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19 - Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey - Ingersoll Lockwood · Classic Sci Fi Books - Daily

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  Speaker 1: Chapter nineteen begins with something about the little sodopsys, but
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  Speaker 1: branches off on another subject, to wit the silent song
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  Speaker 1: of singing fingers. The fair maid of the city of Silver,
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  Speaker 1: Beryl Brow, is kind enough to enlighten me on a
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  Speaker 1: second point, and he takes occasion to pay Vulgar a
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  Speaker 1: very high compliment, which of course he deserved. The longer
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  Speaker 1: I stayed among the pseudopses, the more did I become
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  Speaker 1: convinced that they were the happiest, the lightest hearted, the
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  Speaker 1: most contented human beings that I had met in all
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  Speaker 1: my travels. If it were possible for the links of
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  Speaker 1: a long chain suspended over a chasm to be living,
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  Speaker 1: thinking beans for a short while, it seems to me
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  Speaker 1: they would hang together in the most perfect accord, for
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  Speaker 1: each link would discover that he was no better than
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  Speaker 1: his neighbor, and that the welfare of all the other
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  Speaker 1: links depended upon him in his upon theirs. So it
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  Speaker 1: was with the former folk, having no sense of sight,
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  Speaker 1: they do no such thing as envy, and all hands
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  Speaker 1: were alike when reached out for a greeting. I was
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  Speaker 1: amazed at times to see how they could feel my
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  Speaker 1: approach When I would be ten or fifteen feet away
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  Speaker 1: from them, and I often amused myself by trying to
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  Speaker 1: steal by one of them in the street, But no,
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  Speaker 1: it was impossible. A hand would invariably be held out
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  Speaker 1: for a greeting. Little by little they got over their
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  Speaker 1: distrust of me and made up their minds that I
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  Speaker 1: had told them the truth when I said that no
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  Speaker 1: dancing inspect was forever following at my heels. One of
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  Speaker 1: the most interesting sights was to see a group of
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  Speaker 1: Sudopsy children at play, building houses with silver blocks, or
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  Speaker 1: playing a game very much like our dominoes. I noticed
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  Speaker 1: that they kept no tally such wonderful memories had they
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  Speaker 1: that it was quite unnecessary. At first, the children were
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  Speaker 1: so frightened upon feeling of me that they fled with
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  Speaker 1: terror pictured upon their little faces. Their parents explained to
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  Speaker 1: me that I made very much the same impression upon
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  Speaker 1: them as if I should feel of a person who
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  Speaker 1: skin was as rough as a sea urchin's. When at
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  Speaker 1: last I succeeded in coaxing several of them to my side,
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  Speaker 1: I was astounded to see one little fellow, who had
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  Speaker 1: by chance pressed his tiny hand against my watch pocket,
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  Speaker 1: sprang away from me, terror stricken, he had felt it ticked,
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  Speaker 1: and didn't stop running until he had reached his mother's side.
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  Speaker 1: His wonderful tail that the little baron carried some strange
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  Speaker 1: animal round his pocket soon caused a crowd to collect
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  Speaker 1: about me, and it was some time before I could
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  Speaker 1: persuade even the parents that the watch was not alive,
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  Speaker 1: and that it was not the little animal's heart which
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  Speaker 1: they felt beating. On one occasion, when a little soodopsy
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  Speaker 1: was sitting on my lap, with its tiny arm twined
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  Speaker 1: affectionately around my neck, I happened to make some remark
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  Speaker 1: to Bulger, when, to my amazement, the child sprang out
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  Speaker 1: of my arms and darted away, with a look of
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  Speaker 1: terror upon his little face. What had I done to him? Why?
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  Speaker 1: It seems that by the merest chance, his tiny hand
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  Speaker 1: had been pressed against my throat, and that he had
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  Speaker 1: been terrified by feeling the strange vibration caused by my voice. Immediately,
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  Speaker 1: the report was spread about that the little baron carried
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  Speaker 1: another little baron around in his throat, that any one
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  Speaker 1: could feel him if I would only consent. It took
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  Speaker 1: me a long while to convince them that what they
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  Speaker 1: felt was not another little baron, but merely the vibration
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  Speaker 1: caused by my expelling my breath in a way peculiar
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  Speaker 1: to the people of the upper world. But all the same,
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  Speaker 1: I was obliged to say many hundreds of useless things
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  Speaker 1: to Bulgar in order to give their little hands a
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  Speaker 1: chance to feel something so wonderful. From the little I
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  Speaker 1: have told you about the names of the former folk,
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  Speaker 1: dear friends, you have no doubt understood that their names
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  Speaker 1: took their rise from some physical quality, defect or peculiarity.
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  Speaker 1: Besides the names I have already mentioned, I remember sharp chin,
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  Speaker 1: long nose, silk ears, smooth palms, big knuckle, nail off,
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  Speaker 1: hammer fist, soft touch, hole in cheek or hole in chin, dimple,
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  Speaker 1: crooked hair, cowlic and so on and so on. But
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  Speaker 1: to my amazement, one day, when asking the name of
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  Speaker 1: a young girl whose long and delicate fingers had attracted
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  Speaker 1: my attention, I was informed that her name was singing fingers,
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  Speaker 1: or possibly I might translate it music fingers. I had
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  Speaker 1: noticed that thus Pseudopsis had some idea of music, for
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  Speaker 1: the children often amused themselves dancing, and while so engaged
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  Speaker 1: beat time with their finger tips on each other's cheeks
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  Speaker 1: or foreheads. But I was completely in the dark as
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  Speaker 1: to what they meant by singing fingers, or why the
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  Speaker 1: young girls should have been so named. Hence I was
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  Speaker 1: greatly pleased to hear the maiden's mother ask me whether
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  Speaker 1: I would like to feel one of her daughter's songs,
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  Speaker 1: as she termed it. Upon my acquiescing, the mother approached
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  Speaker 1: me and proceeded to roll up the sleeves of my
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  Speaker 1: coat until she had laid my arms bare to the elbow.
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  Speaker 1: Then she took my arms and clasped them across my breast,
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  Speaker 1: one above the other. Bulger watched this proceeding with somewhat
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  Speaker 1: of displeasure in his eyes. He had half an idea
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  Speaker 1: that these silent people might play some hurtful trick upon
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  Speaker 1: his little master, But my smile soon disarmed his suspicion.
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  Speaker 1: Singing fingers now drew near, and as her sweet face,
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  Speaker 1: with its sightless eyes, turned full upon me, I could
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  Speaker 1: hardly keep back the tears. And yet why grieve for
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  Speaker 1: any one who seemed to be so perfectly happy? A
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  Speaker 1: smile played around her dainty little mouth, disclosing her tiny,
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  Speaker 1: silvery white teeth like so many real pearls, and her
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  Speaker 1: bosom rose and fell quickly, sending forth a faint breathing sound.
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  Speaker 1: She looked so like a radiant child of some of
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  Speaker 1: the world, that before I thought, I cried out, speak, oh, speak,
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  Speaker 1: beautiful child. In an instant she drew back, affrightened, for
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  Speaker 1: the sudden vibration of the air had startled her. But
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  Speaker 1: I reached out and touched her hand to give her
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  Speaker 1: to understand that she need fear nothing. And then she
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  Speaker 1: drew near to me again. Suddenly her beautiful hands, with
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  Speaker 1: their long, frailed, delicate fingers, were lifted into the air,
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  Speaker 1: and she began to sway her body and to wave
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  Speaker 1: her hands in gentle and graceful motions, as if keeping
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  Speaker 1: time with some music. Gradually she drew nearer to me,
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  Speaker 1: and ever and anon her silken finger tips touched my
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  Speaker 1: hands or arms as if they were a keyboard, and
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  Speaker 1: she was about to begin to execute a soft and
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  Speaker 1: dainty bit of music. I noticed that her fingers had
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  Speaker 1: some delightful perfume upon them. Now, fast and faster, the
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  Speaker 1: gentle taps rain upon me with rhythmic regularity. They soothed me,
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  Speaker 1: they thrilled me, They reached my heart, as if they
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  Speaker 1: were the sweet notes of a flute or the soft
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  Speaker 1: tones of a singer's voice. The maiden is really singing
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  Speaker 1: to me. It seems to me that I can understand
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  Speaker 1: what she is saying, or rather thinking, as her dainty
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  Speaker 1: finger tips fairly fly hither and thither, and I can
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  Speaker 1: hear her low breathing grow louder and louder. Suddenly she
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  Speaker 1: leaves my hands and arms, and I feel her gentle
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  Speaker 1: tapping on my cheeks and brow so gently, oh so gently,
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  Speaker 1: and soothingly her fingers touch me that at last they
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  Speaker 1: feel like rose leaves dragged across my face. The sensation
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  Speaker 1: is so delightful, so like the soft touch of sleep
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  Speaker 1: to weary eyes, that I drop off in good earnest.
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  Speaker 1: And when after a moment or so I opened my eyes,
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  Speaker 1: there sat the smiling form of folk waiting for me
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  Speaker 1: to awake. And there stood the radiant visage, singing fingers
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  Speaker 1: in front of me, childlike waiting to be commended. And
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  Speaker 1: so you see, dear friends, that it is not so
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  Speaker 1: hard to be happy after all, if you only set
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  Speaker 1: about it in the right way. The former folk seemed
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  Speaker 1: to have set about it in the right way. Judging
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  Speaker 1: by results, and they are the only things we have
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  Speaker 1: to judge by. Some men will fish all day and
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  Speaker 1: not have a bite, and some people will try their
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  Speaker 1: whole lives to catch happiness and not get any more
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  Speaker 1: than a nibble. They don't use the right kind of fate.
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  Speaker 1: Let him try a kind act, a live one. There
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  Speaker 1: was something I wanted to ask of the learned barrel brow,
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  Speaker 1: So the next call I made on him, I put
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  Speaker 1: this question to him, is it possible, learned master, that
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  Speaker 1: thy people have absolutely no guide, no overseer, no rulers.
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  Speaker 1: The great scholar of the former folks seized reading the
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  Speaker 1: four books which lay opened before him, one under each
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  Speaker 1: hand and one under each foot, as I handed him
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  Speaker 1: my silver tablet, Little baron was his reply. If there
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  Speaker 1: were only a bramble bush big enough for all you
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  Speaker 1: people of the upper world to jump into, and if
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  Speaker 1: you could only get rid of your ears, too, you
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  Speaker 1: would soon be rid of your rulers, who oppress you,
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  Speaker 1: who prey upon you, For no one would have any
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  Speaker 1: desire to be a ruler if there was no one
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  Speaker 1: left to look at him, and if he couldn't hear
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  Speaker 1: what the flatterers said about him, vanity is the soil
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  Speaker 1: that rulers spring from, as the mushrooms spring from the
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  Speaker 1: rich loam of our dark caverns. They pretend that it
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  Speaker 1: is the exercise of power that they are so fond of.
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  Speaker 1: Believe them not, it is the gratification of their vanity,
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  Speaker 1: and nothing else. If it were only in thy power
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  Speaker 1: to say to every man who itched to be a ruler,
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  Speaker 1: will and good brother a ruler, thou shalt be, but
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  Speaker 1: bear in mind, weak man, that when thou hast on
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  Speaker 1: thy gaudy uniform and mounted thy gaily caparison steed, when
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  Speaker 1: thou ridest at the head of troop and cavalcade, with
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  Speaker 1: ten thousand armed men following thee on foot as slaves
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  Speaker 1: their master, and the plaudits of the foolish multitude rend
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  Speaker 1: the air, no eye shall witness the splendor of thy triumph.
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  Speaker 1: No ear catch a sound of the deafening cheers. Take
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  Speaker 1: my word for it, little Baron, No one would want
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  Speaker 1: to be a ruler any more. Where there are no rulers,
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  Speaker 1: Little Baron, continue the learned barrel brow, there can be
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  Speaker 1: no followers. Where there are no followers, there will be
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  Speaker 1: no quarreling. When it becomes necessary in our nation, we
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  Speaker 1: form the Great Circle for deliberation. Each man writes out
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  Speaker 1: what he thinks on his tablet. Then the opinions are
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  Speaker 1: read and counted, and the majority rules. But we form
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  Speaker 1: the great circle only in times of urgent need. Generally speaking,
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  Speaker 1: the smaller circles answer all the purposes. In fact, the
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  Speaker 1: family circle is in most cases quite sufficient. I touched
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  Speaker 1: first barrel Brow's heart in token of my gratitude for
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  Speaker 1: the many things which he had taught me, and then
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  Speaker 1: the back of his head to bid him good night.
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  Speaker 1: You may imagine his and my delight, dear friends, when
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  Speaker 1: the wise bulgar raised himself on his hind legs and
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  Speaker 1: with his right paw also thank the learned barrel Brow,
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  Speaker 1: and then bade him good night by a light tap
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  Speaker 1: on the back of his head. Fortunate, the traveler, wrote,
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  Speaker 1: the learned pseudopsy, attended by so wise and watchful a companion. True,
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  Speaker 1: like a child, he goes on all fours, but by
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  Speaker 1: so doing he brings his heart and his brains on
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  Speaker 1: the same level. The only way for a man to
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  Speaker 1: wear them if he would do his fellow creatures any good.
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  Speaker 1: The trouble with thy people in the upper world. Little
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  Speaker 1: Baron is that they think too much. They clasp minds
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  Speaker 1: instead of clasping hands. They send messengers with gifts instead
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  Speaker 1: of giving themselves. They hire people to dance for them,
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  Speaker 1: to sing for them, to be merry for them. They
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  Speaker 1: will not be satisfied until they have hired people to
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  Speaker 1: help them. Be sorry to whom they may say, my
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  Speaker 1: friend is dead, I loved him. Weep three whole days
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  Speaker 1: for him. End Chapter nineteen