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 known as a famous captain, from King Piko's island (of which anon) who had been all but mortally wounded somewhere, in a late desperate though nameless encounter.
"Ah," said Media as this redoubtable withdrew, Fofi is a cunning knave; a braggart, driven forth, by King Piko for his cowardice. He has blent his tattooing into one mass of blue, and thus disguised, must have palmed himself off here in Pimminee, for the man he is not.
But I see many more like him."
"Oh ye Tapparians," said Babbalanja, "none so easily humbugged as humbugs. Taji: to behold this folly makes one wise. Look, look; it is all round us. Oh Pimminee, Pimminee!"
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 grave-digger 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."
"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 to-day," 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."
"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; knowing not, that nature should be the model of art. Yet, they might appear less silly than they do, were they content to be the plain idiots which at bottom they are. For there be grains of sense in a simpleton, so long as he be natural. But what can be expected from them? They are irreclaimable Tapparians; not so much fools by contrivance of their own, as by an express, though inscrutable decree of Oro's. For one, my lord, I can not abide them."
Nor could Taji.
In Pimminee were no hilarious running and shouting: none of the royal good cheer of old Borabolla; none of the mysteries of Maramma; none of the sentiment and romance of Donjalolo; no rehearsing of old legends: no singing of old songs; no life; no jolly commotion: in short, no men and women; nothing but their integuments; stiff trains and farthingales.
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.
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 Medi
a, "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 dry-bone 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 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.
The throne was void. But half-concealed by drapery, behind the goodliest lord, sideway leaned a figure diademed, a lifted poniard in its hand:-a monarch fossilized in very act of murdering his guest.
"Most high and sacred majesty!" cried Babbalanja, bowing to his feet.
While all stood gazing on this sight, there came two servitors of Media's, who besought of Babbalanja to settle a dispute, concerning certain tracings upon the islet's other side.
Thither we followed them.
Upon a long layer of the slaty stone were marks of ripplings of some now waveless sea; mid which were tri-toed footprints of some huge heron, or wading fowl.
Pointing to one of which, the foremost disputant thus spoke:-"I maintain that these are three toes."
"And I, that it is one foot," said the other.
"And now decide between us," joined the twain.
Said Babbalanja, starting, "Is not this the very question concerning which they made such dire contention in Maramma, whose tertiary rocks are chisseled all over with these marks? Yes; this it is, concerning which they once shed blood. This it is, concerning which they still divide."
"Which of us is right?" again demanded the impatient twain.
"Unite, and both are right; divide, and both are wrong. Every unit is made up of parts, as well as every plurality. Nine is three threes; a unit is as many thirds; or, if you please, a thousand thousandths; no special need to stop at thirds."
"Away, ye foolish disputants!" cried Media. "Full before you is the thing disputed."
Strolling on, many marvels did we mark; and Media said:-"Babbalanja, you love all mysteries; here's a fitting theme. You have given us the history of the rock; can your sapience tell the origin of all the isles? how Mardi came to be?"
"Ah, that once mooted point is settled. Though hard at first, it proved a bagatelle. Start not my lord; there are those who have measured Mardi by perch and pole, and with their wonted lead sounded its utmost depths. Listen: it is a pleasant story. The coral wall which circumscribes the isles but continues upward the deep buried crater of the primal chaos. In the first times this crucible was charged with vapors nebulous, boiling over fires volcanic. Age by age, the fluid thickened; dropping, at long intervals, heavy sediment to the bottom; which layer on layer concreted, and at length, in crusts, rose toward the surface. Then, the vast volcano burst; rent the whole mass; upthrew the ancient rocks; which now in divers mountain tops tell tales of what existed ere Mardi was completely fashioned. Hence many fossils on the hills, whose kith and kin still lurk beneath the vales. Thus Nature works, at random warring, chaos a crater, and this world a shell."
Mohi stroked his beard.
Yoomy yawned.
Media cried, "Preposterous!"
"My lord, then take another theory-which you will-the celebrated sandwich System. Nature's first condition was a soup, wherein the agglomerating solids formed granitic dumplings, which, wearing down, deposited the primal stratum made up of series, sandwiching strange shapes of mollusks, and zoophytes; then snails, and periwinkles:-marmalade to sip, and nuts to crack, ere the substantials came.
"And next, my lord, we have the fine old time of the Old Red Sandstone sandwich, clapped on the underlying layer, and among other dainties, imbedding the first course of fish, — all quite in rule, — sturgeonforms, cephalaspis, glyptolepis, pterichthys; and other finny things, of flavor rare, but hard to mouth for bones. Served up with these, were sundry greens, — lichens, mosses, ferns, and fungi.
"Now comes the New Red Sandstone sandwich: marly and magnesious, spread over with old patriarchs of crocodiles and alligators, — hard carving these, — and prodigious lizards, spine-skewered, tails tied in bows, and swimming in saffron saucers."
"What next?" cried Media.
"The Ool, or Oily sandwich:-rare gormandizing then; for oily it was called, because of fat old joints, and hams, and rounds, and barons of sea-beeves and walrusses, which then crowned the stratum-board. All piled together, glorious profusion! — fillets and briskets, rumps, and saddles, and haunches; shoulder to shoulder, loin 'gainst sirloin, ribs rapping knuckles, and quarter to none. And all these sandwiched right over all that went before. Course after course, and course on course, my lord; no time to clear the wreck; no stop nor let; lay on and slash; cut, thrust, and come.
"Next the Chalk, or Coral sandwich; but no dry fare for that; made up of rich side-courses, — eocene, miocene, and pliocene. The first was wild game for the delicate, — bantam larks, curlews, quails, and flying weazels; with a slight sprinkling of pilaus, — capons, pullets, plovers, and garnished with petrels' eggs. Very savory, that, my lord.
The second side-course-miocene-was out of course, flesh after fowl: marine mammalia, — seals, grampuses, and whales, served up with seaweed on their flanks, hearts and kidneys deviled, and fins and flippers friccasied. All very thee, my lord. The third side-course, the pliocene, was goodliest of all:-whole-roasted elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippopotamuses, stuffed with boiled ostriches, condors, cassowaries, turkeys. Also barbacued mastodons and megatheriums, gallantly served up with fir-trees in their mouths, and tails cock-billed.
"Thus fared the old diluvians: arrant gormandizers and beef-bolters.
We Mardians famish on the superficial strata of deposits; cracking our jaws on walnuts, filberts, cocoa-nuts, and clams. My lord, I've done."
"And bravely done it is. Mohi tells us, that Mardi was made in six days; but you, Babbalanja, have built it up from the bottom in less than six minutes."
"Nothing for us geologists, my lord. At a word we turn you out whole systems, suns, satellites, and asteroids included. Why, my good lord, my friend Annonimo is laying out a new Milky Way, to intersect with the old one, and facilitate cross-cuts among the comets."
And
so saying, Babbalanja turned aside.
CHAPTER XXIX
They Still Remain Upon The Rock
"Gogle-goggle, fugle-fi, fugle-fogle-orum," so hummed to himself Babbalanja, slowly pacing over the fossils. "Is he crazy again?" whispered Yoomy.
"Are you crazy, Babbalanja?" asked Media.
"From my very birth have I been so, my lord; am I not possessed by a devil?"
"Then I'll e'en interrogate him," cried Media. "-Hark ye, sirrah;-why rave you thus in this poor mortal?"
"'Tis he, not I. I am the mildest devil that ever entered man; in propria persona, no antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at last your Mardian lions lose their caudal horns."
"A very sing-song devil this. But, prithee, who are you, sirrah?"
"The mildest devil that ever entered man; in propria persona, no antlers do I wear; my tail has lost its barb, as at last your Mardian lions lose their caudal horns."
"A very iterating devil this. Sirrah! mock me not. Know you aught yet unrevealed by Babbalanja?"
"Many things I know, not good to tell; whence they call me Azzageddi."
"A very confidential devil, this; that tells no secrets. Azzageddi, can I drive thee out?"
"Only with this mortal's ghost:-together we came in, together we depart."
"A very terse, and ready devil, this. Whence come you, Azzageddi?"
"Whither my catechist must go-a torrid clime, cut by a hot equator."
"A very keen, and witty devil, this. Azzageddi, whom have you there?"
"A right down merry, jolly set, that at a roaring furnace sit and toast their hoofs for aye; so used to flames, they poke the fire with their horns, and light their tails for torches."
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