Mardi And a Voyage Thither II

MARDI: AND A VOYAGE THITHER

to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of their ankles, which were thought to be pretty.

But the old Begum was more active than any; by far the most disinterested in the matter of advice. Her great object seemed to be to pile on the finery at all hazards; and she pointed out many as yet vacant and unappropriated spaces, highly susceptible of adornment.

At last, all was in readiness; when, taking a valedictory glance, at their intrenchments, the Begum and damsels simultaneously dipped their heads, directly after emerging from the summit, all ready for execution.

And now to describe the general reception that followed. In came the Roes, the Fees, the Lol–Lols, the Hummee–Hums, the Bidi–Bidies, and the Dedidums; the Peenees, the Yamoyamees, the Karkies, the Fanfums, the Diddledees, and the Fiddlefies; in a word, all the aristocracy of Pimminee; people with exceedingly short names; and some all name, and nothing else. It was an imposing array of sounds; a circulation of ciphers; a marshaling of tappas; a getting together of grimaces and furbelows; a masquerade of vapidities.

Among the crowd was a bustling somebody, one Gaddi, arrayed in much apparel to little purpose; who, singling out Babbalanja, for some time adhered to his side, and with excessive complaisance, enlightened him as to the people assembled.

“That is rich Marmonora, accounted a mighty man in Pimminee; his bags of teeth included, he is said to weigh upwards of fourteen stone; and is much sought after by tailors for his measure, being but slender in the region of the heart. His

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riches are great. And that old vrow is the widow Roo; very rich; plenty of teeth; but has none in her head. And this is Finfi; said to be not very rich, and a maid. Who would suppose she had ever beat tappa for a living?”

And so saying, GaddI sauntered off; his place by Babbalanja’s side being immediately supplied by the damsel Finfi. That vivacious and amiable nymph at once proceeded to point out the company, where GaddI had left off; beginning with GaddI himself, who, she insinuated, was a mere parvenu, a terrible infliction upon society, and not near so rich as he was imagined to be.

Soon we were accosted by one Nonno, a sour, saturnine personage. “I know nobody here; not a soul have I seen before; I wonder who they all are.” And just then he was familiarly nodded to by nine worthies abreast. Whereupon Nonno vanished. But after going the rounds of the company, and paying court to many, he again sauntered by Babbalanja, saying, “Nobody, nobody; nobody but nobodies; I see nobody I know.”

Advancing, NimnI now introduced many strangers of distinction, parading their titles after a fashion, plainly signifying that he was bent upon convincing us, that there were people present at this little affair of his, who were men of vast reputation; and that we erred, if we deemed him unaccustomed to the society of the illustrious.

But not a few of his magnates seemed shy of Media and their laurels. Especially a tall robustuous fellow, with a terrible javelin in his hand, much notched and splintered, as if it had dealt many a thrust. His left arm was gallanted in a sling, and there was a patch upon his sinister eye. Him NimnI made

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CHAPTER XXVII

BABBALANJA FALLETH UPON PIMMINEE TOOTH AND NAIL

The levee over, waiving further civilities, we took courteus leave of the Begum and Nimni, and proceeding to the beach, very soon were embarked.

When all were pleasantly seated beneath the canopy, pipes in full blast, calabashes revolving, and the paddlers quietly urging us along, Media proposed that, for the benefit of the company, some one present, in a pithy, whiffy sentence or two, should sum up the character of the Tapparians; and ended by nominating Babbalanja to that office.

“Come, philosopher: let us see in how few syllables you can put the brand on those Tapparians.”

“Pardon me, my lord, but you must permit me to ponder awhile; nothing requires more time, than to be brief. An example: they say that in conversation old Bardianna dealt in nothing but trisyllabic sentences. His talk was thunder peals: sounding reports, but long intervals.”

“The devil take old Bardianna. And would that the gravedigger had buried his Ponderings, along with his other remains. Can none be in your company, Babbalanja, but you must perforce make them hob-a-nob with that old prater? A brand for the Tapparians! that is what we seek.”

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“You shall have it, my lord. Full to the brim of themselves, for that reason, the Tapparians are the emptiest of mortals.”

“A good blow and well planted, Babbalanja.”

“In sooth, a most excellent saying; it should be carved upon his tombstone,” said Mohi, slowly withdrawing his pipe.

“What! would you have my epitaph read thus: – ‘Here lies the emptiest of mortals, who was full of himself?’ At best, your words are exceedingly ambiguous, Mohi.”

“Now have I the philosopher,” cried Yoomy, with glee. “What did some one say to me, not long since, Babbalanja, when in the matter of that sleepy song of mine, Braid–Beard bestowed upon me an equivocal compliment? Was I not told to wrest commendation from it, though I tortured it to the quick?”

“Take thy own pills, philosopher,” said Mohi. “Then would he be a great original,” said Media.

“Tell me, Yoomy,” said Babbalanja, “are you not in fault? Because I sometimes speak wisely, you must not imagine that I should always act so.”

“I never imagined that,” said Yoomy, “and, if I did, the truth would belie me. It is you who are in fault, Babbalanja; not I, craving your pardon.”

“The minstrel’s sides are all edges today,” said Media. “This, then, thrice gentle Yoomy, is what I would say;”

resumed Babbalanja, “that since we philosophers bestow so much wisdom upon others, it is not to be wondered at, if now and then we find what is left in us too small for our necessities. It is from our very abundance that we want.”

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“And from the fool’s poverty,” said Media, “that he is opulent; for his very simplicity, is sometimes of more account than the wisdom of the sage. But we were discoursing of the Tapparians. Babbalanja: sententiously you have acquitted yourself to admiration; now amplify, and tell us more of the people of Pimminee.”

“My lord, I might amplify forever.”

“Then, my worshipful lord, let him not begin,” interposed Braid–Beard.

“I mean,” said Babbalanja, “that all subjects are inexhaustible, however trivial; as the mathematical point, put in motion, is capable of being produced into an infinite line.”

“But forever extending into nothing,” said Media. “A very bad example to follow. Do you, Babbalanja, come to the point, and not travel off with it, which is too much your wont.”

“Since my lord insists upon it then, thus much for the Tapparians, though but a thought or two of many in reserve. They ignore the rest of Mardi, while they themselves are but a rumor in the isles of the East; where the business of living and dying goes on with the same uniformity, as if there were no Tapparians in existence. They think themselves MardI in full; whereas, by the mass, they are stared at as prodigies; exceptions to the law, ordaining that no Mardian shall undertake to live, unless he set out with at least the average quantity of brains. For these Tapparians have no brains. In lieu, they carry in one corner of their craniums, a drop or two of attar of roses; charily used, the supply being small. They are the victims of two incurable maladies: stone in the heart, and ossification of the head. They are full of fripperies, fopperies, and finesses;

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CHAPTER XXVIII

BABBALANJA REGALES THE COMPANY WITH SOME SANDWICHES

It was night. But the moon was brilliant, far and near illuminating the lagoon.

Over silvery billows we glided.

“Come Yoomy,” said Media, “moonlight and music for aye – a song! a song! my bird of paradise.”

And folding his arms, and watching the sparkling waters, thus Yoomy sang: –

A ray of the moon on the dancing waves

Is the step, light step of that beautiful maid: Mardi, with music, her footfall paves,

And her voice, no voice, but a song in the glade.

“Hold!” cried Media, “yonder is a curious rock. It looks black as a whale’s hump in blue water, when the sun shines.” “That must be the Isle of Fossils,” said Mohi. “Ay, my lord,

it is.”

“Let us land, then,” said Babbalanja.

And none dissenting, the canoes were put about, and presently we debarked.

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It was a dome-like surface, here and there fringed with ferns, sprouting from clefts. But at every tide the thin soil seemed gradually washing into the lagoon.

Like antique tablets, the smoother parts were molded in strange devices: – Luxor marks, Tadmor ciphers, Palenque inscriptions. In long lines, as on Denderah’s architraves, were bas-reliefs of beetles, turtles, ant-eaters, armadilloes, guanos, serpents, tongueless crocodiles: – a long procession, frosted and crystalized in stone, and silvered by the moon.

“Strange sight!” cried Media. “Speak, antiquarian Mohi.” But the chronicler was twitching his antiquarian beard,

nonplussed by these wondrous records. The cowled old father, Piaggi, bending over his calcined Herculanean manuscripts, looked not more at fault than he.

Said Media, “Expound you, then, sage Babbalanja.” Muffling his face in his mantle, and his voice in sepulchral tones, Babbalanja thus: –

“These are the leaves of the book of Oro. Here we read how worlds are made; here read the rise and fall of Nature’s kingdoms. From where this old man’s furthest histories start, these unbeginning records end. These are the secret memoirs of times past; whose evidence, at last divulged, gives the grim lie to Mohi’s gossipings, and makes a rattling among the drybone relics of old Maramma.”

Braid–Beard’s old eyes flashed fire. With bristling beard, he cried, “Take back the lie you send!”

“Peace! everlasting foes,” cried Media, interposing, with both arms outstretched. “Philosopher, probe not too deep. All you say is very fine, but very dark. I would know something more

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precise. But, prithee, ghost, unmuffle! chatter no more! wait till you’re buried for that.”

“Ay, death’s cold ague will set us all shivering, my lord. We’ll swear our teeth are icicles.”

“Will you quit driving your sleet upon us? have done expound these rocks.”

“My lord, if you desire, I’ll turn over these stone tablets till they’re dog-eared.”

“Heaven and Mardi! – Go on, Babbalanja.”

“’Twas thus. These were tombs burst open by volcanic throes; and hither hurled from the lowermost vaults of the lagoon. All Mardi’s rocks are one wide resurrection. But look. Here, now, a pretty story’s told. Ah, little thought these grand old lords, that lived and roared before the flood, that they would come to this. Here, King Media, look and learn.”

He looked; and saw a picture petrified, and plain as any on the pediments of Petra.

It seemed a stately banquet of the dead, where lords in skeletons were ranged around a board heaped up with fossil fruits, and flanked with vitreous vases, grinning like empty skulls. There they sat, exchanging rigid courtesies. One’s hand was on his stony heart; his other pledged a lord who held a hollow beaker. Another sat, with earnest face beneath a mitred brow. He seemed to whisper in the ear of one who listened trustingly. But on the chest of him who wore the miter, an adder lay, close-coiled in flint.

At the further end, was raised a throne, its canopy surmounted by a crown, in which now rested the likeness of a raven on an egg.

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