"Ay, there they go," cried Mohi, "there goes another-and, there, and there;-this is the way to get rid of them my worshipful lord; puff them aside."
"Yoomy," said Media, "give us that pipe song of thine. Sing it, my sweet and pleasant poet. We'll keep time with the flageolets of ours."
"So with pipes and puffs for a chorus, thus Yoomy sang:- Care is all stuff:- Puff! Puff:
To puff is enough:- Puff! Puff!
More musky than snuff,
And warm is a puff:- Puff! Puff!
Here we sit mid our puffs,
Like old lords in their ruffs,
Snug as bears in their muffs:- Puff! Puff!
Then puff, puff, puff;
For care is all stuff,
Puffed off in a puff:- Puff! Puff!
"Ay, puff away," cried Babbalanja, "puff; puff, so we are born, and so die. Puff, puff, my volcanos: the great sun itself will yet go out in a snuff, and all Mardi smoke out its last wick."
"Puffs enough," said King Media, "Vee-Vee! haul down my flag. There, lie down before me, oh Gonfalon! and, subjects, hear, — when I die, lay this spear on my right, and this pipe on my left, its colors at half mast; so shall I be ambidexter, and sleep between eloquent symbols."
CHAPTER XVIII
They Visit An Extraordinary Old Antiquary
"About prows there, ye paddlers," cried Media. "In this fog we've been raising, we have sailed by Padulla, our destination."
Now Padulla, was but a little island, tributary to a neighboring king; its population embracing some hundreds of thousands of leaves, and flowers, and butterflies, yet only two solitary mortals; one, famous as a venerable antiquarian: a collector of objects of Mardian vertu; a cognoscenti, and dilettante in things old and marvelous; and for that reason, very choice of himself.
He went by the exclamatory cognomen of "Oh-Oh;" a name bestowed upon him, by reason of the delighted interjections, with which he welcomed all accessions to his museum.
Now, it was to obtain a glimpse of this very museum, that Media was anxious to touch at Padulla.
Landing, and passing through a grove, we were accosted by Oh-Oh himself; who, having heard the shouts of our paddlers, had sallied forth, staff in hand.
The old man was a sight to see; especially his nose; a remarkable one.
And all Mardi over, a remarkable nose is a prominent feature: an ever obvious passport to distinction. For, after all, this gaining a name, is but the individualizing of a man; as well achieved by an extraordinary nose, as by an extraordinary epic. Far better, indeed; for you may pass poets without knowing them. Even a hero, is no hero without his sword; nor Beelzebub himself a lion, minus that lasso-tail of his, wherewith he catches his prey. Whereas, he who is famous through his nose, it is impossible to overlook. He is a celebrity without toiling for a name. Snugly ensconced behind his proboscis, he revels in its shadow, receiving tributes of attention wherever he goes.
Not to enter at large upon the topography of Oh-Oh's nasal organ, all must be content with this; that it was of a singular magnitude, and boldly aspiring at the end; an exclamation point in the face of the wearer, forever wondering at the visible universe. The eyes of Oh-Oh were like the creature's that the Jew abhors: placed slanting in his head, and converging their rays toward the mouth; which was no Mouth, but a gash.
I mean not to be harsh, or unpleasant upon thee, Oh-Oh; but I must paint thee as thou wert.
The rest of his person was crooked, and dwarfed, and surmounted by a hump, that sat on his back like a burden. And a weary load is a hump, Heaven knows, only to be cast off in the grave.
Thus old, and antiquated, and gable-ended, was the tabernacle of OhOh's soul. But his person was housed in as curious a structure. Built of old boughs of trees blown down in the groves, and covered over with unruly thatching, it seemed, without, some ostrich nest. But within, so intricate, and grotesque, its brown alleys and cells, that the interior of no walnut was more labyrinthine.
And here, strewn about, all dusty and disordered, were the precious antiques, and curios, and obsoletes, which to Oh-Oh were dear as the apple of his eye, or the memory of departed days.
The old man was exceedingly importunate, in directing attention to his relics; concerning each of which, he had an endless story to tell.
Time would fail; nay, patience, to repeat his legends. So, in order, here follow the most prominent of his rarities:- The identical Canoe, in which, ages back, the god Unja came from the bottom of the sea. (Very ponderous; of lignum-vitae wood).
A stone Flower-pot, containing in the original soil, Unja's last footprints, when he embarked from Mardi for parts unknown. (One foot-print unaccountably reversed).
The Jaw-bones of Tooroorooloo, a great orator in the days of Unja. (Somewhat twisted).
A quaint little Fish-hook. (Made from the finger-bones of Kravi the Cunning).
The mystic Gourd; carved all over with cabalistic triangles, and hypogrifs; by study of which a reputed prophet, was said to have obtained his inspiration. (Slightly redolent of vineyards).
The complete Skeleton of an immense Tiger-shark; the bones of a Pearl-shell-diver's leg inside. (Picked off the reef at low tide).
An inscrutable, shapeless block of a mottled-hued, smoke-dried wood. (Three unaccountable holes drilled through the middle).
A sort of ecclesiastical Fasces, being the bony blades of nine sword fish, basket-hilted with shark's jaws, braided round and tasseled with cords of human hair. (Now obsolete).
The mystic Fan with which Unja fanned himself when in trouble. (Woven from the leaves of the Water-Lily).
A Tripod of a Stork's Leg, supporting a nautilus shell, containing the fragments of a bird's egg; into which, was said to have been magically decanted the soul of a deceased chief. (Unfortunately crushed in by atmospheric pressure).
Two clasped Right Hands, embalmed; being those of twin warriors, who thus died on a battle-field. (Impossible to sunder).
A curious Pouch, or Purse, formed from the skin of an Albatross' foot, and decorated with three sharp claws, naturally pertaining to it. (Originally the property of a notorious old Tooth-per-Tooth).
A long tangled lock of Mermaid's Hair, much resembling the curling silky fibres of the finer sea-weed. (Preserved between fins of the dolphin).
A Mermaid's Comb for the toilet. The stiff serrated crest of a Cook Storm-petrel (Oh-Oh was particularly curious concerning Mermaids).
Files, Rasps, and Pincers, all bone, the implements of an eminent Chiropedist, who flourished his tools before the flood. (Owing to the excessive unevenness of the surface in those times, the diluvians were peculiarly liable to pedal afflictions).
The back Tooth, that Zozo the Enthusiast, in token of grief, recklessly knocked out at the decease of a friend. (Worn to a stump and quite useless).
These wonders inspected, Oh-Oh conducted us to an arbor, to show us the famous telescope, by help of which, he said he had discovered an ant-hill in the moon. It rested in the crotch of a Bread-fruit tree; and was a prodigiously long and hollow trunk of a Palm; a scale from a sea-kraken its lens.
Then returning to his cabinet, he pointed to a bamboo microscope, which had wonderfully assisted him in his entomological pursuits.
"By this instrument, my masters," said he, "I have satisfied myself, that in the eye of a dragon-fly there are precisely twelve thousand five hundred and forty-one triangular lenses; and in the leg of a flea, scores on scores of distinct muscles. Now, my masters, how far think you a flea may leap at one spring? Why, two hundred times its own length; I have often measured their leaps, with a small measure I use for scientific purposes."
"Truly, Oh-Oh," said Babbalanja, "your discoveries must ere long result in something grand; since you furnish such invaluable data for theorists. Pray, attend, my lord Media. If, at one spring, a flea leaps two hundred times its own length, then, with the like proportion of muscles in his calves, a bandit might pounce upon the unwary traveler from a quarter of a mile off. Is it not so, Oh-Oh?
"
"Indeed, but it is, my masters. And one of the greatest consolations I draw from these studies, is the ever-strengthening conviction of the beneficent wisdom that framed our Mardi. For did men possess thighs in proportion to fleas, verily, the wicked would grievously leap about, and curvet in the isles."
"But Oh-Oh," said Babbalanja, "what other discoveries have you made?
Hast yet put a usurer under your lens, to find his conscience? or a libertine, to find his heart? Hast yet brought your microscope to bear upon a downy peach, or a rosy cheek?"
"I have," said Oh-Oh, mournfully; "and from the moment I so did, I have had no heart to eat a peach, or salute a cheek."
"Then dash your lens!" cried Media.
"Well said, my lord. For all the eyes we get beyond our own, but minister to infelicity. The microscope disgusts us with our Mardi; and the telescope sets us longing for some other world."
CHAPTER XIX
They Go Down Into The Catacombs
With a dull flambeau, we now descended some narrow stone steps, to view Oh-Oh's collection of ancient and curious manuscripts, preserved in a vault.
"This way, this way, my masters," cried Oh-Oh, aloft, swinging his dim torch. "Keep your hands before you; it's a dark road to travel."
"So it seems," said Babbalanja, wide-groping, as he descended lower and lower. "My lord this is like going down to posterity."
Upon gaining the vault, forth flew a score or two of bats, extinguishing the flambeau, and leaving us in darkness, like Belzoni deserted by his Arabs in the heart of a pyramid. The torch at last relumed, we entered a tomb-like excavation, at every step raising clouds of dust; and at last stood before long rows of musty, mummyish parcels, so dingy-red, and so rolled upon sticks, that they looked like stiff sausages of Bologna; but smelt like some fine old Stilton or Cheshire.
Most ancient of all, was a hieroglyphical Elegy on the Dumps, consisting of one thousand and one lines; the characters, — herons, weeping-willows, and ravens, supposed to have been traced by a quill from the sea-noddy.
Then there were plenty of rare old ballads:- "King Kroko, and the Fisher Girl."
"The Fight at the Ford of Spears."
"The Song of the Skulls."
And brave old chronicles, that made Mohi's mouth water:- "The Rise and Setting of the Dynasty of Foofoo."
"The Heroic History of the Noble Prince Dragoni; showing how he killed ten Pinioned Prisoners with his Own Hand."
"The whole Pedigree of the King of Kandidee, with that of his famous horse, Znorto."
And Tarantula books:- "Sour Milk for the Young, by a Dairyman."
"The Devil adrift, by a Corsair."
"Grunts and Groans, by a Mad Boar."
"Stings, by a Scorpion."
And poetical productions:- "Suffusions of a Lily in a Shower."
"Sonnet on the last Breath of an Ephemera."
"The Gad-fly, and Other Poems."
And metaphysical treatises:- "Necessitarian not Predestinarian."
"Philosophical Necessity and Predestination One Thing and The Same."
"Whatever is not, is."
"Whatever is, is not."
And scarce old memoirs:- "The One Hundred Books of the Biography of the Great and Good King Grandissimo."
"The Life of old Philo, the Philanthropist, in one Chapter."
And popular literature:- "A most Sweet, Pleasant, and Unctuous Account of the Manner in which Five-and-Forty Robbers were torn asunder by Swiftly-Going Canoes."
And books by chiefs and nobles:- "The Art of Making a Noise in Mardi."
"On the Proper Manner of Saluting a Bosom Friend."
"Letters from a Father to a Son, inculcating the Virtue of Vice."
"Pastorals by a Younger Son."
"A Catalogue of Chieftains who have been Authors, by a Chieftain, who disdains to be deemed an Author."
"A Canto on a Cough caught by my Consort."
"The Philosophy of Honesty, by a late Lord, who died in disgrace."
And theological works:- "Pepper for the Perverse."
"Pudding for the Pious."
"Pleas for Pardon."
"Pickles for the Persecuted."
And long and tedious romances with short and easy titles:- "The Buck."
"The Belle."
"The King and the Cook, or the Cook and the King."
And books of voyages:- "A Sojourn among the Anthropophagi, by One whose Hand was eaten off at Tiffin among the Savages."
"Franko: its King, Court, and Tadpoles."
"Three Hours in Vivenza, containing a Full and Impartial Account of that Whole Country: by a Subject of King Bello."
And works of nautical poets:- "Sky-Sail-Pole Lyrics."
And divers brief books, with panic-striking titles:- "Are you safe?"
"A Voice from Below."
"Hope for none."
"Fire for all."
And pamphlets by retired warriors:- "On the Best Gravy for Wild Boar's Meat."
"Three Receipts for Bottling New Arrack."
"To Brown Bread Fruit without Burning."
"Advice to the Dyspeptic."
"On Starch for Tappa."
All these MSS. were highly prized by Oh-Oh. He averred, that they spoke of the mighty past, which he reverenced more than the paltry present, the dross and sediment of what had been.
Peering into a dark crypt, Babbalanja drew forth a few crumbling, illegible, black-letter sheets of his favorite old essayist, brave Bardianna. They seemed to have formed parts of a work, whose title only remained-"Thoughts, by a Thinker."
Silently Babbalanja pressed them to his heart. Then at arm's length held them, and said, "And is all this wisdom lost? Can not the divine cunning in thee, Bardianna, transmute to brightness these sullied pages? Here, perhaps, thou didst dive into the deeps of things, treating of the normal forms of matter and of mind; how the particles of solids were first molded in the interstices of fluids; how the thoughts of men are each a soul, as the lung-cells are each a lung; how that death is but a mode of life; while mid-most is the Pharzi.-But all is faded. Yea, here the Thinker's thoughts lie cheek by jowl with phrasemen's words. Oh Bardianna! these pages were offspring of thee, thought of thy thought, soul of thy soul. Instinct with mind, they once spoke out like living voices; now, they're dust; and would not prick a fool to action. Whence then is this? If the fogs of some few years can make soul linked to matter naught; how can the unhoused spirit hope to live when mildewed with the damps of death."
Piously he folded the shreds of manuscript together, kissed them, and laid them down.
Then approaching Oh-Oh, he besought him for one leaf, one shred of those most precious pages, in memory of Bardianna, and for the love of him.
But learning who he was, one of that old Ponderer's commentators, OhOh tottered toward the manuscripts; with trembling fingers told them over, one by one, and said-"Thank Oro! all are here.-Philosopher, ask me for my limbs, my life, my heart, but ask me not for these. Steeped in wax, these shall be my cerements."
All in vain; Oh-Oh was an antiquary.
Turning in despair, Babbalanja spied a heap of worm-eaten parchment covers, and many clippings and parings. And whereas the rolls of manuscripts did smell like unto old cheese; so these relics did marvelously resemble the rinds of the same.
Turning over this pile, Babbalanja lighted upon something that restored his good humor. Long he looked it over delighted; but bethinking him, that he must have dragged to day some lost work of the collection, and much desirous of possessing it, he made bold again to ply Oh-Oh; offering a tempting price for his discovery.
Glancing at the title-"A Happy Life"-the old man cried-"Oh, rubbish! rubbish! take it for nothing." And Babbalanja placed it in his vestment.
The catacombs surveyed, and day-light gained, we inquired the way to Ji-Ji's, also a collector, but of another sort; one miserly in the matter of teeth, the money of Mardi.
At the mention of his name, Oh-Oh flew out into scornful philippics
upon the insanity of that old dotard, who hoarded up teeth, as if teeth were of any use, but to purchase rarities. Nevertheless, he pointed out our path; following which, we crossed a meadow.
CHAPTER XX
Babbalanja Quotes From An Antique Pagan; And Earnestly Presses It Upon The Company, That What He Recites Is Not His, But Another's
Journeying on, we stopped by a gurgling spring, in a beautiful grove; and here, we stretched out on the grass, and our attendants unpacked their hampers, to provide us a lunch.
But as for that Babbalanja of ours, he must needs go and lunch by himself, and, like a cannibal, feed upon an author; though in other respects he was not so partial to bones.
Bringing forth the treasure he had buried in his bosom, he was soon buried in it; and motionless on his back, looked as if laid out, to keep an appointment with his undertaker.
"What, ho! Babbalanja!" cried Media from under a tree, "don't be a duck, there, with your bill in the air; drop your metaphysics, man, and fall to on the solids. Do you hear?"
"Come, philosopher," said Mohi, handling a banana, "you will weigh more after you have eaten."
"Come, list, Babbalanja," cried Yoomy, "I am going to sing."
"Up! up! I say," shouted Media again. "But go, old man, and wake him: rap on his head, and see whether he be in."
Mohi, obeying, found him at home; and Babbalanja started up.
"In Oro's name, what ails you, philosopher? See you Paradise, that you look so wildly?"
"A Happy Life! a Happy Life!" cried Babbalanja, in an ecstasy. "My lord, I am lost in the dream of it, as here recorded. Marvelous book! its goodness transports me. Let me read:-'I would bear the same mind, whether I be rich or poor, whether I get or lose in the world. I will reckon benefits well placed as the fairest part of my possession, not valuing them by number or weight, but by the profit and esteem of the receiver; accounting myself never the poorer for any thing I give.
What I do shall be done for conscience, not ostentation. I will eat and drink, not to gratify my palate, but to satisfy nature. I will be cheerful to my friends, mild and placable to my enemies. I will prevent an honest request, if I can foresee it; and I will grant it, without asking. I will look upon the whole world as my country; and upon Oro, both as the witness and the judge of my words and my deeds.
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