Grandma Popocambu

Fragment of the novel by Charles Nodier “The History of the King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles”

The Ladomir publishing house has just published a two-volume work by Charles Nodier, prepared by Vera Milchina, in the “Literary Monuments” series. Its first volume included the novel “The History of the King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles” (1830), as well as 14 articles and stories from the 1830s. All texts, except two articles and one story, are published in Russian for the first time. The second volume is devoted to the critical apparatus: an article, notes and a large selection “The Work of Charles Nodier in the Russian Press.” We invite you to familiarize yourself with a fragment of the novel, as well as with the warning that Vera Arkadyevna wrote specifically for readers of Gorky.

All of us, since February 24, 2022, have found ourselves in the face of advancing barbarism, violence and lies. In this situation, it is extremely important to preserve at least the remnants of culture and support the values ​​of humanism - including for the sake of the future of Russia. Therefore, the editors of Gorky will continue to talk about books, reminding our readers that there is still a place for thought and fiction in the world.

Charles Nodier. The story of the King of Bohemia and his seven castles. In 2 books. M.: Ladomir; Science, 2026. Book I. The publication was prepared by V. A. Milchina. Content

The novel “The History of the King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles” is completely unconventional and, one might even say, avant-garde. It has two title pages with the same title, but different designs and different epigraphs. It contains inserted works of various genres - from a sentimental story to a folk tale, from a review (expletive!) of the author of himself to the history of burnt libraries. The titles of all sixty chapters of the novel end in “-tion” (-tion); one chapter consists only of onomatopoeia, another is printed upside down, the third contains a list of two hundred insects. There is no one main character in the novel, but the narrator is divided into three hypostases, which from time to time get into arguments with each other. The first edition was accompanied by illustrations by Tony Joanno, who are full participants in the book. Finally, there are chains of synonyms scattered throughout the text, the longest of which consists of fifty-three epithets.

Some of these features are clearly visible in the proposed fragment. It contains a string of 53 epithets (the longest in the novel) and ends with a chapter printed upside down. It shows how Nodier fuses pathos and irony, dream and reality, scientific terms and historical allusions into a single whole. Granny Popokambu, mentioned in the fragment, is a relative of the fictional king, the ruler of the fictional state of Timbuktu (not to be confused with the real African city!). The narrator dreams of everything that happens, allegedly present at a meeting of the Timbuktu Institute (a caustic parody of the French Academy). Without finishing one episode of the dream, the narrator turns over in bed on the other side.

The published fragment, like the entire novel, is commented in detail in the book, but in the publication on Gorky the comments are omitted. We refer readers to the book itself for them.

V. A. Milchina

Exhumation

I turned just in the direction of another table, behind which reigned a tiny old actiquary, lean, pale, calloused, shabby, frayed, rusted, second-hand, worn out, smoothed, cleaned, who was discovered between two amphorae in an antediluvian crypt during the excavation of the foundation of a large pyramid and to whom his mummy-like immortality was granted the privilege of indefinitely commanding all the mummies that can be found on the surface of the globe, from the narrow caves of the Guanches to the deep dungeons of the Egyptians. His table was guarded by four proud mummies of a monarchical and royal appearance; they stood with their hands on their hips, holding their noses to the wind, sparkling with a lively gaze, stretching out their strong legs.

And before him rested another mummy, infinitely graceful, infinitely fragile, infinitely sweet!

The naive brow shines with innocence!
Half-naked breasts inspire love!

“With what tenderness this voluptuous hand must have embraced the body of the beloved!” With what freedom this flexible and sensitive body must have given itself into the hands of its beloved! —

An unknown, irresistible force drew me to this mummy! I would have rushed towards her if a feeling of respect had not stopped me.

“Gentlemen,” said the antiquarian, “this young lady is Popocambu’s grandmother.”

Operation

“A meek and touching example of all virtues,” continued the antiquary, turning to the mummy, “

Why were you kidnapped in the flower of your youth from a great nation that saw in you adornment and hope!..

A disastrous and incomprehensible fate, presenting mortals with the rarest virtues only in order to remind them that in the sublunary world there is nothing durable and that the divine prototypes of the most perfect human structure leave this world faster than all others!..

May we, at least, be allowed, O chaste and glorious ancestor of our lords, to mourn your fate with inexhaustible tears and plant new flowers on your grave every year! Daughter and foremother of kings, may you rest in peace!..

Having finished this pathetic address, he armed himself with a freshly sharpened scalpel, plunged it very deep into the Queen Mother's chest between the two collarbones and cut the body lengthwise to the navel.

The purpose of this operation, which filled Trinket and me with sacred horror, was to check whether the young and beautiful princess, Isis, Astarte, Venus of Timbuktu, Alma Popocamba, sung by an unknown griot from the Wolof tribe, had really appeared before our eyes - after all, as everyone knows, local law from time immemorial orders people of high birth to keep a death certificate in their stomach for the convenience of scientific research.

“This is it,” said the antiquary, carefully presenting to the audience, frozen in anticipation, a charming parchment scroll,

secured with thin white tape,
Transformed with a golden edge,
And so clean
So elegant
And velvety -
So white
So ripe
So nice
So neat
So clear
So beautiful
So nice
So foldable
So nice
So funny
So joyful
So sweet
So smooth
So loving
So smooth
So sweet
So brave
So right
So patterned
So perky
So agile
So undeniable
So durable
So immaculate
So ironed
So harmonious
So decorated
So pomaded
So perfumed
So ironed
So deserving
So betrothed
So handsome
Not like anyone else
So burning
So shiny
So real
So invigorating
So floating
So life-giving
So shining
So shimmering
So fluttery
So refreshing
So blooming
So calling
So clingy
So attractive
As if he had appeared
Not dusty
Straight from the sleeve.

- It's her! - he repeated enthusiastically with a certain inexplicable mixture of joyful surprise and surprised joy.

This can only be understood by someone who has seen a guinea fowl who found a ruby ​​bracelet in her feeder, or one of our hens who found a knife with a mother-of-pearl handle.

“You can be convinced of this,” he continued, “if you solve this puzzle with me, for the interpretation of which the Royal Society of Patent Hieroglyph Hunters will pay you a large bonus as a percentage of the zodiac or the obelisk, the sphinx or the pyramid, at your choice and at the highest rate.”

(Oh, I was looking with all my eyes!)

But damn me if I saw anything other than

Syrian white pelicans,
Decorated lotus flowers,
Inflated turkeys,
Stylite cranes,
Ball snails,
Noseless with lush udders and lion's rump,
Squatting dolls with dog faces and other isid-shaped and osiris-shaped absurdities, which our antiquary deciphered as quickly as you would decipher your blessed “Our Father” from a printed book.

Unfortunately, he muttered so quietly -

And I, let it be known, vowed to forget my ear tube at home every time I went to read anything!

In addition, the connection between the speaker's ideas was so close that
Their filiation is so sharp,
Their relationship is so intimate,
Their grip is so strong,
Their complicity is so unshakable,
Their isology is so indestructible,
Their conciseness is so laconic,
That anyone who missed...
I won't tell you the period!
But at least a phrase
- I won’t say a phrase!
But at least an introductory sentence -
I won’t say an introductory sentence!
But at least a complete meaningful compound phrase, such as a subject with a predicate or a pronoun with a verb -
I won’t say a meaningful phrase!
But at least a word -
I won’t say one of those main words on which phrases rest!
But at least the simple root of the word -
I won’t tell you the root of the word!
But even the most insignificant syllable -
I won't say a syllable!
But at least one distinctive letter -
I won’t tell you the distinctive letter!
But at least one letter is euphonic,
etymological letter,
A mimological letter,
Phraseological letter,
Buttological letter,
An anagogical letter,
A diagogical letter,
Paragogical letter -
I won’t say one of these parasitic letters!
But at least the cedilla,
Tilda,
Diaeresis,
Closing bracket
Apostrophe,
Emphasis,
comma,
Quarter break
Aspiration,
Sephirot,
Vocalization, -

Anyone, I say, who would miss from this muttering the most infinitesimal bit of human thought that it is possible to present

BACON,

LEIBNITZ

And to me, -

would have learned no more about Grandma Popokambu than the good-natured Mistigree knew about the dubious field of the sacred cockchafer. —

And that's what science is good for! - Poor Mistigree! —

I confess that, consumed by an anxious curiosity, a diligent desire to excite that mental organ that contains the soul, but, however, in moments of fatigue falls asleep no worse than the body, I resorted to Spanish tobacco. —

But my attention was occupied so firmly -

The springs of my mind were tense with such extraordinary force -

My abilities, absorbed in the contemplation of this mummy and the development of its mystical history, were so far from omnipresence -

My intellectual “I” and my material “I” diverged so sharply and so irrevocably, -

As a result, naturally, my physical movements obeyed the orders of my mind so little -

What finally happened was what, in all likelihood, happened in similar cases to you: -

Running his fingers ten times over a tiny piece of polished broom, from which inconspicuous hinges are so tastefully made in that damned village where the British captured Wallace...

(Talking about this would take me too far, and in addition I consider it completely useless.)

One thing is certain: I knocked over the snuff-box, and the caustic powder spread with terrifying speed through the learned atmosphere. “Several thousand idiots in wigs, struck by the stupefying fumes, turned around on their axis, and the four tall mummies that had been there sneezed so loudly that everyone woke up.