the works of edgar allan poe-5-第24节
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style of the Egyptians。 While I was thinking how I should answer this
question； little Doctor Ponnonner committed himself in a very
extraordinary way。
〃Look at our architecture！〃 he exclaimed； greatly to the indignation of
both the travellers； who pinched him black and blue to no purpose。
〃Look；〃 he cried with enthusiasm； 〃at the Bowling…Green Fountain in New
York！ or if this be too vast a contemplation； regard for a moment the
Capitol at Washington； D。 C。！〃 and the good little medical man went on
to detail very minutely； the proportions of the fabric to which he
referred。 He explained that the portico alone was adorned with no less
than four and twenty columns； five feet in diameter； and ten feet apart。
The Count said that he regretted not being able to remember； just at that
moment； the precise dimensions of any one of the principal buildings of
the city of Aznac； whose foundations were laid in the night of Time； but
the ruins of which were still standing； at the epoch of his entombment； in
a vast plain of sand to the westward of Thebes。 He recollected； however；
（talking of the porticoes；） that one affixed to an inferior palace in a
kind of suburb called Carnac； consisted of a hundred and forty…four
columns； thirty…seven feet in circumference； and twenty…five feet apart。
The approach to this portico； from the Nile； was through an avenue two
miles long； composed of sphynxes； statues； and obelisks； twenty； sixty；
and a hundred feet in height。 The palace itself （as well as he could
remember） was； in one direction； two miles long； and might have been
altogether about seven in circuit。 Its walls were richly painted all over；
within and without； with hieroglyphics。 He would not pretend to assert
that even fifty or sixty of the Doctor's Capitols might have been built
within these walls； but he was by no means sure that two or three hundred
of them might not have been squeezed in with some trouble。 That palace at
Carnac was an insignificant little building after all。 He （the Count）；
however； could not conscientiously refuse to admit the ingenuity；
magnificence； and superiority of the Fountain at the Bowling Green； as
described by the Doctor。 Nothing like it； he was forced to allow； had ever
been seen in Egypt or elsewhere。
I here asked the Count what he had to say to our railroads。
〃Nothing；〃 he replied； 〃in particular。〃 They were rather slight； rather
ill…conceived； and clumsily put together。 They could not be compared； of
course； with the vast； level； direct； iron…grooved causeways upon which
the Egyptians conveyed entire temples and solid obelisks of a hundred and
fifty feet in altitude。
I spoke of our gigantic mechanical forces。
He agreed that we knew something in that way； but inquired how I should
have gone to work in getting up the imposts on the lintels of even the
little palace at Carnac。
This question I concluded not to hear； and demanded if he had any idea of
Artesian wells； but he simply raised his eyebrows； while Mr。 Gliddon
winked at me very hard and said； in a low tone； that one had been recently
discovered by the engineers employed to bore for water in the Great Oasis。
I then mentioned our steel； but the foreigner elevated his nose； and asked
me if our steel could have executed the sharp carved work seen on the
obelisks； and which was wrought altogether by edge…tools of copper。
This disconcerted us so greatly that we thought it advisable to vary the
attack to Metaphysics。 We sent for a copy of a book called the 〃Dial；〃 and
read out of it a chapter or two about something that is not very clear；
but which the Bostonians call the Great Movement of Progress。
The Count merely said that Great Movements were awfully common things in
his day； and as for Progress； it was at one time quite a nuisance； but it
never progressed。
We then spoke of the great beauty and importance of Democracy； and were at
much trouble in impressing the Count with a due sense of the advantages we
enjoyed in living where there was suffrage ad libitum； and no king。
He listened with marked interest； and in fact seemed not a little amused。
When we had done； he said that； a great while ago； there had occurred
something of a very similar sort。 Thirteen Egyptian provinces determined
all at once to be free； and to set a magnificent example to the rest of
mankind。 They assembled their wise men； and concocted the most ingenious
constitution it is possible to conceive。 For a while they managed
remarkably well； only their habit of bragging was prodigious。 The thing
ended； however； in the consolidation of the thirteen states； with some
fifteen or twenty others； in the most odious and insupportable despotism
that was ever heard of upon the face of the Earth。
I asked what was the name of the usurping tyrant。
As well as the Count could recollect； it was Mob。
Not knowing what to say to this； I raised my voice； and deplored the
Egyptian ignorance of steam。
The Count looked at me with much astonishment； but made no answer。 The
silent gentleman； however； gave me a violent nudge in the ribs with his
elbows told me I had sufficiently exposed myself for once and
demanded if I was really such a fool as not to know that the modern
steam…engine is derived from the invention of Hero； through Solomon de
Caus。
We were now in imminent danger of being discomfited； but； as good luck
would have it； Doctor Ponnonner； having rallied； returned to our rescue；
and inquired if the people of Egypt would seriously pretend to rival the
moderns in the all… important particular of dress。
The Count； at this； glanced downward to the straps of his pantaloons； and
then taking hold of the end of one of his coat…tails； held it up close to
his eyes for some minutes。 Letting it fall； at last； his mouth extended
itself very gradually from ear to ear； but I do not remember that he said
any thing in the way of reply。
Hereupon we recovered our spirits； and the Doctor； approaching the Mummy
with great dignity； desired it to say candidly； upon its honor as a
gentleman； if the Egyptians had comprehended； at any period； the
manufacture of either Ponnonner's lozenges or Brandreth's pills。
We looked； with profound anxiety； for an answer but in vain。 It was not
forthcoming。 The Egyptian blushed and hung down his head。 Never was
triumph more consummate； never was defeat borne with so ill a grace。
Indeed； I could not endure the spectacle of the poor Mummy's
mortification。 I reached my hat； bowed to him stiffly； and took leave。
Upon getting home I found it past four o'clock； and went immediately to
bed。 It is now ten A。M。 I have been up since seven； penning these
memoranda for the benefit of my family and of mankind。 The former I shall
behold no more。 My wife is a shrew。 The truth is； I am heartily sick of
this life and of the nineteenth century in general。 I am convinced that
every thing is going wrong。 Besides； I am anxious to know who will be
President in 2045。 As soon； therefore； as I shave and swallow a cup of
coffee； I shall just step over to Ponnonner's and get embalmed for a
couple of hundred years。
~~~ End of Text ~~~
The Poetic Principle
IN speaking of the Poetic Principle； I have no design to be either
thorough or profound。 While discussing； very much at random； the
essentiality of what we call Poetry； my principal purpose will be to cite
for consideration； some few of those minor English or American poems which
best suit my own taste； or which； upon my own fancy； have left the most
definite impression。 By 〃minor poems〃 I mean； of course； poems of little
length。 And here； in the beginning； permit me to say a few words in regard
to a somewhat peculiar principle； which； whether rightfully or wrongfully；
has always had its influence in my own critical estimate of the poem。 I
hold that a long poem does not exist。 I maintain that the phrase； 〃a long
poem；〃 is simply a flat contradiction in terms。
I need scarcely observe that a poem deserves its title only inasmuch
as it excites； by elevating the soul。 The value of the poem is in the
ratio of this elevating excitement。 But all excitements are； through a
psychal necessity； transient。 That degree of excitement which would
entitle a poem to be so called at all； cannot be sustained throughout a
composition of any great length。 After the lapse of half an hour； at the
very utmost； it flags fails a revulsion ensues and then the poem
is； in effect； and in fact； no longer such。
There are； no doubt； many who have found difficulty in reconciling the
critical dictum that the 〃Paradise Lost〃 is to be devoutly admired
throughout； with the absolute impossibility of maintaining for it； during
perusal； the amount of enthusiasm which that critical dictum would demand。
This great work； in fact； is to be regarded as poetical； only when； losing
sight of that vital requisite in all works of Art； Unity； we view it
merely as a series of minor poems。 If； to preserve its Unity its
totality of effect or impression we read it （as would be necessary） at
a single sitting； the result is but a constant alternation of excitement
and depression。 After a passage of what we feel to be true poetr
