and these were not legally vested with any degree of executive power - at
that time, Monsieur Bon-Bon - at that time only I was in Rome, and I have
no earthly acquaintance, consequently, with any of its philosophy."*
{*2} Ils ecrivaient sur la Philosophie (_Cicero, Lucretius, Seneca_) mais
c'etait la Philosophie Grecque. - _Condorcet_.
"What do you think of - what do you think of - hiccup! - Epicurus?"
"What do I think of whom?" said the devil, in astonishment, "you
cannot surely mean to find any fault with Epicurus! What do I think of
Epicurus! Do you mean me, sir? - I am Epicurus! I am the same philosopher
who wrote each of the three hundred treatises commemorated by Diogenes
Laertes."
"That's a lie!" said the metaphysician, for the wine had gotten a
little into his head.
"Very well! - very well, sir! - very well, indeed, sir!" said his
Majesty, apparently much flattered.
"That's a lie!" repeated the restaurateur, dogmatically; "that's a -
hiccup! - a lie!"
"Well, well, have it your own way!" said the devil, pacifically, and
Bon-Bon, having beaten his Majesty at argument, thought it his duty to
conclude a second bottle of Chambertin.
"As I was saying," resumed the visiter - "as I was observing a little
while ago, there are some very outre notions in that book of yours
Monsieur Bon-Bon. What, for instance, do you mean by all that humbug about
the soul? Pray, sir, what is the soul?"
"The - hiccup! - soul," replied the metaphysician, referring to his
MS., "is undoubtedly-"
"No, sir!"
"Indubitably-"
"No, sir!"
"Indisputably-"
"No, sir!"
"Evidently-"
"No, sir!"
"Incontrovertibly-"
"No, sir!"
"Hiccup! -"
"No, sir!"
"And beyond all question, a-"
"No sir, the soul is no such thing!" (Here the philosopher, looking
daggers, took occasion to make an end, upon the spot, of his third bottle
of Chambertin.)
"Then - hic-cup! - pray, sir - what - what is it?"
"That is neither here nor there, Monsieur Bon-Bon," replied his
Majesty, musingly. "I have tasted - that is to say, I have known some very
bad souls, and some too - pretty good ones." Here he smacked his lips,
and, having unconsciously let fall his hand upon the volume in his pocket,
was seized with a violent fit of sneezing.
He continued.
"There was the soul of Cratinus - passable: Aristophanes - racy: Plato
- exquisite- not your Plato, but Plato the comic poet; your Plato would
have turned the stomach of Cerberus - faugh! Then let me see! there were
Naevius, and Andronicus, and Plautus, and Terentius. Then there were
Lucilius, and Catullus, and Naso, and Quintus Flaccus, - dear Quinty! as I
called him when he sung a seculare for my amusement, while I toasted him,
in pure good humor, on a fork. But they want flavor, these Romans. One fat
Greek is worth a dozen of them, and besides will keep, which cannot be
said of a Quirite. - Let us taste your Sauterne."
Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to nil admirari and
endeavored to hand down the bottles in question. He was, however,
conscious of a strange sound in the room like the wagging of a tail. Of
this, although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher took no
notice: - simply kicking the dog, and requesting him to be quiet. The
visiter continued:
"I found that Horace tasted very much like Aristotle; - you know I am
fond of variety. Terentius I could not have told from Menander. Naso, to
my astonishment, was Nicander in disguise. Virgilius had a strong twang of
Theocritus. Martial put me much in mind of Archilochus - and Titus Livius
was positively Polybius and none other."
"Hic-cup!" here replied Bon-Bon, and his majesty proceeded:
"But if I have a penchant, Monsieur Bon-Bon - if I have a penchant, it
is for a philosopher. Yet, let me tell you, sir, it is not every dev - I
mean it is not every gentleman who knows how to choose a philosopher. Long
ones are not good; and the best, if not carefully shelled, are apt to be a
little rancid on account of the gall!"
"Shelled!"
"I mean taken out of the carcass."
"What do you think of a - hic-cup! - physician?"
"Don't mention them! - ugh! ugh! ugh!" (Here his Majesty retched
violently.) "I never tasted but one - that rascal Hippocrates! - smelt of
asafoetida - ugh! ugh! ugh! - caught a wretched cold washing him in the
Styx - and after all he gave me the cholera morbus."
"The - hiccup - wretch!" ejaculated Bon-Bon, "the - hic-cup! -
absorption of a pill-box!" - and the philosopher dropped a tear.
"After all," continued the visiter, "after all, if a dev - if a
gentleman wishes to live, he must have more talents than one or two; and
with us a fat face is an evidence of diplomacy."
"How so?"
"Why, we are sometimes exceedingly pushed for provisions. You must
know that, in a climate so sultry as mine, it is frequently impossible to
keep a spirit alive for more than two or three hours; and after death,
unless pickled immediately (and a pickled spirit is not good), they will -
smell - you understand, eh? Putrefaction is always to be apprehended when
the souls are consigned to us in the usual way."
"Hiccup! - hiccup! - good God! how do you manage?"
Here the iron lamp commenced swinging with redoubled violence, and the
devil half started from his seat; - however, with a slight sigh, he
recovered his composure, merely saying to our hero in a low tone: "I tell
you what, Pierre Bon-Bon, we must have no more swearing."
The host swallowed another bumper, by way of denoting thorough
comprehension and acquiescence, and the visiter continued.
"Why, there are several ways of managing. The most of us starve: some
put up with the pickle: for my part I purchase my spirits vivente corpore,
in which case I find they keep very well."
"But the body! - hiccup! - the body!"
"The body, the body - well, what of the body? - oh! ah! I perceive.
Why, sir, the body is not at all affected by the transaction. I have made
innumerable purchases of the kind in my day, and the parties never
experienced any inconvenience. There were Cain and Nimrod, and Nero, and
Caligula, and Dionysius, and Pisistratus, and - and a thousand others, who
never knew what it was to have a soul during the latter part of their
lives; yet, sir, these men adorned society. Why possession of his
faculties, mental and corporeal? Who writes a keener epigram? Who reasons
more wittily? Who - but stay! I have his agreement in my pocket-book."
Thus saying, he produced a red leather wallet, and took from it a
number of papers. Upon some of these Bon-Bon caught a glimpse of the
letters Machi - Maza- Robesp - with the words Caligula, George, Elizabeth.
His Majesty selected a narrow slip of parchment, and from it read aloud
the following words:
"In consideration of certain mental endowments which it is unnecessary
to sp
ecify, and in further consideration of one thousand louis d'or, I
being aged one year and one month, do hereby make over to the bearer of
this agreement all my right, title, and appurtenance in the shadow called
my soul. (Signed) A...." {*4} (Here His Majesty repeated a name which I
did not feel justified in indicating more unequivocally.)
{*4} Quere-Arouet?
"A clever fellow that," resumed he; "but like you, Monsieur Bon-Bon,
he was mistaken about the soul. The soul a shadow, truly! The soul a
shadow; Ha! ha! ha! - he! he! he! - hu! hu! hu! Only think of a fricasseed
shadow!"
"Only think - hiccup! - of a fricasseed shadow!" exclaimed our hero,
whose faculties were becoming much illuminated by the profundity of his
Majesty's discourse.
"Only think of a hiccup! - fricasseed shadow!! Now, damme! - hiccup! -
humph! If I would have been such a - hiccup! - nincompoop! My soul, Mr. -
humph!"
"Your soul, Monsieur Bon-Bon?"
"Yes, sir - hiccup! - my soul is-"
"What, sir?"
"No shadow, damme!"
"Did you mean to say-"
"Yes, sir, my soul is - hiccup! - humph! - yes, sir."
"Did you not intend to assert-"
"My soul is - hiccup! - peculiarly qualified for - hiccup! - a-"
"What, sir?"
"Stew."
"Ha!"
"Soufflee."
"Eh!"
"Fricassee."
"Indeed!"
"Ragout and fricandeau - and see here, my good fellow! I'll let you
have it- hiccup! - a bargain." Here the philosopher slapped his Majesty
upon the back.
"Couldn't think of such a thing," said the latter calmly, at the same
time rising from his seat. The metaphysician stared.
"Am supplied at present," said his Majesty.
"Hiccup - e-h?" said the philosopher.
"Have no funds on hand."
"What?"
"Besides, very unhandsome in me -"
"Sir!"
"To take advantage of-"
"Hiccup!"
"Your present disgusting and ungentlemanly situation."
Here the visiter bowed and withdrew - in what manner could not
precisely be ascertained - but in a well-concerted effort to discharge a
bottle at "the villain," the slender chain was severed that depended from
the ceiling, and the metaphysician prostrated by the downfall of the lamp.
~~~ End of Text ~~~
======
SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.
THE _symposium_ of the preceding evening had been a little too much
for my nerves. I had a wretched headache, and was desperately drowsy.
Instead of going out therefore to spend the evening as I had proposed, it
occurred to me that I could not do a wiser thing than just eat a mouthful
of supper and go immediately to bed.
A light supper of course. I am exceedingly fond of Welsh rabbit. More than
a pound at once, however, may not at all times be advisable. Still, there
can be no material objection to two. And really between two and three,
there is merely a single unit of difference. I ventured, perhaps, upon
four. My wife will have it five; -- but, clearly, she has confounded two
very distinct affairs. The abstract number, five, I am willing to admit;
but, concretely, it has reference to bottles of Brown Stout, without
which, in the way of condiment, Welsh rabbit is to be eschewed.
Having thus concluded a frugal meal, and donned my night-cap, with the
serene hope of enjoying it till noon the next day, I placed my head upon
the pillow, and, through the aid of a capital conscience, fell into a
profound slumber forthwith.
But when were the hopes of humanity fulfilled? I could not have completed
my third snore when there came a furious ringing at the street-door bell,
and then an impatient thumping at the knocker, which awakened me at once.
In a minute afterward, and while I was still rubbing my eyes, my wife
thrust in my face a note, from my old friend, Doctor Ponnonner. It ran
thus:
"Come to me, by all means, my dear good friend, as soon as you
receive this. Come and help us to rejoice. At last, by long persevering
diplomacy, I have gained the assent of the Directors of the City Museum,
to my examination of the Mummy -- you know the one I mean. I have
permission to unswathe it and open it, if desirable. A few friends only
will be present -- you, of course. The Mummy is now at my house, and we
shall begin to unroll it at eleven to-night.
"Yours, ever,
PONNONNER.
By the time I had reached the "Ponnonner," it struck me that I was as wide
awake as a man need be. I leaped out of bed in an ecstacy, overthrowing
all in my way; dressed myself with a rapidity truly marvellous; and set
off, at the top of my speed, for the doctor's.
There I found a very eager company assembled. They had been awaiting me
with much impatience; the Mummy was extended upon the dining-table; and
the moment I entered its examination was commenced.
It was one of a pair brought, several years previously, by Captain Arthur
Sabretash, a cousin of Ponnonner's from a tomb near Eleithias, in the
Lybian mountains, a considerable distance above Thebes on the Nile. The
grottoes at this point, although less magnificent than the Theban
sepulchres, are of higher interest, on account of affording more numerous
illustrations of the private life of the Egyptians. The chamber from which
our specimen was taken, was said to be very rich in such illustrations;
the walls being completely covered with fresco paintings and bas-reliefs,
while statues, vases, and Mosaic work of rich patterns, indicated the vast
wealth of the deceased.
The treasure had been deposited in the Museum precisely in the same
condition in which Captain Sabretash had found it; -- that is to say, the
coffin had not been disturbed. For eight years it had thus stood, subject
only externally to public inspection. We had now, therefore, the complete
Mummy at our disposal; and to those who are aware how very rarely the
unransacked antique reaches our shores, it will be evident, at once that
we had great reason to congratulate ourselves upon our good fortune.
Approaching the table, I saw on it a large box, or case, nearly seven feet
long, and perhaps three feet wide, by two feet and a half deep. It was
oblong -- not coffin-shaped. The material was at first supposed to be the
wood of the sycamore (_platanus_), but, upon cutting into it, we found it
to be pasteboard, or, more properly, _papier mache_, composed of papyrus.
It was thickly ornamented with paintings, representing funeral scenes, and
other mournful subjects -- interspersed among which, in every variety of
position, were certain series of hieroglyphical characters, intended, no
doubt, for the name of the departed. By good luck, Mr. Gliddon formed one
of our party; and he had no difficulty in translating the letters, which
were simply phonetic, and represented the word _Allamistakeo_.
We had some difficulty in getting this case open without injury; but
having at length accomplished the task, we came to a second,
coffin-shaped, and very considerably les
s in size than the exterior one,
but resembling it precisely in every other respect. The interval between
the two was filled with resin, which had, in some degree, defaced the
colors of the interior box.
Upon opening this latter (which we did quite easily), we arrived at a
third case, also coffin-shaped, and varying from the second one in no
particular, except in that of its material, which was cedar, and still
emitted the peculiar and highly aromatic odor of that wood. Between the
second and the third case there was no interval -- the one fitting
accurately within the other.
Removing the third case, we discovered and took out the body itself. We
had expected to find it, as usual, enveloped in frequent rolls, or
bandages, of linen; but, in place of these, we found a sort of sheath,
made of papyrus, and coated with a layer of plaster, thickly gilt and
painted. The paintings represented subjects connected with the various
supposed duties of the soul, and its presentation to different divinities,
with numerous identical human figures, intended, very probably, as
portraits of the persons embalmed. Extending from head to foot was a
Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe Page 158