THEMISFORTUNESOF ACROCODILE.YOUsee in me, gentlemen, a very unfortunate animal. Under the circumstances, I think I am justified in maintaining that no reptile has the same reason to complain. Judge for yourselves! What do I ask? Simply to be left alone to eat, digest, sleep, and warm my thick coat in the sun. If other animals are foolish enough to display their restless activity, and wear themselves out, in order to earn a miserable living, that is their business, not mine. I await my prey quietly, in a manner becoming the descendant of the illustrious Crocodiles worshipped by the Egyptians. Faithful to my aristocratic origin, I detest anything more intellectual than a good dinner, and the full enjoyment of the senses. Why will men pester me with their schemes for the extension of my mud bank by warfare, or harass me with their brand new measures for pacific financial reform? My privacy is perpetually invaded; I have hardly an hour I can call my own.One bright summer morning my history began, like the first part of a novel, all perfume and roses, steeped in the social tranquillity which precedes the storms and heart-breakings of closing volumes.The primary event of this important history was the breaking of my egg, which led to my taking bearings. Daylight for the first time fell upon my young life, casting its shadow across the desert covered with sphinxes and pyramids. The great Nile lay unexplored at my feet—a glorious expanse of turbid water, edged with corn-fields, and swollen by the tears of slaves. On its bosom reposed the lovely Isle of Raondah, with its alleys of sycamore and orange groves. Withoutpausing—as a historian ought to do—to admire this sublime spectacle, I advanced towards the stream, and commenced my gastronomic career by swallowing a passing fish. There still remained on the sand about a score of eggs similar to the one I had left. Have they been dissected by Otters and Ichneumons? or have they burst into life? No matter; free Crocodiles have no family ties.For ten years I lived by fishing and capturing stray birds and unhappy dogs that mistook me for a mud bank. Arrived at this mature age, it occurred to me that philosophic reflection would aid digestion. I therefore reflected after a fashion common in the world. Nature has loaded me with her rarest gifts, charm of face, elegance of figure, and great capacity of stomach. Let me think how I may wisely use her gifts.I belong to horizontal life, and must abandon myself to indolence. I have four rows of sharp teeth, I shall therefore eat others and endeavour to escape being eaten myself. I shall cultivate the art of enjoyment, and adopt the morals of good living—whatever they may be—and shun marriage. Why should I saddle myself with a wife to share my prey, when I myself can eat the whole, or with a pack of ungrateful children?Such were my thoughts about the future, and all the Saurians in the great river could not shake my resolution to remain single. Only once I thought I was seriously in love with a young Crocodile of about sixty summers. Her laughing mouth seemed as wide as the entrance to the pyramid of Cheops, her little, green eyes were shaded by eyelids, yellow as the waters of the Nile in flood. Her skin, hard and rough, was adorned with green spots. Yet I resisted her blandishments and severed the ties that menaced our lives.For many years I contented myself with the flesh of quadrupeds and fish of the stream, never daring to follow the example of my ancestors and declare war on man. One day, however, the Sheriff of Rahmanich passing near my haunt, I drew him under the water before his attendants had time to turn their heads. He proved as tender a morsel as any dignitary ought to be who is paid for doing nothing.How many high and mighty men there are who could thus be spared for my supper! From this time forth I became a man-eater; men are tender, and besides they are our natural foes. It was not long before I acquired amongst my fellows a high reputation for audacity andsybaritism. I became the king of their feasts, and presided at many banquets.The banks of the Nile often witnessed our convivial meetings, and echoed with the sound of our songs.About the beginning of the moon of Baby-el-Alonel, the year of Higera 1213, otherwise 3d Thermidor, year VII., otherwise 21st July 1798, I happened to be reposing on a bed of reeds, and was awakened by a strange noise. Clouds of dust rose round the village of Embabeh. Two great armies were advancing to close in battle. On the one side the Arabs, the Mamelouks with breastplates of gold, the Keayas and the Beys mounted on superb horses. The other was a foreign army, made up of soldiers wearing black felt hats with red feathers, blue or rather dirty white uniforms and trousers. The commander was a slight, short, thin man. I pitied the human beings who were led by such a weak creature, hardly a mouthful for a Crocodile.The little man uttered a few words, at the same time pointing to the pyramids, after which the cannonade began, the guns belched forth their fire and shot, while shells whistled and exploded among the Crocodiles, laying some of them low. That was a fatal day, the turning point in my history. The invaders carried off a gigantic column, placed it on board ship and transported it to one of the finest cities in Europe. The inscriptions on this stone have never been deciphered; I am told the meaning runsthus:—“Worship good living,Let your belly be your god.Selfishness is a virtueWhen practised voluntarily.You must never take the obeliskBy force or by consent,Two millions must you payIf you take it unjustly.”Some of the new comers took it into their heads to hunt and shoot our noble selves. I was captured, but not killed, and became a prisoner at the disposal of man, and was conveyed to El-Kahiret—which the infidels call Cairo—and there provisionally lodged at the consulate. The tumult of war was as nothing compared to the clamour of disputants discussing the Eastern question in this house. Fighting was carried on with the sharpest weapon known—the human tongue. They squabbled from dusky dewy morn till eve. It was truly unfortunate that no free Crocodile was there to end the disputes by devouring Consul, swords, tongues and all. Had I been free, this useful officeshould have been performed and that speedily. My sailor captor, judging me unfit for a museum, handed me over to an adventurer. On our arrival at Havre—oh misery! my jaws were paralysed with cold. I was placed in a huge tub and exposed to the vulgar gaze of the crowd. The showman stood at the door of his hut bawling out this terrible fiction, “Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, now is the time when this interesting reptile is about to feed!”He pronounced these words in a tone so delusive that I instinctively opened my jaws, to receive, what? nothing!The traitor fearing to put my strength on an equality with my ferocity subjected me to systematic starvation.An old money-lender, who had advanced a sum to my master, delivered me from this slavery by seizing the menagerie of which I was the chief ornament—all the other animals were stuffed. Two days later he handed me over, instead of money, to a man he was piously engaged in ruining. I was placed in a large pond near the sea, where my new owner possessed a villa. I gathered from the servants—internal enemies, as yet happily unknown amongst the Saurians—that my master was a young man of forty-five years, a distinguished gastronomist, the possessor of twenty-five thousand pounds a year—indulgent tradesmen allowing him to spend two hundred thousand pounds.He had remained a bachelor, wisely viewing marriage as the closing scene in the comedy of life. The only thing remarkable about him was his stomach, of which he was very proud, “I have made it what it is,” he would say, “it cost me a good bit, but I have not lost my money. Nature intended me to be thin and dry, but, thanks to an intelligent regimen, in spite of Nature I have acquired this honourableembonpoint.” The cheapest dinner of this truly great man, cost him at least fifty francs. He used to say with great feeling, “only fools die of hunger.”One summer evening, after dinner, my master visited me with a numerous company of guests, some of whom found my countenance most prepossessing; others thought me hideous, and all agreed that I bore a strong resemblance to their host.“Why do you delight in rearing such a monster?” said an old toothless man, who in truth, himself merited this insulting appellation. “Were I in your place, I should have him killed and sent to the kitchen. I have been told that crocodile’s flesh is very much sought after by certain African and Cochin Chinese tribes.”“Upon my honour,” said my patron, “your idea is original; notwithstanding his resemblance to me, I will sacrifice him to your palates. Cook, to-morrow you will make a crocodile pie with Egyptian onions.” All the parasites clapped their hands, the cook bowed, and I disappeared to the bottom of my pond. After a terrible night, the first rays of the morning sun revealed the cook sharpening an enormous knife. He approached me, followed by two assistants who unlocked my chain and beat me with a stick about the head. I was lost, had not a sudden noise attracted the attention of my executioners. I beheld my master struggling with four unknown bull-dog-looking men, who had just arrived from Paris. One of them held a watch in his hand. Five o’clock had just struck, when I heard the words “En routefor Clichy.” A carriage appeared, and without pausing to make further notes, profiting by the excitement, I left my pond and gained the sea.After many perils, I at last reached my native shore, where I found civilisation and M. de Lesseps were turning everything upside down. Should this rage continue for steam traffic, cutting canals, negotiating loans, and generally playing the mischief with all our ancient institutions, what will become of Crocodiles? Who knows, before long the Nile may be found to flow back to its source—wherever that may be—and the world itself, propelled by steam, may make its way to the sun, or take its enchanted inhabitants on a tour through space.Progress is most annoying to a conservative Crocodile!
YOUsee in me, gentlemen, a very unfortunate animal. Under the circumstances, I think I am justified in maintaining that no reptile has the same reason to complain. Judge for yourselves! What do I ask? Simply to be left alone to eat, digest, sleep, and warm my thick coat in the sun. If other animals are foolish enough to display their restless activity, and wear themselves out, in order to earn a miserable living, that is their business, not mine. I await my prey quietly, in a manner becoming the descendant of the illustrious Crocodiles worshipped by the Egyptians. Faithful to my aristocratic origin, I detest anything more intellectual than a good dinner, and the full enjoyment of the senses. Why will men pester me with their schemes for the extension of my mud bank by warfare, or harass me with their brand new measures for pacific financial reform? My privacy is perpetually invaded; I have hardly an hour I can call my own.
One bright summer morning my history began, like the first part of a novel, all perfume and roses, steeped in the social tranquillity which precedes the storms and heart-breakings of closing volumes.
The primary event of this important history was the breaking of my egg, which led to my taking bearings. Daylight for the first time fell upon my young life, casting its shadow across the desert covered with sphinxes and pyramids. The great Nile lay unexplored at my feet—a glorious expanse of turbid water, edged with corn-fields, and swollen by the tears of slaves. On its bosom reposed the lovely Isle of Raondah, with its alleys of sycamore and orange groves. Withoutpausing—as a historian ought to do—to admire this sublime spectacle, I advanced towards the stream, and commenced my gastronomic career by swallowing a passing fish. There still remained on the sand about a score of eggs similar to the one I had left. Have they been dissected by Otters and Ichneumons? or have they burst into life? No matter; free Crocodiles have no family ties.
For ten years I lived by fishing and capturing stray birds and unhappy dogs that mistook me for a mud bank. Arrived at this mature age, it occurred to me that philosophic reflection would aid digestion. I therefore reflected after a fashion common in the world. Nature has loaded me with her rarest gifts, charm of face, elegance of figure, and great capacity of stomach. Let me think how I may wisely use her gifts.
I belong to horizontal life, and must abandon myself to indolence. I have four rows of sharp teeth, I shall therefore eat others and endeavour to escape being eaten myself. I shall cultivate the art of enjoyment, and adopt the morals of good living—whatever they may be—and shun marriage. Why should I saddle myself with a wife to share my prey, when I myself can eat the whole, or with a pack of ungrateful children?
Such were my thoughts about the future, and all the Saurians in the great river could not shake my resolution to remain single. Only once I thought I was seriously in love with a young Crocodile of about sixty summers. Her laughing mouth seemed as wide as the entrance to the pyramid of Cheops, her little, green eyes were shaded by eyelids, yellow as the waters of the Nile in flood. Her skin, hard and rough, was adorned with green spots. Yet I resisted her blandishments and severed the ties that menaced our lives.
For many years I contented myself with the flesh of quadrupeds and fish of the stream, never daring to follow the example of my ancestors and declare war on man. One day, however, the Sheriff of Rahmanich passing near my haunt, I drew him under the water before his attendants had time to turn their heads. He proved as tender a morsel as any dignitary ought to be who is paid for doing nothing.
How many high and mighty men there are who could thus be spared for my supper! From this time forth I became a man-eater; men are tender, and besides they are our natural foes. It was not long before I acquired amongst my fellows a high reputation for audacity andsybaritism. I became the king of their feasts, and presided at many banquets.
The banks of the Nile often witnessed our convivial meetings, and echoed with the sound of our songs.
About the beginning of the moon of Baby-el-Alonel, the year of Higera 1213, otherwise 3d Thermidor, year VII., otherwise 21st July 1798, I happened to be reposing on a bed of reeds, and was awakened by a strange noise. Clouds of dust rose round the village of Embabeh. Two great armies were advancing to close in battle. On the one side the Arabs, the Mamelouks with breastplates of gold, the Keayas and the Beys mounted on superb horses. The other was a foreign army, made up of soldiers wearing black felt hats with red feathers, blue or rather dirty white uniforms and trousers. The commander was a slight, short, thin man. I pitied the human beings who were led by such a weak creature, hardly a mouthful for a Crocodile.
The little man uttered a few words, at the same time pointing to the pyramids, after which the cannonade began, the guns belched forth their fire and shot, while shells whistled and exploded among the Crocodiles, laying some of them low. That was a fatal day, the turning point in my history. The invaders carried off a gigantic column, placed it on board ship and transported it to one of the finest cities in Europe. The inscriptions on this stone have never been deciphered; I am told the meaning runsthus:—
“Worship good living,Let your belly be your god.Selfishness is a virtueWhen practised voluntarily.You must never take the obeliskBy force or by consent,Two millions must you payIf you take it unjustly.”
“Worship good living,Let your belly be your god.Selfishness is a virtueWhen practised voluntarily.You must never take the obeliskBy force or by consent,Two millions must you payIf you take it unjustly.”
“Worship good living,
Let your belly be your god.
Selfishness is a virtue
When practised voluntarily.
You must never take the obelisk
By force or by consent,
Two millions must you pay
If you take it unjustly.”
Some of the new comers took it into their heads to hunt and shoot our noble selves. I was captured, but not killed, and became a prisoner at the disposal of man, and was conveyed to El-Kahiret—which the infidels call Cairo—and there provisionally lodged at the consulate. The tumult of war was as nothing compared to the clamour of disputants discussing the Eastern question in this house. Fighting was carried on with the sharpest weapon known—the human tongue. They squabbled from dusky dewy morn till eve. It was truly unfortunate that no free Crocodile was there to end the disputes by devouring Consul, swords, tongues and all. Had I been free, this useful officeshould have been performed and that speedily. My sailor captor, judging me unfit for a museum, handed me over to an adventurer. On our arrival at Havre—oh misery! my jaws were paralysed with cold. I was placed in a huge tub and exposed to the vulgar gaze of the crowd. The showman stood at the door of his hut bawling out this terrible fiction, “Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, now is the time when this interesting reptile is about to feed!”
He pronounced these words in a tone so delusive that I instinctively opened my jaws, to receive, what? nothing!
The traitor fearing to put my strength on an equality with my ferocity subjected me to systematic starvation.
An old money-lender, who had advanced a sum to my master, delivered me from this slavery by seizing the menagerie of which I was the chief ornament—all the other animals were stuffed. Two days later he handed me over, instead of money, to a man he was piously engaged in ruining. I was placed in a large pond near the sea, where my new owner possessed a villa. I gathered from the servants—internal enemies, as yet happily unknown amongst the Saurians—that my master was a young man of forty-five years, a distinguished gastronomist, the possessor of twenty-five thousand pounds a year—indulgent tradesmen allowing him to spend two hundred thousand pounds.
He had remained a bachelor, wisely viewing marriage as the closing scene in the comedy of life. The only thing remarkable about him was his stomach, of which he was very proud, “I have made it what it is,” he would say, “it cost me a good bit, but I have not lost my money. Nature intended me to be thin and dry, but, thanks to an intelligent regimen, in spite of Nature I have acquired this honourableembonpoint.” The cheapest dinner of this truly great man, cost him at least fifty francs. He used to say with great feeling, “only fools die of hunger.”
One summer evening, after dinner, my master visited me with a numerous company of guests, some of whom found my countenance most prepossessing; others thought me hideous, and all agreed that I bore a strong resemblance to their host.
“Why do you delight in rearing such a monster?” said an old toothless man, who in truth, himself merited this insulting appellation. “Were I in your place, I should have him killed and sent to the kitchen. I have been told that crocodile’s flesh is very much sought after by certain African and Cochin Chinese tribes.”
“Upon my honour,” said my patron, “your idea is original; notwithstanding his resemblance to me, I will sacrifice him to your palates. Cook, to-morrow you will make a crocodile pie with Egyptian onions.” All the parasites clapped their hands, the cook bowed, and I disappeared to the bottom of my pond. After a terrible night, the first rays of the morning sun revealed the cook sharpening an enormous knife. He approached me, followed by two assistants who unlocked my chain and beat me with a stick about the head. I was lost, had not a sudden noise attracted the attention of my executioners. I beheld my master struggling with four unknown bull-dog-looking men, who had just arrived from Paris. One of them held a watch in his hand. Five o’clock had just struck, when I heard the words “En routefor Clichy.” A carriage appeared, and without pausing to make further notes, profiting by the excitement, I left my pond and gained the sea.
After many perils, I at last reached my native shore, where I found civilisation and M. de Lesseps were turning everything upside down. Should this rage continue for steam traffic, cutting canals, negotiating loans, and generally playing the mischief with all our ancient institutions, what will become of Crocodiles? Who knows, before long the Nile may be found to flow back to its source—wherever that may be—and the world itself, propelled by steam, may make its way to the sun, or take its enchanted inhabitants on a tour through space.
Progress is most annoying to a conservative Crocodile!