He kept silent. He found the topic too commonplace and felt a desire to raise its level. He wanted it to drift into some subject related to that preoccupying his mind. After awhile he was able to get Adolphe interested in the subject of ghosts. From ghosts the conversation led on to spiritualism. One lady knew a somnambulist and related some strange stories which were calculated to work upon the imagination of the company. Adolphe, upon this, explained the spiritualistic point of view of the phenomena of somnambulism, and cited well-known authorities. He seemed quite in his element, and finally reached the point desired by Théophraste, the transmigration of souls and reincarnation.
Is it possible, said Marceline, that a soul comes back to live in its body? You have often told me so, Adolphe, but it seems to me that ones reason strongly repulses such an hypothesis. Nothing is lost in Nature, replied Adolphe, positively. Neither the soul nor the body. All is transformed, the soul as well as the body. The reincarnation of souls at the end of a century is a doctrine which goes back to such great antiquity that the ancient philosophers do not deny it.
If ones soul returned to a body, said Marceline, one would surely know it.
Not always, said Adolphe, but sometimes. Ah, sometimes? asked Théophraste, who was by this time becoming intensely interested.
Yes, there are cases. For instance: Ptolemy Caesar, son of Caesar and Cleopatra, who was king of Egypt before Christ, remembered well to have been Pythagoras, a Greek philosopher, who lived 600 years before.
Impossible! cried the ladies, and the gentlemen smiled skeptically.
You need not laugh, gentlemen. It is impossible to be more serious. Our actual transformation, which is the final word in science, is in full accord with the theory of reincarnation. What is transformation except the idea that living things transform themselves, progressing one into another? Nature presents herself to us under the aspect of a spark, elaborately perfecting without ceasing to create, to attain an ideal which will be the millennium. Whatever Nature does for the body she does for the soul. It can be proved, for I have studied this side a great deal, and it is the original of all sciences.
Monsieur Adolphe was not understood by the company, a fact of which he was inwardly proud. He liked to feel a superiority of intellect, and often he would raise the conversation above the level of his audience just to gratify his vanity. He touched on many points which only need be referred to lightly here in order to convince skeptics that the extraordinary history of Théophraste is founded on a most scientific basis.
The transmigration of souls was taught in India, said Adolphe; the cradle of the genus human, then in Egypt, then in Greece. They chanted its mysteries in the name of Orpheus. Pythagoras, who continued the teaching, did not admit with the philosophers on the banks of the Ganges that the soul traveled over the cycle of all animal existence. He made it come back, for example, into a pig.
There are some men, said Madame Beulie, who still have the souls of pigs.
Without doubt, said Adolphe, smiling; but what Pythagoras says is that we must not conclude from that, that pigs have the souls of men. Plato also adopts this doctrine. It is the first which gave in the Phidon the proof that souls do not exile themselves forever and that they come back to animate bodies anew.
Oh, if we could only get proof of that it would be nothing for me to die, declared old Mlle. Tabouret, who had a mortal terror of dying.
Here are the proofs, continued Adolphe. They are two in number. One is taken from the general law of Nature, the other from human nature. First, Nature is governed by the laws of contraries, and from that we see that while death succeeds life, all would end by being absorbed in death, and Nature would one day come to an end like Endymion. Therefore I say that we exist after death.
Secondly, if after consulting the general laws of Nature we turn to our own minds, we will find there the same dogma attested by the fact of resemblance. To learn, said Plato, is nothing but to recollect. Since our souls learn, they must have a resemblance. What does it recollect except to have lived, and to have lived in another body? Why can we not believe that in leaving the body while it is animate at this time it can animate several others in succession? I quote Plato literally, remarked Adolphe.
Then he passed from Plato to a modern authority. Charles Fournier has said: Where is the old man who has not truly wished to be born again, and to use in another life the experience he has acquired in this? To pretend that that desire ought not to be realized is to admit that God can deceive us. We ought then to recognize that we have lived previous to being what we are, and that several other lives await us. All these lives, to the number of eight hundred and ten, are distributed between five periods and embrace a span of eighty-one thousand years. Allan Hardai reckons that the soul returns to another body after two or three thousand years unless we die a violent death. Then it is quite possible one can be reincarnated after two hundred years.
Adolphe had by this time drawn all around him and became the center of attraction by his entertaining remarks. Théophraste had sat open-eyed, listening intently, and upon hearing the last remark thought That is well. They may have hung me; so if I did not die that way, they may have got rid of me by some other death more in keeping with my station in life. Nevertheless, he thought, if all these people here could only realize that they had a prince of the royal blood among them, they would be very much astonished, and be filled with respect. But no, he will still be Théophraste Longuet, manufacturer of rubber stamps.
Champagne was brought, and soon the air rang merrily with general chatter and the explosion of corks. It was then that Marceline turned around to Théophraste and begged him to sing the song which he was accustomed to sing on the anniversary of their marriage. He had sung it the day of their wedding, and on account of its beauty they had adopted it as their wedding song. It was Lissette de Baranger.
However, to the consternation of Marceline and all the guests, instead of singing the song, he rose, threw his napkin on the table and said to her in that strange voice which they heard at the Conciergerie:
As thou wishest, Marie Antoinette, I can refuse thee nothing.
Oh, my God, cried Marceline. Hear what he called me in that strange voice!
The guests were obviously uncomfortable, and did not know what to make of his peculiar behavior. The song was a vulgar song of the Regency period, and certainly not for such a gathering as was at this party. He sang it with the old French air:
Tou joli belle mimiere
Tou joli, moulin.
CHAPTER V
Théophraste Remembers Himself
THEOPHRASTE sang the song in loud, strident tones, his eyes sparkling, glass in hand. It was with indescribable surprise that the company received it, and despite the richness of the rhyme, the couplet was followed by no applause. An awkward silence followed, and all the ladies looked to Marceline for an explanation.
What was it that Marceline could explain? Adolphe himself looked at Théophraste in surprise; but Théophraste, as if possessed with the devil, continued with the second couplet of the drinking song. When he had finished, he sat down, looked around with satisfaction, and said to Marceline, What do you think of that, Marie Antoinette?
What was it that Marceline could explain? Adolphe himself looked at Théophraste in surprise; but Théophraste, as if possessed with the devil, continued with the second couplet of the drinking song. When he had finished, he sat down, looked around with satisfaction, and said to Marceline, What do you think of that, Marie Antoinette?
In the midst of a death-like silence preserved by all, Marceline asked tremblingly, Why do you call me Marie Antoinette?
Because you are the most beautiful of all! cried Théophraste. I appeal to Madame la Marechale de Bouilleurs, who has taste. I appeal to all of you. And there is not one who, by the signet of the Pope, will contradict me, neither the Eros Picards, nor the Bourbons, nor the Burgundias, nor the Provincials, nor the Poet St. Jack, nor Gatelard, nor Bras-de-Fer, nor Guente Noir, not even Bal-a-voir.
M. Théophraste had on his right old Mlle. Tabouret, and he pinched her knee as he looked at Marceline, which nearly made that austere person faint. No one dared to move; for the fiery look of Théophraste frightened the whole company. He leaned amorously towards Mlle. Tabouret, and said to her, staring at Marceline, who was by this time weeping: Let us see, Mlle. Tabouret, am I not right? To whom can I compare her? Is it La Belle Laitere, or La Petite Minion; or even La Blanche of the bowling alley; or La Belle Helene, who kept the Harp Tavern?
Turning towards Adolphe, he said with great energy, Come you, Va-de-Bon Cour, tell me your opinion. Look at Marie Antoinette a little while. By the fatted calf, she puts them all in the shade: Jeannette, the flower girl of the Royal Palace; Marie Leroy and the female Solomon, the beauty of the Temple; Jeanne Bonnefoy, who kept the café of the Port Marie; Manon de Versailles, the poultry girl-none of them approach her in beauty.
He then leapt with one bound upon the table, and breaking the dishes, cups and plates into a thousand pieces, held his glass over his head and shouted, Let us drink to the Queen of the Nymphs, Marie Antoinette.
Draining his glass, he smashed it against the table and waved his hand, which was covered with blood. By this time the party had fled in terror, fearing that some tragedy would follow Théophrastes strange behavior. On superficially thinking of these curious actions one would immediately conclude that he had gone mad or was drunk, but this was not the case. There is another kind of sense beside common sense. It was not because he was crazy or drunk that he could sing a song that he had never learnt, speak a language that he had never heard, or refer to people that he had never read about, who had been dead for centuries. There must have been some other force working in his brain.
Modern scientific experiments have shown with indisputable examples that this particular case was far from unique. Ignorant people, who neither knew how to read or write, who had never been outside their village, have been known to give most correct answers to the medium who questioned them in a dead language. And this has been before professors of colleges, not before charlatans. It is difficult to explain. It is the mystery of this life, the life hereafter. Some say that it is a learned spirit talking through these ignorant mouths, others have timidly expressed the opinion that such phenomena can only be explained by the remembrance of a former life. Therefore the things which Théophraste said and did without understanding, the Other who relives in him at intervals understands perfectly well, and if we would understand them we must know who this Other is.
As to Théophraste, after the guests had disappeared from the tent, he climbed down from the table. He found it more difficult to reach the floor than it had been to climb upon the table, and he knelt down, taking great precaution not to fall. He then assumed his natural self and called Marceline. She did not answer him, and in searching for her he found her trembling with fright in her room. He closed the door carefully and prepared to give an explanation. She looked at him with her large eyes, amazed, filled with tears, and he felt it his duty as a husband not to conceal from her any longer this extraordinary phenomenon which had been preoccupying his mind.
The night was ideal, and after they had retired he said to her, My dear Marceline, you cannot understand what has happened to me this evening, and I can assure you I dont understand myself, but in telling you all I know perhaps we can arrive at some conclusion.
He then related all the details of his visits to the cellars of the Conciergerie. He concealed nothing, and sketched in minute details the extraordinary feelings which had actuated him that evening, and the unknown influence which had commanded him. At first she said nothing, but softly moved away from him as if afraid of him; but when he came to the document which revealed the existence of the treasures, she demanded to see it at once. He judged then that she was taking an interest in the adventure and felt thankful. They got up and he showed her the paper in the light of the full moon, which was streaming into the room. Like all those who had seen it before, she recognized the handwriting immediately, and made the sign of the cross as if fearing some sorcery. Marceline was not a fool, but explained that she could not help making the sign. However, she soon became composed, and began to praise Adolphe, who, in spite of Théophrastes disapproval, had initiated her into the elements of spiritualism, a science she said which would be of some service to Théophraste in his condition. But even in the face of that uncontestable evidence she found it difficult to believe that he was a reincarnated spirit dating back two hundred years, until he asked her who she thought he had been.
Marceline didnt think that he had been a very great personage, and in reply to his disappointed inquiry she said:
Because this evening you sang in slang, and the ladies whose names you mentioned do not belong to the aristocracy. People who frequented La Terpidere, La Platire, Manon de Versailles, I think are not of much account.
But I also mentioned the leader of the Bouffleurs, replied Théophraste, and you know that morals were so dissolute under the Regency of the Duke of Orleans that the fashion at Court was to call the ladies in slighting terms. What do you think of the idea of me being the Bastard of the Regent?
For sole response she embraced Théophraste in delight, and recollecting his duty on this day of celebration proved to her that if he was more than two hundred years old, his love always remained youthful.
CHAPTER VI
M. Lecamus Expresses His Views
AFTER a while Marceline was able to persuade Théophraste to confide in M. Adolphe Lecamus. She declared that Adolphes great experience, his certain knowledge of the science of metaphysics, ought to be a great help to a man who had buried treasures two hundred years before and wished to find them again. And, she added, it is he who will be able to reveal your identity.
He yielded to her persuasions, and in the morning told Adolphe everything. Adolphe was astonished, and it surprised Théophraste that a man who professed Spiritualism should show so much emotion when face to face with a reincarnated spirit. He said that Théophrastes conduct at the dinner table the day before and the words he uttered to him before and since the visit to the Conciergerie were well calculated to prepare him for such a confidence, but he did not expect such a thing as this. He demanded to see the proof of such a phenomenon. Théophraste readily showed the document, and Adolphe could not deny the authenticity of it. He recognized the handwriting at once, and exclaimed, upon examination, that the handwriting explained many things to him. He had often thought how curiously the characters in Théophrastes handwriting differed from his real character. It had always been difficult for him to associate the handwriting with Théophraste.