to pause for want of breath.“A Penguin!” cried one of them.“A Penguin!” repeated the whole band; and as they all laughed on seeing me, I concluded that my presence gave them pleasure, and so I boldly introduced myself in the following words:—“Ladies and gentlemen, you are right, I am a Penguin, and you are the fairest forms I have gazed upon since the hour I left my shell. I am proud of your acquaintance, and should like to join in your sport.”“Penguin,” said my lady friend who had first addressed me, and who appeared to be the queen, but who, I afterwards learned, was only a laughing Gull. “You do not know what you are asking, you may, however, profit by experience. It shall never be said that such an elegant Penguin received a denial.” She then gave me a flip with her wing which sent me reeling into the midst of the group, another did the same, and they all followed suit, flipping me about, first to one side, then to another. This was sport!As soon as I could get the words out, I shouted, “Stop! you are killing me.”“Bah!” said they, “we are only beginning, hah! hah! Keep him warm. Keep the ball rolling.” The sport began anew, and with such vigour that I soon fell to the ground thoroughly humbled and exhausted. The Gull who had first called me Penguin, and who had taken the lead in maltreating me, noticing my prostration, reproached herself for her conduct.“Forgive us, my poor Penguin. You do not seem to relish our rollicking style, yet it is our nature, so pray do not blame us if you are hurt.” She then came forward and bent over me with such a tender look, that, in spite of what she had just done, she seemed for the moment perfectly beautiful and good.But pity often comes of self-love, and is nothing more than regret for harshness. What I mistook for the dawn of affection was onlysorrow for having done wrong. Thus, as soon as she saw me comforted, away she flew with her companions.This sudden flight so startled me, that it was impossible to find a single word or gesture to prevent it, and again I was alone. From that moment solitude seemed insupportable.
What are our duties in the world? What will ultimately become of Penguins? Where do we go to after death? Why were some birds created without feathers, some fish without fins, or animals without feet?
My worldly experience often tempted me to wish to return to my egg. One day, after profound reflection, I fell asleep, and during my repose heard a noise, which was neither that of the waves nor any sound to which I was accustomed. “Wake up!” said the active part of my being, that which never seems to slumber, and is ever on the alert like a guardian angel to ward off danger. “Wake up, and you will behold something to rouse your curiosity.” “Certainly not,” said that other most excellent part of ourselves which requires sleep. “I am not curious, and have no desire to see anything. I have already seen too much.” Still the other insisted, and I continued: “It would be wrong to break my slumber for anything spurious; besides you deceive me, the sound has gone. It is a dream; let me sleep! let me sleep!” I really wished to sleep, stubbornly closed my eyes as best I might, and folded and fondled myself to repose with all those little cares common to sleepers. But, alas! all was of no avail; I woke up. What shall I come to? I, who vainly thought myself the most considerable creature living, the only bird in creation. I sank into utter insignificance before the sight that met my gaze. There, before me, I beheld at least a dozen most charming creatures, some with expanded wings floating in mid-air, others diving into the waves, and again rising to display their snow-white plumage in the morning sun. Surely, I thought, these are the inhabitants of a happier and more perfect world. Had they descended from the sun or moon? What unknown caprice had brought them to my rock?They were endowed with a sublime mastery over the elements, skimming the waves as if to laugh at their fury, resting for an instant on the solid earth, and, as if disdaining its support, again cleaving the air with their glorious wings. So wrapt was I in admiring the grace and perfection of their movements, that jealousy never clouded my mind. At last, carried away by the ardour of youth, and the emotion with which the beautiful fills the breast, I rushed into their midst, exclaiming: “Celestial birds, fairies of the air!” Here I had to pause for want of breath.
“A Penguin!” cried one of them.
“A Penguin!” repeated the whole band; and as they all laughed on seeing me, I concluded that my presence gave them pleasure, and so I boldly introduced myself in the following words:—“Ladies and gentlemen, you are right, I am a Penguin, and you are the fairest forms I have gazed upon since the hour I left my shell. I am proud of your acquaintance, and should like to join in your sport.”
“Penguin,” said my lady friend who had first addressed me, and who appeared to be the queen, but who, I afterwards learned, was only a laughing Gull. “You do not know what you are asking, you may, however, profit by experience. It shall never be said that such an elegant Penguin received a denial.” She then gave me a flip with her wing which sent me reeling into the midst of the group, another did the same, and they all followed suit, flipping me about, first to one side, then to another. This was sport!
As soon as I could get the words out, I shouted, “Stop! you are killing me.”
“Bah!” said they, “we are only beginning, hah! hah! Keep him warm. Keep the ball rolling.” The sport began anew, and with such vigour that I soon fell to the ground thoroughly humbled and exhausted. The Gull who had first called me Penguin, and who had taken the lead in maltreating me, noticing my prostration, reproached herself for her conduct.
“Forgive us, my poor Penguin. You do not seem to relish our rollicking style, yet it is our nature, so pray do not blame us if you are hurt.” She then came forward and bent over me with such a tender look, that, in spite of what she had just done, she seemed for the moment perfectly beautiful and good.
But pity often comes of self-love, and is nothing more than regret for harshness. What I mistook for the dawn of affection was onlysorrow for having done wrong. Thus, as soon as she saw me comforted, away she flew with her companions.
This sudden flight so startled me, that it was impossible to find a single word or gesture to prevent it, and again I was alone. From that moment solitude seemed insupportable.