Complete Tales and Poems
By
Edgar Allan Poe
Web-Books.Com
Complete Works of E. A. Poe
Short Tales......................................................................................................................... 6
The Angel of the Odd: An Extravaganza ................................................................... 6
The Assignation........................................................................................................... 14
The Balloon-Hoax ....................................................................................................... 23
Berenice........................................................................................................................ 32
The Black Cat.............................................................................................................. 38
Bon-Bon ....................................................................................................................... 45
The Business Man ....................................................................................................... 58
The Cask of Amontillado............................................................................................ 65
The Colloquy of Monos and Una............................................................................... 72
The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion ............................................................... 79
A Descent into the Maelström.................................................................................... 84
The Devil in the Belfry................................................................................................ 96
Diddling...................................................................................................................... 102
The Domain of Arnheim, or The Landscape Garden............................................ 110
The Duc De L'omelette ............................................................................................. 120
Eleonora ..................................................................................................................... 123
The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.................................................................... 127
The Fall of the House of Usher ................................................................................ 134
Four Beasts in One; The Homo-Camelopard......................................................... 147
The Gold-Bug ............................................................................................................ 153
Hop-Frog.................................................................................................................... 181
How To Write A Blackwood Article ....................................................................... 189
The Imp of the Perverse ........................................................................................... 197
The Island of the Fay ................................................................................................ 202
King Pest .................................................................................................................... 206
Landor's Cottage....................................................................................................... 215
Ligeia.......................................................................................................................... 224
Lionizing .................................................................................................................... 235
The Literary Life of Thingum Bob, Esq ................................................................. 241
Loss of Breath............................................................................................................ 255
The Man of the Crowd ............................................................................................. 264
The Man That Was Used Up ................................................................................... 270
The Masque of the Red Death.................................................................................. 278
Mellonta Tauta .......................................................................................................... 282
Mesmeric Revelation ................................................................................................ 292
Metzengerstein .......................................................................................................... 300
Morella ....................................................................................................................... 307
Ms. Found in a Bottle................................................................................................ 311
The Murders In The Rue Morgue........................................................................... 318
The Mystery of Marie Roget.................................................................................... 343
Mystification.............................................................................................................. 376
Never Bet the Devil Your Head ............................................................................... 382
The Oblong Box......................................................................................................... 389
The Oval Portrait...................................................................................................... 397
The Pit and the Pendulum........................................................................................ 400
The Power of Words ................................................................................................. 411
A Predicament........................................................................................................... 415
The Premature Burial............................................................................................... 422
The Purloined Letter ................................................................................................ 432
Shadow --- A Parable................................................................................................ 447
Silence --- A Fable ..................................................................................................... 449
Some Words with a Mummy ................................................................................... 452
The Spectacles ........................................................................................................... 465
The Sphinx................................................................................................................. 483
The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether ................................................. 487
A Tale of Jerusalem .................................................................................................. 502
A Tale of the Ragged Mountains ............................................................................. 505
The Tell-Tale Heart .................................................................................................. 513
"Thou Art the Man"................................................................................................. 517
The Thousand-And-Second Tale of Scheherazade ................................................ 528
Three Sundays in a Week......................................................................................... 542
The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall .................................................. 548
Von Kempelen and His Discovery ........................................................................... 582
Why the Little Frenchman Wears His Hand in a Sling ........................................ 587
William Wilson.......................................................................................................... 591
X-Ing a Paragrab ...................................................................................................... 605
Poems ............................................................................................................................. 610
AL AARAAF1 Part I................................................................................................. 610
AL AARAAF Part II ................................................................................................ 614
Alone........................................................................................................................... 622
Annabel Lee............................................................................................................... 624
The Bells..................................................................................................................... 626
Bridal Ballad.............................................................................................................. 630
The City In The Sea .................................................................................................. 632
The Coliseum............................................................................................................. 634
The Conqueror Worm.............................................................................................. 636
A Dream..................................................................................................................... 638
A Dream Within A Dream ....................................................................................... 639
Dreamland ................................................................................................................. 640
Dreams ....................................................................................................................... 642
Eldorado..................................................................................................................... 644
Elizabeth* .................................................................................................................. 645
An Enigma ................................................................................................................. 646
Eulalie......................................................................................................................... 647
Evening Star .............................................................................................................. 648
Fairy-Land................................................................................................................. 649
For Annie ................................................................................................................... 651
The Happiest Day...................................................................................................... 655
The Haunted Palace.................................................................................................. 656
Hymn.......................................................................................................................... 658
Imitation..................................................................................................................... 659
Israfel ......................................................................................................................... 661
The Lake--To -- ......................................................................................................... 663
Lenore ........................................................................................................................ 664
The Raven .................................................................................................................. 665
Romance..................................................................................................................... 669
Serenade..................................................................................................................... 670
Silence......................................................................................................................... 672
Song ............................................................................................................................ 675
Sonnet--To Science.................................................................................................... 676
Spirits of the Dead..................................................................................................... 677
Stanzas ....................................................................................................................... 678
Tamerlane.................................................................................................................. 680
To---............................................................................................................................ 688
To F--- ........................................................................................................................ 690
To F--S S. O--D.......................................................................................................... 691
To Helen*................................................................................................................... 692
To Helen*................................................................................................................... 693
To M--- ....................................................................................................................... 696
To M. L. S-----............................................................................................................ 697
To My Mother ........................................................................................................... 698
To One In Paradise ................................................................................................... 699
To The River ---......................................................................................................... 700
To Zante..................................................................................................................... 701
Ulalume ...................................................................................................................... 702
A Valentine ................................................................................................................ 705
The Valley Of Unrest ................................................................................................ 706
Long Tale:...................................................................................................................... 708
Narrative of A. Gordon Pym.................................................................................... 708
Narrative of Pym: Preface.................................................................................... 708
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 1 ............................................................................... 711
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 2 ............................................................................... 717
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 3 ............................................................................... 726
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 4 ............................................................................... 732
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 5 ............................................................................... 737
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 6 ............................................................................... 742
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 7 ............................................................................... 748
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 8 ............................................................................... 753
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 9 ............................................................................... 759
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 10 ............................................................................. 764
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 11 ............................................................................. 767
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 12 ............................................................................. 772
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 13 ............................................................................. 778
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 14 ............................................................................. 785
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 15 ............................................................................. 791
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 16 ............................................................................. 794
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 17 ............................................................................. 798
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 18 ............................................................................. 802
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 19 ............................................................................. 807
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 20 ............................................................................. 811
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 21 ............................................................................. 815
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 22 ............................................................................. 818
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 23 ............................................................................. 823
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 24 ............................................................................. 826
Narrative of Pym: Chapter 25 ............................................................................. 831
Narrative of Pym: Note ........................................................................................ 835
Short Tales
The Angel of the Odd: An Extravaganza
IT was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually hearty dinner,
of which the dyspeptic truffe formed not the least important item, and was sitting alone in
the dining-room, with my feet upon the fender, and at my elbow a small table which I had
rolled up to the fire, and upon which were some apologies for dessert, with some
miscellaneous bottles of wine, spirit and liqueur. In the morning I had been reading
Glover's "Leonidas," Wilkie's "Epigoniad," Lamartine's "Pilgrimage," Barlow's
"Columbiad," Tuckermann's "Sicily," and Griswold's "Curiosities" ; I am willing to
confess, therefore, that I now felt a little stupid. I made effort to arouse myself by aid of
frequent Lafitte, and, all failing, I betook myself to a stray newspaper in despair. Having
carefully perused the column of "houses to let," and the column of "dogs lost," and then
the two columns of "wives and apprentices runaway," I attacked with great resolution the
editorial matter, and, reading it from beginning to end without understanding a syllable,
conceived the possibility of its being Chinese, and so re-read it from the end to the
beginning, but with no more satisfactory result. I was about throwing away, in disgust,
"This
folio
of
Which not even critics criticise,"
four
pages,
happy
work
when I felt my attention somewhat aroused by the paragraph which follows :
"The avenues to death are numerous and strange. A London paper mentions the
decease of a person from a singular cause. He was playing at 'puff the dart,' which is
played with a long needle inserted in some worsted, and blown at a target through a tin
tube. He placed the needle at the wrong end of the tube, and drawing his breath strongly
to puff the dart forward with force, drew the needle into his throat. It entered the lungs,
and in a few days killed him."
Upon seeing this I fell into a great rage, without exactly knowing why. "This thing," I
exclaimed, "is a contemptible falsehood --- a poor hoax --- the lees of the invention of
some pitiable penny-a-liner --- of some wretched concoctor of accidents in Cocaigne.
These fellows, knowing the extravagant gullibility of the age, set their wits to work in the
imagination of improbable possibilities --- of odd accidents, as they term them; but to a
reflecting intellect (like mine," I added, in parenthesis, putting my forefinger
unconsciously to the side of my nose), "to a contemplative understanding such as I
myself possess, it seems evident at once that the marvelous increase of late in these 'odd
accidents' is by far the oddest accident of all. For my own part, I intend to believe
nothing henceforward that has anything of the 'singular' about it."
"Mein Gott, den, vat a vool you bees for dat!" replied one of the most remarkable
voices I ever heard. At first I took it for a rumbling in my ears --- such as a man
sometimes experiences when getting very drunk --- but, upon second thought, I
considered the sound as more nearly resembling that which proceeds from an empty
barrel beaten with a big stick; and, in fact, this I should have concluded it to be, but for
the articulation of the syllables and words. I am by no means naturally nervous, and the
very few glasses of Lafitte which I had sipped served to embolden me no little, so that I
felt nothing of trepidation, but merely uplifted my eyes with a leisurely movement, and
looked carefully around the room for the intruder. I could not, however, perceive any one
at all.
"Humph!" resumed the voice, as I continued my survey, "you mus pe so dronk as de
pig, den, for not zee me as I zit here at your zide."
Hereupon I bethought me of looking immediately before my nose, and there, sure
enough, confronting me at the table sat a personage nondescript, although not altogether
indescribable. His body was a wine-pipe, or a rum-puncheon, or something of that
character, and had a truly Falstaffian air. In its nether extremity were inserted two kegs,
which seemed to answer all the purposes of legs. For arms there dangled from the upper
portion of the carcass two tolerably long bottles, with the necks outward for hands. All
the head that I saw the monster possessed of was one of those Hessian canteens which
resemble a large snuff-box with a hole in the middle of the lid. This canteen (with a
funnel on its top, like a cavalier cap slouched over the eyes) was set on edge upon the
puncheon, with the hole toward myself; and through this hole, which seemed puckered up
like the mouth of a very precise old maid, the creature was emitting certain rumbling and
grumbling noises which he evidently intended for intelligible talk.
"I zay," said he, "you mos pe dronk as de pig, vor zit dare and not zee me zit ere; and I
zay, doo, you mos pe pigger vool as de goose, vor to dispelief vat iz print in de print. 'Tiz
de troof --- dat it iz --- eberry vord ob it."
"Who are you, pray?" said I, with much dignity, although somewhat puzzled; "how did
you get here? and what is it you are talking about?"
"Az vor ow I com'd ere," replied the figure, "dat iz none of your pizzness; and as vor
vat I be talking apout, I be talk apout vat I tink proper; and as vor who I be, vy dat is de
very ting I com'd here for to let you zee for yourzelf."
"You are a drunken vagabond," said I, "and I shall ring the bell and order my footman
to kick you into the street."
"He! he! he!" said the fellow, "hu! hu! hu! dat you can't do."
"Can't do!" said I, "what do you mean? --- I can't do what?"
"Ring de pell ;" he replied, attempting a grin with his little villainous mouth.
Upon this I made an effort to get up, in order to put my threat into execution; but the
ruffian just reached across the table very deliberately, and hitting me a tap on the
forehead with the neck of one of the long bottles, knocked me back into the arm-chair
from which I had half arisen. I was utterly astounded; and, for a moment, was quite at a
loss what to do. In the meantime, he continued his talk.
"You zee," said he, "it iz te bess vor zit still; and now you shall know who I pe. Look
at me ! zee ! I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And odd enough, too," I ventured to reply; "but I was always under the impression
that an angel had wings."
"Te wing!" he cried, highly incensed, "vat I pe do mit te wing? Mein Gott ! do you
take me vor a shicken?"
"No --- oh no!" I replied, much alarmed, "you are no chicken --- certainly not."
"Well, den, zit still and pehabe yourself, or I'll rap you again mid me vist. It iz te
shicken ab te wing, und te owl ab te wing, und te imp ab te wing, und te head-teuffel ab
te wing. Te angel ab not te wing, and I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And your business with me at present is --- is ---"
"My pizzness!" ejaculated the thing, "vy vat a low bred buppy you mos pe vor to ask a
gentleman und an angel apout his pizziness!"
This language was rather more than I could bear, even from an angel; so, plucking up
courage, I seized a salt-cellar which lay within reach, and hurled it at the head of the
intruder. Either he dodged, however, or my aim was inaccurate; for all I accomplished
was the demolition of the crystal which protected the dial of the clock upon the mantelpiece. As for the Angel, he evinced his sense of my assault by giving me two or three
hard consecutive raps upon the forehead as before. These reduced me at once to
submission, and I am almost ashamed to confess that either through pain or vexation,
there came a few tears into my eyes.
"Mein Gott!" said the Angel of the Odd, apparently much softened at my distress;
"mein Gott, te man is eder ferry dronk or ferry zorry. You mos not trink it so strong --you mos put te water in te wine. Here, trink dis, like a goot veller, und don't gry now --don't!"
Hereupon the Angel of the Odd replenished my goblet (which was about a third full of
Port) with a colorless fluid that he poured from one of his hand bottles. I observed that
these bottles had labels about their necks, and that these labels were inscribed
"Kirschenwasser."
The considerate kindness of the Angel mollified me in no little measure; and, aided by
the water with which he diluted my Port more than once, I at length regained sufficient
temper to listen to his very extraordinary discourse. I cannot pretend to recount all that
he told me, but I gleaned from what he said that he was the genius who presided over the
contretemps of mankind, and whose business it was to bring about the odd accidents
which are continually astonishing the skeptic. Once or twice, upon my venturing to
express my total incredulity in respect to his pretensions, he grew very angry indeed, so
that at length I considered it the wiser policy to say nothing at all, and let him have his
own way. He talked on, therefore, at great length, while I merely leaned back in my chair
with my eyes shut, and amused myself with munching raisins and filliping the stems
about the room. But, by-and-by, the Angel suddenly construed this behavior of mine into
contempt. He arose in a terrible passion, slouched his funnel down over his eyes, swore a
vast oath, uttered a threat of some character which I did not precisely comprehend, and
finally made me a low bow and departed, wishing me, in the language of the archbishop
in Gil-Blas, "beaucoup de bonheur et un peu plus de bon sens."
His departure afforded me relief. The very few glasses of Lafitte that I had sipped had
the effect of rendering me drowsy, and I felt inclined to take a nap of some fifteen or
twenty minutes, as is my custom after dinner. At six I had an appointment of
consequence, which it was quite indispensable that I should keep. The policy of
insurance for my dwelling house had expired the day before; and, some dispute having
arisen, it was agreed that, at six, I should meet the board of directors of the company and
settle the terms of a renewal. Glancing upward at the clock on the mantel-piece, (for I
felt too drowsy to take out my watch), I had the pleasure to find that I had still twentyfive minutes to spare. It was half past five; I could easily walk to the insurance office in
five minutes; and my usual siestas had never been known to exceed five and twenty. I
felt sufficiently safe, therefore, and composed myself to my slumbers forthwith.
Having completed them to my satisfaction, I again looked toward the time-piece and
was half inclined to believe in the possibility of odd accidents when I found that, instead
of my ordinary fifteen or twenty minutes, I had been dozing only three; for it still wanted
seven and twenty of the appointed hour. I betook myself again to my nap, and at length a
second time awoke, when, to my utter amazement, it still wanted twenty-seven minutes
of six. I jumped up to examine the clock, and found that it had ceased running. My
watch informed me that it was half past seven; and, of course, having slept two hours, I
was too late for my appointment. "It will make no difference," I said : "I can call at the
office in the morning and apologize; in the meantime what can be the matter with the
clock ?" Upon examining it I discovered that one of the raisin stems which I had been
filliping about the room during the discourse of the Angel of the Odd, had flown through
the fractured crystal, and lodging, singularly enough, in the key-hole, with an end
projecting outward, had thus arrested the revolution of the minute hand.
"Ah!" said I, "I see how it is. This thing speaks for itself. A natural accident, such as
will happen now and then!"
I gave the matter no further consideration, and at my usual hour retired to bed. Here,
having placed a candle upon a reading stand at the bed head, and having made an attempt
to peruse some pages of the "Omnipresence of the Deity," I unfortunately fell asleep in
less than twenty seconds, leaving the light burning as it was.
My dreams were terrifically disturbed by visions of the Angel of the Odd. Methought
he stood at the foot of the couch, drew aside the curtains, and, in the hollow, detestable
tones of a rum puncheon, menaced me with the bitterest vengeance for the contempt with
which I had treated him. He concluded a long harangue by taking off his funnel-cap,
inserting the tube into my gullet, and thus deluging me with an ocean of Kirschenwässer,
which he poured, in a continuous flood, from one of the long necked bottles that stood
him instead of an arm. My agony was at length insufferable, and I awoke just in time to
perceive that a rat had ran off with the lighted candle from the stand, but not in season to
prevent his making his escape with it through the hole. Very soon, a strong suffocating
odor assailed my nostrils; the house, I clearly perceived, was on fire. In a few minutes the
blaze broke forth with violence, and in an incredibly brief period the entire building was
wrapped in flames. All egress from my chamber, except through a window, was cut off.
The crowd, however, quickly procured and raised a long ladder. By means of this I was
descending rapidly, and in apparent safety, when a huge hog, about whose rotund
stomach, and indeed about whose whole air and physiognomy, there was something
which reminded me of the Angel of the Odd, --- when this hog, I say, which hitherto had
been quietly slumbering in the mud, took it suddenly into his head that his left shoulder
needed scratching, and could find no more convenient rubbing-post than that afforded by
the foot of the ladder. In an instant I was precipitated and had the misfortune to fracture
my arm.
This accident, with the loss of my insurance, and with the more serious loss of my hair,
--- the whole of which had been singed off by the fire,--- predisposed me to serious
impressions, so that, finally, I made up my mind to take a wife. There was a rich widow
disconsolate for the loss of her seventh husband, and to her wounded spirit I offered the
balm of my vows. She yielded a reluctant consent to my prayers. I knelt at her feet in
gratitude and adoration. She blushed and bowed her luxuriant tresses into close contact
with those supplied me, temporarily, by Grandjean. I know not how the entanglement
took place, but so it was. I arose with a shining pate, wigless ; she in disdain and wrath,
half buried in alien hair. Thus ended my hopes of the widow by an accident which could
not have been anticipated, to be sure, but which the natural sequence of events had
brought about.
Without despairing, however, I undertook the siege of a less implacable heart. The
fates were again propitious for a brief period; but again a trivial incident interfered.
Meeting my betrothed in an avenue thronged with the élite of the city, I was hastening to
greet her with one of my best considered bows, when a small particle of some foreign
matter, lodging in the corner of my eye, rendered me, for the moment, completely blind.
Before I could recover my sight, the lady of my love had disappeared --- irreparably
affronted at what she chose to consider my premeditated rudeness in passing her by
ungreeted. While I stood bewildered at the suddenness of this accident, (which might
have happened, nevertheless, to any one under the sun), and while I still continued
incapable of sight, I was accosted by the Angel of the Odd, who proffered me his aid with
a civility which I had no reason to expect. He examined my disordered eye with much
gentleness and skill, informed me that I had a drop in it, and (whatever a "drop" was)
took it out, and afforded me relief.
I now considered it high time to die, (since fortune had so determined to persecute me,)
and accordingly made my way to the nearest river. Here, divesting myself of my clothes,
(for there is no reason why we cannot die as we were born), I threw myself headlong into
the current; the sole witness of my fate being a solitary crow that had been seduced into
the eating of brandy-saturated corn, and so had staggered away from his fellows. No
sooner had I entered the water than this bird took it into its head to fly away with the
most indispensable portion of my apparel. Postponing, therefore, for the present, my
suicidal design, I just slipped my nether extremities into the sleeves of my coat, and
betook myself to a pursuit of the felon with all the nimbleness which the case required
and its circumstances would admit. But my evil destiny attended me still. As I ran at full
speed, with my nose up in the atmosphere, and intent only upon the purloiner of my
property, I suddenly perceived that my feet rested no longer upon terra-firma; the fact is,
I had thrown myself over a precipice, and should inevitably have been dashed to pieces
but for my good fortune in grasping the end of a long guide-rope, which depended from a
passing balloon.
As soon as I sufficiently recovered my senses to comprehend the terrific predicament
in which I stood or rather hung, I exerted all the power of my lungs to make that
predicament known to the æronaut overhead. But for a long time I exerted myself in
vain. Either the fool could not, or the villain would not perceive me. Meantime the
machine rapidly soared, while my strength even more rapidly failed. I was soon upon the
point of resigning myself to my fate, and dropping quietly into the sea, when my spirits
were suddenly revived by hearing a hollow voice from above, which seemed to be lazily
humming an opera air. Looking up, I perceived the Angel of the Odd. He was leaning
with his arms folded, over the rim of the car ; and with a pipe in his mouth, at which he
puffed leisurely, seemed to be upon excellent terms with himself and the universe. I was
too much exhausted to speak, so I merely regarded him with an imploring air.
For several minutes, although he looked me full in the face, he said nothing. At length
removing carefully his meerschaum from the right to the left corner of his mouth, he
condescended to speak.
"Who pe you," he asked, "und what der teuffel you pe do dare?"
To this piece of impudence, cruelty and affectation, I could reply only by ejaculating
the monosyllable "Help!"
"Elp!" echoed the ruffian --- "not I. Dare iz te pottle --- elp yourself, und pe tam'd !"
With these words he let fall a heavy bottle of Kirschenwasser which, dropping
precisely upon the crown of my head, caused me to imagine that my brains were entirely
knocked out. Impressed with this idea, I was about to relinquish my hold and give up the
ghost with a good grace, when I was arrested by the cry of the Angel, who bade me hold
on.
"Old on!" he said; "don't pe in te urry --- don't. Will you pe take de odder pottle, or ave
you pe got zober yet and come to your zenzes?"
I made haste, hereupon, to nod my head twice --- once in the negative, meaning
thereby that I would prefer not taking the other bottle at present --- and once in the
affirmative, intending thus to imply that I was sober and had positively come to my
senses. By these means I somewhat softened the Angel.
"Und you pelief, ten," he inquired, "at te last? You pelief, ten, in te possibilty of te
odd?"
I again nodded my head in assent.
"Und you ave pelief in me, te Angel of te Odd?"
I nodded again.
"Und you acknowledge tat you pe te blind dronk and te vool?"
I nodded once more.
"Put your right hand into your left hand preeches pocket, ten, in token ov your vull
zubmizzion unto te Angel ov te Odd."
This thing, for very obvious reasons, I found it quite impossible to do. In the first
place, my left arm had been broken in my fall from the ladder, and, therefore, had I let go
my hold with the right hand, I must have let go altogether. In the second place, I could
have no breeches until I came across the crow. I was therefore obliged, much to my
regret, to shake my head in the negative --- intending thus to give the Angel to understand
that I found it inconvenient, just at that moment, to comply with his very reasonable
demand ! No sooner, however, had I ceased shaking my head than --"Go to der teuffel, ten!" roared the Angel of the Odd.
In pronouncing these words, he drew a sharp knife across the guide-rope by which I
was suspended, and as we then happened to be precisely over my own house, (which,
during my peregrinations, had been handsomely rebuilt,) it so occurred that I tumbled
headlong down the ample chimney and alit upon the dining-room hearth.
Upon coming to my senses, (for the fall had very thoroughly stunned me,) I found it
about four o'clock in the morning. I lay outstretched where I had fallen from the balloon.
My head grovelled in the ashes of an extinguished fire, while my feet reposed upon the
wreck of a small table, overthrown, and amid the fragments of a miscellaneous dessert,
intermingled with a newspaper, some broken glass and shattered bottles, and an empty
jug of the Schiedam Kirschenwasser. Thus revenged himself the Angel of the Odd.
The Assignation
Stay
for
me
To meet thee in that hollow vale.
there!
I
will
not
fail.
[Exequy on the death of his wife, by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester]
ILL-FATED and mysterious man! --- bewildered in the brilliancy of thine own
imagination, and fallen in the flames of thine own youth! Again in fancy I behold thee!
Once more thy form hath risen before me! --- not --- oh! not as thou art --- in the cold
valley and shadow --- but as thou shouldst be --- squandering away a life of magnificent
meditation in that city of dim visions, thine own Venice --- which is a star-beloved
Elysium of the sea, and the wide windows of whose Palladian palaces look down with a
deep and bitter meaning upon the secrets of her silent waters. Yes! I repeat it --- as thou
shouldst be. There are surely other worlds than this --- other thoughts than the thoughts
of the multitude --- other speculations than the speculations of the sophist. Who then
shall call thy conduct into question? who blame thee for thy visionary hours, or
denounce those occupations as a wasting away of life, which were but the overflowings
of thine everlasting energies?
It was at Venice, beneath the covered archway there called the Ponte di Sospiri, that I
met for the third or fourth time the person of whom I speak. It is with a confused
recollection that I bring to mind the circumstances of that meeting. Yet I remember --ah! how should I forget? --- the deep midnight, the Bridge of Sighs, the beauty of
woman, and the Genius of Romance that stalked up and down the narrow canal.
It was a night of unusual gloom. The great clock of the Piazza had sounded the fifth
hour of the Italian evening. The square of the Campanile lay silent and deserted, and the
lights in the old Ducal Palace were dying fast away. I was returning home from the
Piazetta, by way of the Grand Canal. But as my gondola arrived opposite the mouth of
the canal San Marco, a female voice from its recesses broke suddenly upon the night, in
one wild, hysterical, and long continued shriek. Startled at the sound, I sprang upon my
feet: while the gondolier, letting slip his single oar, lost it in the pitchy darkness beyond
a chance of recovery, and we were consequently left to the guidance of the current which
here sets from the greater into the smaller channel. Like some huge and sable-feathered
condor, we were slowly drifting down towards the Bridge of Sighs, when a thousand
flambeaux flashing from the windows, and down the staircases of the Ducal Palace,
turned all at once that deep gloom into a livid and preternatural day.
A child, slipping from the arms of its own mother, had fallen from an upper window of
the lofty structure into the deep and dim canal. The quiet waters had closed placidly over
their victim; and, although my own gondola was the only one in sight, many a stout
swimmer, already in the stream, was seeking in vain upon the surface, the treasure which
was to be found, alas! only within the abyss. Upon the broad black marble flagstones at
the entrance of the palace, and a few steps above the water, stood a figure which none
who then saw can have ever since forgotten. It was the Marchesa Aphrodite --- the
adoration of all Venice --- the gayest of the gay --- the most lovely where all were
beautiful --- but still the young wife of the old and intriguing Mentoni, and the mother of
that fair child, her first and only one, who now, deep beneath the murky water, was
thinking in bitterness of heart upon her sweet caresses, and exhausting its little life in
struggles to call upon her name.
She stood alone. Her small, bare, and silvery feet gleamed in the black mirror of
marble beneath her. Her hair, not as yet more than half loosened for the night from its
ball-room array, clustered, amid a shower of diamonds, round and round her classical
head, in curls like those of the young hyacinth. A snowy-white and gauze-like drapery
seemed to be nearly the sole covering to her delicate form ; but the mid-summer and
midnight air was hot, sullen, and still, and no motion in the statue-like form itself, stirred
even the folds of that raiment of very vapor which hung around it as the heavy marble
hangs around the Niobe. Yet --- strange to say! --- her large lustrous eyes were not
turned downwards upon that grave wherein her brightest hope lay buried --- but riveted in
a widely different direction! The prison of the Old Republic is, I think, the stateliest
building in all Venice --- but how could that lady gaze so fixedly upon it, when beneath
her lay stifling her only child? Yon dark, gloomy niche, too, yawns right opposite her
chamber window --- what, then, could there be in its shadows --- in its architecture --- in
its ivy-wreathed and solemn cornices --- that the Marchesa di Mentoni had not wondered
at a thousand times before ? Nonsense! --- Who does not remember that, at such a time
as this, the eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of its sorrow, and sees in
innumerable far-off places, the woe which is close at hand?
Many steps above the Marchesa, and within the arch of the water-gate, stood, in full
dress, the Satyr-like figure of Mentoni himself. He was occasionally occupied in
thrumming a guitar, and seemed ennuye to the very death, as at intervals he gave
directions for the recovery of his child. Stupefied and aghast, I had myself no power to
move from the upright position I had assumed upon first hearing the shriek, and must
have presented to the eyes of the agitated group a spectral and ominous appearance, as
with pale countenance and rigid limbs, I floated down among them in that funereal
gondola.
All efforts proved in vain. Many of the most energetic in the search were relaxing their
exertions, and yielding to a gloomy sorrow. There seemed but little hope for the child;
(how much less than for the mother!) but now, from the interior of that dark niche which
has been already mentioned as forming a part of the Old Republican prison, and as
fronting the lattice of the Marchesa, a figure muffled in a cloak, stepped out within reach
of the light, and, pausing a moment upon the verge of the giddy descent, plunged
headlong into the canal. As, in an instant afterwards, he stood with the still living and
breathing child within his grasp, upon the marble flagstones by the side of the Marchesa,
his cloak, heavy with the drenching water, became unfastened, and, falling in folds about
his feet, discovered to the wonder-stricken spectators the graceful person of a very young
man, with the sound of whose name the greater part of Europe was then ringing.
No word spoke the deliverer. But the Marchesa! She will now receive her child --- she
will press it to her heart --- she will cling to its little form, and smother it with her
caresses. Alas! another's arms have taken it from the stranger --- another's arms have
taken it away, and borne it afar off, unnoticed, into the palace ! And the Marchesa! Her
lip --- her beautiful lip trembles : tears are gathering in her eyes --- those eyes which, like
Pliny's acanthus, are "soft and almost liquid." Yes! tears are gathering in those eyes --and see! the entire woman thrills throughout the soul, and the statue has started into life!
The pallor of the marble countenance, the swelling of the marble bosom, the very purity
of the marble feet, we behold suddenly flushed over with a tide of ungovernable
crimson; and a slight shudder quivers about her delicate frame, as a gentle air at Napoli
about the rich silver lilies in the grass.
Why should that lady blush! To this demand there is no answer --- except that, having
left, in the eager haste and terror of a mother's heart, the privacy of her own boudoir, she
has neglected to enthral her tiny feet in their slippers, and utterly forgotten to throw over
her Venetian shoulders that drapery which is their due. What other possible reason could
there have been for her so blushing? --- for the glance of those wild appealing eyes? for
the unusual tumult of that throbbing bosom? --- for the convulsive pressure of that
trembling hand? --- that hand which fell, as Mentoni turned into the palace, accidentally,
upon the hand of the stranger. What reason could there have been for the low --- the
singularly low tone of those unmeaning words which the lady uttered hurriedly in bidding
him adieu? "Thou hast conquered," she said, or the murmurs of the water deceived me ;
"thou hast conquered --- one hour after sunrise --- we shall meet --- so let it be!"
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
The tumult had subsided, the lights had died away within the palace, and the stranger,
whom I now recognized, stood alone upon the flags. He shook with inconceivable
agitation, and his eye glanced around in search of a gondola. I could not do less than
offer him the service of my own ; and he accepted the civility. Having obtained an oar at
the water-gate, we proceeded together to his residence, while he rapidly recovered his
self-possession, and spoke of our former slight acquaintance in terms of great apparent
cordiality.
There are some subjects upon which I take pleasure in being minute. The person of the
stranger --- let me call him by this title, who to all the world was still a stranger --- the
person of the stranger is one of these subjects. In height he might have been below rather
than above the medium size : although there were moments of intense passion when his
frame actually expanded and belied the assertion. The light, almost slender symmetry of
his figure, promised more of that ready activity which he evinced at the Bridge of Sighs,
than of that Herculean strength which he has been known to wield without an effort, upon
occasions of more dangerous emergency. With the mouth and chin of a deity --- singular,
wild, full, liquid eyes, whose shadows varied from pure hazel to intense and brilliant jet -- and a profusion of curling, black hair, from which a forehead of unusual breadth
gleamed forth at intervals all light and ivory --- his were features than which I have seen
none more classically regular, except, perhaps, the marble ones of the Emperor
Commodus. Yet his countenance was, nevertheless, one of those which all men have
seen at some period of their lives, and have never afterwards seen again. It had no
peculiar --- it had no settled predominant expression to be fastened upon the memory ; a
countenance seen and instantly forgotten --- but forgotten with a vague and never-ceasing
desire of recalling it to mind. Not that the spirit of each rapid passion failed, at any time,
to throw its own distinct image upon the mirror of that face --- but that the mirror, mirrorlike, retained no vestige of the passion, when the passion had departed.
Upon leaving him on the night of our adventure, he solicited me, in what I thought an
urgent manner, to call upon him very early the next morning. Shortly after sunrise, I
found myself accordingly at his Palazzo, one of those huge structures of gloomy, yet
fantastic pomp, which tower above the waters of the Grand Canal in the vicinity of the
Rialto. I was shown up a broad winding staircase of mosaics, into an apartment whose
unparalleled splendor burst through the opening door with an actual glare, making me
blind and dizzy with luxuriousness.
I knew my acquaintance to be wealthy. Report had spoken of his possessions in terms
which I had even ventured to call terms of ridiculous exaggeration. But as I gazed about
me, I could not bring myself to believe that the wealth of any subject in Europe could
have supplied the princely magnificence which burned and blazed around.
Although, as I say, the sun had arisen, yet the room was still brilliantly lighted up. I
judge from this circumstance, as well as from an air of exhaustion in the countenance of
my friend, that he had not retired to bed during the whole of the preceding night. In the
architecture and embellishments of the chamber, the evident design had been to dazzle
and astound. Little attention had been paid to the decora of what is technically called
keeping, or to the proprieties of nationality. The eye wandered from object to object, and
rested upon none --- neither the grotesques of the Greek painters, nor the sculptures of the
best Italian days, nor the huge carvings of untutored Egypt. Rich draperies in every part
of the room trembled to the vibration of low, melancholy music, whose origin was not to
be discovered. The senses were oppressed by mingled and conflicting perfumes, reeking
up from strange convolute censers, together with multitudinous flaring and flickering
tongues of emerald and violet fire. The rays of the newly risen sun poured in upon the
whole, through windows, formed each of a single pane of crimson-tinted glass. Glancing
to and fro, in a thousand reflections, from curtains which rolled from their cornices like
cataracts of molten silver, the beams of natural glory mingled at length fitfully with the
artificial light, and lay weltering in subdued masses upon a carpet of rich, liquid-looking
cloth of Chili gold.
"Ha! ha! ha! --- ha! ha! ha!" --- laughed the proprietor, motioning me to a seat as I
entered the room, and throwing himself back at full-length upon an ottoman. "I see," said
he, perceiving that I could not immediately reconcile myself to the bienseance of so
singular a welcome --- "I see you are astonished at my apartment --- at my statues --- my
pictures --- my originality of conception in architecture and upholstery! absolutely
drunk, eh, with my magnificence? But pardon me, my dear sir, (here his tone of voice
dropped to the very spirit of cordiality); pardon me for my uncharitable laughter. You
appeared so utterly astonished. Besides, some things are so completely ludicrous, that a
man must laugh or die. To die laughing, must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths
! Sir Thomas More --- a very fine man was Sir Thomas More --- Sir Thomas More died
laughing, you remember. Also in the Absurdities of Ravisius Textor, there is a long list
of characters who came to the same magnificent end. Do you know, however," continued
he musingly, "that at Sparta (which is now Palæochori,) at Sparta, I say, to the west of the
citadel, among a chaos of scarcely visible ruins, is a kind of socle, upon which are still
legible the letters ΛΑΣΜ. They are undoubtedly part of ΓΕΛΑΣΜΑ. Now, at Sparta were
a thousand temples and shrines to a thousand different divinities. How exceedingly
strange that the altar of Laughter should have survived all the others ! But in the present
instance," he resumed, with a singular alteration of voice and manner, "I have no right to
be merry at your expense. You might well have been amazed. Europe cannot produce
anything so fine as this, my little regal cabinet. My other apartments are by no means of
the same order --- mere ultras of fashionable insipidity. This is better than fashion --- is it
not? Yet this has but to be seen to become the rage --- that is, with those who could
afford it at the cost of their entire patrimony. I have guarded, however, against any such
profanation. With one exception, you are the only human being besides myself and my
valet, who has been admitted within the mysteries of these imperial precincts, since they
have been bedizened as you see!"
I bowed in acknowledgment --- for the overpowering sense of splendor and perfume,
and music, together with the unexpected eccentricity of his address and manner,
prevented me from expressing, in words, my appreciation of what I might have construed
into a compliment.
"Here," he resumed, arising and leaning on my arm as he sauntered around the
apartment, "here are paintings from the Greeks to Cimabue, and from Cimabue to the
present hour. Many are chosen, as you see, with little deference to the opinions of Virtu.
They are all, however, fitting tapestry for a chamber such as this. Here, too, are some
chefs d'œuvre of the unknown great ; and here, unfinished designs by men, celebrated in
their day, whose very names the perspicacity of the academies has left to silence and to
me. What think you," said he, turning abruptly as he spoke --- "what think you of this
Madonna della Pieta?"
"It is Guido's own!" I said, with all the enthusiasm of my nature, for I had been poring
intently over its surpassing loveliness. "It is Guido's own! --- how could you have
obtained it? --- she is undoubtedly in painting what the Venus is in sculpture."
"Ha!" said he thoughtfully, "the Venus --- the beautiful Venus? --- the Venus of the
Medici? --- she of the diminutive head and the gilded hair? Part of the left arm (here his
voice dropped so as to be heard with difficulty), and all the right, are restorations; and in
the coquetry of that right arm lies, I think, the quintessence of all affectation. Give me
the Canova! The Apollo, too, is a copy --- there can be no doubt of it --- blind fool that I
am, who cannot behold the boasted inspiration of the Apollo! I cannot help --- pity me! -- I cannot help preferring the Antinous. Was it not Socrates who said that the statuary
found his statue in the block of marble? Then Michael Angelo was by no means original
in his couplet --'Non
ha
l'ottimo
Che un marmo solo in se non circunscriva.' "
artista
alcun
concetto
It has been, or should be remarked, that, in the manner of the true gentleman, we are
always aware of a difference from the bearing of the vulgar, without being at once
precisely able to determine in what such difference consists. Allowing the remark to
have applied in its full force to the outward demeanor of my acquaintance, I felt it, on
that eventful morning, still more fully applicable to his moral temperament and character.
Nor can I better define that peculiarity of spirit which seemed to place him so essentially
apart from all other human beings, than by calling it a habit of intense and continual
thought, pervading even his most trivial actions --- intruding upon his moments of
dalliance --- and interweaving itself with his very flashes of merriment --- like adders
which writhe from out the eyes of the grinning masks in the cornices around the temples
of Persepolis.
I could not help, however, repeatedly observing, through the mingled tone of levity and
solemnity with which he rapidly descanted upon matters of little importance, a certain air
of trepidation --- a degree of nervous unction in action and in speech --- an unquiet
excitability of manner which appeared to me at all times unaccountable, and upon some
occasions even filled me with alarm. Frequently, too, pausing in the middle of a sentence
whose commencement he had apparently forgotten, he seemed to be listening in the
deepest attention, as if either in momentary expectation of a visitor, or to sounds which
must have had existence in his imagination alone.
It was during one of these reveries or pauses of apparent abstraction, that, in turning
over a page of the poet and scholar Politian's beautiful tragedy "The Orfeo," (the first
native Italian tragedy), which lay near me upon an ottoman, I discovered a passage
underlined in pencil. It was a passage towards the end of the third act --- a passage of the
most heart-stirring excitement --- a passage which, although tainted with impurity, no
man shall read without a thrill of novel emotion --- no woman without a sigh. The whole
page was blotted with fresh tears ; and, upon the opposite interleaf, were the following
English lines, written in a hand so very different from the peculiar characters of my
acquaintance, that I had some difficulty in recognizing it as his own: --Thou
wast
that
all
For
which
my
green
isle
in
A
fountain
All
wreathed
with
fairy
And all the flowers were mine.
to
soul
A
me,
pine
sea,
did
the
and
fruits
a
and
love,
--love,
shrine,
flowers
;
Ah,
dream
too
bright
Hope,
that
be
from
out
the
but
o'er
my
spirit
Ah,
starry
to
A
voice
"Onward!"
--(Dim
gulf!)
Mute --- motionless --- aghast!
But
For
alas!
The
light
"No
more
--(Such
language
To
the
Shall
bloom
Or the stricken eagle soar!
Now
alas!
of
more
no
holds
sands
the
all
And
where
And
my
all
Are
the
where
In
what
By what Italian streams.
Alas!
for
They
bore
From
Love
to
And
an
From
me,
and
Where weeps the silver willow!
to
didst
Future
the
hovering
with
life
---
is
no
the
solemn
upon
the
thunder-blasted
hours
are
my
nightly
dark
eye
thy
footstep
ethereal
that
accursed
thee
o'er
the
titled
age
and
unholy
pillow!
from
our
misty
last!
arise
overcast!
cries,
Past
lies,
me
o'er.
more,"
sea
shore),
tree,
trances;
dreams
glances,
gleams,
dances,
time
billow,
crime,
--clime,
That these lines were written in English --- a language with which I had not believed their
author acquainted --- afforded me little matter for surprise. I was too well aware of the
extent of his acquirements, and of the singular pleasure he took in concealing them from
observation, to be astonished at any similar discovery; but the place of date, I must
confess, occasioned me no little amazement. It had been originally written London, and
afterwards carefully overscored --- not, however, so effectually as to conceal the word
from a scrutinizing eye. I say, this occasioned me no little amazement; for I well
remember that, in a former conversation with a friend, I particularly inquired if he had at
any time met in London the Marchesa di Mentoni, (who for some years previous to her
marriage had resided in that city), when his answer, if I mistake not, gave me to
understand that he had never visited the metropolis of Great Britain. I might as well here
mention, that I have more than once heard, (without, of course, giving credit to a report
involving so many improbabilities), that the person of whom I speak, was not only by
birth, but in education, an Englishman.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
"There is one painting," said he, without being aware of my notice of the tragedy --"there is still one painting which you have not seen." And throwing aside a drapery, he
discovered a full-length portrait of the Marchesa Aphrodite.
Human art could have done no more in the delineation of her superhuman beauty.
The same ethereal figure which stood before me the preceding night upon the steps of the
Ducal Palace, stood before me once again. But in the expression of the countenance,
which was beaming all over with smiles, there still lurked (incomprehensible anomaly !)
that fitful stain of melancholy which will ever be found inseparable from the perfection of
the beautiful. Her right arm lay folded over her bosom. With her left she pointed
downward to a curiously fashioned vase. One small, fairy foot, alone visible, barely
touched the earth ; and, scarcely discernible in the brilliant atmosphere which seemed to
encircle and enshrine her loveliness, floated a pair of the most delicately imagined
wings. My glance fell from the painting to the figure of my friend, and the vigorous
words of Chapman's Bussy D'Ambois, quivered instinctively upon my lips :
"He
There
like
a
Till Death hath made him marble!"
Roman
is
statue!
He
will
up
stand
"Come," he said at length, turning towards a table of richly enamelled and massive
silver, upon which were a few goblets fantastically stained, together with two large
Etruscan vases, fashioned in the same extraordinary model as that in the foreground of
the portrait, and filled with what I supposed to be Johannisberger. "Come," he said,
abruptly, "let us drink! It is early --- but let us drink. It is indeed early," he continued,
musingly, as a cherub with a heavy golden hammer made the apartment ring with the first
hour after sunrise : "It is indeed early --- but what matters it? let us drink ! Let us pour
out an offering to yon solemn sun which these gaudy lamps and censers are so eager to
subdue!" And, having made me pledge him in a bumper, he swallowed in rapid
succession several goblets of the wine.
"To dream," he continued, resuming the tone of his desultory conversation, as he held
up to the rich light of a censer one of the magnificent vases --- "to dream has been the
business of my life. I have therefore framed for myself, as you see, a bower of dreams. In
the heart of Venice could I have erected a better? You behold around you, it is true, a
medley of architectural embellishments. The chastity of Ionia is offended by antediluvian
devices, and the sphynxes of Egypt are outstretched upon carpets of gold. Yet the effect
is incongruous to the timid alone. Proprieties of place, and especially of time, are the
bugbears which terrify mankind from the contemplation of the magnificent. Once I was
myself a decorist; but that sublimation of folly has palled upon my soul. All this is now
the fitter for my purpose. Like these arabesque censers, my spirit is writhing in fire, and
the delirium of this scene is fashioning me for the wilder visions of that land of real
dreams whither I am now rapidly departing." He here paused abruptly, bent his head to
his bosom, and seemed to listen to a sound which I could not hear. At length, erecting his
frame, he looked upwards, and ejaculated the lines of the Bishop of Chichester:
"Stay
for
me
To meet thee in that hollow vale."
there!
I
will
not
fail
In the next instant, confessing the power of the wine, he threw himself at full-length upon
an ottoman.
A quick step was now heard upon the staircase, and a loud knock at the door rapidly
succeeded. I was hastening to anticipate a second disturbance, when a page of Mentoni's
household burst into the room, and faltered out, in a voice choking with emotion, the
incoherent words, "My mistress! --- my mistress! --- Poisoned! --- poisoned! Oh,
beautiful --- oh, beautiful Aphrodite!"
Bewildered, I flew to the ottoman, and endeavored to arouse the sleeper to a sense of
the startling intelligence. But his limbs were rigid --- his lips were livid --- his lately
beaming eyes were riveted in death. I staggered back towards the table --- my hand fell
upon a cracked and blackened goblet --- and a consciousness of the entire and terrible
truth flashed suddenly over my soul.
The Balloon-Hoax
[Astounding News by Express, via Norfolk! --- The Atlantic crossed in Three Days! Signal Triumph of
Mr. Monck Mason's Flying Machine! --- Arrival at Sullivan's Island, near Charlestown, S.C., of Mr.
Mason, Mr. Robert Holland, Mr. Henson, Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and four others, in the Steering Balloon,
"Victoria," after a passage of Seventy-five Hours from Land to Land! Full Particulars of the Voyage!
The subjoined jeu d'esprit with the preceding heading in magnificent capitals, well interspersed with
notes of admiration, was originally published, as matter of fact, in the "New York Sun," a daily newspaper,
and therein fully subserved the purpose of creating indigestible aliment for the quidnuncs during the few
hours intervening between a couple of the Charleston mails. The rush for the "sole paper which had the
news," was something beyond even the prodigious ; and, in fact, if (as some assert) the "Victoria" did not
absolutely accomplish the voyage recorded, it will be difficult to assign a reason why she should not have
accomplished it.]
THE great problem is at length solved! The air, as well as the earth and the ocean, has
been subdued by science, and will become a common and convenient highway for
mankind. The Atlantic has been actually crossed in a Balloon! and this too without
difficulty --- without any great apparent danger --- with thorough control of the machine -- and in the inconceivably brief period of seventy-five hours from shore to shore! By the
energy of an agent at Charleston, S.C., we are enabled to be the first to furnish the public
with a detailed account of this most extraordinary voyage, which was performed between
Saturday, the 6th instant, at 11, A.M., and 2, P.M., on Tuesday, the 9th instant, by Sir
Everard Bringhurst; Mr. Osborne, a nephew of Lord Bentinck's; Mr. Monck Mason and
Mr. Robert Holland, the well-known aeronauts; Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, author of "Jack
Sheppard," etc.; and Mr. Henson, the projector of the late unsuccessful flying machine -- with two seamen from Woolwich --- in all, eight persons. The particulars furnished
below may be relied on as authentic and accurate in every respect, as, with a slight
exception, they are copied verbatim from the joint diaries of Mr. Monck Mason and Mr.
Harrison Ainsworth, to whose politeness our agent is also indebted for much verbal
information respecting the balloon itself, its construction, and other matters of interest.
The only alteration in the MS. received, has been made for the purpose of throwing the
hurried account of our agent, Mr. Forsyth, into a connected and intelligible form.
THE BALLOON
Two very decided failures, of late --- those of Mr. Henson and Sir George Cayley --had much weakened the public interest in the subject of aerial navigation. Mr. Henson's
scheme (which at first was considered very feasible even by men of science) was founded
upon the principle of an inclined plane, started from an eminence by an extrinsic force,
applied and continued by the revolution of impinging vanes, in form and number
resembling the vanes of a windmill. But, in all the experiments made with models at the
Adelaide Gallery, it was found that the operation of these fans not only did not propel the
machine, but actually impeded its flight. The only propelling force it ever exhibited, was
the mere impetus acquired from the descent of the inclined plane; and this impetus
carried the machine farther when the vanes were at rest, than when they were in motion -- a fact which sufficiently demonstrates their inutility; and in the absence of the
propelling, which was also the sustaining power, the whole fabric would necessarily
descend. This consideration led Sir George Cayley to think only of adapting a propeller
to some machine having of itself an independent power of support --- in a word, to a
balloon; the idea, however, being novel, or original, with Sir George, only so far as
regards the mode of its application to practice. He exhibited a model of his invention at
the Polytechnic Institution. The propelling principle, or power, was here, also, applied to
interrupted surfaces, or vanes, put in revolution. These vanes were four in number, but
were found entirely ineffectual in moving the balloon, or in aiding its ascending power.
The whole project was thus a complete failure.
It was at this juncture that Mr. Monck Mason (whose voyage from Dover to Weilburg
in the balloon, "Nassau," occasioned so much excitement in 1837) conceived the idea of
employing the principle of the Archimedean screw for the purpose of propulsion through
the air --- rightly attributing the failure of Mr. Henson's scheme, and of Sir George
Cayley's, to the interruption of surface in the independent vanes. He made the first public
experiment at Willis's Rooms, but afterward removed his model to the Adelaide Gallery.
Like Sir George Cayley's balloon, his own was an ellipsoid. Its length was thirteen
feet six inches --- height, six feet eight inches. It contained about three hundred and
twenty cubic feet of gas, which, if pure hydrogen, would support twenty-one pounds
upon its first inflation, before the gas has time to deteriorate or escape. The weight of the
whole machine and apparatus was seventeen pounds --- leaving about four pounds to
spare. Beneath the centre of the balloon, was a frame of light wood, about nine feet long,
and rigged on to the balloon itself with a network in the customary manner. From this
framework was suspended a wicker basket or car.
The screw consists of an axis of hollow brass tube, eighteen inches in length, through
which, upon a semi-spiral inclined at fifteen degrees, pass a series of steel wire radii, two
feet long, and thus projecting a foot on either side. These radii are connected at the outer
extremities by two bands of flattened wire --- the whole in this manner forming the
framework of the screw, which is completed by a covering of oiled silk cut into gores,
and tightened so as to present a tolerably uniform surface. At each end of its axis this
screw is supported by pillars of hollow brass tube descending from the hoop. In the
lower ends of these tubes are holes in which the pivots of the axis revolve. From the end
of the axis which is next the car, proceeds a shaft of steel, connecting the screw with the
pinion of a piece of spring machinery fixed in the car. By the operation of this spring, the
screw is made to revolve with great rapidity, communicating a progressive motion to the
whole. By means of the rudder, the machine was readily turned in any direction. The
spring was of great power, compared with its dimensions, being capable of raising fortyfive pounds upon a barrel of four inches diameter, after the first turn, and gradually
increasing as it was wound up. It weighed, altogether, eight pounds six ounces. The
rudder was a light frame of cane covered with silk, shaped somewhat like a battledore,
and was about three feet long, and at the widest, one foot. Its weight was about two
ounces. It could be turned flat, and directed upwards or downwards, as well as to the
right or left; and thus enabled the aeronaut to transfer the resistance of the air which in an
inclined position it must generate in its passage, to any side upon which he might desire
to act ; thus determining the balloon in the opposite direction.
This model (which, through want of time, we have necessarily described in an
imperfect manner) was put in action at the Adelaide Gallery, where it accomplished a
velocity of five miles per hour; although, strange to say, it excited very little interest in
comparison with the previous complex machine of Mr. Henson --- so resolute is the
world to despise anything which carries with it an air of simplicity. To accomplish the
great desideratum of aerial navigation, it was very generally supposed that some
exceedingly complicated application must be made of some unusually profound principle
in dynamics.
So well satisfied, however, was Mr. Mason of the ultimate success of his invention,
that he determined to construct immediately, if possible, a balloon of sufficient capacity
to test the question by a voyage of some extent --- the original design being to cross the
British Channel, as before, in the Nassau balloon. To carry out his views, he solicited
and obtained the patronage of Sir Everard Bringhurst and Mr. Osborne, two gentlemen
well known for scientific acquirement, and especially for the interest they have exhibited
in the progress of aerostation. The project, at the desire of Mr. Osborne, was kept a
profound secret from the public --- the only persons entrusted with the design being those
actually engaged in the construction of the machine, which was built (under the
superintendence of Mr. Mason, Mr. Holland, Sir Everard Bringhurst, and Mr. Osborne) at
the seat of the latter gentleman near Penstruthal, in Wales. Mr. Henson, accompanied by
his friend Mr. Ainsworth, was admitted to a private view of the balloon, on Saturday last
--- when the two gentlemen made final arrangements to be included in the adventure. We
are not informed for what reason the two seamen were also included in the party --- but,
in the course of a day or two, we shall put our readers in possession of the minutest
particulars respecting this extraordinary voyage.
The balloon is composed of silk, varnished with the liquid gum caoutchouc. It is of
vast dimensions, containing more than 40,000 cubic feet of gas; but as coal gas was
employed in place of the more expensive and inconvenient hydrogen, the supporting
power of the machine, when fully inflated, and immediately after inflation, is not more
than about 2500 pounds. The coal gas is not only much less costly, but is easily procured
and managed.
For its introduction into common use for purposes of aerostation, we are indebted to
Mr. Charles Green. Up to his discovery, the process of inflation was not only
exceedingly expensive, but uncertain. Two, and even three days, have frequently been
wasted in futile attempts to procure a sufficiency of hydrogen to fill a balloon, from
which it had great tendency to escape, owing to its extreme subtlety, and its affinity for
the surrounding atmosphere. In a balloon sufficiently perfect to retain its contents of
coal-gas unaltered, in quantity or amount, for six months, an equal quantity of hydrogen
could not be maintained in equal purity for six weeks.
The supporting power being estimated at 2500 pounds, and the united weights of the
party amounting only to about 1200, there was left a surplus of 1300, of which again
1200 was exhausted by ballast, arranged in bags of different sizes, with their respective
weights marked upon them --- by cordage, barometers, telescopes, barrels containing
provision for a fortnight, water-casks, cloaks, carpet-bags, and various other
indispensable matters, including a coffee-warmer, contrived for warming coffee by
means of slack-lime, so as to dispense altogether with fire, if it should be judged prudent
to do so. All these articles, with the exception of the ballast, and a few trifles, were
suspended from the hoop overhead. The car is much smaller and lighter, in proportion,
than the one appended to the model. It is formed of a light wicker, and is wonderfully
strong, for so frail looking a machine. Its rim is about four feet deep. The rudder is also
very much larger, in proportion, than that of the model ; and the screw is considerably
smaller. The balloon is furnished besides with a grapnel, and a guide-rope ; which latter
is of the most indispensable importance. A few words, in explanation, will here be
necessary for such of our readers as are not conversant with the details of aerostation.
As soon as the balloon quits the earth, it is subjected to the influence of many
circumstances tending to create a difference in its weight; augmenting or diminishing its
ascending power. For example, there may be a deposition of dew upon the silk, to the
extent, even, of several hundred pounds; ballast has then to be thrown out, or the
machine may descend. This ballast being discarded, and a clear sunshine evaporating the
dew, and at the same time expanding the gas in the silk, the whole will again rapidly
ascend. To check this ascent, the only recourse is, (or rather was, until Mr. Green's
invention of the guide-rope) the permission of the escape of gas from the valve; but, in
the loss of gas, is a proportionate general loss of ascending power; so that, in a
comparatively brief period, the best-constructed balloon must necessarily exhaust all its
resources, and come to the earth. This was the great obstacle to voyages of length.
The guide-rope remedies the difficulty in the simplest manner conceivable. It is
merely a very long rope which is suffered to trail from the car, and the effect of which is
to prevent the balloon from changing its level in any material degree. If, for example,
there should be a deposition of moisture upon the silk, and the machine begins to descend
in consequence, there will be no necessity for discharging ballast to remedy the increase
of weight, for it is remedied, or counteracted, in an exactly just proportion, by the deposit
on the ground of just so much of the end of the rope as is necessary. If, on the other
hand, any circumstances should cause undue levity, and consequent ascent, this levity is
immediately counteracted by the additional weight of rope upraised from the earth. Thus,
the balloon can neither ascend or descend, except within very narrow limits, and its
resources, either in gas or ballast, remain comparatively unimpaired. When passing over
an expanse of water, it becomes necessary to employ small kegs of copper or wood, filled
with liquid ballast of a lighter nature than water. These float, and serve all the purposes
of a mere rope on land. Another most important office of the guide-rope, is to point out
the direction of the balloon. The rope drags, either on land or sea, while the balloon is
free ; the latter, consequently, is always in advance, when any progress whatever is made
: a comparison, therefore, by means of the compass, of the relative positions of the two
objects, will always indicate the course. In the same way, the angle formed by the rope
with the vertical axis of the machine, indicates the velocity. When there is no angle --- in
other words, when the rope hangs perpendicularly, the whole apparatus is stationary ; but
the larger the angle, that is to say, the farther the balloon precedes the end of the rope, the
greater the velocity; and the converse.
As the original design was to cross the British Channel, and alight as near Paris as
possible, the voyagers had taken the precaution to prepare themselves with passports
directed to all parts of the Continent, specifying the nature of the expedition, as in the
case of the Nassau voyage, and entitling the adventurers to exemption from the usual
formalities of office : unexpected events, however, rendered these passports superfluous.
The inflation was commenced very quietly at daybreak, on Saturday morning, the 6th
instant, in the Court-Yard of Weal-Vor House, Mr. Osborne's seat, about a mile from
Penstruthal, in North Wales; and at 7 minutes past 11, every thing being ready for
departure, the balloon was set free, rising gently but steadily, in a direction nearly South;
no use being made, for the first half hour, of either the screw or the rudder. We proceed
now with the journal, as transcribed by Mr. Forsyth from the joint MSS. of Mr. Monck
Mason, and Mr. Ainsworth. The body of the journal, as given, is in the hand-writing of
Mr. Mason, and a P. S. is appended, each day, by Mr. Ainsworth, who has in
preparation, and will shortly give the public a more minute, and no doubt, a thrillingly
interesting account of the voyage.
THE JOURNAL
Saturday, April the 6th. --- Every preparation likely to embarrass us, having been made
over night, we commenced the inflation this morning at daybreak; but owing to a thick
fog, which encumbered the folds of the silk and rendered it unmanageable, we did not get
through before nearly eleven o'clock. Cut loose, then, in high spirits, and rose gently but
steadily, with a light breeze at North, which bore us in the direction of the Bristol
Channel. Found the ascending force greater than we had expected ; and as we arose
higher and so got clear of the cliffs, and more in the sun's rays, our ascent became very
rapid. I did not wish, however, to lose gas at so early a period of the adventure, and so
concluded to ascend for the present. We soon ran out our guide-rope; but even when we
had raised it clear of the earth, we still went up very rapidly. The balloon was unusually
steady, and looked beautifully. In about ten minutes after starting, the barometer
indicated an altitude of 15,000 feet. The weather was remarkably fine, and the view of
the subjacent country --- a most romantic one when seen from any point, --- was now
especially sublime. The numerous deep gorges presented the appearance of lakes, on
account of the dense vapors with which they were filled, and the pinnacles and crags to
the South East, piled in inextricable confusion, resembling nothing so much as the giant
cities of eastern fable. We were rapidly approaching the mountains in the South ; but our
elevation was more than sufficient to enable us to pass them in safety. In a few minutes
we soared over them in fine style; and Mr. Ainsworth, with the seamen, was surprised at
their apparent want of altitude when viewed from the car, the tendency of great elevation
in a balloon being to reduce inequalities of the surface below, to nearly a dead level. At
half-past eleven still proceeding nearly South, we obtained our first view of the Bristol
Channel; and, in fifteen minutes afterward, the line of breakers on the coast appeared
immediately beneath us, and we were fairly out at sea. We now resolved to let off
enough gas to bring our guide-rope, with the buoys affixed, into the water. This was
immediately done, and we commenced a gradual descent. In about twenty minutes our
first buoy dipped, and at the touch of the second soon afterwards, we remained stationary
as to elevation. We were all now anxious to test the efficiency of the rudder and screw,
and we put them both into requisition forthwith, for the purpose of altering our direction
more to the eastward, and in a line for Paris. By means of the rudder we instantly
effected the necessary change of direction, and our course was brought nearly at right
angles to that of the wind; when we set in motion the spring of the screw, and were
rejoiced to find it propel us readily as desired. Upon this we gave nine hearty cheers, and
dropped in the sea a bottle, enclosing a slip of parchment with a brief account of the
principle of the invention. Hardly, however, had we done with our rejoicings, when an
unforeseen accident occurred which discouraged us in no little degree. The steel rod
connecting the spring with the propeller was suddenly jerked out of place, at the car end,
(by a swaying of the car through some movement of one of the two seamen we had taken
up) and in an instant hung dangling out of reach, from the pivot of the axis of the screw.
While we were endeavoring to regain it, our attention being completely absorbed, we
became involved in a strong current of wind from the East, which bore us, with rapidly
increasing force, towards the Atlantic. We soon found ourselves driving out to sea at the
rate of not less, certainly, than fifty or sixty miles an hour, so that we came up with Cape
Clear, at some forty miles to our North, before we had secured the rod, and had time to
think what we were about. It was now that Mr. Ainsworth made an extraordinary, but to
my fancy, a by no means unreasonable or chimerical proposition, in which he was
instantly seconded by Mr. Holland --- viz.: that we should take advantage of the strong
gale which bore us on, and in place of beating back to Paris, make an attempt to reach the
coast of North America. After slight reflection I gave a willing assent to this bold
proposition, which (strange to say) met with objection from the two seamen only. As the
stronger party, however, we overruled their fears, and kept resolutely upon our course.
We steered due West; but as the trailing of the buoys materially impeded our progress,
and we had the balloon abundantly at command, either for ascent or descent, we first
threw out fifty pounds of ballast, and then wound up (by means of a windlass) so much of
the rope as brought it quite clear of the sea. We perceived the effect of this manœuvre
immediately, in a vastly increased rate of progress; and, as the gale freshened, we flew
with a velocity nearly inconceivable; the guide-rope flying out behind the car, like a
streamer from a vessel. It is needless to say that a very short time sufficed us to lose sight
of the coast. We passed over innumerable vessels of all kinds, a few of which were
endeavoring to beat up, but the most of them lying to. We occasioned the greatest
excitement on board all --- an excitement greatly relished by ourselves, and especially by
our two men, who, now under the influence of a dram of Geneva, seemed resolved to
give all scruple, or fear, to the wind. Many of the vessels fired signal guns; and in all we
were saluted with loud cheers (which we heard with surprising distinctness) and the
waving of caps and handkerchiefs. We kept on in this manner throughout the day, with
no material incident, and, as the shades of night closed around us, we made a rough
estimate of the distance traversed. It could not have been less than five hundred miles,
and was probably much more. The propeller was kept in constant operation, and, no
doubt, aided our progress materially. As the sun went down, the gale freshened into an
absolute hurricane, and the ocean beneath was clearly visible on account of its
phosphorescence. The wind was from the East all night, and gave us the brightest omen
of success. We suffered no little from cold, and the dampness of the atmosphere was
most unpleasant; but the ample space in the car enabled us to lie down, and by means of
cloaks and a few blankets, we did sufficiently well.
P.S. [by Mr. Ainsworth.] The last nine hours have been unquestionably the most exciting
of my life. I can conceive nothing more sublimating than the strange peril and novelty of
an adventure such as this. May God grant that we succeed! I ask not success for mere
safety to my insignificant person, but for the sake of human knowledge and --- for the
vastness of the triumph. And yet the feat is only so evidently feasible that the sole
wonder is why men have scrupled to attempt it before. One single gale such as now
befriends us --- let such a tempest whirl forward a balloon for four or five days (these
gales often last longer) and the voyager will be easily borne, in that period, from coast to
coast. In view of such a gale the broad Atlantic becomes a mere lake. I am more struck,
just now, with the supreme silence which reigns in the sea beneath us, notwithstanding its
agitation, than with any other phenomenon presenting itself. The waters give up no voice
to the heavens. The immense flaming ocean writhes and is tortured uncomplainingly.
The mountainous surges suggest the idea of innumerable dumb gigantic fiends struggling
in impotent agony. In a night such as is this to me, a man lives --- lives a whole century
of ordinary life --- nor would I forego this rapturous delight for that of a whole century of
ordinary existence.
Sunday, the seventh. [Mr. Mason's MS.] This morning the gale, by 10, had subsided to
an eight or nine --- knot breeze, (for a vessel at sea) and bears us, perhaps, thirty miles
per hour, or more. It has veered, however, very considerably to the north; and now, at
sundown, we are holding our course due west, principally by the screw and rudder, which
answer their purposes to admiration. I regard the project as thoroughly successful, and
the easy navigation of the air in any direction (not exactly in the teeth of a gale) as no
longer problematical. We could not have made head against the strong wind of
yesterday; but, by ascending, we might have got out of its influence, if requisite. Against
a pretty stiff breeze, I feel convinced, we can make our way with the propeller. At noon,
to-day, ascended to an elevation of nearly 25,000 feet, by discharging ballast. Did this to
search for a more direct current, but found none so favorable as the one we are now in.
We have an abundance of gas to take us across this small pond, even should the voyage
last three weeks. I have not the slightest fear for the result. The difficulty has been
strangely exaggerated and misapprehended. I can choose my current, and should I find
all currents against me, I can make very tolerable headway with the propeller. We have
had no incidents worth recording. The night promises fair.
P.S. [By Mr. Ainsworth.] I have little to record, except the fact (to me quite a
surprising one) that, at an elevation equal to that of Cotopaxi, I experienced neither very
intense cold, nor headache, nor difficulty of breathing ; neither, I find, did Mr. Mason,
nor Mr. Holland, nor Sir Everard. Mr. Osborne complained of constriction of the chest -- but this soon wore off. We have flown at a great rate during the day, and we must be
more than half way across the Atlantic. We have passed over some twenty or thirty
vessels of various kinds, and all seem to be delightfully astonished. Crossing the ocean
in a balloon is not so difficult a feat after all. Omne ignotum pro magnifico. Mem: at
25,000 feet elevation the sky appears nearly black, and the stars are distinctly visible ;
while the sea does not seem convex (as one might suppose) but absolutely and most
unequivocally concave.*
* Note. --- Mr. Ainsworth has not attempted to account for this phenomenon, which, however, is quite
susceptible of explanation. A line dropped from an elevation of 25,000 feet, perpendicularly to the surface
of the earth (or sea), would form the perpendicular of a right-angled triangle, of which the base would
extend from the right angle to the horizon, and the hypothenuse from the horizon to the balloon. But the
25,000 feet of altitude is little or nothing, in comparison with the extent of the prospect. In other words, the
base and hypothenuse of the supposed triangle would be so long when compared with the perpendicular,
that the two former may be regarded as nearly parallel. In this manner the horizon of the aeronaut would
appear to be on a level with the car. But, as the point immediately beneath him seems, and is, at a great
distance below him, it seems, of course, also, at a great distance below the horizon. Hence the impression
of concavity ; and this impression must remain, until the elevation shall bear so great a proportion to the
extent of prospect, that the apparent parallelism of the base and hypothenuse disappears --- when the earth's
real convexity must become apparent.
Monday, the 8th. [Mr. Mason's MS.] This morning we had again some little trouble
with the rod of the propeller, which must be entirely remodelled, for fear of serious
accident --- I mean the steel rod --- not the vanes. The latter could not be improved. The
wind has been blowing steadily and strongly from the north-east all day and so far
fortune seems bent upon favoring us. Just before day, we were all somewhat alarmed at
some odd noises and concussions in the balloon, accompanied with the apparent rapid
subsidence of the whole machine. These phenomena were occasioned by the expansion
of the gas, through increase of heat in the atmosphere, and the consequent disruption of
the minute particles of ice with which the network had become encrusted during the
night. Threw down several bottles to the vessels below. Saw one of them picked up by a
large ship --- seemingly one of the New York line packets. Endeavored to make out her
name, but could not be sure of it. Mr. Osborne's telescope made it out something like
"Atalanta." It is now 12 ,at night, and we are still going nearly west, at a rapid pace. The
sea is peculiarly phosphorescent.
P.S. [By Mr. Ainsworth.] It is now 2 A.M., and nearly calm, as well as I can judge --but it is very difficult to determine this point, since we move with the air so completely. I
have not slept since quitting Wheal-Vor, but can stand it no longer, and must take a nap.
We cannot be far from the American coast.
Tuesday, the 9th. [Mr. Ainsworth's MS.] One P.M. We are in full view of the low
coast of South Carolina. The great problem is accomplished. We have crossed the
Atlantic --- fairly and easily crossed it in a balloon ! God be praised! Who shall say that
anything is impossible hereafter?
----The Journal here ceases. Some particulars of the descent were communicated,
however, by Mr. Ainsworth to Mr. Forsyth. It was nearly dead calm when the voyagers
first came in view of the coast, which was immediately recognized by both the seamen,
and by Mr. Osborne. The latter gentleman having acquaintances at Fort Moultrie, it was
immediately resolved to descend in its vicinity. The balloon was brought over the beach
(the tide being out and the sand hard, smooth, and admirably adapted for a descent) and
the grapnel let go, which took firm hold at once. The inhabitants of the island, and of the
fort, thronged out, of course, to see the balloon; but it was with the greatest difficulty that
any one could be made to credit the actual voyage --- the crossing of the Atlantic. The
grapnel caught at 2 P.M., precisely; and thus the whole voyage was completed in
seventy-five hours ; or rather less, counting from shore to shore. No serious accident
occurred. No real danger was at any time apprehended. The balloon was exhausted and
secured without trouble; and when the MS. from which this narrative is compiled was
despatched from Charleston, the party were still at Fort Moultrie. Their farther intentions
were not ascertained; but we can safely promise our readers some additional information
either on Monday or in the course of the next day, at farthest.
This is unquestionably the most stupendous, the most interesting, and the most
important undertaking, ever accomplished or even attempted by man. What magnificent
events may ensue, it would be useless now to think of determining.
Berenice
Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquanr tulum fore levatas. --- Ebn
Zaiat.
MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide
horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch --- as distinct too,
yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that
from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? --- from the covenant of peace, a
simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is
sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies
which are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.
My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention. Yet there are no
towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary halls. Our line
has been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars --- in the character
of the family mansion --- in the frescos of the chief saloon --- in the tapestries of the
dormitories --- in the chiselling of some buttresses in the armory --- but more especially
in the gallery of antique paintings --- in the fashion of the library chamber --- and, lastly,
in the very peculiar nature of the library's contents --- there is more than sufficient
evidence to warrant the belief.
The recollections of my earliest years are connected with that chamber, and with its
volumes --- of which latter I will say no more. Here died my mother. Herein was I born.
But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before --- that the soul has no previous
existence. You deny it? --- let us not argue the matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to
convince. There is, however, a remembrance of aerial forms --- of spiritual and meaning
eyes --- of sounds, musical yet sad --- a remembrance which will not be excluded; a
memory like a shadow --- vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too, in
the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.
In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what seemed, but was
not, nonentity, at once into the very regions of fairy land --- into a palace of imagination -- into the wild dominions of monastic thought and erudition --- it is not singular that I
gazed around me with a startled and ardent eye --- that I loitered away my boyhood in
books, and dissipated my youth in reverie; but it is singular that as years rolled away, and
the noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers --- it is wonderful what
stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life --- wonderful how total an inversion took
place in the character of my commonest thought. The realities of the world affected me as
visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn,
not the material of my every-day existence, but in very deed that existence utterly and
solely in itself.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up together in my paternal halls. Yet
differently we grew --- I, ill of health, and buried in gloom --- she, agile, graceful, and
overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side --- mine the studies of the
cloister; I, living within my own heart, and addicted, body and soul, to the most intense
and painful meditation --- she, roaming carelessly through life, with no thought of the
shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice! --- I call
upon her name --- Berenice! --- and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand
tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound! Ah, vividly is her image before me
now, as in the early days of her light-heartedness and joy! Oh, gorgeous yet fantastic
beauty! Oh, sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! Oh, Naiad among its fountains! And
then --- then all is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told. Disease --- a
fatal disease, fell like the simoon upon her frame; and, even while I gazed upon her, the
spirit of change swept over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in
a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas!
the destroyer came and went! --- and the victim --- where is she? I knew her not --- or
knew her no longer as Berenice.
Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced by that fatal and primary one
which effected a revolution of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical being of my
cousin, may be mentioned as the most distressing and obstinate in its nature, a species of
epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself --- trance very nearly resembling
positive dissolution, and from which her manner of recovery was in most instances,
startlingly abrupt. In the mean time my own disease --- for I have been told that I should
call it by no other appellation --- my own disease, then, grew rapidly upon me, and
assumed finally a monomaniac character of a novel and extraordinary form --- hourly and
momently gaining vigor --- and at length obtaining over me the most incomprehensible
ascendancy. This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a morbid irritability of
those properties of the mind in metaphysical science termed the attentive. It is more than
probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to
convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous
intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak
technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most
ordinary objects of the universe.
To muse for long unwearied hours, with my attention riveted to some frivolous device
on the margin, or in the typography of a book; to become absorbed, for the better part of a
summer's day, in a quaint shadow falling aslant upon the tapestry or upon the floor; to
lose myself, for an entire night, in watching the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of
a fire; to dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower; to repeat, monotonously,
some common word, until the sound, by dint of frequent repetition, ceased to convey any
idea whatever to the mind; to lose all sense of motion or physical existence, by means of
absolute bodily quiescence long and obstinately persevered in: such were a few of the
most common and least pernicious vagaries induced by a condition of the mental
faculties, not, indeed, altogether unparalleled, but certainly bidding defiance to anything
like analysis or explanation.
Yet let me not be misapprehended. The undue, earnest, and morbid attention thus excited
by objects in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded in character with that
ruminating propensity common to all mankind, and more especially indulged in by
persons of ardent imagination. It was not even, as might be at first supposed, an extreme
condition, or exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and essentially distinct and
different. In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object
usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of
deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream
often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum, or first cause of his musings, entirely
vanished and forgotten. In my case, the primary object was invariably frivolous, although
assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal
importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in
upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the
termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that
supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a
word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said
before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.
My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually serve to irritate the disorder, partook,
it will be perceived, largely, in their imaginative and inconsequential nature, of the
characteristic qualities of the disorder itself. I well remember, among others, the treatise
of the noble Italian, Coelius Secundus Curio, "De Amplitudine Beati Regni Dei;" St.
Austin's great work, the "City of God;" and Tertullian's "De Carne Christi," in which the
paradoxical sentence "Mortuus est Dei filius; credible est quia ineptum est: et sepultus
resurrexit; certum est quia impossibile est," occupied my undivided time, for many
weeks of laborious and fruitless investigation.
Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance only by trivial things, my reason bore
resemblance to that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephestion, which steadily
resisting the attacks of human violence, and the fiercer fury of the waters and the winds,
trembled only to the touch of the flower called Asphodel. And although, to a careless
thinker, it might appear a matter beyond doubt, that the alteration produced by her
unhappy malady, in the moral condition of Berenice, would afford me many objects for
the exercise of that intense and abnormal meditation whose nature I have been at some
trouble in explaining, yet such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid intervals of my
infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart that total wreck
of her fair and gentle life, I did not fall to ponder, frequently and bitterly, upon the
wonder-working means by which so strange a revolution had been so suddenly brought to
pass. But these reflections partook not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such
as would have occurred, under similar circumstances, to the ordinary mass of mankind.
True to its own character, my disorder revelled in the less important but more startling
changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice --- in the singular and most appalling
distortion of her personal identity.
During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty, most surely I had never loved her.
In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me, had never been of the heart,
and my passions always were of the mind. Through the gray of the early morning --among the trellised shadows of the forest at noonday --- and in the silence of my library
at night --- she had flitted by my eyes, and I had seen her --- not as the living and
breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a dream; not as a being of the earth, earthy, but
as the abstraction of such a being; not as a thing to admire, but to analyze; not as an
object of love, but as the theme of the most abstruse although desultory speculation. And
now --- now I shuddered in her presence, and grew pale at her approach; yet, bitterly
lamenting her fallen and desolate condition, I called to mind that she had loved me long,
and, in an evil moment, I spoke to her of marriage.
And at length the period of our nuptials was approaching, when, upon an afternoon in
the winter of the year --- one of those unseasonably warm, calm, and misty days which
are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon*, --- I sat, (and sat, as I thought, alone) in the inner
apartment of the library. But, uplifting my eyes, I saw that Berenice stood before me.
* For as Jove, during the winter season, gives twice seven days of warmth, men have called this clement
and temperate time the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon --- Simonides.
Was it my own excited imagination --- or the misty influence of the atmosphere --- or
the uncertain twilight of the chamber --- or the gray draperies which fell around her
figure --- that caused in it so vacillating and indistinct an outline? I could not tell. She
spoke no word; and I --- not for worlds could I have uttered a syllable. An icy chill ran
through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity
pervaded my soul; and sinking back upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless
and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person. Alas! its emaciation was
excessive, and not one vestige of the former being lurked in any single line of the
contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the face.
The forehead was high, and very pale, and singularly placid; and the once jetty hair fell
partially over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with innumerable ringlets, now of
a vivid yellow, and jarring discordantly, in their fantastic character, with the reigning
melancholy of the countenance. The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly
pupilless, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to he contemplation of the
thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth of the
changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view. Would to God that I had
never beheld them, or that, having done so, I had died!
*
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*
The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking up, I found that my cousin had
departed from the chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my brain, had not, alas!
departed, and would not be driven away, the white and ghastly spectrum of the teeth. Not
a speck on their surface --- not a shade on their enamel --- not an indenture in their edges
--- but what that period of her smile had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw
them now even more unequivocally than I beheld them then. The teeth! --- the teeth! ---
they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long,
narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very
moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my monomania,
and I struggled in vain against its strange and irresistible influence. In the multiplied
objects of the external world I had no thoughts but for the teeth. For these I longed with a
frenzied desire. All other matters and all different interests became absorbed in their
single contemplation. They --- they alone were present to the mental eye, and they, in
their sole individuality, became the essence of my mental life. I held them in every light.
I turned them in every attitude. I surveyed their characteristics. I dwelt upon their
peculiarities. I pondered upon their conformation. I mused upon the alteration in their
nature. I shuddered as I assigned to them in imagination a sensitive and sentient power,
and even when unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression. Of Mademoiselle
Salle it has been well said, "Que tous ses pas etaient des sentiments," and of Berenice I
more seriously believed que toutes ses dents etaient des idees. Des idees! --- ah here was
the idiotic thought that destroyed me! Des idees! --- ah therefore it was that I coveted
them so madly! I felt that their possession could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving
me back to reason.
And the evening closed in upon me thus --- and then the darkness came, and tarried,
and went --- and the day again dawned --- and the mists of a second night were now
gathering around --- and still I sat motionless in that solitary room --- and still I sat buried
in meditation --- and still the phantasma of the teeth maintained its terrible ascendancy,
as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and
shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and
dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices,
intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow or of pain. I arose from my seat, and
throwing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing out in the ante-chamber a
servant maiden, all in tears, who told me that Berenice was --- no more! She had been
seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and now, at the closing in of the night, the
grave was ready for its tenant, and all the preparations for the burial were completed.
*
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*
I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting there alone. It seemed that I had
newly awakened from a confused and exciting dream. I knew that it was now midnight,
and I was well aware, that since the setting of the sun, Berenice had been interred. But of
that dreary period which intervened I had no positive, at least no definite comprehension.
Yet its memory was replete with horror --- horror more horrible from being vague, and
terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record my existence,
written all over with dim, and hideous, and unintelligible recollections. I strived to
decipher them, but in vain; while ever and anon, like the spirit of a departed sound, the
shrill and piercing shriek of a female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had done a
deed --- what was it? I asked myself the question aloud, and the whispering echoes of the
chamber answered me, --- "what was it?"
On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it lay a little box. It was of no
remarkable character, and I had seen it frequently before, for it was the property of the
family physician; but how came it there, upon my table, and why did I shudder in
regarding it? These things were in no manner to be accounted for, and my eyes at length
dropped to the open pages of a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The words
were the singular but simple ones of the poet Ebn Zaiat: --- "Dicebant mihi sodales si
sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas." Why then, as I
perused them, did the hairs of my head erect themselves on end, and the blood of my
body become congealed within my veins?
There came a light tap at the library door --- and, pale as the tenant of a tomb, a menial
entered upon tiptoe. His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to me in a voice
tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he? --- some broken sentences I heard. He
told of a wild cry disturbing the silence of the night --- of the gathering together of the
household --- of a search in the direction of the sound; and then his tones grew thrillingly
distinct as he whispered me of a violated grave --- of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet
still breathing --- still palpitating --- still alive!
He pointed to garments; --- they were muddy and clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he
took me gently by the hand: it was indented with the impress of human nails. He directed
my attention to some object against the wall. I looked at it for some minutes: it was a
spade. With a shriek I bounded to the table, and grasped the box that lay upon it. But I
could not force it open; and in my tremor, it slipped from my hands, and fell heavily, and
burst into pieces; and from it, with a rattling sound, there rolled out some instruments of
dental surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small, white and ivory-looking substances
that were scattered to and fro about the floor.
The Black Cat
FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect
nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses
reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not --- and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and to-day I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place
before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household
events. In their consequences, these events have terrified --- have tortured --- have
destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little
but horror --- to many they will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps,
some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place --some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will
perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary
succession of very natural causes and effects.
From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My
tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I
was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of
pets. With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and
caressing them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and in my manhood, I
derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To those who have cherished an
affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the
nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the
unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who
has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.
I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with
my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring
those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds, gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small
monkey, and a cat.
This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious
to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a
little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion,
which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious upon
this point --- and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just
now, to be remembered.
Pluto --- this was the cat's name --- was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him,
and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I
could prevent him from following me through the streets.
Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general
temperament and character --- through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance --had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by
day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered
myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal
violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only
neglected, but ill-used them. For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to
restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the
monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way.
But my disease grew upon me --- for what disease is like Alcohol! --- and at length even
Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish --- even Pluto
began to experience the effects of my ill temper.
One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I
fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence,
he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly
possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its
flight from my body and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every
fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the
poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! I blush, I
burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.
When reason returned with the morning --- when I had slept off the fumes of the
night's debauch --- I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime
of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul
remained untouched. I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory
of the deed.
In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true,
a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the
house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so
much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a
creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And
then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of
this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I
am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart --- one of the
indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man.
Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no
other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination,
in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we
understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It
was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself --- to offer violence to its own
nature - to do wrong for the wrong's sake only - that urged me to continue and finally to
consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning, in cool
blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; --- hung it with
the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; --- hung it
because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of
offence; --- hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin --- a deadly
sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it --- if such a thing wore
possible --- even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most
Terrible God.
On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep
by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were in flames. The whole house was blazing.
It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the
conflagration. The destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed
up, and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair.
I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect,
between the disaster and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain of facts --- and wish not
to leave even a possible link imperfect. On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins.
The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment
wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had
rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action
of the fire --- a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall
a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a particular
portion of it with very minute and eager attention. The words "strange!" "singular!" and
other similar expressions, excited my curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas
relief upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with
an accuracy truly marvellous. There was a rope about the animal's neck.
When I first beheld this apparition --- for I could scarcely regard it as less --- my
wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection came to my aid. The cat, I
remembered, had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire,
this garden had been immediately filled by the crowd --- by some one of whom the
animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an open window, into my
chamber. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep. The
falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the
freshly-spread plaster; the lime of which, with the flames, and the ammonia from the
carcass, had then accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.
Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for
the startling fact just detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep impression upon my
fancy. For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this
period, there came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse.
I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the vile
haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of
somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place.
One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was
suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense
hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had
been looking steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused
me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the object thereupon. I
approached it, and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat --- a very large one ---
fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto had not
a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite
splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast.
Upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand,
and appeared delighted with my notice. This, then, was the very creature of which I was
in search. I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim
to it --- knew nothing of it --- had never seen it before.
I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a
disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it
as I proceeded. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became
immediately a great favorite with my wife.
For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This was just the
reverse of what I had anticipated; but --- I know not how or why it was --- its evident
fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed. By slow degrees, these feelings of
disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain
sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me from
physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike, or otherwise violently ill use it;
but gradually --- very gradually --- I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and
to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.
What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after
I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes. This
circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said,
possessed, in a high degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my
distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.
With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to increase. It
followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader
comprehend. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my
knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between
my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my
dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I longed to destroy
it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly by a memory of my former crime,
but chiefly --- let me confess it at once --- by absolute dread of the beast.
This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil --- and yet I should be at a loss how
otherwise to define it. I am almost ashamed to own --- yes, even in this felon's cell, I am
almost ashamed to own --- that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me,
had been heightened by one of the merest chimaeras it would be possible to conceive. My
wife had called my attention, more than once, to the character of the mark of white hair,
of which I have spoken, and which constituted the sole visible difference between the
strange beast and the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that this mark,
although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow degrees --- degrees
nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my Reason struggled to reject as fanciful
--- it had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the
representation of an object that I shudder to name --- and for this, above all, I loathed, and
dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared - it was now, I say, the
image of a hideous --- of a ghastly thing --- of the GALLOWS! --- oh, mournful and
terrible engine of Horror and of Crime --- of Agony and of Death!
And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity. And a
brute beast --- whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed - a brute beast to work out
for me --- for me a man, fashioned in the image of the High God --- so much of
insufferable woe! Alas! neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of Rest any more!
During the former the creature left me no moment alone; and, in the latter, I started,
hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face,
and its vast weight --- an incarnate Night-Mare that I had no power to shake off --incumbent eternally upon my heart!
Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within
me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates --- the darkest and most evil of
thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all
mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to
which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was the most usual
and the most patient of sufferers.
One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old
building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep
stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe,
and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I
aimed a blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it
descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded, by
the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp
and buried the axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.
This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with entire deliberation, to
the task of concealing the body. I knew that I could not remove it from the house, either
by day or by night, without the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects
entered my mind. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments,
and destroying them by fire. At another, I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the
cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting it in the well in the yard --- about packing it in a
box, as if merchandize, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it
from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than either of
these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar - as the monks of the middle ages are
recorded to have walled up their victims.
For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were loosely
constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a rough plaster, which the
dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the
walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up,
and made to resemble the red of the cellar. I made no doubt that I could readily displace
the bricks at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that no eye
could detect any thing suspicious.
And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the
bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that
position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood.
Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible precaution, I prepared a
plaster which could not be distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully went
over the new brickwork. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall
did not present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the
floor was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around triumphantly, and said to
myself; "Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain."
My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so much
wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly resolved to put it to death. Had I been able to
meet with it, at the moment, there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared
that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger, and forbore
to present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep,
the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my
bosom. It did not make its appearance during the night - and thus for one night at least,
since its introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with
the burden of murder upon my soul!
The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. Once again I
breathed as a freeman. The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever! I should
behold it no more! My happiness was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me
but little. Some few inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered. Even
a search had been instituted --- but of course nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon
my future felicity as secured.
Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came, very
unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the
premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no
embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me accompany them in their search. They
left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended
into the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that of one who
slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I folded my arms upon my
bosom, and roamed easily to and fro. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared
to depart. The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if but one
word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness.
"Gentlemen," I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, "I delight to have allayed
your suspicions. I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen,
this --- this is a very well constructed house." [In the rabid desire to say something easily,
I scarcely knew what I uttered at all.] --- "I may say an excellently well constructed
house. These walls are you going, gentlemen? --- these walls are solidly put together;"
and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held
in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work behind which stood the corpse of
the wife of my bosom.
But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend ! No sooner had
the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from
within the tomb! --- by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and
then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and
inhuman --- a howl --- a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might
have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the dammed in their agony and
of the demons that exult in the damnation.
Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall.
For one instant the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror
and of awe. In the next, a dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The
corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the
spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the
hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had
consigned me to the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb!
Bon-Bon
Quand un bon vin meuble mon estomac,
Je
suis
plus
savant
que
Balzac
--Plus
sage
que
Pibrac;
Mon
brass
seul
faisant
l'attaque
De
la
nation
Cossaque,
La
mettroit
au
sac;
De
Charon
je
passerois
le
lac,
En
dormant
dans
son
bac;
J'irois
au
fier
Eac,
Sans
que
mon
cœur
fit
tic
ni
tac,
Présenter du tabac.
French Vaudeville.
THAT Pierre Bon-Bon was a restaurateur of uncommon qualifications, no man who,
during the reign of ---------, frequented the little Câfé in the cul-de-sac Le Febvre at
Rouen, will, I imagine, feel himself at liberty to dispute. That Pierre Bon-Bon was, in an
equal degree, skilled in the philosophy of that period is, I presume, still more especially
undeniable. His patés à la fois were beyond doubt immaculate; but what pen can do
justice to his essays sur la Nature --- his thoughts sur l'Ame --- his observations sur
l'Esprit ? If his omelettes --- if his fricandeaux were inestimable, what littérateur of that
day would not have given twice as much for an "Idée de Bon-Bon" as for all the trash of
"Idées" of all the rest of the savants ? Bon-Bon had ransacked libraries which no other
man had ransacked --- had more than any other would have entertained a notion of
reading- had understood more than any other would have conceived the possibility of
understanding; and although, while he flourished, there were not wanting some authors at
Rouen to assert "that his dicta evinced neither the purity of the Academy, nor the depth of
the Lyceum" --- although, mark me, his doctrines were by no means very generally
comprehended, still it did not follow that they were difficult of comprehension. It was, I
think, on account of their self-evidency that many persons were led to consider them
abstruse. It is to Bon-Bon --- but let this go no farther --- it is to Bon-Bon that Kant
himself is mainly indebted for his metaphysics. The former was indeed not a Platonist,
nor strictly speaking an Aristotelian --- nor did he, like the modern Leibnitz, waste those
precious hours which might be employed in the invention of a fricasée or, facili gradu,
the analysis of a sensation, in frivolous attempts at reconciling the obstinate oils and
waters of ethical discussion. Not at all. Bon-Bon was Ionic --- Bon-Bon was equally
Italic. He reasoned a priori --- He reasoned also a posteriori. His ideas were innate --- or
otherwise. He believed in George of Trebizonde --- He believed in Bossarion [Bessarion].
Bon-Bon was emphatically a --- Bon-Bonist.
I have spoken of the philosopher in his capacity of restaurateur. I would not, however,
have any friend of mine imagine that, in fulfilling his hereditary duties in that line, our
hero wanted a proper estimation of their dignity and importance. Far from it. It was
impossible to say in which branch of his profession he took the greater pride. In his
opinion the powers of the intellect held intimate connection with the capabilities of the
stomach. I am not sure, indeed, that he greatly disagreed with the Chinese, who held that
the soul lies in the abdomen. The Greeks at all events were right, he thought, who
employed the same words for the mind and the diaphragm.* By this I do not mean to
insinuate a charge of gluttony, or indeed any other serious charge to the prejudice of the
metaphysician. If Pierre Bon-Bon had his failings --- and what great man has not a
thousand? --- if Pierre Bon-Bon, I say, had his failings, they were failings of very little
importance --- faults indeed which, in other tempers, have often been looked upon rather
in the light of virtues. As regards one of these foibles, I should not even have mentioned
it in this history but for the remarkable prominency --- the extreme alto relievo --- in
which it jutted out from the plane of his general disposition. He could never let slip an
opportunity of making a bargain.
Not that he was avaricious --- no. It was by no means necessary to the satisfaction of
the philosopher, that the bargain should be to his own proper advantage. Provided a trade
could be effected --- a trade of any kind, upon any terms, or under any circumstances --- a
triumphant smile was seen for many days thereafter to enlighten his countenance, and a
knowing wink of the eye to give evidence of his sagacity.
At any epoch it would not be very wonderful if a humor so peculiar as the one I have
just mentioned, should elicit attention and remark. At the epoch of our narrative, had this
peculiarity not attracted observation, there would have been room for wonder indeed. It
was soon reported that, upon all occasions of the kind, the smile of Bon-Bon was wont to
differ widely from the downright grin with which he would laugh at his own jokes, or
welcome an acquaintance. Hints were thrown out of an exciting nature; stories were told
of perilous bargains made in a hurry and repented of at leisure; and instances were
adduced of unaccountable capacities, vague longings, and unnatural inclinations
implanted by the author of all evil for wise purposes of his own.
The philosopher had other weaknesses --- but they are scarcely worthy our serious
examination. For example, there are few men of extraordinary profundity who are found
wanting in an inclination for the bottle. Whether this inclination be an exciting cause, or
rather a valid proof of such profundity, it is a nice thing to say. Bon-Bon, as far as I can
learn, did not think the subject adapted to minute investigation; --- nor do I. Yet in the
indulgence of a propensity so truly classical, it is not to be supposed that the restaurateur
would lose sight of that intuitive discrimination which was wont to characterize, at one
and the same time, his essais and his omelettes. In his seclusions the Vin de Bourgogne
had its allotted hour, and there were appropriate moments for the Cotes du Rhone. With
him Sauterne was to Medoc what Catullus was to Homer. He would sport with a
syllogism in sipping St. Peray, but unravel an argument over Clos de Vougeot, and upset
a theory in a torrent of Chambertin. Well had it been if the same quick sense of propriety
had attended him in the peddling propensity to which I have formerly alluded --- but this
was by no means the case. Indeed to say the truth, that trait of mind in the philosophic
Bon-Bon did begin at length to assume a character of strange intensity and mysticism,
and appeared deeply tinctured with the diablerie of his favorite German studies.
To enter the little Cafe in the cul-de-sac Le Febvre was, at the period of our tale, to
enter the sanctum of a man of genius. Bon-Bon was a man of genius. There was not a
sous-cusinier in Rouen, who could not have told you that Bon-Bon was a man of genius.
His very cat knew it, and forbore to whisk her tail in the presence of the man of genius.
His large water-dog was acquainted with the fact, and upon the approach of his master,
betrayed his sense of inferiority by a sanctity of deportment, a debasement of the ears,
and a dropping of the lower jaw not altogether unworthy of a dog. It is, however, true that
much of this habitual respect might have been attributed to the personal appearance of the
metaphysician. A distinguished exterior will, I am constrained to say, have its way even
with a beast; and I am willing to allow much in the outward man of the restaurateur
calculated to impress the imagination of the quadruped. There is a peculiar majesty about
the atmosphere of the little great --- if I may be permitted so equivocal an expression --which mere physical bulk alone will be found at all times inefficient in creating. If,
however, Bon-Bon was barely three feet in height, and if his head was diminutively
small, still it was impossible to behold the rotundity of his stomach without a sense of
magnificence nearly bordering upon the sublime. In its size both dogs and men must have
seen a type of his acquirements --- in its immensity a fitting habitation for his immortal
soul.
I might here --- if it so pleased me --- dilate upon the matter of habiliment, and other
mere circumstances of the external metaphysician. I might hint that the hair of our hero
was worn short, combed smoothly over his forehead, and surmounted by a conicalshaped white flannel cap and tassels --- that his pea-green jerkin was not after the fashion
of those worn by the common class of restaurateurs at that day --- that the sleeves were
something fuller than the reigning costume permitted --- that the cuffs were turned up,
not as usual in that barbarous period, with cloth of the same quality and color as the
garment, but faced in a more fanciful manner with the particolored velvet of Genoa --that his slippers were of a bright purple, curiously filigreed, and might have been
manufactured in Japan, but for the exquisite pointing of the toes, and the brilliant tints of
the binding and embroidery --- that his breeches were of the yellow satin-like material
called aimable --- that his sky-blue cloak, resembling in form a dressing-wrapper, and
richly bestudded all over with crimson devices, floated cavalierly upon his shoulders like
a mist of the morning --- and that his tout ensemble gave rise to the remarkable words of
Benevenuta, the Improvisatrice of Florence, "that it was difficult to say whether Pierre
Bon-Bon was indeed a bird of Paradise, or rather a very Paradise of perfection." I might, I
say, expatiate upon all these points if I pleased, --- but I forbear, merely personal details
may be left to historical novelists,- they are beneath the moral dignity of matter-of-fact.
I have said that "to enter the Cafe in the cul-de-sac Le Febvre was to enter the sanctum
of a man of genius" --- but then it was only the man of genius who could duly estimate
the merits of the sanctum. A sign, consisting of a vast folio, swung before the entrance.
On one side of the volume was painted a bottle; on the reverse a pate. On the back were
visible in large letters Oeuvres de Bon-Bon. Thus was delicately shadowed forth the twofold occupation of the proprietor.
Upon stepping over the threshold, the whole interior of the building presented itself to
view. A long, low-pitched room, of antique construction, was indeed all the
accommodation afforded by the Cafe. In a corner of the apartment stood the bed of the
metaphysician. An army of curtains, together with a canopy a la Grecque, gave it an air
at once classic and comfortable. In the corner diagonally opposite, appeared, in direct
family communion, the properties of the kitchen and the bibliotheque. A dish of polemics
stood peacefully upon the dresser. Here lay an ovenful of the latest ethics --- there a kettle
of duodecimo melanges. Volumes of German morality were hand and glove with the
gridiron --- a toasting-fork might be discovered by the side of Eusebius --- Plato reclined
at his ease in the frying-pan- and contemporary manuscripts were filed away upon the
spit.
In other respects the Cafe de Bon-Bon might be said to differ little from the usual
restaurants of the period. A fireplace yawned opposite the door. On the right of the
fireplace an open cupboard displayed a formidable array of labelled bottles.
It was here, about twelve o'clock one night during the severe winter the comments of
his neighbours upon his singular propensity --- that Pierre Bon-Bon, I say, having turned
them all out of his house, locked the door upon them with an oath, and betook himself in
no very pacific mood to the comforts of a leather-bottomed arm-chair, and a fire of
blazing fagots.
It was one of those terrific nights which are only met with once or twice during a century.
It snowed fiercely, and the house tottered to its centre with the floods of wind that,
rushing through the crannies in the wall, and pouring impetuously down the chimney,
shook awfully the curtains of the philosopher's bed, and disorganized the economy of his
pate-pans and papers. The huge folio sign that swung without, exposed to the fury of the
tempest, creaked ominously, and gave out a moaning sound from its stanchions of solid
oak.
It was in no placid temper, I say, that the metaphysician drew up his chair to its
customary station by the hearth. Many circumstances of a perplexing nature had occurred
during the day, to disturb the serenity of his meditations. In attempting des oeufs a la
Princesse, he had unfortunately perpetrated an omelette a la Reine; the discovery of a
principle in ethics had been frustrated by the overturning of a stew; and last, not least, he
had been thwarted in one of those admirable bargains which he at all times took such
especial delight in bringing to a successful termination. But in the chafing of his mind at
these unaccountable vicissitudes, there did not fail to be mingled some degree of that
nervous anxiety which the fury of a boisterous night is so well calculated to produce.
Whistling to his more immediate vicinity the large black water-dog we have spoken of
before, and settling himself uneasily in his chair, he could not help casting a wary and
unquiet eye toward those distant recesses of the apartment whose inexorable shadows not
even the red firelight itself could more than partially succeed in overcoming. Having
completed a scrutiny whose exact purpose was perhaps unintelligible to himself, he drew
close to his seat a small table covered with books and papers, and soon became absorbed
in the task of retouching a voluminous manuscript, intended for publication on the
morrow.
He had been thus occupied for some minutes when "I am in no hurry, Monsieur BonBon," suddenly whispered a whining voice in the apartment.
"The devil!" ejaculated our hero, starting to his feet, overturning the table at his side,
and staring around him in astonishment.
"Very true," calmly replied the voice.
"Very true! --- what is very true? --- how came you here?" vociferated the
metaphysician, as his eye fell upon something which lay stretched at full length upon the
bed.
"I was saying," said the intruder, without attending to the interrogatives, --- "I was
saying that I am not at all pushed for time --- that the business upon which I took the
liberty of calling, is of no pressing importance --- in short, that I can very well wait until
you have finished your Exposition."
"My Exposition! --- there now! --- how do you know? --- how came you to understand
that I was writing an Exposition? --- good God!"
"Hush!" replied the figure, in a shrill undertone; and, arising quickly from the bed, he
made a single step toward our hero, while an iron lamp that depended over-head swung
convulsively back from his approach.
The philosopher's amazement did not prevent a narrow scrutiny of the stranger's dress
and appearance. The outlines of his figure, exceedingly lean, but much above the
common height, were rendered minutely distinct, by means of a faded suit of black cloth
which fitted tight to the skin, but was otherwise cut very much in the style of a century
ago. These garments had evidently been intended for a much shorter person than their
present owner. His ankles and wrists were left naked for several inches. In his shoes,
however, a pair of very brilliant buckles gave the lie to the extreme poverty implied by
the other portions of his dress. His head was bare, and entirely bald, with the exception of
a hinder part, from which depended a queue of considerable length. A pair of green
spectacles, with side glasses, protected his eyes from the influence of the light, and at the
same time prevented our hero from ascertaining either their color or their conformation.
About the entire person there was no evidence of a shirt, but a white cravat, of filthy
appearance, was tied with extreme precision around the throat and the ends hanging down
formally side by side gave (although I dare say unintentionally) the idea of an
ecclesiastic. Indeed, many other points both in his appearance and demeanor might have
very well sustained a conception of that nature. Over his left ear, he carried, after the
fashion of a modern clerk, an instrument resembling the stylus of the ancients. In a
breast-pocket of his coat appeared conspicuously a small black volume fastened with
clasps of steel. This book, whether accidentally or not, was so turned outwardly from the
person as to discover the words "Rituel Catholique" in white letters upon the back. His
entire physiognomy was interestingly saturnine --- even cadaverously pale. The forehead
was lofty, and deeply furrowed with the ridges of contemplation. The corners of the
mouth were drawn down into an expression of the most submissive humility. There was
also a clasping of the hands, as he stepped toward our hero --- a deep sigh --- and
altogether a look of such utter sanctity as could not have failed to be unequivocally
preposessing. Every shadow of anger faded from the countenance of the metaphysician,
as, having completed a satisfactory survey of his visitor's person, he shook him cordially
by the hand, and conducted him to a seat.
There would however be a radical error in attributing this instantaneous transition of
feeling in the philosopher, to any one of those causes which might naturally be supposed
to have had an influence. Indeed, Pierre Bon-Bon, from what I have been able to
understand of his disposition, was of all men the least likely to be imposed upon by any
speciousness of exterior deportment. It was impossible that so accurate an observer of
men and things should have failed to discover, upon the moment, the real character of the
personage who had thus intruded upon his hospitality. To say no more, the conformation
of his visitor's feet was sufficiently remarkable --- he maintained lightly upon his head an
inordinately tall hat --- there was a tremulous swelling about the hinder part of his
breeches --- and the vibration of his coat tail was a palpable fact. Judge, then, with what
feelings of satisfaction our hero found himself thrown thus at once into the society of a
person for whom he had at all times entertained the most unqualified respect. He was,
however, too much of the diplomatist to let escape him any intimation of his suspicions in
regard to the true state of affairs. It was not his cue to appear at all conscious of the high
honor he thus unexpectedly enjoyed; but, by leading his guest into the conversation, to
elicit some important ethical ideas, which might, in obtaining a place in his contemplated
publication, enlighten the human race, and at the same time immortalize himself --- ideas
which, I should have added, his visitor's great age, and well-known proficiency in the
science of morals, might very well have enabled him to afford.
Actuated by these enlightened views, our hero bade the gentleman sit down, while he
himself took occasion to throw some fagots upon the fire, and place upon the now reestablished table some bottles of Mousseux. Having quickly completed these operations,
he drew his chair vis-a-vis to his companion's, and waited until the latter should open the
conversation. But plans even the most skilfully matured are often thwarted in the outset
of their application --- and the restaurateur found himself nonplussed by the very first
words of his visitor's speech.
"I see you know me, Bon-Bon," said he; "ha! ha! ha! --- he! he! he! --- hi! hi! hi! --ho! ho! ho! --- hu! hu! hu!" --- and the devil, dropping at once the sanctity of his
demeanor, opened to its fullest extent a mouth from ear to ear, so as to display a set of
jagged and fang-like teeth, and, throwing back his head, laughed long, loudly, wickedly,
and uproariously, while the black dog, crouching down upon his haunches, joined lustily
in the chorus, and the tabby cat, flying off at a tangent, stood up on end, and shrieked in
the farthest corner of the apartment.
Not so the philosopher; he was too much a man of the world either to laugh like the
dog, or by shrieks to betray the indecorous trepidation of the cat. It must be confessed, he
felt a little astonishment to see the white letters which formed the words "Rituel
Catholique" on the book in his guest's pocket, momently changing both their color and
their import, and in a few seconds, in place of the original title the words Regitre des
Condamnes blazed forth in characters of red. This startling circumstance, when Bon-Bon
replied to his visitor's remark, imparted to his manner an air of embarrassment which
probably might, not otherwise have been observed.
"Why sir," said the philosopher, "why sir, to speak sincerely --- I believe you are --upon my word -- the d ---dest ---that is to say , I think --- I imagine --- I have some faint -- some very faint idea --- of the remarkable honor---"
"Oh! --- ah! --- yes! --- very well!" interrupted his Majesty; "say no more --- I see how
it is." And hereupon, taking off his green spectacles, he wiped the glasses carefully with
the sleeve of his coat, and deposited them in his pocket.
If Bon-Bon had been astonished at the incident of the book, his amazement was now
much increased by the spectacle which here presented itself to view. In raising his eyes,
with a strong feeling of curiosity to ascertain the color of his guest's, he found them by no
means black, as he had anticipated --- nor gray, as might have been imagined --- nor yet
hazel nor blue --- nor indeed yellow nor red --- nor purple --- nor white --- nor green --nor any other color in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under
the earth. In short, Pierre Bon-Bon not only saw plainly that his Majesty had no eyes
whatsoever, but could discover no indications of their having existed at any previous
period --- for the space where eyes should naturally have been was, I am constrained to
say, simply a dead level of flesh.
It was not in the nature of the metaphysician to forbear making some inquiry into the
sources of so strange a phenomenon, and the reply of his Majesty was at once prompt,
dignified, and satisfactory.
"Eyes! my dear Bon-Bon --- eyes! did you say? --- oh! --- ah! --- I perceive! The
ridiculous prints, eh, which are in, circulation, have given you a false idea of my personal
appearance? Eyes! --- true. Eyes, Pierre Bon-Bon, are very well in their proper place --that, you would say, is the head? --- right --- the head of a worm. To you, likewise, these
optics are indispensable --- yet I will convince you that my vision is more penetrating
than your own. There is a cat I see in the corner --- a pretty cat --- look at her --- observe
her well. Now, Bon-Bon, do you behold the thoughts --- the thoughts, I say, --- the ideas -- the reflections --- which are being engendered in her pericranium? There it is, now --you do not! She is thinking we admire the length of her tail and the profundity of her
mind. She has just concluded that I am the most distinguished of ecclesiastics, and that
you are the most superficial of metaphysicians. Thus you see I am not altogether blind;
but to one of my profession, the eyes you speak of would be merely an incumbrance,
liable at any time to be put out by a toasting-iron, or a pitchfork. To you, I allow, these
optical affairs are indispensable. Endeavor, Bon-Bon, to use them well; --- my vision is
the soul."
Hereupon the guest helped himself to the wine upon the table, and pouring out a
bumper for Bon-Bon, requested him to drink it without scruple, and make himself
perfectly at home.
"A clever book that of yours, Pierre," resumed his Majesty, tapping our friend knowingly
upon the shoulder, as the latter put down his glass after a thorough compliance with his
visitor's injunction. "A clever book that of yours, upon my honor. It's a work after my
own heart. Your arrangement of the matter, I think, however, might be improved, and
many of your notions remind me of Aristotle. That philosopher was one of my most
intimate acquaintances. I liked him as much for his terrible ill temper, as for his happy
knack at making a blunder. There is only one solid truth in all that he has written, and for
that I gave him the hint out of pure compassion for his absurdity. I suppose, Pierre BonBon, you very well know to what divine moral truth I am alluding?"
"Cannot say that I ---"
"Indeed! --- why it was I who told Aristotle that by sneezing, men expelled superfluous
ideas through the proboscis."
"Which is --- hiccup! --- undoubtedly the case," said the metaphysician, while he
poured out for himself another bumper of Mousseux, and offered his snuff-box to the
fingers of his visitor.
"There was Plato, too," continued his Majesty, modestly declining the snuff-box and
the compliment it implied --- "there was Plato, too, for whom I, at one time, felt all the
affection of a friend. You knew Plato, Bon-Bon? --- ah, no, I beg a thousand pardons. He
met me at Athens, one day, in the Parthenon, and told me he was distressed for an idea. I
bade him write, down that ο νουσ εστιν αυλοσ. He said that he would do so, and went
home, while I stepped over to the pyramids. But my conscience smote me for having
uttered a truth, even to aid a friend, and hastening back to Athens, I arrived behind the
philosopher's chair as he was inditing the 'αυλοσ.'"
"Giving the lambda a fillip with my finger, I turned it upside down. So the sentence
now read 'ο νουσ εστιν αυγοσ', and is, you perceive, the fundamental doctrines in his
metaphysics."
"Were you ever at Rome?" asked the restaurateur, as he finished his second bottle of
Mousseux, and drew from the closet a larger supply of Chambertin.
But once, Monsieur Bon-Bon, but once. There was a time," said the devil, as if reciting
some passage from a book --- "there was a time when occurred an anarchy of five years,
during which the republic, bereft of all its officers, had no magistracy besides the tribunes
of the people, 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."
"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 visitor --- "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 --- hiccup! --- 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 --- exquisitenot 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 visitor 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."
"Hiccup!" 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 --- hiccup! --- absorption of a
pill-box!" --- and the philosopher dropped a tear.
"After all," continued the visitor, "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 visitor 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 specify, 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. . . ."* (Here His Majesty repeated a name
which I did not feel justified in indicating more unequivocally.)
*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.
"Hic-cup --- e-h?" said the philosopher.
"Have no funds on hand."
"What?"
"Besides, very unhandsome in me ---"
"Sir!"
"To take advantage of ---"
"Hic-cup!"
"Your present disgusting and ungentlemanly situation."
Here the visitor 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.
The Business Man
Method is the soul of business. -- Old Saying.
I AM a business man. I am a methodical man. Method is the thing, after all. But there are
no people I more heartily despise than your eccentric fools who prate about method
without understanding it; attending strictly to its letter, and violating its spirit. These
fellows are always doing the most out-of-the-way things in what they call an orderly
manner. Now here, I conceive, is a positive paradox. True method appertains to the
ordinary and the obvious alone, and cannot be applied to the outre. What definite idea can
a body attach to such expressions as "methodical Jack o' Dandy," or "a systematical Will
o' the Wisp"?
My notions upon this head might not have been so clear as they are, but for a fortunate
accident which happened to me when I was a very little boy. A good-hearted old Irish
nurse (whom I shall not forget in my will) took me up one day by the heels, when I was
making more noise than was necessary, and swinging me round two or three times, d----d my eyes for "a skreeking little spalpin," and then knocked my head into a cocked hat
against the bedpost. This, I say, decided my fate, and made my fortune. A bump arose at
once on my sinciput, and turned out to be as pretty an organ of order as one shall see on a
summer's day. Hence that positive appetite for system and regularity which has made me
the distinguished man of business that I am.
If there is any thing on earth I hate, it is a genius. Your geniuses are all arrant asses --the greater the genius the greater the ass --- and to this rule there is no exception
whatever. Especially, you cannot make a man of business out of a genius, any more than
money out of a Jew, or the best nutmegs out of pine-knots. The creatures are always
going off at a tangent into some fantastic employment, or ridiculous speculation, entirely
at variance with the "fitness of things," and having no business whatever to be considered
as a business at all. Thus you may tell these characters immediately by the nature of their
occupations. If you ever perceive a man setting up as a merchant or a manufacturer, or
going into the cotton or tobacco trade, or any of those eccentric pursuits; or getting to be
a dry-goods dealer, or soap-boiler, or something of that kind; or pretending to be a
lawyer, or a blacksmith, or a physician --- any thing out of the usual way --- you may set
him down at once as a genius, and then, according to the rule-of-three, he's an ass.
Now I am not in any respect a genius, but a regular business man. My Day-book and
Ledger will evince this in a minute. They are well kept, though I say it myself; and, in my
general habits of accuracy and punctuality, I am not to be beat by a clock. Moreover, my
occupations have been always made to chime in with the ordinary habitudes of my
fellowmen. Not that I feel the least indebted, upon this score, to my exceedingly weakminded parents, who, beyond doubt, would have made an arrant genius of me at last, if
my guardian angel had not come, in good time, to the rescue. In biography the truth is
every thing, and in autobiography it is especially so --- yet I scarcely hope to be believed
when I state, however solemnly, that my poor father put me, when I was about fifteen
years of age, into the counting-house of what be termed "a respectable hardware and
commission merchant doing a capital bit of business!" A capital bit of fiddlestick!
However, the consequence of this folly was, that in two or three days, I had to be sent
home to my button-headed family in a high state of fever, and with a most violent and
dangerous pain in the sinciput, all around about my organ of order. It was nearly a gone
case with me then -- just touch-and-go for six weeks -- the physicians giving me up and
all that sort of thing. But, although I suffered much, I was a thankful boy in the main. I
was saved from being a "respectable hardware and commission merchant, doing a capital
bit of business," and I felt grateful to the protuberance which had been the means of my
salvation, as well as to the kindhearted female who had originally put these means within
my reach.
The most of boys run away from home at ten or twelve years of age, but I waited till I
was sixteen. I don't know that I should have gone even then, if I had not happened to hear
my old mother talk about setting me up on my own hook in the grocery way. The grocery
way! --- only think of that! I resolved to be off forthwith, and try and establish myself in
some decent occupation, without dancing attendance any longer upon the caprices of
these eccentric old people, and running the risk of being made a genius of in the end. In
this project I succeeded perfectly well at the first effort, and by the time I was fairly
eighteen, found myself doing an extensive and profitable business in the Tailor's
Walking-Advertisement line.
I was enabled to discharge the onerous duties of this profession, only by that rigid
adherence to system which formed the leading feature of my mind. A scrupulous method
characterized my actions as well as my accounts. In my case it was method --- not money
--- which made the man: at least all of him that was not made by the tailor whom I
served. At nine, every morning, I called upon that individual for the clothes of the day.
Ten o'clock found me in some fashionable promenade or other place of public
amusement. The precise regularity with which I turned my handsome person about, so as
to bring successively into view every portion of the suit upon my back, was the
admiration of all the knowing men in the trade. Noon never passed without my bringing
home a customer to the house of my employers, Messrs. Cut & Comeagain. I say this
proudly, but with tears in my eyes --- for the firm proved themselves the basest of
ingrates. The little account, about which we quarreled and finally parted, cannot, in any
item, be thought overcharged, by gentlemen really conversant with the nature of the
business. Upon this point, however, I feel a degree of proud satisfaction in permitting the
reader to judge for himself. My bill ran thus:
Messrs.
Cut
&
Comeagain,
Merchant
To Peter Proffit, Walking Advertiser
Tailors.
Drs.
JULY To promenade, as usual and customer brought home
10.
$00 25
JULY To do do
do
25
11.
JULY To one lie, second class; damaged black cloth sold for
25
12.
invisible green
JULY To one lie, first class, extra quality and size; recommended
75
milled satinet as broadcloth
13.
JULY To purchasing bran new paper shirt collar or dickey, to set off
02
20.
gray Petersham
AUG. To wearing double-padded bobtail frock, (thermometer 706 in
25
15.
the shade)
AUG. Standing on one leg three hours, to show off new-style
16.
strapped pants at 12 1/2 cents per leg per hour
37 1/2
AUG. To promenade, as usual, and large customer brought (fat man)
50
17.
AUG. To
18.
AUG. To
19.
do
do (medium size)
do
do (small man and bad pay)
Total:
25
06
$2 95
1/2
Contents
My strict integrity, economy, and rigorous business habits, here again came into play. I
found myself driving a flourishing trade, and soon became a marked man upon 'Change.
The truth is, I never dabbled in flashy matters, but jogged on in the good old sober
routine of the calling --- a calling in which I should, no doubt, have remained to the
present hour, but for a little accident which happened to me in the prosecution of one of
the usual business operations of the profession. Whenever a rich old hunks or prodigal
heir or bankrupt corporation gets into the notion of putting up a palace, there is no such
thing in the world as stopping either of them, and this every intelligent person knows.
The fact in question is indeed the basis of the Eye-Sore trade. As soon, therefore, as a
building-project is fairly afoot by one of these parties, we merchants secure a nice corner
of the lot in contemplation, or a prime little situation just adjoining, or tight in front. This
done, we wait until the palace is half-way up, and then we pay some tasty architect to run
us up an ornamental mud hovel, right against it; or a Down-East or Dutch Pagoda, or a
pig-sty, or an ingenious little bit of fancy work, either Esquimau, Kickapoo, or Hottentot.
Of course we can't afford to take these structures down under a bonus of five hundred per
cent upon the prime cost of our lot and plaster. Can we? I ask the question. I ask it of
business men. It would be irrational to suppose that we can. And yet there was a rascally
corporation which asked me to do this very thing --- this very thing! I did not reply to
their absurd proposition, of course; but I felt it a duty to go that same night, and lampblack the whole of their palace. For this the unreasonable villains clapped me into jail;
and the gentlemen of the Eye-Sore trade could not well avoid cutting my connection
when I came out.
The Assault-and-Battery business, into which I was now forced to adventure for a
livelihood, was somewhat ill-adapted to the delicate nature of my constitution; but I went
to work in it with a good heart, and found my account here, as heretofore, in those stern
habits of methodical accuracy which had been thumped into me by that delightful old
nurse -- I would indeed be the basest of men not to remember her well in my will. By
observing, as I say, the strictest system in all my dealings, and keeping a well-regulated
set of books, I was enabled to get over many serious difficulties, and, in the end, to
establish myself very decently in the profession. The truth is, that few individuals, in any
line, did a snugger little business than I. I will just copy a page or so out of my DayBook; and this will save me the necessity of blowing my own trumpet -- a contemptible
practice of which no high-minded man will be guilty. Now, the Day-Book is a thing that
don't lie.
"Jan. 1. --- New Year's Day. Met Snap in the street, groggy. Mem --- he'll do. Met
Gruff shortly afterward, blind drunk. Mem --- he'll answer, too. Entered both gentlemen
in my Ledger, and opened a running account with each.
"Jan. 2. --- Saw Snap at the Exchange, and went up and trod on his toe. Doubled his
fist and knocked me down. Good! --- got up again. Some trifling difficulty with Bag, my
attorney. I want the damages at a thousand, but he says that for so simple a knock down
we can't lay them at more than five hundred. Mem --- must get rid of Bag --- no system at
all.
"Jan. 3 --- Went to the theatre, to look for Gruff. Saw him sitting in a side box, in the
second tier, between a fat lady and a lean one. Quizzed the whole party through an operaglass, till I saw the fat lady blush and whisper to G. Went round, then, into the box, and
put my nose within reach of his hand. Wouldn't pull it -- no go. Blew it, and tried again -- no go. Sat down then, and winked at the lean lady, when I had the high satisfaction of
finding him lift me up by the nape of the neck, and fling me over into the pit. Neck
dislocated, and right leg capitally splintered. Went home in high glee, drank a bottle of
champagne, and booked the young man for five thousand. Bag says it'll do.
"Feb. 15 --- Compromised the case of Mr. Snap. Amount entered in Journal -- fifty
cents --- which see.
"Feb. 16. --- Cast by that ruffian, Gruff, who made me a present of five dollars. Costs
of suit, four dollars and twenty-five cents. Net profit, -- see Journal,--- seventy-five
cents."
Now, here is a clear gain, in a very brief period, of no less than one dollar and twentyfive cents -- this is in the mere cases of Snap and Gruff; and I solemnly assure the reader
that these extracts are taken at random from my Day-Book.
It's an old saying, and a true one, however, that money is nothing in comparison with
health. I found the exactions of the profession somewhat too much for my delicate state
of body; and, discovering, at last, that I was knocked all out of shape, so that I didn't
know very well what to make of the matter, and so that my friends, when they met me in
the street, couldn't tell that I was Peter Proffit at all, it occurred to me that the best
expedient I could adopt was to alter my line of business. I turned my attention, therefore,
to Mud-Dabbling, and continued it for some years.
The worst of this occupation is, that too many people take a fancy to it, and the
competition is in consequence excessive. Every ignoramus of a fellow who finds that he
hasn't brains in sufficient quantity to make his way as a walking advertiser, or an eye-sore
prig, or a salt-and-batter man, thinks, of course, that he'll answer very well as a dabbler of
mud. But there never was entertained a more erroneous idea than that it requires no brains
to mud-dabble. Especially, there is nothing to be made in this way without method. I did
only a retail business myself, but my old habits of system carried me swimmingly along.
I selected my street-crossing, in the first place, with great deliberation, and I never put
down a broom in any part of the town but that. I took care, too, to have a nice little
puddle at hand, which I could get at in a minute. By these means I got to be well known
as a man to be trusted; and this is one-half the battle, let me tell you, in trade. Nobody
ever failed to pitch me a copper, and got over my crossing with a clean pair of
pantaloons. And, as my business habits, in this respect, were sufficiently understood, I
never met with any attempt at imposition. I wouldn't have put up with it, if I had. Never
imposing upon any one myself, I suffered no one to play the possum with me. The frauds
of the banks of course I couldn't help. Their suspension put me to ruinous inconvenience.
These, however, are not individuals, but corporations; and corporations, it is very well
known, have neither bodies to be kicked nor souls to be damned.
I was making money at this business when, in an evil moment, I was induced to merge
it in the Cur-Spattering -- a somewhat analogous, but, by no means, so respectable a
profession. My location, to be sure, was an excellent one, being central, and I had capital
blacking and brushes. My little dog, too, was quite fat and up to all varieties of snuff. He
had been in the trade a long time, and, I may say, understood it. Our general routine was
this: --- Pompey, having rolled himself well in the mud, sat upon end at the shop door,
until he observed a dandy approaching in bright boots. He then proceeded to meet him,
and gave the Wellingtons a rub or two with his wool. Then the dandy swore very much,
and looked about for a boot-black. There I was, full in his view, with blacking and
brushes. It was only a minute's work, and then came a sixpence. This did moderately well
for a time; --- in fact, I was not avaricious, but my dog was. I allowed him a third of the
profit, but he was advised to insist upon half. This I couldn't stand --- so we quarrelled
and parted.
I next tried my hand at the Organ-Grinding for a while, and may say that I made out
pretty well. It is a plain, straightforward business, and requires no particular abilities. You
can get a music-mill for a mere song, and to put it in order, you have but to open the
works, and give them three or four smart raps with a hammer. In improves the tone of the
thing, for business purposes, more than you can imagine. This done, you have only to
stroll along, with the mill on your back, until you see tanbark in the street, and a knocker
wrapped up in buckskin. Then you stop and grind; looking as if you meant to stop and
grind till doomsday. Presently a window opens, and somebody pitches you a sixpence,
with a request to "Hush up and go on," etc. I am aware that some grinders have actually
afforded to "go on" for this sum; but for my part, I found the necessary outlay of capital
too great to permit of my "going on" under a shilling.
At this occupation I did a good deal; but, somehow, I was not quite satisfied, and so
finally abandoned it. The truth is, I labored under the disadvantage of having no monkey
-- and American streets are so muddy, and a Democratic rabble is so obtrusive, and so
full of demnition mischievous little boys.
I was now out of employment for some months, but at length succeeded, by dint of
great interest, in procuring a situation in the Sham-Post. The duties, here, are simple, and
not altogether unprofitable. For example: --- very early in the morning I had to make up
my packet of sham letters. Upon the inside of each of these I had to scrawl a few lines --on any subject which occurred to me as sufficiently mysterious --- signing all the epistles
Tom Dobson, or Bobby Tompkins, or anything in that way. Having folded and sealed all,
and stamped them with sham postmarks -- New Orleans, Bengal, Botany Bay, or any
other place a great way off --- I set out, forthwith, upon my daily route, as if in a very
great hurry. I always called at the big houses to deliver the letters, and receive the
postage. Nobody hesitates at paying for a letter --- especially for a double one --- people
are such fools --- and it was no trouble to get round a corner before there was time to
open the epistles. The worst of this profession was, that I had to walk so much and so
fast; and so frequently to vary my route. Besides, I had serious scruples of conscience. I
can't bear to hear innocent individuals abused --- and the way the whole town took to
cursing Tom Dobson and Bobby Tompkins was really awful to hear. I washed my hands
of the matter in disgust.
My eighth and last speculation has been in the Cat-Growing way. I have found that a
most pleasant and lucrative business, and, really, no trouble at all. The country, it is well
known, has become infested with cats -- so much so of late, that a petition for relief, most
numerously and respectably signed, was brought before the Legislature at its late
memorable session. The Assembly, at this epoch, was unusually well-informed, and,
having passed many other wise and wholesome enactments, it crowned all with the CatAct. In its original form, this law offered a premium for cat-heads (fourpence a-piece),
but the Senate succeeded in amending the main clause, so as to substitute the word "tails"
for "heads." This amendment was so obviously proper, that the House concurred in it
nem. con.
As soon as the governor had signed the bill, I invested my whole estate in the purchase
of Toms and Tabbies. At first I could only afford to feed them upon mice (which are
cheap), but they fulfilled the scriptural injunction at so marvellous a rate, that I at length
considered it my best policy to be liberal, and so indulged them in oysters and turtle.
Their tails, at a legislative price, now bring me in a good income; for I have discovered a
way, in which, by means of Macassar oil, I can force three crops in a year. It delights me
to find, too, that the animals soon get accustomed to the thing, and would rather have the
appendages cut off than otherwise. I consider myself, therefore, a made man, and am
bargaining for a country seat on the Hudson.
The Cask of Amontillado
THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could ; but when he ventured
upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not
suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this
was a point definitively settled --- but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved,
precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is
unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the
avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
It must be understood, that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to
doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not
perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.
He had a weak point --- this Fortunato --- although in other regards he was a man to be
respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few
Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit
the time and opportunity - to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian
millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen , was a quack - but
in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him
materially : I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I
could.
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that
I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been
drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and
his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him, that I
thought I should never have done wringing his hand.
I said to him: "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are
looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my
doubts."
"How?" said he. "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the
carnival!"
"I have my doubts," I replied ; "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado
price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of
losing a bargain."
"Amontillado!"
"I have my doubts."
"Amontillado!"
"And I must satisfy them."
"Amontillado!"
"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a critical turn, it is he.
He will tell me ---"
"Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."
"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own."
"Come, let us go."
"Whither ?"
"To your vaults."
"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an
engagement. Luchesi ---"
"I have no engagement; --- come."
"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you
are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre."
"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado ! You have been
imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado."
Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm. Putting on a mask of black
silk, and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my
palazzo.
There were no attendants at home ; they had absconded to make merry in honor of the
time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them
explicit orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to
insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned.
I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him
through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a
long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at
length to the foot of the descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs
of the Montresors.
The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.
"The pipe," said he.
"It is farther on," said I ; "but observe the white web-work which gleams from these
cavern walls."
He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the
rheum of intoxication .
"Nitre?" he asked, at length.
"Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?"
"Ugh! ugh! ugh! --- ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh!
ugh!"
My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.
"It is nothing," he said, at last.
"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich,
respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed.
For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible.
Besides, there is Luchesi ---"
"Enough," he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a
cough."
"True --- true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you
unnecessarily - but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will
defend us from the damps."
Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that
lay upon the mould.
"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.
He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his
bells jingled.
"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us."
"And I to your long life."
He again took my arm, and we proceeded.
"These vaults," he said, "are extensive."
"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family."
"I forget your arms."
"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose
fangs are imbedded in the heel."
"And the motto?"
"Nemo me impune lacessit."
"Good!" he said.
The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the
Medoc. We had passed through walls of piled bones, with casks and puncheons
intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I
made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.
"The nitre!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below
the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back
ere it is too late. Your cough ---"
"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc."
I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grâve. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes
flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I
did not understand.
I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement --- a grotesque one.
"You do not comprehend?" he said.
"Not I," I replied.
"Then you are not of the brotherhood."
"How?"
"You are not of the masons."
"Yes, yes," I said, "yes, yes."
"You? Impossible! A mason?"
"A mason," I replied.
"A sign," he said.
"It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of my roquelaire.
"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed to the
Amontillado."
"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak, and again offering him my arm.
He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We
passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again,
arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to
glow than flame.
At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had
been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great
catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this
manner. From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon
the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by
the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior recess, in depth about four feet,
in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial
use in itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossal supports of the
roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid
granite.
It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavored to pry into the depths
of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.
"Proceed," I said ; "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi ---"
"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily forward, while I
followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche,
and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more
and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from
each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from
the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few
seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped
back from the recess.
"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed it is
very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No ? Then I must positively leave
you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power."
"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."
As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have before
spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar.
With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the
entrance of the niche.
I had scarcely laid the first tier of my masonry when I discovered that the intoxication
of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a
low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There
was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth ;
and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes,
during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and
sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided , I resumed the trowel, and
finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was now
nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the
mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the
chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated --- I
trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess : but the
thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the
catacombs, and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of him who
clamored. I re-echoed --- I aided --- I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this,
and the clamorer grew still.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth,
the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there
remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I
placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low
laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had
difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said --"Ha! ha! ha! --- he! he! --- a very good joke indeed --- an excellent jest. We will have
many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo --- he! he! he! --- over our wine --- he! he! he!"
"The Amontillado!" I said.
"He! he! he! - he! he! he! - yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not
they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."
"Yes," I said, "let us be gone."
"For the love of God, Montressor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"
But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud ---
"Fortunato!"
No answer. I called again --"Fortunato!"
No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within.
There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick --- on account
of the dampness of the catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the
last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old
rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace
requiescat!
The Colloquy of Monos and Una
Μελλοϖτα ταϖτα
"These things are in the future."
Sophocles --- Antig,
Una. "Born again?"
Monos. Yes, fairest and best beloved Una, "born again." These were the words upon
whose mystical meaning I had so long pondered, rejecting the explanations of the
priesthood, until Death himself resolved for me the secret.
Una. Death!
Monos. How strangely, sweet Una, you echo my words! I observe, too, a vacillation in
your step --- a joyous inquietude in your eyes. You are confused and oppressed by the
majestic novelty of the Life Eternal. Yes, it was of Death I spoke. And here how
singularly sounds that word which of old was wont to bring terror to all hearts --throwing a mildew upon all pleasures!
Una. Ah, Death, the spectre which sate at all feasts! How often, Monos, did we lose
ourselves in speculations upon its nature! How mysteriously did it act as a check to
human bliss --- saying unto it "thus far, and no farther!" That earnest mutual love, my
own Monos, which burned within our bosoms --- how vainly did we flatter ourselves,
feeling happy in its first up springing, that our happiness would strengthen with its
strength! Alas! as it grew, so grew in our hearts the dread of that evil hour which was
hurrying to separate us forever! Thus, in time, it became painful to love. Hate would have
been mercy then.
Monos. Speak not here of these griefs, dear Una --- mine, mine forever now!
Una. But the memory of past sorrow --- is it not present joy? I have much to say yet of
the things which have been. Above all, I burn to know the incidents of your own passage
through the dark Valley and Shadow.
Monos. And when did the radiant Una ask anything of her Monos in vain? I will be
minute in relating all --- but at what point shall the weird narrative begin?
Una. At what point?
Monos. You have said.
Una. Monos, I comprehend you. In Death we have both learned the propensity of man
to define the indefinable. I will not say, then, commence with the moment of life's
cessation --- but commence with that sad, sad instant when, the fever having abandoned
you, you sank into a breathless and motionless torpor, and I pressed down your pallid
eyelids with the passionate fingers of love.
Monos. One word first, my Una, in regard to man's general condition at this epoch.
You will remember that one or two of the wise among our forefathers --- wise in fact,
although not in the world's esteem --- had ventured to doubt the propriety of the term
"improvement," as applied to the progress of our civilization. There were periods in each
of the five or six centuries immediately preceding our dissolution, when arose some
vigorous intellect, boldly contending for those principles whose truth appears now, to our
disenfranchised reason, so utterly obvious --- principles which should have taught our
race to submit to the guidance of the natural laws, rather than attempt their control. At
long intervals some master-minds appeared, looking upon each advance in practical
science as a retro-gradation in the true utility. Occasionally the poetic intellect --- that
intellect which we now feel to have been the most exalted of all --- since those truths
which to us were of the most enduring importance could only be reached by that analogy
which speaks in proof-tones to the imagination alone, and to the unaided reason bears no
weight --- occasionally did this poetic intellect proceed a step farther in the evolving of
the vague idea of the philosophic, and find in the mystic parable that tells of the tree of
knowledge, and of its forbidden fruit, death-producing, a distinct intimation that
knowledge was not meet for man in the infant condition of his soul. And these men --the poets --- living and perishing amid the scorn of the "utilitarians" --- of rough pedants,
who arrogated to themselves a title which could have been properly applied only to the
scorned --- these men, the poets, pondered piningly, yet not unwisely, upon the ancient
days when our wants were not more simple than our enjoyments were keen --- days when
mirth was a word unknown, so solemnly deep-toned was happiness --- holy, august and
blissful days, when blue rivers ran undammed, between hills unhewn, into far forest
solitudes, primeval, odorous, and unexplored.
Yet these noble exceptions from the general misrule served but to strengthen it by
opposition. Alas! we had fallen upon the most evil of all our evil days. The great
"movement" --- that was the cant term --- went on: a diseased commotion, moral and
physical. Art --- the Arts --- arose supreme, and, once enthroned, cast chains upon the
intellect which had elevated them to power. Man, because he could not but acknowledge
the majesty of Nature, fell into childish exultation at his acquired and still-increasing
dominion over her elements. Even while he stalked a God in his own fancy, an infantine
imbecility came over him. As might be supposed from the origin of his disorder, he grew
infected with system, and with abstraction. He enwrapped himself in generalities. Among
other odd ideas, that of universal equality gained ground; and in the face of analogy and
of God --- in despite of the loud warning voice of the laws of gradation so visibly
pervading all things in Earth and Heaven --- wild attempts at an omni-prevalent
Democracy were made. Yet this evil sprang necessarily from the leading evil,
Knowledge. Man could not both know and succumb. Meantime huge smoking cities
arose, innumerable. Green leaves shrank before the hot breath of furnaces. The fair face
of Nature was deformed as with the ravages of some loathsome disease. And methinks,
sweet Una, even our slumbering sense of the forced and of the far-fetched might have
arrested us here. But now it appears that we had worked out our own destruction in the
perversion of our taste, or rather in the blind neglect of its culture in the schools. For, in
truth, it was at this crisis that taste alone --- that faculty which, holding a middle position
between the pure intellect and the moral sense, could never safely have been disregarded
--- it was now that taste alone could have led us gently back to Beauty, to Nature, and to
Life. But alas for the pure contemplative spirit and majestic intuition of Plato! Alas for
μουσιχη which he justly regarded as an all-sufficient education for the soul! Alas for
him and for it! --- since both were most desperately needed when both were most entirely
forgotten or despised. *
* "It will be hard to discover a better [method of education] than that which the experience of so many ages
has already discovered; and this may be summed up as consisting in gymnastics for the body, and music for
the soul." --- Repub. lib. 2. "For this reason is a musical education most essential; since it causes Rhythm
and Harmony to penetrate most intimately into the soul, taking the strongest hold upon it, filling it with
beauty and making the man beautiful-minded . . . . . He will praise and admire the beautiful; will receive it
with joy into his soul, will feed upon it, and assimilate his own condition with it." --- Ibid. lib. 3. Music
μουσιχη had, however, among the Athenians, a far more comprehensive signification than with us. It
included not only the harmonies of time and of tune, but the poetic diction, sentiment and creation, each in
its widest sense. The study of music was with them, in fact, the general cultivation of the taste --- of that
which recognizes the beautiful --- in contra-distinction from reason, which deals only with the true.
Pascal, a philosopher whom we both love, has said, how truly! --- "que tout notre
raisonnement se rèduit à céder au sentiment;" and it is not impossible that the sentiment
of the natural, had time permitted it, would have regained its old ascendancy over the
harsh mathematical reason of the schools. But this thing was not to be. Prematurely
induced by intemperance of knowledge, the old age of the world drew on. This the mass
of mankind saw not, or, living lustily although unhappily, affected not to see. But, for
myself, the Earth's records had taught me to look for widest ruin as the price of highest
civilization. I had imbibed a prescience of our Fate from comparison of China the simple
and enduring, with Assyria the architect, with Egypt the astrologer, with Nubia, more
crafty than either, the turbulent mother of all Arts. In history** of these regions I met
with a ray from the Future. The individual artificialities of the three latter were local
diseases of the Earth, and in their individual overthrows we had seen local remedies
applied; but for the infected world at large I could anticipate no regeneration save in
death. That man, as a race, should not become extinct, I saw that he must be "born
again."
**
"History,"
from
ιστορειν,
to
contemplate.
And now it was, fairest and dearest, that we wrapped our spirits, daily, in dreams. Now
it was that, in twilight, we discoursed of the days to come, when the Art-scarred surface
of the Earth, having undergone that purification *** which alone could efface its
rectangular obscenities, should clothe itself anew in the verdure and the mountain-slopes
and the smiling waters of Paradise, and be rendered at length a fit dwelling-place for
man: --- for man the Death-purged --- for man to whose now exalted intellect there
should be poison in knowledge no more --- for the redeemed, regenerated, blissful, and
now immortal, but still for the material, man.
*** The word "purification" seems here to be used with reference to its root in the Greek πυρ, fire.
Una. Well do I remember these conversations, dear Monos; but the epoch of the fiery
overthrow was not so near at hand as we believed, and as the corruption you indicate did
surely warrant us in believing. Men lived; and died individually. You yourself sickened,
and passed into the grave; and thither your constant Una speedily followed you. And
though the century which has since elapsed, and whose conclusion brings us thus together
once more, tortured our slumbering senses with no impatience of duration, yet, my
Monos, it was a century still.
Monos. Say, rather, a point in the vague infinity. Unquestionably, it was in the Earth's
dotage that I died. Wearied at heart with anxieties which had their origin in the general
turmoil and decay, I succumbed to the fierce fever. After some few days of pain, and
many of dreamy delirium replete with ecstasy, the manifestations of which you mistook
for pain, while I longed but was impotent to undeceive you --- after some days there
came upon me, as you have said, a breathless and motionless torpor; and this was termed
Death by those who stood around me.
Words are vague things. My condition did not deprive me of sentience. It appeared to
me not greatly dissimilar to the extreme quiescence of him, who, having slumbered long
and profoundly, lying motionless and fully prostrate in a midsummer noon, begins to
steal slowly back into consciousness, through the mere sufficiency of his sleep, and
without being awakened by external disturbances.
I breathed no longer. The pulses were still. The heart had ceased to beat. Volition had
not departed, but was powerless. The senses were unusually active, although eccentrically
so --- assuming often each other's functions at random. The taste and the smell were
inextricably confounded, and became one sentiment, abnormal and intense. The rosewater with which your tenderness had moistened my lips to the last, affected me with
sweet fancies of flowers --- fantastic flowers, far more lovely than any of the old Earth,
but whose prototypes we have here blooming around us. The eyelids, transparent and
bloodless, offered no complete impediment to vision. As volition was in abeyance, the
balls could not roll in their sockets --- but all objects within the range of the visual
hemisphere were seen with more or less distinctness; the rays which fell upon the
external retina, or into the corner of the eye, producing a more vivid effect than those
which struck the front or interior surface. Yet, in the former instance, this effect was so
far anomalous that I appreciated it only as sound --- sound sweet or discordant as the
matters presenting themselves at my side were light or dark in shade --- curved or angular
in outline. The hearing, at the same time, although excited in degree, was not irregular in
action --- estimating real sounds with an extravagance of precision, not less than of
sensibility. Touch had undergone a modification more peculiar. Its impressions were
tardily received, but pertinaciously retained, and resulted always in the highest physical
pleasure. Thus the pressure of your sweet fingers upon my eyelids, at first only
recognized through vision, at length, long after their removal, filled my whole being with
a sensual delight immeasurable. I say with a sensual delight. All my perceptions were
purely sensual. The materials furnished the passive brain by the senses were not in the
least degree wrought into shape by the deceased understanding. Of pain there was some
little; of pleasure there was much; but of moral pain or pleasure none at all. Thus your
wild sobs floated into my ear with all their mournful cadences, and were appreciated in
their every variation of sad tone; but they were soft musical sounds and no more; they
conveyed to the extinct reason no intimation of the sorrows which gave them birth; while
the large and constant tears which fell upon my face, telling the bystanders of a heart
which broke, thrilled every fibre of my frame with ecstasy alone. And this was in truth
the Death of which these bystanders spoke reverently, in low whispers --- you, sweet
Una, gaspingly, with loud cries.
They attired me for the coffin --- three or four dark figures which flitted busily to and
fro. As these crossed the direct line of my vision they affected me as forms; but upon
passing to my side their images impressed me with the idea of shrieks, groans, and other
dismal expressions of terror, of horror, or of woe. You alone, habited in a white robe,
passed in all directions musically about me.
The day waned; and, as its light faded away, I became possessed by a vague uneasiness -- an anxiety such as the sleeper feels when sad real sounds fall continuously within his
ear --- low distant bell-tones, solemn, at long but equal intervals, and commingling with
melancholy dreams. Night arrived; and with its shadows a heavy discomfort. It oppressed
my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. There was also a
moaning sound, not unlike the distant reverberation of surf, but more continuous, which,
beginning with the first twilight, had grown in strength with the darkness. Suddenly lights
were brought into the room, and this reverberation became forthwith interrupted into
frequent unequal bursts of the same sound, but less dreary and less distinct. The
ponderous oppression was in a great measure relieved; and, issuing from the flame of
each lamp, (for there were many,) there flowed unbrokenly into my ears a strain of
melodious monotone. And when now, dear Una, approaching the bed upon which I lay
outstretched, you sat gently by my side, breathing odor from your sweet lips, and
pressing them upon my brow, there arose tremulously within my bosom, and mingling
with the merely physical sensations which circumstances had called forth, a something
akin to sentiment itself --- a feeling that, half appreciating, half responded to your earnest
love and sorrow; but this feeling took no root in the pulseless heart, and seemed indeed
rather a shadow than a reality, and faded quickly away, first into extreme quiescence, and
then into a purely sensual pleasure as before.
And now, from the wreck and the chaos of the usual senses, there appeared to have
arisen within me a sixth, all perfect. In its exercise I found a wild delight --- yet a delight
still physical, inasmuch as the understanding had in it no part. Motion in the animal frame
had fully ceased. No muscle quivered; no nerve thrilled; no artery throbbed. But there
seemed to have sprung up in the brain, that of which no words could convey to the
merely human intelligence even an indistinct conception. Let me term it a mental
pendulous pulsation. It was the moral embodiment of man's abstract idea of Time. By the
absolute equalization of this movement --- or of such as this --- had the cycles of the
firmamental orbs themselves, been adjusted. By its aid I measured the irregularities of the
clock upon the mantel, and of the watches of the attendants. Their tickings came
sonorously to my ears. The slightest deviations from the true proportion --- and these
deviations were omni-prevalent --- affected me just as violations of abstract truth were
wont, on earth, to affect the moral sense. Although no two of the time-pieces in the
chamber struck the individual seconds accurately together, yet I had no difficulty in
holding steadily in mind the tones, and the respective momentary errors of each. And this
--- this keen, perfect, self-existing sentiment of duration --- this sentiment existing (as
man could not possibly have conceived it to exist) independently of any succession of
events --- this idea --- this sixth sense, upspringing from the ashes of the rest, was the first
obvious and certain step of the intemporal soul upon the threshold of the temporal
Eternity.
It was midnight; and you still sat by my side. All others had departed from the chamber
of Death. They had deposited me in the coffin. The lamps burned flickeringly; for this I
knew by the tremulousness of the monotonous strains. But, suddenly these strains
diminished in distinctness and in volume. Finally they ceased. The perfume in my nostrils
died away. Forms affected my vision no longer. The oppression of the Darkness uplifted
itself from my bosom. A dull shock like that of electricity pervaded my frame, and was
followed by total loss of the idea of contact. All of what man has termed sense was
merged in the sole consciousness of entity, and in the one abiding sentiment of duration.
The mortal body had been at length stricken with the hand of the deadly Decay.
Yet had not all of sentience departed; for the consciousness and the sentiment
remaining supplied some of its functions by a lethargic intuition. I appreciated the direful
change now in operation upon the flesh, and, as the dreamer is sometimes aware of the
bodily presence of one who leans over him, so, sweet Una, I still dully felt that you sat by
my side. So, too, when the noon of the second day came, I was not unconscious of those
movements which displaced you from my side, which confined me within the coffin,
which deposited me within the hearse, which bore me to the grave, which lowered me
within it, which heaped heavily the mould upon me, and which thus left me, in blackness
and corruption, to my sad and solemn slumbers with the worm.
And here, in the prison-house which has few secrets to disclose, there rolled away days
and weeks and months; and the soul watched narrowly each second as it flew, and,
without effort, took record of its flight --- without effort and without object.
A year passed. The consciousness of being had grown hourly more indistinct, and that
of mere locality had, in great measure, usurped its position. The idea of entity was
becoming merged in that of place. The narrow space immediately surrounding what had
been the body, was now growing to be the body itself. At length, as often happens to the
sleeper (by sleep and its world alone is Death imaged) --- at length, as sometimes
happened on Earth to the deep slumberer, when some flitting light half startled him into
awaking, yet left him half enveloped in dreams --- so to me, in the strict embrace of the
Shadow, came that light which alone might have had power to startle --- the light of
enduring Love. Men toiled at the grave in which I lay darkling. They upthrew the damp
earth. Upon my mouldering bones there descended the coffin of Una.
And now again all was void. That nebulous light had been extinguished. That feeble
thrill had vibrated itself into quiescence. Many lustra had supervened. Dust had returned
to dust. The worm had food no more. The sense of being had at length utterly departed,
and there reigned in its stead --- instead of all things --- dominant and perpetual --- the
autocrats Place and Time. For that which was not --- for that which had no form --- for
that which had no thought --- for that which had no sentience --- for that which was
soulless, yet of which matter formed no portion --- for all this nothingness, yet for all this
immortality, the grave was still a home, and the corrosive hours, co-mates.
The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion
Πυρ σοι προσοισω
I will bring fire to thee.
Euripides --- Androm:
EIROS
WHY do you call me Eiros?
CHARMION
So henceforward will you always be called. You must forget, too, my earthly name,
and speak to me as Charmion.
EIROS
This is indeed no dream!
CHARMION
Dreams are with us no more; --- but of these mysteries anon. I rejoice to see you
looking life-like and rational. The film of the shadow has already passed from off your
eyes. Be of heart, and fear nothing. Your allotted days of stupor have expired; and, tomorrow, I will myself induct you into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.
EIROS
True --- I feel no stupor --- none at all. The wild sickness and the terrible darkness have
left me, and I hear no longer that mad, rushing, horrible sound, like the "voice of many
waters." Yet my senses are bewildered, Charmion, with the keenness of their perception
of the new.
CHARMION
A few days will remove all this; --- but I fully understand you, and feel for you. It is
now ten earthly years since I underwent what you undergo --- yet the remembrance of it
hangs by me still. You have now suffered all of pain, however, which you will suffer in
Aidenn.
EIROS
In Aidenn?
CHARMION
In Aidenn.
EIROS
Oh God! --- pity me, Charmion! --- I am overburdened with the majesty of all things -- of the unknown now known --- of the speculative Future merged in the august and
certain Present.
CHARMION
Grapple not now with such thoughts. To-morrow we will speak of this. Your mind
wavers, and its agitation will find relief in the exercise of simple memories. Look not
around, nor forward --- but back. I am burning with anxiety to hear the details of that
stupendous event which threw you among us. Tell me of it. Let us converse of familiar
things, in the old familiar language of the world which has so fearfully perished.
EIROS
Most fearfully, fearfully! --- this is indeed no dream.
CHARMION
Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned, my Eiros?
EIROS
Mourned, Charmion? --- oh deeply. To that last hour of all, there hung a cloud of
intense gloom and devout sorrow over your household.
CHARMION
And that last hour --- speak of it. Remember that, beyond the naked fact of the
catastrophe itself, I know nothing. When, coming out from among mankind, I passed into
Night through the Grave --- at that period, if I remember aright, the calamity which
overwhelmed you was utterly unanticipated. But, indeed, I knew little of the speculative
philosophy of the day.
EIROS
The individual calamity was, as you say, entirely unanticipated; but analogous
misfortunes had been long a subject of discussion with astronomers. I need scarce tell
you, my friend, that, even when you left us, men had agreed to understand those passages
in the most holy writings which speak of the final destruction of all things by fire, as
having reference to the orb of the earth alone. But in regard to the immediate agency of
the ruin, speculation had been at fault from that epoch in astronomical knowledge in
which the comets were divested of the terrors of flame. The very moderate density of
these bodies had been well established. They had been observed to pass among the
satellites of Jupiter, without bringing about any sensible alteration either in the masses or
in the orbits of these secondary planets. We had long regarded the wanderers as vapory
creations of inconceivable tenuity, and as altogether incapable of doing injury to our
substantial globe, even in the event of contact. But contact was not in any degree
dreaded; for the elements of all the comets were accurately known. That among them we
should look for the agency of the threatened fiery destruction had been for many years
considered an inadmissible idea. But wonders and wild fancies had been, of late days,
strangely rife among mankind; and, although it was only with a few of the ignorant that
actual apprehension prevailed, upon the announcement by astronomers of a new comet,
yet this announcement was generally received with I know not what of agitation and
mistrust.
The elements of the strange orb were immediately calculated, and it was at once
conceded by all observers, that its path, at perihelion, would bring it into very close
proximity with the earth. There were two or three astronomers, of secondary note, who
resolutely maintained that a contact was inevitable. I cannot very well express to you the
effect of this intelligence upon the people. For a few short days they would not believe an
assertion which their intellect, so long employed among worldly considerations, could
not in any manner grasp. But the truth of a vitally important fact soon makes its way into
the understanding of even the most stolid. Finally, all men saw that astronomical
knowledge lied not, and they awaited the comet. Its approach was not, at first, seemingly
rapid; nor was its appearance of very unusual character. It was of a dull red, and had little
perceptible train. For seven or eight days we saw no material increase in its apparent
diameter, and but a partial alteration in its color. Meantime, the ordinary affairs of men
were discarded, and all interests absorbed in a growing discussion, instituted by the
philosophic, in respect to the cometary nature. Even the grossly ignorant aroused their
sluggish capacities to such considerations. The learned now gave their intellect --- their
soul --- to no such points as the allaying of fear, or to the sustenance of loved theory.
They sought --- they panted for right views. They groaned for perfected knowledge.
Truth arose in the purity of her strength and exceeding majesty, and the wise bowed
down and adored.
That material injury to our globe or to its inhabitants would result from the apprehended
contact, was an opinion which hourly lost ground among the wise; and the wise were now
freely permitted to rule the reason and the fancy of the crowd. It was demonstrated, that
the density of the comet's nucleus was far less than that of our rarest gas; and the
harmless passage of a similar visitor among the satellites of Jupiter was a point strongly
insisted upon, and which served greatly to allay terror. Theologists, with an earnestness
fear-enkindled, dwelt upon the biblical prophecies, and expounded them to the people
with a directness and simplicity of which no previous instance had been known. That the
final destruction of the earth must be brought about by the agency of fire, was urged with
a spirit that enforced every where conviction; and that the comets were of no fiery nature
(as all men now knew) was a truth which relieved all, in a great measure, from the
apprehension of the great calamity foretold. It is noticeable that the popular prejudices
and vulgar errors in regard to pestilences and wars --- errors which were wont to prevail
upon every appearance of a comet --- were now altogether unknown. As if by some
sudden convulsive exertion, reason had at once hurled superstition from her throne. The
feeblest intellect had derived vigor from excessive interest.
What minor evils might arise from the contact were points of elaborate question. The
learned spoke of slight geological disturbances, of probable alterations in climate, and
consequently in vegetation; of possible magnetic and electric influences. Many held that
no visible or perceptible effect would in any manner be produced. While such discussions
were going on, their subject gradually approached, growing larger in apparent diameter,
and of a more brilliant lustre. Mankind grew paler as it came. All human operations were
suspended.
There was an epoch in the course of the general sentiment when the comet had
attained, at length, a size surpassing that of any previously recorded visitation. The
people now, dismissing any lingering hope that the astronomers were wrong, experienced
all the certainty of evil. The chimerical aspect of their terror was gone. The hearts of the
stoutest of our race beat violently within their bosoms. A very few days sufficed,
however, to merge even such feelings in sentiments more unendurable We could no
longer apply to the strange orb any accustomed thoughts. Its historical attributes had
disappeared. It oppressed us with a hideous novelty of emotion. We saw it not as an
astronomical phenomenon in the heavens, but as an incubus upon our hearts, and a
shadow upon our brains. It had taken, with inconceivable rapidity, the character of a
gigantic mantle of rare flame, extending from horizon to horizon.
Yet a day, and men breathed with greater freedom. It was clear that we were already
within the influence of the comet; yet we lived. We even felt an unusual elasticity of
frame and vivacity of mind. The exceeding tenuity of the object of our dread was
apparent; for all heavenly objects were plainly visible through it. Meantime, our
vegetation had perceptibly altered; and we gained faith, from this predicted circumstance,
in the foresight of the wise. A wild luxuriance of foliage, utterly unknown before, burst
out upon every vegetable thing.
Yet another day --- and the evil was not altogether upon us. It was now evident that its
nucleus would first reach us. A wild change had come over all men; and the first sense of
pain was the wild signal for general lamentation and horror. This first sense of pain lay in
a rigorous constriction of the breast and lungs, and an insufferable dryness of the skin. It
could not be denied that our atmosphere was radically affected; the conformation of this
atmosphere and the possible modifications to which it might be subjected, were now the
topics of discussion. The result of investigation sent an electric thrill of the intensest
terror through the universal heart of man.
It had been long known that the air which encircled us was a compound of oxygen and
nitrogen gases, in the proportion of twenty-one measures of oxygen, and seventy-nine of
nitrogen, in every one hundred of the atmosphere. Oxygen, which was the principle of
combustion, and the vehicle of heat, was absolutely necessary to the support of animal
life, and was the most powerful and energetic agent in nature. Nitrogen, on the contrary,
was incapable of supporting either animal life or flame. An unnatural excess of oxygen
would result, it had been ascertained, in just such an elevation of the animal spirits as we
had latterly experienced. It was the pursuit, the extension of the idea, which had
engendered awe. What would be the result of a total extraction of the nitrogen? A
combustion irresistible, all-devouring, omni-prevalent, immediate; --- the entire
fulfilment, in all their minute and terrible details, of the fiery and horror-inspiring
denunciations of the prophecies of the Holy Book.
Why need I paint, Charmion, the now disenchained frenzy of mankind? That tenuity in
the comet which had previously inspired us with hope, was now the source of the
bitterness of despair. In its impalpable gaseous character we clearly perceived the
consummation of Fate. Meantime a day again passed --- bearing away with it the last
shadow of Hope. We gasped in the rapid modification of the air. The red blood bounded
tumultuously through its strict channels. A furious delirium possessed all men; and, with
arms rigidly outstretched towards the threatening heavens, they trembled and shrieked
aloud. But the nucleus of the destroyer was now upon us; --- even here in Aidenn, I
shudder while I speak. Let me be brief --- brief as the ruin that overwhelmed. For a
moment there was a wild lurid light alone, visiting and penetrating all things. Then --- let
us bow down, Charmion, before the excessive majesty of the great God! --- then, there
came a shouting and pervading sound, as if from the mouth itself of HIM; while the whole
incumbent mass of ether in which we existed, burst at once into a species of intense
flame, for whose surpassing brilliancy and all-fervid heat even the angels in the high
Heaven of pure knowledge have no name. Thus ended all.
A Descent into the Maelström
The ways of God in Nature, as in Providence, are not as our ways; nor are the models that we frame any
way commensurate to the vastness, profundity, and unsearchableness of His works, which have a depth in
them greater than the well of Democritus.
Joseph Glanville.
WE had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For some minutes the old man
seemed too much exhausted to speak.
"Not long ago," said he at length, "and I could have guided you on this route as well as
the youngest of my sons ; but, about three years past, there happened to me an event such
as never happened to mortal man --- or at least such as no man ever survived to tell of --and the six hours of deadly terror which I then endured have broken me up body and soul.
You suppose me a very old man --- but I am not. It took less than a single day to change
these hairs from a jetty black to white, to weaken my limbs, and to unstring my nerves, so
that I tremble at the least exertion, and am frightened at a shadow. Do you know I can
scarcely look over this little cliff without getting giddy?"
The "little cliff," upon whose edge he had so carelessly thrown himself down to rest
that the weightier portion of his body hung over it, while he was only kept from falling by
the tenure of his elbow on its extreme and slippery edge --- this "little cliff" arose, a sheer
unobstructed precipice of black shining rock, some fifteen or sixteen hundred feet from
the world of crags beneath us. Nothing would have tempted me to within half a dozen
yards of its brink. In truth so deeply was I excited by the perilous position of my
companion, that I fell at full length upon the ground, clung to the shrubs around me, and
dared not even glance upward at the sky --- while I struggled in vain to divest myself of
the idea that the very foundations of the mountain were in danger from the fury of the
winds. It was long before I could reason myself into sufficient courage to sit up and look
out into the distance.
"You must get over these fancies," said the guide, "for I have brought you here that
you might have the best possible view of the scene of that event I mentioned --- and to
tell you the whole story with the spot just under your eye."
"We are now," he continued, in that particularizing manner which distinguished him --"we are now close upon the Norwegian coast --- in the sixty-eighth degree of latitude --in the great province of Nordland --- and in the dreary district of Lofoden. The mountain
upon whose top we sit is Helseggen, the Cloudy. Now raise yourself up a little higher --hold on to the grass if you feel giddy --- so --- and look out, beyond the belt of vapor
beneath us, into the sea."
I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean, whose waters wore so inky a hue
as to bring at once to my mind the Nubian geographer's account of the Mare Tenebrarum.
A panorama more deplorably desolate no human imagination can conceive. To the right
and left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay outstretched, like ramparts of the world,
lines of horridly black and beetling cliff, whose character of gloom was but the more
forcibly illustrated by the surf which reared high up against its white and ghastly crest,
howling and shrieking forever. Just opposite the promontory upon whose apex we were
placed, and at a distance of some five or six miles out at sea, there was visible a small,
bleak-looking island; or, more properly, its position was discernible through the
wilderness of surge in which it was enveloped. About two miles nearer the land, arose
another of smaller size, hideously craggy and barren, and encompassed at various
intervals by a cluster of dark rocks.
The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more distant island and the
shore, had something very unusual about it. Although, at the time, so strong a gale was
blowing landward that a brig in the remote offing lay to under a double-reefed trysail, and
constantly plunged her whole hull out of sight, still there was here nothing like a regular
swell, but only a short, quick, angry cross dashing of water in every direction --- as well
in the teeth of the wind as otherwise. Of foam there was little except in the immediate
vicinity of the rocks.
"The island in the distance," resumed the old man, "is called by the Norwegians
Vurrgh. The one midway is Moskoe. That a mile to the northward is Ambaaren. Yonder
are Islesen, Hotholm, Keildhelm, Suarven, and Buckholm. Farther off --- between
Moskoe and Vurrgh --- are Otterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and Stockholm. These are the
true names of the places --- but why it has been thought necessary to name them at all, is
more than either you or I can understand. Do you hear anything? Do you see any change
in the water?"
We had now been about ten minutes upon the top of Helseggen, to which we had
ascended from the interior of Lofoden, so that we had caught no glimpse of the sea until
it had burst upon us from the summit. As the old man spoke, I became aware of a loud
and gradually increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast herd of buffaloes upon an
American prairie; and at the same moment I perceived that what seamen term the
chopping character of the ocean beneath us, was rapidly changing into a current which set
to the eastward. Even while I gazed, this current acquired a monstrous velocity. Each
moment added to its speed --- to its headlong impetuosity. In five minutes the whole sea,
as far as Vurrgh, was lashed into ungovernable fury; but it was between Moskoe and the
coast that the main uproar held its sway. Here the vast bed of the waters, seamed and
scarred into a thousand conflicting channels, burst suddenly into phrensied convulsion --heaving, boiling, hissing --- gyrating in gigantic and innumerable vortices, and all
whirling and plunging on to the eastward with a rapidity which water never elsewhere
assumes except in precipitous descents.
In a few minutes more, there came over the scene another radical alteration. The general
surface grew somewhat more smooth, and the whirlpools, one by one, disappeared, while
prodigious streaks of foam became apparent where none had been seen before. These
streaks, at length, spreading out to a great distance, and entering into combination, took
unto themselves the gyratory motion of the subsided vortices, and seemed to form the
germ of another more vast. Suddenly --- very suddenly --- this assumed a distinct and
definite existence, in a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge of the whirl was
represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray; but no particle of this slipped into the
mouth of the terrific funnel, whose interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a
smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an angle of some
forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with a swaying and sweltering
motion, and sending forth to the winds an appalling voice, half shriek, half roar, such as
not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to Heaven.
The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I threw myself upon my
face, and clung to the scant herbage in an excess of nervous agitation.
"This," said I at length, to the old man --- "this can be nothing else than the great
whirlpool of the Maelström."
"So it is sometimes termed," said he. "We Norwegians call it the Moskoe-ström, from
the island of Moskoe in the midway."
The ordinary accounts of this vortex had by no means prepared me for what I saw.
That of Jonas Ramus, which is perhaps the most circumstantial of any, cannot impart the
faintest conception either of the magnificence, or of the horror of the scene --- or of the
wild bewildering sense of the novel which confounds the beholder. I am not sure from
what point of view the writer in question surveyed it, nor at what time; but it could
neither have been from the summit of Helseggen, nor during a storm. There are some
passages of his description, nevertheless, which may be quoted for their details, although
their effect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an impression of the spectacle.
"Between Lofoden and Moskoe," he says, "the depth of the water is between thirty-six
and forty fathoms; but on the other side, toward Ver (Vurrgh) this depth decreases so as
not to afford a convenient passage for a vessel, without the risk of splitting on the rocks,
which happens even in the calmest weather. When it is flood, the stream runs up the
country between Lofoden and Moskoe with a boisterous rapidity; but the roar of its
impetuous ebb to the sea is scarce equalled by the loudest and most dreadful cataracts;
the noise being heard several leagues off, and the vortices or pits are of such an extent
and depth, that if a ship comes within its attraction, it is inevitably absorbed and carried
down to the bottom, and there beat to pieces against the rocks; and when the water
relaxes, the fragments thereof are thrown up again. But these intervals of tranquility are
only at the turn of the ebb and flood, and in calm weather, and last but a quarter of an
hour, its violence gradually returning. When the stream is most boisterous, and its fury
heightened by a storm, it is dangerous to come within a Norway mile of it. Boats, yachts,
and ships have been carried away by not guarding against it before they were within its
reach. It likewise happens frequently, that whales come too near the stream, and are
overpowered by its violence; and then it is impossible to describe their howlings and
bellowings in their fruitless struggles to disengage themselves. A bear once, attempting to
swim from Lofoden to Moskoe, was caught by the stream and borne down, while he
roared terribly, so as to be heard on shore. Large stocks of firs and pine trees, after being
absorbed by the current, rise again broken and torn to such a degree as if bristles grew
upon them. This plainly shows the bottom to consist of craggy rocks, among which they
are whirled to and fro. This stream is regulated by the flux and reflux of the sea --- it
being constantly high and low water every six hours. In the year 1645, early in the
morning of Sexagesima Sunday, it raged with such noise and impetuosity that the very
stones of the houses on the coast fell to the ground."
In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this could have been
ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity of the vortex. The "forty fathoms" must have
reference only to portions of the channel close upon the shore either of Moskoe or
Lofoden. The depth in the centre of the Moskoe-ström must be immeasurably greater;
and no better proof of this fact is necessary than can be obtained from even the sidelong
glance into the abyss of the whirl which may be had from the highest crag of Helseggen.
Looking down from this pinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below, I could not help
smiling at the simplicity with which the honest Jonas Ramus records, as a matter difficult
of belief, the anecdotes of the whales and the bears; for it appeared to me, in fact, a selfevident thing, that the largest ship of the line in existence, coming within the influence of
that deadly attraction, could resist it as little as a feather the hurricane, and must
disappear bodily and at once.
The attempts to account for the phenomenon --- some of which, I remember, seemed to
me sufficiently plausible in perusal --- now wore a very different and unsatisfactory
aspect. The idea generally received is that this, as well as three smaller vortices among
the Ferroe islands, "have no other cause than the collision of waves rising and falling, at
flux and reflux, against a ridge of rocks and shelves, which confines the water so that it
precipitates itself like a cataract; and thus the higher the flood rises, the deeper must the
fall be, and the natural result of all is a whirlpool or vortex, the prodigious suction of
which is sufficiently known by lesser experiments." --- These are the words of the
Encyclopædia Britannica. Kircher and others imagine that in the centre of the channel of
the Maelström is an abyss penetrating the globe, and issuing in some very remote part --the Gulf of Bothnia being somewhat decidedly named in one instance. This opinion, idle
in itself, was the one to which, as I gazed, my imagination most readily assented; and,
mentioning it to the guide, I was rather surprised to hear him say that, although it was the
view almost universally entertained of the subject by the Norwegians, it nevertheless was
not his own. As to the former notion he confessed his inability to comprehend it; and
here I agreed with him --- for, however conclusive on paper, it becomes altogether
unintelligible, and even absurd, amid the thunder of the abyss.
"You have had a good look at the whirl now," said the old man, "and if you will creep
round this crag, so as to get in its lee, and deaden the roar of the water, I will tell you a
story that will convince you I ought to know something of the Moskoe-ström."
I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded.
"Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-rigged smack of about seventy
tons burthen, with which we were in the habit of fishing among the islands beyond
Moskoe, nearly to Vurrgh. In all violent eddies at sea there is good fishing, at proper
opportunities, if one has only the courage to attempt it; but among the whole of the
Lofoden coastmen, we three were the only ones who made a regular business of going
out to the islands, as I tell you. The usual grounds are a great way lower down to the
southward. There fish can be got at all hours, without much risk, and therefore these
places are preferred. The choice spots over here among the rocks, however, not only yield
the finest variety, but in far greater abundance; so that we often got in a single day, what
the more timid of the craft could not scrape together in a week. In fact, we made it a
matter of desperate speculation --- the risk of life standing instead of labor, and courage
answering for capital.
"We kept the smack in a cove about five miles higher up the coast than this; and it was
our practice, in fine weather, to take advantage of the fifteen minutes' slack to push across
the main channel of the Moskoe-ström, far above the pool, and then drop down upon
anchorage somewhere near Otterholm, or Sandflesen, where the eddies are not so violent
as elsewhere. Here we used to remain until nearly time for slack-water again, when we
weighed and made for home. We never set out upon this expedition without a steady side
wind for going and coming --- one that we felt sure would not fail us before our return --and we seldom made a mis-calculation upon this point. Twice, during six years, we were
forced to stay all night at anchor on account of a dead calm, which is a rare thing indeed
just about here ; and once we had to remain on the grounds nearly a week, starving to
death, owing to a gale which blew up shortly after our arrival, and made the channel too
boisterous to be thought of. Upon this occasion we should have been driven out to sea in
spite of everything, (for the whirlpools threw us round and round so violently, that, at
length, we fouled our anchor and dragged it), if it had not been that we drifted into one of
the innumerable cross currents --- here to-day and gone to-morrow --- which drove us
under the lee of Flimen, where, by good luck, we brought up.
"I could not tell you the twentieth part of the difficulties we encountered 'on the
grounds' --- it is a bad spot to be in, even in good weather --- but we made shift always to
run the gauntlet of the Moskoe-ström itself without accident; although at times my heart
has been in my mouth when we happened to be a minute or so behind or before the slack.
The wind sometimes was not as strong as we thought it at starting, and then we made
rather less way than we could wish, while the current rendered the smack unmanageable.
My eldest brother had a son eighteen years old, and I had two stout boys of my own.
These would have been of great assistance at such times, in using the sweeps, as well as
afterward in fishing --- but, somehow, although we ran the risk ourselves, we had not the
heart to let the young ones get into the danger --- for, after all is said and done, it was a
horrible danger, and that is the truth.
"It is now within a few days of three years since what I am going to tell you occurred.
It was on the tenth day of July, 18 ---, a day which the people of this part of the world
will never forget --- for it was one in which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever
came out of the heavens. And yet all the morning, and indeed until late in the afternoon,
there was a gentle and steady breeze from the south-west, while the sun shone brightly,
so that the oldest seaman among us could not have foreseen what was to follow.
"The three of us --- my two brothers and myself --- had crossed over to the islands
about two o'clock P.M., and had soon nearly loaded the smack with fine fish, which, we
all remarked, were more plenty that day than we had ever known them. It was just seven,
by my watch, when we weighed and started for home, so as to make the worst of the
Ström at slack water, which we knew would be at eight.
"We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and for some time spanked
along at a great rate, never dreaming of danger, for indeed we saw not the slightest reason
to apprehend it. All at once we were taken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen. This
was most unusual --- something that had never happened to us before --- and I began to
feel a little uneasy, without exactly knowing why. We put the boat on the wind, but could
make no headway at all for the eddies, and I was upon the point of proposing to return to
the anchorage, when, looking astern, we saw the whole horizon covered with a singular
copper-colored cloud that rose with the most amazing velocity.
"In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off fell away, and we were dead
becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This state of things, however, did not last
long enough to give us time to think about it. In less than a minute the storm was upon us
--- in less than two the sky was entirely overcast --- and what with this and the driving
spray, it became suddenly so dark that we could not see each other in the smack.
"Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt describing. The oldest seaman in
Norway never experienced any thing like it. We had let our sails go by the run before it
cleverly took us; but, at the first puff, both our masts went by the board as if they had
been sawed off --- the mainmast taking with it my youngest brother, who had lashed
himself to it for safety.
"Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon water. It had a complete
flush deck, with only a small hatch near the bow, and this hatch it had always been our
custom to batten down when about to cross the Ström, by way of precaution against the
chopping seas. But for this circumstance we should have foundered at once --- for we lay
entirely buried for some moments. How my elder brother escaped destruction I cannot
say, for I never had an opportunity of ascertaining. For my part, as soon as I had let the
foresail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my feet against the narrow gunwale of the
bow, and with my hands grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of the foremast. It was mere
instinct that prompted me to do this --- which was undoubtedly the very best thing I could
have done --- for I was too much flurried to think.
"For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and all this time I held my
breath, and clung to the bolt. When I could stand it no longer I raised myself upon my
knees, still keeping hold with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little
boat gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming out of the water, and thus rid
herself, in some measure, of the seas. I was now trying to get the better of the stupor that
had come over me, and to collect my senses so as to see what was to be done, when I felt
somebody grasp my arm. It was my elder brother, and my heart leaped for joy, for I had
made sure that he was overboard --- but the next moment all this joy was turned into
horror --- for he put his mouth close to my ear, and screamed out the word 'Moskoeström! '
"No one ever will know what my feelings were at that moment. I shook from head to
foot as if I had had the most violent fit of the ague. I knew what he meant by that one
word well enough --- I knew what he wished to make me understand. With the wind that
now drove us on, we were bound for the whirl of the Ström, and nothing could save us!
"You perceive that in crossing the Ström channel, we always went a long way up
above the whirl, even in the calmest weather, and then had to wait and watch carefully for
the slack --- but now we were driving right upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane
as this ! 'To be sure,' I thought, 'we shall get there just about the slack --- there is some
little hope in that' --- but in the next moment I cursed myself for being so great a fool as
to dream of hope at all. I knew very well that we were doomed, had we been ten times a
ninety-gun ship.
"By this time the first fury of the tempest had spent itself, or perhaps we did not feel it
so much, as we scudded before it, but at all events the seas, which at first had been kept
down by the wind, and lay flat and frothing, now got up into absolute mountains. A
singular change, too, had come over the heavens. Around in every direction it was still as
black as pitch, but nearly overhead there burst out, all at once, a circular rift of clear sky -- as clear as I ever saw --- and of a deep bright blue --- and through it there blazed forth
the full moon with a lustre that I never before knew her to wear. She lit up every thing
about us with the greatest distinctness --- but, oh God, what a scene it was to light up!
"I now made one or two attempts to speak to my brother --- but, in some manner which
I could not understand, the din had so increased that I could not make him hear a single
word, although I screamed at the top of my voice in his ear. Presently he shook his head,
looking as pale as death, and held up one of his finger, as if to say 'listen!'
"At first I could not make out what he meant --- but soon a hideous thought flashed
upon me. I dragged my watch from its fob. It was not going. I glanced at its face by the
moonlight, and then burst into tears as I flung it far away into the ocean. It had run down
at seven o'clock! We were behind the time of the slack, and the whirl of the Ström was in
full fury!
"When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and not deep laden, the waves in a strong
gale, when she is going large, seem always to slip from beneath her --- which appears
very strange to a landsman --- and this is what is called riding, in sea phrase.
"Well, so far we had ridden the swells very cleverly; but presently a gigantic sea
happened to take us right under the counter, and bore us with it as it rose --- up --- up --as if into the sky. I would not have believed that any wave could rise so high. And then
down we came with a sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me feel sick and dizzy, as if
I was falling from some lofty mountain-top in a dream. But while we were up I had
thrown a quick glance around --- and that one glance was all sufficient. I saw our exact
position in an instant. The Moskoe-Ström whirlpool was about a quarter of a mile dead
ahead --- but no more like the every-day Moskoe-Ström, than the whirl as you now see it
is like a mill-race. If I had not known where we were, and what we had to expect, I
should not have recognized the place at all. As it was, I involuntarily closed my eyes in
horror. The lids clenched themselves together as if in a spasm
"It could not have been more than two minutes afterward until we suddenly felt the
waves subside, and were enveloped in foam. The boat made a sharp half turn to larboard,
and then shot off in its new direction like a thunderbolt. At the same moment the roaring
noise of the water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill shriek --- such a sound as
you might imagine given out by the waste-pipes of many thousand steam-vessels, letting
off their steam all together. We were now in the belt of surf that always surrounds the
whirl; and I thought, of course, that another moment would plunge us into the abyss --down which we could only see indistinctly on account of the amazing velocity with
which we wore borne along. The boat did not seem to sink into the water at all, but to
skim like an air-bubble upon the surface of the surge. Her starboard side was next the
whirl, and on the larboard arose the world of ocean we had left. It stood like a huge
writhing wall between us and the horizon.
"It may appear strange, but now, when we were in the very jaws of the gulf, I felt
more composed than when we were only approaching it. Having made up my mind to
hope no more, I got rid of a great deal of that terror which unmanned me at first. I
suppose it was despair that strung my nerves.
"It may look like boasting --- but what I tell you is truth --- I began to reflect how
magnificent a thing it was to die in such a manner, and how foolish it was in me to think
of so paltry a consideration as my own individual life, in view of so wonderful a
manifestation of God's power. I do believe that I blushed with shame when this idea
crossed my mind. After a little while I became possessed with the keenest curiosity about
the whirl itself. I positively felt a wish to explore its depths, even at the sacrifice I was
going to make ; and my principal grief was that I should never be able to tell my old
companions on shore about the mysteries I should see. These, no doubt, were singular
fancies to occupy a man's mind in such extremity --- and I have often thought since, that
the revolutions of the boat around the pool might have rendered me a little light-headed.
"There was another circumstance which tended to restore my self-possession; and this
was the cessation of the wind, which could not reach us in our present situation --- for, as
you saw yourself, the belt of surf is considerably lower than the general bed of the ocean,
and this latter now towered above us, a high, black, mountainous ridge. If you have never
been at sea in a heavy gale, you can form no idea of the confusion of mind occasioned by
the wind and spray together. They blind, deafen, and strangle you, and take away all
power of action or reflection. But we were now, in a great measure, rid of these
annoyances --- just us death-condemned felons in prison are allowed petty indulgences,
forbidden them while their doom is yet uncertain.
"How often we made the circuit of the belt it is impossible to say. We careered round
and round for perhaps an hour, flying rather than floating, getting gradually more and
more into the middle of the surge, and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge.
All this time I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My brother was at the stern, holding on to
a small empty water-cask which had been securely lashed under the coop of the counter,
and was the only thing on deck that had not been swept overboard when the gale first
took us. As we approached the brink of the pit he let go his hold upon this, and made for
the ring, from which, in the agony of his terror, he endeavored to force my hands, as it
was not large enough to afford us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief than when
I saw him attempt this act --- although I knew he was a madman when he did it --- a
raving maniac through sheer fright. I did not care, however, to contest the point with him.
I knew it could make no difference whether either of us held on at all; so I let him have
the bolt, and went astern to the cask. This there was no great difficulty in doing; for the
smack flew round steadily enough, and upon an even keel --- only swaying to and fro,
with the immense sweeps and swelters of the whirl. Scarcely had I secured myself in my
new position, when we gave a wild lurch to starboard, and rushed headlong into the
abyss. I muttered a hurried prayer to God, and thought all was over.
"As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent, I had instinctively tightened my hold
upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For some seconds I dared not open them --- while I
expected instant destruction, and wondered that I was not already in my death-struggles
with the water. But moment after moment elapsed. I still lived. The sense of falling had
ceased; and the motion of the vessel seemed much as it had been before, while in the belt
of foam, with the exception that she now lay more along. I took courage, and looked once
again upon the scene.
"Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and admiration with which I gazed
about me. The boat appeared to be hanging, as if by magic, midway down, upon the
interior surface of a funnel vast in circumference, prodigious in depth, and whose
perfectly smooth sides might have been mistaken for ebony, but for the bewildering
rapidity with which they spun around, and for the gleaming and ghastly radiance they
shot forth, as the rays of the full moon, from that circular rift amid the clouds which I
have already described, streamed in a flood of golden glory along the black walls, and far
away down into the inmost recesses of the abyss.
"At first I was too much confused to observe anything accurately. The general burst of
terrific grandeur was all that I beheld. When I recovered myself a little, however, my
gaze fell instinctively downward. In this direction I was able to obtain an unobstructed
view, from the manner in which the smack hung on the inclined surface of the pool. She
was quite upon an even keel --- that is to say, her deck lay in a plane parallel with that of
the water --- but this latter sloped at an angle of more than forty-five degrees, so that we
seemed to be lying upon our beam-ends. I could not help observing, nevertheless, that I
had scarcely more difficulty in maintaining my hold and footing in this situation, than if
we had been upon a dead level; and this, I suppose, was owing to the speed at which we
revolved.
"The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the profound gulf; but still
I could make out nothing distinctly, on account of a thick mist in which everything there
was enveloped, and over which there hung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and
tottering bridge which Mussulmen say is the only pathway between Time and Eternity.
This mist, or spray, was no doubt occasioned by the clashing of the great walls of the
funnel, as they all met together at the bottom --- but the yell that went up to the Heavens
from out of that mist, I dare not attempt to describe.
"Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam above, had carried us a great
distance down the slope; but our farther descent was by no means proportionate. Round
and round we swept --- not with any uniform movement --- but in dizzying swings and
jerks, that sent us sometimes only a few hundred yards --- sometimes nearly the complete
circuit of the whirl. Our progress downward, at each revolution, was slow, but very
perceptible.
"Looking about me upon the wide waste of liquid ebony on which we were thus borne,
I perceived that our boat was not the only object in the embrace of the whirl. Both above
and below us were visible fragments of vessels, large masses of building timber and
trunks of trees, with many smaller articles, such as pieces of house furniture, broken
boxes, barrels and staves. I have already described the unnatural curiosity which had
taken the place of my original terrors. It appeared to grow upon me as I drew nearer and
nearer to my dreadful doom. I now began to watch, with a strange interest, the numerous
things that floated in our company. I must have been delirious --- for I even sought
amusement in speculating upon the relative velocities of their several descents toward the
foam below. 'This fir tree,' I found myself at one time saying, 'will certainly be the next
thing that takes the awful plunge and disappears,' --- and then I was disappointed to find
that the wreck of a Dutch merchant ship overtook it and went down before. At length,
after making several guesses of this nature, and being deceived in all --- this fact --- the
fact of my invariable miscalculation --- set me upon a train of reflection that made my
limbs
again
tremble,
and
my
heart
beat
heavily
once
more.
"It was not a new terror that thus affected me, but the dawn of a more exciting hope.
This hope arose partly from memory, and partly from present observation. I called to
mind the great variety of buoyant matter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having been
absorbed and then thrown forth by the Moskoe-ström. By far the greater number of the
articles were shattered in the most extraordinary way --- so chafed and roughened as to
have the appearance of being stuck full of splinters --- but then I distinctly recollected
that there were some of them which were not disfigured at all. Now I could not account
for this difference except by supposing that the roughened fragments were the only ones
which had been completely absorbed --- that the others had entered the whirl at so late a
period of the tide, or, for some reason, had descended so slowly after entering, that they
did not reach the bottom before the turn of the flood came, or of the ebb, as the case
might be. I conceived it possible, in either instance, that they might thus be whirled up
again to the level of the ocean, without undergoing the fate of those which had been
drawn in more early, or absorbed more rapidly. I made, also, three important
observations. The first was, that, as a general rule, the larger the bodies were, the more
rapid their descent --- the second, that, between two masses of equal extent, the one
spherical, and the other of any other shape, the superiority in speed of descent was with
the sphere --- the third, that, between two masses of equal size, the one cylindrical, and
the other of any other shape, the cylinder was absorbed the more slowly. Since my
escape, I have had several conversations on this subject with an old school-master of the
district; and it was from him that I learned the use of the words 'cylinder' and 'sphere.' He
explained to me --- although I have forgotten the explanation --- how what I observed
was, in fact, the natural consequence of the forms of the floating fragments --- and
showed me how it happened that a cylinder, swimming in a vortex, offered more
resistance to its suction, and was drawn in with greater difficulty than an equally bulky
body, of any form whatever.*
*
See
Archimedes,
"De
Incidentibus
in
Fluido."
---
lib.
2.
"There was one startling circumstance which went a great way in enforcing these
observations, and rendering me anxious to turn them to account, and this was that, at
every revolution, we passed something like a barrel, or else the yard or the mast of a
vessel, while many of these things, which had been on our level when I first opened my
eyes upon the wonders of the whirlpool, were now high up above us, and seemed to have
moved but little from their original station.
"I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself securely to the water cask
upon which I now held, to cut it loose from the counter, and to throw myself with it into
the water. I attracted my brother's attention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels that
came near us, and did everything in my power to make him understand what I was about
to do. I thought at length that he comprehended my design --- but, whether this was the
case or not, he shook his head despairingly, and refused to move from his station by the
ring-bolt. It was impossible to reach him; the emergency admitted of no delay; and so,
with a bitter struggle, I resigned him to his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of
the lashings which secured it to the counter, and precipitated myself with it into the sea,
without another moment's hesitation.
"The result was precisely what I had hoped it might be. As it is myself who now tell
you this tale --- as you see that I did escape --- and as you are already in possession of the
mode in which this escape was effected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have
farther to say --- I will bring my story quickly to conclusion. It might have been an hour,
or thereabout, after my quitting the smack, when, having descended to a vast distance
beneath me, it made three or four wild gyrations in rapid succession, and, bearing my
loved brother with it, plunged headlong, at once and forever, into the chaos of foam
below. The barrel to which I was attached sunk very little farther than half the distance
between the bottom of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before a great
change took place in the character of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of the vast
funnel became momently less and less steep. The gyrations of the whirl grew, gradually,
less and less violent. By degrees, the froth and the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom
of the gulf seemed slowly to uprise. The sky was clear, the winds had gone down, and the
full moon was setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself on the surface of the
ocean, in full view of the shores of Lofoden, and above the spot where the pool of the
Moskoe-ström had been. It was the hour of the slack --- but the sea still heaved in
mountainous waves from the effects of the hurricane. I was borne violently into the
channel of the Ström, and in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the 'grounds'
of the fishermen. A boat picked me up --- exhausted from fatigue --- and (now that the
danger was removed) speechless from the memory of its horror. Those who drew me on
board were my old mates and daily companions --- but they knew me no more than they
would have known a traveller from the spirit-land. My hair which had been raven-black
the day before, was as white as you see it now. They say too that the whole expression of
my countenance had changed. I told them my story --- they did not believe it. I now tell it
to you --- and I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry
fishermen of Lofoden."
The Devil in the Belfry
What o'clock is it? --- Old Saying.
EVERYBODY knows, in a general way, that the finest place in the world is --- or, alas,
was --- the Dutch borough of Vondervotteimittiss. Yet as it lies some distance from any
of the main roads, being in a somewhat out-of-the-way situation, there are perhaps very
few of my readers who have ever paid it a visit. For the benefit of those who have not,
therefore, it will be only proper that I should enter into some account of it. And this is
indeed the more necessary, as with the hope of enlisting public sympathy in behalf of the
inhabitants, I design here to give a history of the calamitous events which have so lately
occurred within its limits. No one who knows me will doubt that the duty thus selfimposed will be executed to the best of my ability, with all that rigid impartiality, all that
cautious examination into facts, and diligent collation of authorities, which should ever
distinguish him who aspires to the title of historian.
By the united aid of medals, manuscripts, and inscriptions, I am enabled to say,
positively, that the borough of Vondervotteimittiss has existed, from its origin, in
precisely the same condition which it at present preserves. Of the date of this origin,
however, I grieve that I can only speak with that species of indefinite definiteness which
mathematicians are, at times, forced to put up with in certain algebraic formulae. The
date, I may thus say, in regard to the remoteness of its antiquity, cannot be less than any
assignable quantity whatsoever.
Touching the derivation of the name Vondervotteimittiss, I confess myself, with
sorrow, equally at fault. Among a multitude of opinions upon this delicate point- some
acute, some learned, some sufficiently the reverse -- I am able to select nothing which
ought to be considered satisfactory. Perhaps the idea of Grogswigg- nearly coincident
with that of Kroutaplenttey -- is to be cautiously preferred. --- It runs: --Vondervotteimittis -- Vonder, lege Donder --- Votteimittis, quasi und Bleitziz --- Bleitziz
obsol: -- pro Blitzen." This derivative, to say the truth, is still countenanced by some
traces of the electric fluid evident on the summit of the steeple of the House of the TownCouncil. I do not choose, however, to commit myself on a theme of such importance, and
must refer the reader desirous of information to the "Oratiunculae de Rebus PraeterVeteris," of Dundergutz. See, also, Blunderbuzzard "De Derivationibus," pp. 27 to 5010,
Folio, Gothic edit., Red and Black character, Catch-word and No Cypher; wherein
consult, also, marginal notes in the autograph of Stuffundpuff, with the SubCommentaries of Gruntundguzzell.
Notwithstanding the obscurity which thus envelops the date of the foundation of
Vondervotteimittis, and the derivation of its name, there can be no doubt, as I said before,
that it has always existed as we find it at this epoch. The oldest man in the borough can
remember not the slightest difference in the appearance of any portion of it; and, indeed,
the very suggestion of such a possibility is considered an insult. The site of the village is
in a perfectly circular valley, about a quarter of a mile in circumference, and entirely
surrounded by gentle hills, over whose summit the people have never yet ventured to
pass. For this they assign the very good reason that they do not believe there is anything
at all on the other side.
Round the skirts of the valley (which is quite level, and paved throughout with flat
tiles), extends a continuous row of sixty little houses. These, having their backs on the
hills, must look, of course, to the centre of the plain, which is just sixty yards from the
front door of each dwelling. Every house has a small garden before it, with a circular
path, a sun-dial, and twenty-four cabbages. The buildings themselves are so precisely
alike, that one can in no manner be distinguished from the other. Owing to the vast
antiquity, the style of architecture is somewhat odd, but it is not for that reason the less
strikingly picturesque. They are fashioned of hard-burned little bricks, red, with black
ends, so that the walls look like a chess-board upon a great scale. The gables are turned to
the front, and there are cornices, as big as all the rest of the house, over the eaves and
over the main doors. The windows are narrow and deep, with very tiny panes and a great
deal of sash. On the roof is a vast quantity of tiles with long curly ears. The woodwork,
throughout, is of a dark hue and there is much carving about it, with but a trifling variety
of pattern for, time out of mind, the carvers of Vondervotteimittiss have never been able
to carve more than two objects --- a time-piece and a cabbage. But these they do
exceedingly well, and intersperse them, with singular ingenuity, wherever they find room
for the chisel.
The dwellings are as much alike inside as out, and the furniture is all upon one plan.
The floors are of square tiles, the chairs and tables of black-looking wood with thin
crooked legs and puppy feet. The mantelpieces are wide and high, and have not only
time-pieces and cabbages sculptured over the front, but a real time-piece, which makes a
prodigious ticking, on the top in the middle, with a flower-pot containing a cabbage
standing on each extremity by way of outrider. Between each cabbage and the time-piece,
again, is a little China man having a large stomach with a great round hole in it, through
which is seen the dial-plate of a watch.
The fireplaces are large and deep, with fierce crooked-looking fire-dogs. There is
constantly a rousing fire, and a huge pot over it, full of sauerkraut and pork, to which the
good woman of the house is always busy in attending. She is a little fat old lady, with
blue eyes and a red face, and wears a huge cap like a sugar-loaf, ornamented with purple
and yellow ribbons. Her dress is of orange-colored linsey-woolsey, made very full behind
and very short in the waist --- and indeed very short in other respects, not reaching below
the middle of her leg. This is somewhat thick, and so are her ankles, but she has a fine
pair of green stockings to cover them. Her shoes --- of pink leather --- are fastened each
with a bunch of yellow ribbons puckered up in the shape of a cabbage. In her left hand
she has a little heavy Dutch watch; in her right she wields a ladle for the sauerkraut and
pork. By her side there stands a fat tabby cat, with a gilt toy-repeater tied to its tail, which
"the boys" have there fastened by way of a quiz.
The boys themselves are, all three of them, in the garden attending the pig. They are
each two feet in height. They have three-cornered cocked hats, purple waistcoats reaching
down to their thighs, buckskin knee-breeches, red stockings, heavy shoes with big silver
buckles, long surtout coats with large buttons of mother-of-pearl. Each, too, has a pipe in
his mouth, and a little dumpy watch in his right hand. He takes a puff and a look, and
then a look and a puff. The pig --- which is corpulent and lazy --- is occupied now in
picking up the stray leaves that fall from the cabbages, and now in giving a kick behind at
the gilt repeater, which the urchins have also tied to his tail in order to make him look as
handsome as the cat.
Right at the front door, in a high-backed leather-bottomed armed chair, with crooked legs
and puppy feet like the tables, is seated the old man of the house himself. He is an
exceedingly puffy little old gentleman, with big circular eyes and a huge double chin. His
dress resembles that of the boys --- and I need say nothing farther about it. All the
difference is, that his pipe is somewhat bigger than theirs and he can make a greater
smoke. Like them, he has a watch, but he carries his watch in his pocket. To say the truth,
he has something of more importance than a watch to attend to --- and what that is, I shall
presently explain. He sits with his right leg upon his left knee, wears a grave
countenance, and always keeps one of his eyes, at least, resolutely bent upon a certain
remarkable object in the centre of the plain.
This object is situated in the steeple of the House of the Town Council. The Town
Council are all very little, round, oily, intelligent men, with big saucer eyes and fat
double chins, and have their coats much longer and their shoe-buckles much bigger than
the ordinary inhabitants of Vondervotteimittiss. Since my sojourn in the borough, they
have had several special meetings, and have adopted these three important resolutions:--"That it is wrong to alter the good old course of things:"
"That there is nothing tolerable out of Vondervotteimittiss:" and --"That we will stick by our clocks and our cabbages."
Above the session-room of the Council is the steeple, and in the steeple is the belfry,
where exists, and has existed time out of mind, the pride and wonder of the village --- the
great clock of the borough of Vondervotteimittiss. And this is the object to which the
eyes of the old gentlemen are turned who sit in the leather-bottomed arm-chairs.
The great clock has seven faces --- one in each of the seven sides of the steeple --- so
that it can be readily seen from all quarters. Its faces are large and white, and its hands
heavy and black. There is a belfry-man whose sole duty is to attend to it; but this duty is
the most perfect of sinecures --- for the clock of Vondervotteimittis was never yet known
to have anything the matter with it. Until lately, the bare supposition of such a thing was
considered heretical. From the remotest period of antiquity to which the archives have
reference, the hours have been regularly struck by the big bell. And, indeed the case was
just the same with all the other clocks and watches in the borough. Never was such a
place for keeping the true time. When the large clapper thought proper to say "Twelve
o'clock!" all its obedient followers opened their throats simultaneously, and responded
like a very echo. In short, the good burghers were fond of their sauerkraut, but then they
were proud of their clocks.
All people who hold sinecure offices are held in more or less respect, and as the belfry
--- man of Vondervotteimittiss has the most perfect of sinecures, he is the most perfectly
respected of any man in the world. He is the chief dignitary of the borough, and the very
pigs look up to him with a sentiment of reverence. His coat-tail is very far longer --- his
pipe, his shoe --- buckles, his eyes, and his stomach, very far bigger --- than those of any
other old gentleman in the village; and as to his chin, it is not only double, but triple.
I have thus painted the happy estate of Vondervotteimittiss: alas, that so fair a picture
should ever experience a reverse!
There has been long a saying among the wisest inhabitants, that "no good can come
from over the hills"; and it really seemed that the words had in them something of the
spirit of prophecy. It wanted five minutes of noon, on the day before yesterday, when
there appeared a very odd-looking object on the summit of the ridge of the eastward.
Such an occurrence, of course, attracted universal attention, and every little old
gentleman who sat in a leather-bottomed arm-chair turned one of his eyes with a stare of
dismay upon the phenomenon, still keeping the other upon the clock in the steeple.
By the time that it wanted only three minutes to noon, the droll object in question was
perceived to be a very diminutive foreign-looking young man. He descended the hills at a
great rate, so that every body had soon a good look at him. He was really the most finicky
little personage that had ever been seen in Vondervotteimittiss. His countenance was of a
dark snuff-color, and he had a long hooked nose, pea eyes, a wide mouth, and an
excellent set of teeth, which latter he seemed anxious of displaying, as he was grinning
from ear to ear. What with mustachios and whiskers, there was none of the rest of his
face to be seen. His head was uncovered, and his hair neatly done up in papillotes. His
dress was a tight-fitting swallow-tailed black coat (from one of whose pockets dangled a
vast length of white handkerchief), black kerseymere knee-breeches, black stockings, and
stumpy-looking pumps, with huge bunches of black satin ribbon for bows. Under one
arm he carried a huge chapeau-de-bras, and under the other a fiddle nearly five times as
big as himself. In his left hand was a gold snuff-box, from which, as he capered down the
hill, cutting all manner of fantastic steps, he took snuff incessantly with an air of the
greatest possible self-satisfaction. God bless me! --- here was a sight for the honest
burghers of Vondervotteimittiss!
To speak plainly, the fellow had, in spite of his grinning, an audacious and sinister kind
of face; and as he curveted right into the village, the old stumpy appearance of his pumps
excited no little suspicion; and many a burgher who beheld him that day would have
given a trifle for a peep beneath the white cambric handkerchief which hung so
obtrusively from the pocket of his swallow-tailed coat. But what mainly occasioned a
righteous indignation was, that the scoundrelly popinjay, while he cut a fandango here,
and a whirligig there, did not seem to have the remotest idea in the world of such a thing
as keeping time in his steps.
The good people of the borough had scarcely a chance, however, to get their eyes
thoroughly open, when, just as it wanted half a minute of noon, the rascal bounced, as I
say, right into the midst of them; gave a chassez here, and a balancez there; and then,
after a pirouette and a pas-de-zephyr, pigeon-winged himself right up into the belfry of
the House of the Town Council, where the wonder-stricken belfry-man sat smoking in a
state of dignity and dismay. But the little chap seized him at once by the nose; gave it a
swing and a pull; clapped the big chapeau de-bras upon his head; knocked it down over
his eyes and mouth; and then, lifting up the big fiddle, beat him with it so long and so
soundly, that what with the belfry-man being so fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you
would have sworn that there was a regiment of double-bass drummers all beating the
devil's tattoo up in the belfry of the steeple of Vondervotteimittiss.
There is no knowing to what desperate act of vengeance this unprincipled attack might
have aroused the inhabitants, but for the important fact that it now wanted only half a
second of noon. The bell was about to strike, and it was a matter of absolute and preeminent necessity that every body should look well at his watch. It was evident, however,
that just at this moment the fellow in the steeple was doing something that he had no
business to do with the clock. But as it now began to strike, nobody had any time to
attend to his manoeuvres, for they had all to count the strokes of the bell as it sounded.
"One!" said the clock.
"Von!" echoed every little old gentleman in every leather-bottomed arm-chair in
Vondervotteimittiss. "Von!" said his watch also; "von!" said the watch of his vrow; and
"von!" said the watches of the boys, and the little gilt repeaters on the tails of the cat and
pig.
"Two!" continued the big bell; and
"Doo!" repeated all the repeaters.
"Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!" said the bell.
"Dree! Vour! Fibe! Sax! Seben! Aight! Noin! Den!" answered the others.
"Eleven!" said the big one.
"Eleben!" assented the little ones.
"Twelve!" said the bell.
"Dvelf!" they replied perfectly satisfied, and dropping their voices.
"Und dvelf it is!" said all the little old gentlemen, putting up their watches. But the big
bell had not done with them yet.
"Thirteen!" said he.
"Der Teufel!" gasped the little old gentlemen, turning pale, dropping their pipes, and
putting down all their right legs from over their left knees.
"Der Teufel!" groaned they, "Dirteen! Dirteen!! -- Mein Gott, it is Dirteen o'clock!!"
Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued? All Vondervotteimittiss flew
at once into a lamentable state of uproar.
"Vot is cum'd to mein pelly?" roared all the boys --- "I've been ongry for dis hour!"
"Vot is com'd to mein kraut?" screamed all the vrows, "It has been done to rags for this
hour!"
"Vot is cum'd to mein pipe?" swore all the little old gentlemen, "Donder and Blitzen; it
has been smoked out for dis hour!" --- and they filled them up again in a great rage, and
sinking back in their arm-chairs, puffed away so fast and so fiercely that the whole valley
was immediately filled with impenetrable smoke.
Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it seemed as if old Nick
himself had taken possession of every thing in the shape of a timepiece. The clocks
carved upon the furniture took to dancing as if bewitched, while those upon the mantelpieces could scarcely contain themselves for fury, and kept such a continual striking of
thirteen, and such a frisking and wriggling of their pendulums as was really horrible to
see. But, worse than all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put up any longer with the
behavior of the little repeaters tied to their tails, and resented it by scampering all over the
place, scratching and poking, and squeaking and screeching, and caterwauling and
squalling, and flying into the faces, and running under the petticoats of the people, and
creating altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it is possible for a
reasonable person to conceive. And to make matters still more distressing, the rascally
little scapegrace in the steeple was evidently exerting himself to the utmost. Every now
and then one might catch a glimpse of the scoundrel through the smoke. There he sat in
the belfry upon the belfry-man, who was lying flat upon his back. In his teeth the villain
held the bell-rope, which he kept jerking about with his head, raising such a clatter that
my ears ring again even to think of it. On his lap lay the big fiddle, at which he was
scraping, out of all time and tune, with both hands, making a great show, the
nincompoop! of playing "Judy O'Flannagan and Paddy O'Rafferty."
Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in disgust, and now appeal for aid to
all lovers of correct time and fine kraut. Let us proceed in a body to the borough, and
restore the ancient order of things in Vondervotteimittiss by ejecting that little fellow
from the steeple.
Diddling
CONSIDERED AS ONE OF THE EXACT SCIENCES
Hey,
The cat and the fiddle.
diddle
diddle,
SINCE the world began there have been two Jeremys. The one wrote a Jeremiad about
usury, and was called Jeremy Bentham. He has been much admired by Mr. John Neal,
and was a great man in a small way. The other gave name to the most important of the
Exact Sciences, and was a great man in a great way --- I may say, indeed, in the very
greatest of ways.
Diddling --- or the abstract idea conveyed by the verb to diddle --- is sufficiently well
understood. Yet the fact, the deed, the thing diddling, is somewhat difficult to define. We
may get, however, at a tolerably distinct conception of the matter in hand, by definingnot the thing, diddling, in itself --- but man, as an animal that diddles. Had Plato but hit
upon this, he would have been spared the affront of the picked chicken.
Very pertinently it was demanded of Plato, why a picked chicken, which was clearly "a
biped without feathers," was not, according to his own definition, a man? But I am not to
be bothered by any similar query. Man is an animal that diddles, and there is no animal
that diddles but man. It will take an entire hen-coop of picked chickens to get over that.
What constitutes the essence, the nare, the principle of diddling is, in fact, peculiar to
the class of creatures that wear coats and pantaloons. A crow thieves; a fox cheats; a
weasel outwits; a man diddles. To diddle is his destiny. "Man was made to mourn," says
the poet. But not so: --- he was made to diddle. This is his aim --- his object- his end. And
for this reason when a man's diddled we say he's "done."
Diddling, rightly considered, is a compound, of which the ingredients are minuteness,
interest, perseverance, ingenuity, audacity, nonchalance, originality, impertinence, and
grin.
Minuteness: --- Your diddler is minute. His operations are upon a small scale. His
business is retail, for cash, or approved paper at sight. Should he ever be tempted into
magnificent speculation, he then, at once, loses his distinctive features, and becomes what
we term "financier." This latter word conveys the diddling idea in every respect except
that of magnitude. A diddler may thus be regarded as a banker in petto --- a "financial
operation," as a diddle at Brobdignag. The one is to the other, as Homer to "Flaccus" --as a Mastodon to a mouse --- as the tail of a comet to that of a pig.
Interest: --- Your diddler is guided by self-interest. He scorns to diddle for the mere
sake of the diddle. He has an object in view- his pocket --- and yours. He regards always
the main chance. He looks to Number One. You are Number Two, and must look to
yourself.
Perseverance: --- Your diddler perseveres. He is not readily discouraged. Should even
the banks break, he cares nothing about it. He steadily pursues his end, and
Ut canis a corio nunquam absterrebitur uncto.
so he never lets go of his game.
Ingenuity: --- Your diddler is ingenious. He has constructiveness large. He understands
plot. He invents and circumvents. Were he not Alexander he would be Diogenes. Were
he not a diddler, he would be a maker of patent rat-traps or an angler for trout.
Audacity: --- Your diddler is audacious. --- He is a bold man. He carries the war into
Africa. He conquers all by assault. He would not fear the daggers of Frey Herren. With a
little more prudence Dick Turpin would have made a good diddler; with a trifle less
blarney, Daniel O'Connell; with a pound or two more brains Charles the Twelfth.
Nonchalance: --- Your diddler is nonchalant. He is not at all nervous. He never had
any nerves. He is never seduced into a flurry. He is never put out --- unless put out of
doors. He is cool --- cool as a cucumber. He is calm --- "calm as a smile from Lady
Bury." He is easy- easy as an old glove, or the damsels of ancient Baiae.
Originality: --- Your diddler is original --- conscientiously so. His thoughts are his
own. He would scorn to employ those of another. A stale trick is his aversion. He would
return a purse, I am sure, upon discovering that he had obtained it by an unoriginal
diddle.
Impertinence: --- Your diddler is impertinent. He swaggers. He sets his arms a-kimbo.
He thrusts. his hands in his trowsers' pockets. He sneers in your face. He treads on your
corns. He eats your dinner, he drinks your wine, he borrows your money, he pulls your
nose, he kicks your poodle, and he kisses your wife.
Grin: --- Your true diddler winds up all with a grin. But this nobody sees but himself.
He grins when his daily work is done --- when his allotted labors are accomplished --- at
night in his own closet, and altogether for his own private entertainment. He goes home.
He locks his door. He divests himself of his clothes. He puts out his candle. He gets into
bed. He places his head upon the pillow. All this done, and your diddler grins. This is no
hypothesis. It is a matter of course. I reason a priori, and a diddle would be no diddle
without a grin.
The origin of the diddle is referable to the infancy of the Human Race. Perhaps the first
diddler was Adam. At all events, we can trace the science back to a very remote period of
antiquity. The moderns, however, have brought it to a perfection never dreamed of by our
thick-headed progenitors. Without pausing to speak of the "old saws," therefore, I shall
content myself with a compendious account of some of the more "modern instances."
A very good diddle is this. A housekeeper in want of a sofa, for instance, is seen to go in
and out of several cabinet warehouses. At length she arrives at one offering an excellent
variety. She is accosted, and invited to enter, by a polite and voluble individual at the
door. She finds a sofa well adapted to her views, and upon inquiring the price, is
surprised and delighted to hear a sum named at least twenty per cent. lower than her
expectations. She hastens to make the purchase, gets a bill and receipt, leaves her address,
with a request that the article be sent home as speedily as possible, and retires amid a
profusion of bows from the shopkeeper. The night arrives and no sofa. A servant is sent
to make inquiry about the delay. The whole transaction is denied. No sofa has been sold -- no money received --- except by the diddler, who played shop-keeper for the nonce.
Our cabinet warehouses are left entirely unattended, and thus afford every facility for a
trick of this kind. Visitors enter, look at furniture, and depart unheeded and unseen.
Should any one wish to purchase, or to inquire the price of an article, a bell is at hand,
and this is considered amply sufficient.
Again, quite a respectable diddle is this. A well-dressed individual enters a shop,
makes a purchase to the value of a dollar; finds, much to his vexation, that he has left his
pocket-book in another coat pocket; and so says to the shopkeeper --"My dear sir, never mind; just oblige me, will you, by sending the bundle home? But
stay! I really believe that I have nothing less than a five dollar bill, even there. However,
you can send four dollars in change with the bundle, you know."
"Very good, sir," replies the shop-keeper, who entertains, at once, a lofty opinion of
the high-mindedness of his customer. "I know fellows," he says to himself, "who would
just have put the goods under their arm, and walked off with a promise to call and pay the
dollar as they came by in the afternoon."
A boy is sent with the parcel and change. On the route, quite accidentally, he is met by
the purchaser, who exclaims:
"Ah! This is my bundle, I see --- I thought you had been home with it, long ago. Well,
go on! My wife, Mrs. Trotter, will give you the five dollars --- I left instructions with her
to that effect. The change you might as well give to me --- I shall want some silver for the
Post Office. Very good! One, two, is this a good quarter? --- three, four --- quite right!
Say to Mrs. Trotter that you met me, and be sure now and do not loiter on the way."
The boy doesn't loiter at all --- but he is a very long time in getting back from his
errand --- for no lady of the precise name of Mrs. Trotter is to be discovered. He consoles
himself, however, that he has not been such a fool as to leave the goods without the
money, and re-entering his shop with a self-satisfied air, feels sensibly hurt and indignant
when his master asks him what has become of the change.
A very simple diddle, indeed, is this. The captain of a ship, which is about to sail, is
presented by an official looking person with an unusually moderate bill of city charges.
Glad to get off so easily, and confused by a hundred duties pressing upon him all at once,
he discharges the claim forthwith. In about fifteen minutes, another and less reasonable
bill is handed him by one who soon makes it evident that the first collector was a diddler,
and the original collection a diddle.
And here, too, is a somewhat similar thing. A steamboat is casting loose from the
wharf. A traveller, portmanteau in hand, is discovered running toward the wharf, at full
speed. Suddenly, he makes a dead halt, stoops, and picks up something from the ground
in a very agitated manner. It is a pocket-book, and --- "Has any gentleman lost a
pocketbook?" he cries. No one can say that he has exactly lost a pocket-book; but a great
excitement ensues, when the treasure trove is found to be of value. The boat, however,
must not be detained.
"Time and tide wait for no man," says the captain.
"For God's sake, stay only a few minutes," says the finder of the book --- "the true
claimant will presently appear."
"Can't wait!" replies the man in authority; "cast off there, d'ye hear?"
"What am I to do?" asks the finder, in great tribulation. "I am about to leave the
country for some years, and I cannot conscientiously retain this large amount in my
possession. I beg your pardon, sir," [here he addresses a gentleman on shore,] "but you
have the air of an honest man. Will you confer upon me the favor of taking charge of this
pocket-book --- I know I can trust you --- and of advertising it? The notes, you see,
amount to a very considerable sum. The owner will, no doubt, insist upon rewarding you
for your trouble ---"
"Me! --- no, you! --- it was you who found the book."
"Well, if you must have it so --- I will take a small reward --- just to satisfy your
scruples. Let me see --- why these notes are all hundreds- bless my soul! a hundred is too
much to take --- fifty would be quite enough, I am sure ---"
"Cast off there!" says the captain.
"But then I have no change for a hundred, and upon the whole, you had better ---"
"Cast off there!" says the captain.
"Never mind!" cries the gentleman on shore, who has been examining his own pocketbook for the last minute or so --- "never mind! I can fix it --- here is a fifty on the Bank of
North America --- throw the book."
And the over-conscientious finder takes the fifty with marked reluctance, and throws
the gentleman the book, as desired, while the steamboat fumes and fizzes on her way. In
about half an hour after her departure, the "large amount" is seen to be a "counterfeit
presentment," and the whole thing a capital diddle.
A bold diddle is this. A camp-meeting, or something similar, is to be held at a certain
spot which is accessible only by means of a free bridge. A diddler stations himself upon
this bridge, respectfully informs all passers by of the new county law, which establishes a
toll of one cent for foot passengers, two for horses and donkeys, and so forth, and so
forth. Some grumble but all submit, and the diddler goes home a wealthier man by some
fifty or sixty dollars well earned. This taking a toll from a great crowd of people is an
excessively troublesome thing.
A neat diddle is this. A friend holds one of the diddler's promises to pay, filled up and
signed in due form, upon the ordinary blanks printed in red ink. The diddler purchases
one or two dozen of these blanks, and every day dips one of them in his soup, makes his
dog jump for it, and finally gives it to him as a bonne bouche. The note arriving at
maturity, the diddler, with the diddler's dog, calls upon the friend, and the promise to pay
is made the topic of discussion. The friend produces it from his escritoire, and is in the
act of reaching it to the diddler, when up jumps the diddler's dog and devours it forthwith.
The diddler is not only surprised but vexed and incensed at the absurd behavior of his
dog, and expresses his entire readiness to cancel the obligation at any moment when the
evidence of the obligation shall be forthcoming.
A very mean diddle is this. A lady is insulted in the street by a diddler's accomplice.
The diddler himself flies to her assistance, and, giving his friend a comfortable thrashing,
insists upon attending the lady to her own door. He bows, with his hand upon his heart,
and most respectfully bids her adieu. She entreats him, as her deliverer, to walk in and be
introduced to her big brother and her papa. With a sigh, he declines to do so. "Is there no
way, then, sir," she murmurs, "in which I may be permitted to testify my gratitude?"
"Why, yes, madam, there is. Will you be kind enough to lend me a couple of
shillings?"
In the first excitement of the moment the lady decides upon fainting outright. Upon
second thought, however, she opens her purse-strings and delivers the specie. Now this, I
say, is a diddle minute --- for one entire moiety of the sum borrowed has to be paid to the
gentleman who had the trouble of performing the insult, and who had then to stand still
and be thrashed for performing it.
Rather a small but still a scientific diddle is this. The diddler approaches the bar of a
tavern, and demands a couple of twists of tobacco. These are handed to him, when,
having slightly examined them, he says:
"I don't much like this tobacco. Here, take it back, and give me a glass of brandy and
water in its place."
The brandy and water is furnished and imbibed, and the diddler makes his way to the
door. But the voice of the tavern-keeper arrests him.
"I believe, sir, you have forgotten to pay for your brandy and water."
"Pay for my brandy and water! --- didn't I give you the tobacco for the brandy and
water? What more would you have?"
"But, sir, if you please, I don't remember that you paid me for the tobacco."
"What do you mean by that, you scoundrel? --- Didn't I give you back your tobacco?
Isn't that your tobacco lying there? Do you expect me to pay for what I did not take?"
"But, sir," says the publican, now rather at a loss what to say, "but sir ---"
"But me no buts, sir," interrupts the diddler, apparently in very high dudgeon, and
slamming the door after him, as he makes his escape. --- "But me no buts, sir, and none
of your tricks upon travellers."
Here again is a very clever diddle, of which the simplicity is not its least
recommendation. A purse, or pocket-book, being really lost, the loser inserts in one of the
daily papers of a large city a fully descriptive advertisement.
Whereupon our diddler copies the facts of this advertisement, with a change of
heading, of general phraseology and address. The original, for instance, is long, and
verbose, is headed "A Pocket-Book Lost!" and requires the treasure, when found, to be
left at No. 1 Tom Street. The copy is brief, and being headed with "Lost" only, indicates
No. 2 Dick, or No. 3 Harry Street, as the locality at which the owner may be seen.
Moreover, it is inserted in at least five or six of the daily papers of the day, while in point
of time, it makes its appearance only a few hours after the original. Should it be read by
the loser of the purse, he would hardly suspect it to have any reference to his own
misfortune. But, of course, the chances are five or six to one, that the finder will repair to
the address given by the diddler, rather than to that pointed out by the rightful proprietor.
The former pays the reward, pockets the treasure and decamps.
Quite an analogous diddle is this. A lady of ton has dropped, some where in the street,
a diamond ring of very unusual value. For its recovery, she offers some forty or fifty
dollars reward --- giving, in her advertisement, a very minute description of the gem, and
of its settings, and declaring that, on its restoration at No. so and so, in such and such
Avenue, the reward would be paid instanter, without a single question being asked.
During the lady's absence from home, a day or two afterwards, a ring is heard at the door
of No. so and so, in such and such Avenue; a servant appears; the lady of the house is
asked for and is declared to be out, at which astounding information, the visitor expresses
the most poignant regret. His business is of importance and concerns the lady herself. In
fact, he had the good fortune to find her diamond ring. But perhaps it would be as well
that he should call again. "By no means!" says the servant; and "By no means!" says the
lady's sister and the lady's sister-in-law, who are summoned forthwith. The ring is
clamorously identified, the reward is paid, and the finder nearly thrust out of doors. The
lady returns and expresses some little dissatisfaction with her sister and sister-in-law,
because they happen to have paid forty or fifty dollars for a fac-simile of her diamond
ring --- a fac-simile made out of real pinch-beck and unquestionable paste.
But as there is really no end to diddling, so there would be none to this essay, were I even
to hint at half the variations, or inflections, of which this science is susceptible. I must
bring this paper, perforce, to a conclusion, and this I cannot do better than by a summary
notice of a very decent, but rather elaborate diddle, of which our own city was made the
theatre, not very long ago, and which was subsequently repeated with success, in other
still more verdant localities of the Union. A middle-aged gentleman arrives in town from
parts unknown. He is remarkably precise, cautious, staid, and deliberate in his demeanor.
His dress is scrupulously neat, but plain, unostentatious. He wears a white cravat, an
ample waistcoat, made with an eye to comfort alone; thick-soled cosy-looking shoes, and
pantaloons without straps. He has the whole air, in fact, of your well-to-do, sober-sided,
exact, and respectable "man of business," Par excellence --- one of the stern and
outwardly hard, internally soft, sort of people that we see in the crack high comedies --fellows whose words are so many bonds, and who are noted for giving away guineas, in
charity, with the one hand, while, in the way of mere bargain, they exact the uttermost
fraction of a farthing with the other.
He makes much ado before he can get suited with a boarding house. He dislikes
children. He has been accustomed to quiet. His habits are methodical --- and then he
would prefer getting into a private and respectable small family, piously inclined. Terms,
however, are no object --- only he must insist upon settling his bill on the first of every
month, (it is now the second) and begs his landlady, when he finally obtains one to his
mind, not on any account to forget his instructions upon this point --- but to send in a bill,
and receipt, precisely at ten o'clock, on the first day of every month, and under no
circumstances to put it off to the second.
These arrangements made, our man of business rents an office in a reputable rather
than a fashionable quarter of the town. There is nothing he more despises than pretense.
"Where there is much show," he says, "there is seldom any thing very solid behind" --- an
observation which so profoundly impresses his landlady's fancy, that she makes a pencil
memorandum of it forthwith, in her great family Bible, on the broad margin of the
Proverbs of Solomon.
The next step is to advertise, after some such fashion as this, in the principal business
six-pennies of the city --- the pennies are eschewed as not "respectable" --- and as
demanding payment for all advertisements in advance. Our man of business holds it as a
point of his faith that work should never be paid for until done.
"WANTED --- The advertisers, being about to commence extensive business operations
in this city, will require the services of three or four intelligent and competent clerks, to
whom a liberal salary will be paid. The very best recommendations, not so much for
capacity, as for integrity, will be expected. Indeed, as the duties to be performed involve
high responsibilities, and large amounts of money must necessarily pass through the
hands of those engaged, it is deemed advisable to demand a deposit of fifty dollars from
each clerk employed. No person need apply, therefore, who is not prepared to leave this
sum in the possession of the advertisers, and who cannot furnish the most satisfactory
testimonials of morality. Young gentlemen piously inclined will be preferred. Application
should be made between the hours of ten and eleven A.M., and four and five P.M., of
Messrs.
"Bogs,
Hogs
"No. 110 Dog Street"
Logs,
Frogs
&
Co.,
By the thirty-first day of the month, this advertisement has brought to the office of
Messrs. Bogs, Hogs, Logs, Frogs, and Company, some fifteen or twenty young
gentlemen piously inclined. But our man of business is in no hurry to conclude a contract
with any --- no man of business is ever precipitate --- and it is not until the most rigid
catechism in respect to the piety of each young gentleman's inclination, that his services
are engaged and his fifty dollars receipted for, just by way of proper precaution, on the
part of the respectable firm of Bogs, Hogs, Logs, Frogs, and Company. On the morning
of the first day of the next month, the landlady does not present her bill, according to
promise --- a piece of neglect for which the comfortable head of the house ending in ogs
would no doubt have chided her severely, could he have been prevailed upon to remain in
town a day or two for that purpose.
As it is, the constables have had a sad time of it, running hither and thither, and all they
can do is to declare the man of business most emphatically, a "hen knee high" --- by
which some persons imagine them to imply that, in fact, he is n. e. i. --- by which again
the very classical phrase non est inventus, is supposed to be understood. In the meantime
the young gentlemen, one and all, are somewhat less piously inclined than before, while
the landlady purchases a shilling's worth of the Indian rubber, and very carefully
obliterates the pencil memorandum that some fool has made in her great family Bible, on
the broad margin of the Proverbs of Solomon.
The Domain of Arnheim, or The Landscape Garden
The garden like a lady fair was cut,
That lay as if she slumbered in delight,
And to the open skies her eyes did shut.
The azure fields of Heaven were 'sembled right
In a large round, set with the flowers of light.
The flowers de luce, and the round sparks of dew.
That hung upon their azure leaves did shew
Like twinkling stars that sparkle in the evening blue.
Giles Fletcher.
FROM his cradle to his grave a gale of prosperity bore my friend Ellison along. Nor do I
use the word prosperity in its mere worldly sense. I mean it as synonymous with
happiness. The person of whom I speak seemed born for the purpose of foreshadowing
the doctrines of Turgot, Price, Priestley, and Condorcet --- of exemplifying by individual
instance what has been deemed the chimera of the perfectionists. In the brief existence of
Ellison I fancy that I have seen refuted the dogma, that in man's very nature lies some
hidden principle, the antagonist of bliss. An anxious examination of his career has given
me to understand that in general, from the violation of a few simple laws of humanity
arises the wretchedness of mankind --- that as a species we have in our possession the as
yet unwrought elements of content --- and that, even now, in the present darkness and
madness of all thought on the great question of the social condition, it is not impossible
that man, the individual, under certain unusual and highly fortuitous conditions, may be
happy.
With opinions such as these my young friend, too, was fully imbued, and thus it is
worthy of observation that the uninterrupted enjoyment which distinguished his life was,
in great measure, the result of preconcert. It is indeed evident that with less of the
instinctive philosophy which, now and then, stands so well in the stead of experience, Mr.
Ellison would have found himself precipitated, by the very extraordinary success of his
life, into the common vortex of unhappiness which yawns for those of pre-eminent
endowments. But it is by no means my object to pen an essay on happiness. The ideas of
my friend may be summed up in a few words. He admitted but four elementary
principles, or more strictly, conditions of bliss. That which he considered chief was
(strange to say!) the simple and purely physical one of free exercise in the open air. "The
health," he said, "attainable by other means is scarcely worth the name." He instanced the
ecstasies of the fox-hunter, and pointed to the tillers of the earth, the only people who, as
a class, can be fairly considered happier than others. His second condition was the love of
woman. His third, and most difficult of realization, was the contempt of ambition. His
fourth was an object of unceasing pursuit; and he held that, other things being equal, the
extent of attainable happiness was in proportion to the spirituality of this object.
Ellison was remarkable in the continuous profusion of good gifts lavished upon him by
fortune. In personal grace and beauty he exceeded all men. His intellect was of that order
to which the acquisition of knowledge is less a labor than an intuition and a necessity. His
family was one of the most illustrious of the empire. His bride was the loveliest and most
devoted of women. His possessions had been always ample; but on the attainment of his
majority, it was discovered that one of those extraordinary freaks of fate had been played
in his behalf which startle the whole social world amid which they occur, and seldom fail
radically to alter the moral constitution of those who are their objects.
It appears that about a hundred years before Mr. Ellison's coming of age, there had
died, in a remote province, one Mr. Seabright Ellison. This gentleman had amassed a
princely fortune, and, having no immediate connections, conceived the whim of suffering
his wealth to accumulate for a century after his decease. Minutely and sagaciously
directing the various modes of investment, he bequeathed the aggregate amount to the
nearest of blood, bearing the name of Ellison, who should be alive at the end of the
hundred years. Many attempts had been made to set aside this singular bequest; their ex
post facto character rendered them abortive; but the attention of a jealous government
was aroused, and a legislative act finally obtained, forbidding all similar accumulations.
This act, however, did not prevent young Ellison from entering into possession, on his
twenty-first birthday, as the heir of his ancestor Seabright, of a fortune of four hundred
and fifty millions of dollars.*
* An incident, similar in outline to the one here imagined, occurred, not very long ago, in England. The
name of the fortunate heir was Thelluson. I first saw an account of this matter in the "Tour" of Prince
Puckler Muskau, who makes the sum inherited ninety millions of pounds, and justly observes that "in the
contemplation of so vast a sum, and of the services to which it might be applied, there is something even of
the sublime." To suit the views of this article I have followed the Prince's statement, although a grossly
exaggerated one. The germ, and in fact, the commencement of the present paper was published many years
ago --- previous to the issue of the first number of Sue's admirable "Juif Errant," which may possibly have
been suggested to him by Muskau's account.
When it had become known that such was the enormous wealth inherited, there were,
of course, many speculations as to the mode of its disposal. The magnitude and the
immediate availability of the sum bewildered all who thought on the topic. The possessor
of any appreciable amount of money might have been imagined to perform any one of a
thousand things. With riches merely surpassing those of any citizen, it would have been
easy to suppose him engaging to supreme excess in the fashionable extravagances of his
time --- or busying himself with political intrigue --- or aiming at ministerial power --- or
purchasing increase of nobility --- or collecting large museums of virtu --- or playing the
munificent patron of letters, of science, of art --- or endowing, and bestowing his name
upon extensive institutions of charity. But for the inconceivable wealth in the actual
possession of the heir, these objects and all ordinary objects were felt to afford too
limited a field. Recourse was had to figures, and these but sufficed to confound. It was
seen that, even at three per cent., the annual income of the inheritance amounted to no
less than thirteen millions and five hundred thousand dollars; which was one million and
one hundred and twenty-five thousand per month; or thirty-six thousand nine hundred
and eighty-six per day; or one thousand five hundred and forty-one per hour; or six and
twenty dollars for every minute that flew. Thus the usual track of supposition was
thoroughly broken up. Men knew not what to imagine. There were some who even
conceived that Mr. Ellison would divest himself of at least one-half of his fortune, as of
utterly superfluous opulence --- enriching whole troops of his relatives by division of his
superabundance. To the nearest of these he did, in fact, abandon the very unusual wealth
which was his own before the inheritance.
I was not surprised, however, to perceive that he had long made up his mind on a point
which had occasioned so much discussion to his friends. Nor was I greatly astonished at
the nature of his decision. In regard to individual charities he had satisfied his conscience.
In the possibility of any improvement, properly so called, being effected by man himself
in the general condition of man, he had (I am sorry to confess it) little faith. Upon the
whole, whether happily or unhappily, he was thrown back, in very great measure, upon
self.
In the widest and noblest sense he was a poet. He comprehended, moreover, the true
character, the august aims, the supreme majesty and dignity of the poetic sentiment. The
fullest, if not the sole proper satisfaction of this sentiment he instinctively felt to lie in the
creation of novel forms of beauty. Some peculiarities, either in his early education, or in
the nature of his intellect, had tinged with what is termed materialism all his ethical
speculations; and it was this bias, perhaps, which led him to believe that the most
advantageous at least, if not the sole legitimate field for the poetic exercise, lies in the
creation of novel moods of purely physical loveliness. Thus it happened he became
neither musician nor poet --- if we use this latter term in its every-day acceptation. Or it
might have been that he neglected to become either, merely in pursuance of his idea that
in contempt of ambition is to be found one of the essential principles of happiness on
earth. Is it not indeed, possible that, while a high order of genius is necessarily ambitious,
the highest is above that which is termed ambition? And may it not thus happen that
many far greater than Milton have contentedly remained "mute and inglorious?" I believe
that the world has never seen --- and that, unless through some series of accidents
goading the noblest order of mind into distasteful exertion, the world will never see --that full extent of triumphant execution, in the richer domains of art, of which the human
nature is absolutely capable.
Ellison became neither musician nor poet; although no man lived more profoundly
enamored of music and poetry. Under other circumstances than those which invested
him, it is not impossible that he would have become a painter. Sculpture, although in its
nature rigorously poetical was too limited in its extent and consequences, to have
occupied, at any time, much of his attention. And I have now mentioned all the provinces
in which the common understanding of the poetic sentiment has declared it capable of
expatiating. But Ellison maintained that the richest, the truest, and most natural, if not
altogether the most extensive province, had been unaccountably neglected. No definition
had spoken of the landscape-gardener as of the poet; yet it seemed to my friend that the
creation of the landscape-garden offered to the proper Muse the most magnificent of
opportunities. Here, indeed, was the fairest field for the display of imagination in the
endless combining of forms of novel beauty; the elements to enter into combination
being, by a vast superiority, the most glorious which the earth could afford. In the
multiform and multicolor of the flowers and the trees, he recognized the most direct and
energetic efforts of Nature at physical loveliness. And in the direction or concentration of
this effort --- or, more properly, in its adaptation to the eyes which were to behold it on
earth --- he perceived that he should be employing the best means --- laboring to the
greatest advantage --- in the fulfilment, not only of his own destiny as poet, but of the
august purposes for which the Deity had implanted the poetic sentiment in man.
"Its adaptation to the eyes which were to behold it on earth." In his explanation of this
phraseology, Mr. Ellison did much toward solving what has always seemed to me an
enigma: --- I mean the fact (which none but the ignorant dispute) that no such
combination of scenery exists in nature as the painter of genius may produce. No such
paradises are to be found in reality as have glowed on the canvas of Claude. In the most
enchanting of natural landscapes, there will always be found a defect or an excess --many excesses and defects. While the component parts may defy, individually, the
highest skill of the artist, the arrangement of these parts will always be susceptible of
improvement. In short, no position can be attained on the wide surface of the natural
earth, from which an artistical eye, looking steadily, will not find matter of offence in
what is termed the "composition" of the landscape. And yet how unintelligible is this! In
all other matters we are justly instructed to regard nature as supreme. With her details we
shrink from competition. Who shall presume to imitate the colors of the tulip, or to
improve the proportions of the lily of the valley? The criticism which says, of sculpture
or portraiture, that here nature is to be exalted or idealized rather than imitated, is in error.
No pictorial or sculptural combinations of points of human liveliness do more than
approach the living and breathing beauty. In landscape alone is the principle of the critic
true; and, having felt its truth here, it is but the headlong spirit of generalization which
has led him to pronounce it true throughout all the domains of art. Having, I say, felt its
truth here; for the feeling is no affectation or chimera. The mathematics afford no more
absolute demonstrations than the sentiments of his art yields the artist. He not only
believes, but positively knows, that such and such apparently arbitrary arrangements of
matter constitute and alone constitute the true beauty. His reasons, however, have not yet
been matured into expression. It remains for a more profound analysis than the world has
yet seen, fully to investigate and express them. Nevertheless he is confirmed in his
instinctive opinions by the voice of all his brethren. Let a "composition" be defective; let
an emendation be wrought in its mere arrangement of form; let this emendation be
submitted to every artist in the world; by each will its necessity be admitted. And even far
more than this: --- in remedy of the defective composition, each insulated member of the
fraternity would have suggested the identical emendation.
I repeat that in landscape arrangements alone is the physical nature susceptible of
exaltation, and that, therefore, her susceptibility of improvement at this one point, was a
mystery I had been unable to solve. My own thoughts on the subject had rested in the
idea that the primitive intention of nature would have so arranged the earth's surface as to
have fulfilled at all points man's sense of perfection in the beautiful, the sublime, or the
picturesque; but that this primitive intention had been frustrated by the known geological
disturbances --- disturbances of form and color --- grouping, in the correction or allaying
of which lies the soul of art. The force of this idea was much weakened, however, by the
necessity which it involved of considering the disturbances abnormal and unadapted to
any purpose. It was Ellison who suggested that they were prognostic of death. He thus
explained: --- Admit the earthly immortality of man to have been the first intention. We
have then the primitive arrangement of the earth's surface adapted to his blissful estate, as
not existent but designed. The disturbances were the preparations for his subsequently
conceived deathful condition.
"Now," said my friend, "what we regard as exaltation of the landscape may be really
such, as respects only the moral or human point of view. Each alteration of the natural
scenery may possibly effect a blemish in the picture, if we can suppose this picture
viewed at large --- in mass --- from some point distant from the earth's surface, although
not beyond the limits of its atmosphere. It is easily understood that what might improve a
closely scrutinized detail, may at the same time injure a general or more distantly
observed effect. There may be a class of beings, human once, but now invisible to
humanity, to whom, from afar, our disorder may seem order --- our unpicturesqueness
picturesque, in a word, the earth-angels, for whose scrutiny more especially than our
own, and for whose death --- refined appreciation of the beautiful, may have been set in
array by God the wide landscape-gardens of the hemispheres."
In the course of discussion, my friend quoted some passages from a writer on
landscape-gardening who has been supposed to have well treated his theme:
"There are properly but two styles of landscape-gardening, the natural and the
artificial. One seeks to recall the original beauty of the country, by adapting its means to
the surrounding scenery, cultivating trees in harmony with the hills or plain of the
neighboring land; detecting and bringing into practice those nice relations of size,
proportion, and color which, hid from the common observer, are revealed everywhere to
the experienced student of nature. The result of the natural style of gardening, is seen
rather in the absence of all defects and incongruities --- in the prevalence of a healthy
harmony and order --- than in the creation of any special wonders or miracles. The
artificial style has as many varieties as there are different tastes to gratify. It has a certain
general relation to the various styles of building. There are the stately avenues and
retirements of Versailles; Italian terraces; and a various mixed old English style, which
bears some relation to the domestic Gothic or English Elizabethan architecture. Whatever
may be said against the abuses of the artificial landscape --- gardening, a mixture of pure
art in a garden scene adds to it a great beauty. This is partly pleasing to the eye, by the
show of order and design, and partly moral. A terrace, with an old moss --- covered
balustrade, calls up at once to the eye the fair forms that have passed there in other days.
The slightest exhibition of art is an evidence of care and human interest."
"From what I have already observed," said Ellison, "you will understand that I reject
the idea, here expressed, of recalling the original beauty of the country. The original
beauty is never so great as that which may be introduced. Of course, every thing depends
on the selection of a spot with capabilities. What is said about detecting and bringing into
practice nice relations of size, proportion, and color, is one of those mere vaguenesses of
speech which serve to veil inaccuracy of thought. The phrase quoted may mean any
thing, or nothing, and guides in no degree. That the true result of the natural style of
gardening is seen rather in the absence of all defects and incongruities than in the creation
of any special wonders or miracles, is a proposition better suited to the grovelling
apprehension of the herd than to the fervid dreams of the man of genius. The negative
merit suggested appertains to that hobbling criticism which, in letters, would elevate
Addison into apotheosis. In truth, while that virtue which consists in the mere avoidance
of vice appeals directly to the understanding, and can thus be circumscribed in rule, the
loftier virtue, which flames in creation, can be apprehended in its results alone. Rule
applies but to the merits of denial --- to the excellencies which refrain. Beyond these, the
critical art can but suggest. We may be instructed to build a "Cato," but we are in vain
told how to conceive a Parthenon or an "Inferno." The thing done, however; the wonder
accomplished; and the capacity for apprehension becomes universal. The sophists of the
negative school who, through inability to create, have scoffed at creation, are now found
the loudest in applause. What, in its chrysalis condition of principle, affronted their
demure reason, never fails, in its maturity of accomplishment, to extort admiration from
their instinct of beauty.
"The author's observations on the artificial style," continued Ellison, "are less
objectionable. A mixture of pure art in a garden scene adds to it a great beauty. This is
just; as also is the reference to the sense of human interest. The principle expressed is
incontrovertible --- but there may be something beyond it. There may be an object in
keeping with the principle --- an object unattainable by the means ordinarily possessed by
individuals, yet which, if attained, would lend a charm to the landscape-garden far
surpassing that which a sense of merely human interest could bestow. A poet, having
very unusual pecuniary resources, might, while retaining the necessary idea of art or
culture, or, as our author expresses it, of interest, so imbue his designs at once with extent
and novelty of beauty, as to convey the sentiment of spiritual interference. It will be seen
that, in bringing about such result, he secures all the advantages of interest or design,
while relieving his work of the harshness or technicality of the worldly art. In the most
rugged of wildernesses --- in the most savage of the scenes of pure nature --- there is
apparent the art of a creator; yet this art is apparent to reflection only; in no respect has it
the obvious force of a feeling. Now let us suppose this sense of the Almighty design to be
one step depressed --- to be brought into something like harmony or consistency with the
sense of human art --- to form an intermedium between the two: --- let us imagine, for
example, a landscape whose combined vastness and definitiveness --- whose united
beauty, magnificence, and strangeness, shall convey the idea of care, or culture, or
superintendence, on the part of beings superior, yet akin to humanity --- then the
sentiment of interest is preserved, while the art intervolved is made to assume the air of
an intermediate or secondary nature --- a nature which is not God, nor an emanation from
God, but which still is nature in the sense of the handiwork of the angels that hover
between man and God."
It was in devoting his enormous wealth to the embodiment of a vision such as this --in the free exercise in the open air ensured by the personal superintendence of his plans -- in the unceasing object which these plans afforded --- in the high spirituality of the
object --- in the contempt of ambition which it enabled him truly to feel --- in the
perennial springs with which it gratified, without possibility of satiating, that one master
passion of his soul, the thirst for beauty, above all, it was in the sympathy of a woman,
not unwomanly, whose loveliness and love enveloped his existence in the purple
atmosphere of Paradise, that Ellison thought to find, and found, exemption from the
ordinary cares of humanity, with a far greater amount of positive happiness than ever
glowed in the rapt day-dreams of De Stael.
I despair of conveying to the reader any distinct conception of the marvels which my
friend did actually accomplish. I wish to describe, but am disheartened by the difficulty
of description, and hesitate between detail and generality. Perhaps the better course will
be to unite the two in their extremes.
Mr. Ellison's first step regarded, of course, the choice of a locality, and scarcely had he
commenced thinking on this point, when the luxuriant nature of the Pacific Islands
arrested his attention. In fact, he had made up his mind for a voyage to the South Seas,
when a night's reflection induced him to abandon the idea. "Were I misanthropic," he
said, "such a locale would suit me. The thoroughness of its insulation and seclusion, and
the difficulty of ingress and egress, would in such case be the charm of charms; but as yet
I am not Timon. I wish the composure but not the depression of solitude. There must
remain with me a certain control over the extent and duration of my repose. There will be
frequent hours in which I shall need, too, the sympathy of the poetic in what I have done.
Let me seek, then, a spot not far from a populous city --- whose vicinity, also, will best
enable me to execute my plans."
In search of a suitable place so situated, Ellison travelled for several years, and I was
permitted to accompany him. A thousand spots with which I was enraptured he rejected
without hesitation, for reasons which satisfied me, in the end, that he was right. We came
at length to an elevated table-land of wonderful fertility and beauty, affording a
panoramic prospect very little less in extent than that of Aetna, and, in Ellison's opinion
as well as my own, surpassing the far-famed view from that mountain in all the true
elements of the picturesque.
"I am aware," said the traveller, as he drew a sigh of deep delight after gazing on this
scene, entranced, for nearly an hour, "I know that here, in my circumstances, nine-tenths
of the most fastidious of men would rest content. This panorama is indeed glorious, and I
should rejoice in it but for the excess of its glory. The taste of all the architects I have
ever known leads them, for the sake of 'prospect,' to put up buildings on hill-tops. The
error is obvious. Grandeur in any of its moods, but especially in that of extent, startles,
excites --- and then fatigues, depresses. For the occasional scene nothing can be better --for the constant view nothing worse. And, in the constant view, the most objectionable
phase of grandeur is that of extent; the worst phase of extent, that of distance. It is at war
with the sentiment and with the sense of seclusion --- the sentiment and sense which we
seek to humor in 'retiring to the country.' In looking from the summit of a mountain we
cannot help feeling abroad in the world. The heart-sick avoid distant prospects as a
pestilence."
It was not until toward the close of the fourth year of our search that we found a
locality with which Ellison professed himself satisfied. It is, of course, needless to say
where was the locality. The late death of my friend, in causing his domain to be thrown
open to certain classes of visitors, has given to Arnheim a species of secret and subdued
if not solemn celebrity, similar in kind, although infinitely superior in degree, to that
which so long distinguished Fonthill.
The usual approach to Arnheim was by the river. The visitor left the city in the early
morning. During the forenoon he passed between shores of a tranquil and domestic
beauty, on which grazed innumerable sheep, their white fleeces spotting the vivid green
of rolling meadows. By degrees the idea of cultivation subsided into that of merely
pastoral care. This slowly became merged in a sense of retirement --- this again in a
consciousness of solitude. As the evening approached, the channel grew more narrow, the
banks more and more precipitous; and these latter were clothed in rich, more profuse, and
more sombre foliage. The water increased in transparency. The stream took a thousand
turns, so that at no moment could its gleaming surface be seen for a greater distance than
a furlong. At every instant the vessel seemed imprisoned within an enchanted circle,
having insuperable and impenetrable walls of foliage, a roof of ultramarine satin, and no
floor --- the keel balancing itself with admirable nicety on that of a phantom bark which,
by some accident having been turned upside down, floated in constant company with the
substantial one, for the purpose of sustaining it. The channel now became a gorge --although the term is somewhat inapplicable, and I employ it merely because the language
has no word which better represents the most striking --- not the most distinctive-feature
of the scene. The character of gorge was maintained only in the height and parallelism of
the shores; it was lost altogether in their other traits. The walls of the ravine (through
which the clear water still tranquilly flowed) arose to an elevation of a hundred and
occasionally of a hundred and fifty feet, and inclined so much toward each other as, in a
great measure, to shut out the light of day; while the long plume-like moss which
depended densely from the intertwining shrubberies overhead, gave the whole chasm an
air of funereal gloom. The windings became more frequent and intricate, and seemed
often as if returning in upon themselves, so that the voyager had long lost all idea of
direction. He was, moreover, enwrapt in an exquisite sense of the strange. The thought of
nature still remained, but her character seemed to have undergone modification, there was
a weird symmetry, a thrilling uniformity, a wizard propriety in these her works. Not a
dead branch --- not a withered leaf --- not a stray pebble --- not a patch of the brown earth
was anywhere visible. The crystal water welled up against the clean granite, or the
unblemished moss, with a sharpness of outline that delighted while it bewildered the eye.
Having threaded the mazes of this channel for some hours, the gloom deepening every
moment, a sharp and unexpected turn of the vessel brought it suddenly, as if dropped
from heaven, into a circular basin of very considerable extent when compared with the
width of the gorge. It was about two hundred yards in diameter, and girt in at all points
but one --- that immediately fronting the vessel as it entered --- by hills equal in general
height to the walls of the chasm, although of a thoroughly different character. Their sides
sloped from the water's edge at an angle of some forty-five degrees, and they were
clothed from base to summit --- not a perceptible point escaping --- in a drapery of the
most gorgeous flower-blossoms; scarcely a green leaf being visible among the sea of
odorous and fluctuating color. This basin was of great depth, but so transparent was the
water that the bottom, which seemed to consist of a thick mass of small round alabaster
pebbles, was distinctly visible by glimpses --- that is to say, whenever the eye could
permit itself not to see, far down in the inverted heaven, the duplicate blooming of the
hills. On these latter there were no trees, nor even shrubs of any size. The impressions
wrought on the observer were those of richness, warmth, color, quietude, uniformity,
softness, delicacy, daintiness, voluptuousness, and a miraculous extremeness of culture
that suggested dreams of a new race of fairies, laborious, tasteful, magnificent, and
fastidious; but as the eye traced upward the myriad-tinted slope, from its sharp junction
with the water to its vague termination amid the folds of overhanging cloud, it became,
indeed, difficult not to fancy a panoramic cataract of rubies, sapphires, opals, and golden
onyxes, rolling silently out of the sky.
The visitor, shooting suddenly into this bay from out the gloom of the ravine, is
delighted but astounded by the full orb of the declining sun, which he had supposed to be
already far below the horizon, but which now confronts him, and forms the sole
termination of an otherwise limitless vista seen through another chasm --- like rift in the
hills.
But here the voyager quits the vessel which has borne him so far, and descends into a
light canoe of ivory, stained with arabesque devices in vivid scarlet, both within and
without. The poop and beak of this boat arise high above the water, with sharp points, so
that the general form is that of an irregular crescent. It lies on the surface of the bay with
the proud grace of a swan. On its ermined floor reposes a single feathery paddle of satinwood; but no oarsmen or attendant is to be seen. The guest is bidden to be of good cheer -- that the fates will take care of him. The larger vessel disappears, and he is left alone in
the canoe, which lies apparently motionless in the middle of the lake. While he considers
what course to pursue, however, he becomes aware of a gentle movement in the fairy
bark. It slowly swings itself around until its prow points toward the sun. It advances with
a gentle but gradually accelerated velocity, while the slight ripples it creates seem to
break about the ivory side in divinest melody-seem to offer the only possible explanation
of the soothing yet melancholy music for whose unseen origin the bewildered voyager
looks around him in vain.
The canoe steadily proceeds, and the rocky gate of the vista is approached, so that its
depths can be more distinctly seen. To the right arise a chain of lofty hills rudely and
luxuriantly wooded. It is observed, however, that the trait of exquisite cleanness where
the bank dips into the water, still prevails. There is not one token of the usual river debris.
To the left the character of the scene is softer and more obviously artificial. Here the bank
slopes upward from the stream in a very gentle ascent, forming a broad sward of grass of
a texture resembling nothing so much as velvet, and of a brilliancy of green which would
bear comparison with the tint of the purest emerald. This plateau varies in width from ten
to three hundred yards; reaching from the river-bank to a wall, fifty feet high, which
extends, in an infinity of curves, but following the general direction of the river, until lost
in the distance to the westward. This wall is of one continuous rock, and has been formed
by cutting perpendicularly the once rugged precipice of the stream's southern bank, but
no trace of the labor has been suffered to remain. The chiselled stone has the hue of ages,
and is profusely overhung and overspread with the ivy, the coral honeysuckle, the
eglantine, and the clematis. The uniformity of the top and bottom lines of the wall is fully
relieved by occasional trees of gigantic height, growing singly or in small groups, both
along the plateau and in the domain behind the wall, but in close proximity to it; so that
frequent limbs (of the black walnut especially) reach over and dip their pendent
extremities into the water. Farther back within the domain, the vision is impeded by an
impenetrable screen of foliage.
These things are observed during the canoe's gradual approach to what I have called
the gate of the vista. On drawing nearer to this, however, its chasm-like appearance
vanishes; a new outlet from the bay is discovered to the left --- in which direction the
wall is also seen to sweep, still following the general course of the stream. Down this new
opening the eye cannot penetrate very far; for the stream, accompanied by the wall, still
bends to the left, until both are swallowed up by the leaves.
The boat, nevertheless, glides magically into the winding channel; and here the shore
opposite the wall is found to resemble that opposite the wall in the straight vista. Lofty
hills, rising occasionally into mountains, and covered with vegetation in wild luxuriance,
still shut in the scene.
Floating gently onward, but with a velocity slightly augmented, the voyager, after
many short turns, finds his progress apparently barred by a gigantic gate or rather door of
burnished gold, elaborately carved and fretted, and reflecting the direct rays of the now
fast-sinking sun with an effulgence that seems to wreath the whole surrounding forest in
flames. This gate is inserted in the lofty wall; which here appears to cross the river at
right angles. In a few moments, however, it is seen that the main body of the water still
sweeps in a gentle and extensive curve to the left, the wall following it as before, while a
stream of considerable volume, diverging from the principal one, makes its way, with a
slight ripple, under the door, and is thus hidden from sight. The canoe falls into the lesser
channel and approaches the gate. Its ponderous wings are slowly and musically
expanded. The boat glides between them, and commences a rapid descent into a vast
amphitheatre entirely begirt with purple mountains, whose bases are laved by a gleaming
river throughout the full extent of their circuit. Meantime the whole Paradise of Arnheim
bursts upon the view. There is a gush of entrancing melody; there is an oppressive sense
of strange sweet odor, --- there is a dream --- like intermingling to the eye of tall slender
Eastern trees --- bosky shrubberies --- flocks of golden and crimson birds --- lily-fringed
lakes --- meadows of violets, tulips, poppies, hyacinths, and tuberoses --- long
intertangled lines of silver streamlets --- and, upspringing confusedly from amid all, a
mass of semi-Gothic, semi-Saracenic architecture sustaining itself by miracle in mid-air,
glittering in the red sunlight with a hundred oriels, minarets, and pinnacles; and seeming
the phantom handiwork, conjointly, of the Sylphs, of the Fairies, of the Genii and of the
Gnomes.
The Duc De L'omelette
And stepped at once into a cooler clime. ---- Cowper.
KEATS fell by a criticism. Who was it died of "The Andromache?"* Ignoble souls! --- De
L'Omelette perished of an ortolan. L'histoire en est brève. Assist me, Spirit of Apicius!
* Montfleury. The author of the Parnasse Reforme makes him thus speak in Hades: --- "L'homme donc qui
voudrait savoir ce dont Je suis morte, qu'il ne demande pas si'l fut de fievre ou de podagre ou d'autre
chose, mais qui'l entende que ce fut de 'L'Andromache.'"
A golden cage bore the little winged wanderer, enamored, melting, indolent, to the
Chaussee D'Antin, from its home in far Peru. From its queenly possessor La Bellissima,
to the Duc De L'Omelette, six peers of the empire conveyed the happy bird.
That night the Duc was to sup alone. In the privacy of his bureau he reclined languidly
on that ottoman for which he sacrificed his loyalty in outbidding his king --- the notorious
ottoman of Cadet.
He buries his face in the pillow. The clock strikes! Unable to restrain his feelings, his
Grace swallows an olive. At this moment the door gently opens to the sound of soft
music, and lo! the most delicate of birds is before the most enamored of men! But what
inexpressible dismay now overshadows the countenance of the Duc? --- "Horreur! --chien! --- Baptiste! --- l'oiseau! ah, bon Dieu! cet oiseau modeste que tu as deshabille de
ses plumes, et que tu as servi sans papier!" It is superfluous to say more: --- the Duc
expired in a paroxysm of disgust. * * *
"Ha! ha! ha!" said his Grace on the third day after his decease.
"He! he! he!" replied the Devil faintly, drawing himself up with an air of hauteur.
"Why, surely you are not serious," retorted De L'Omelette. "I have sinned --- c'est vrai
--- but, my good sir, consider! --- you have no actual intention of putting such --- such
barbarous threats into execution."
"No what?" said his majesty --- "come, sir, strip!"
"Strip, indeed! very pretty i' faith! no, sir, I shall not strip. Who are you, pray, that I,
Duc De L'Omelette, Prince de Foie-Gras, just come of age, author of the 'Mazurkiad,' and
Member of the Academy, should divest myself at your bidding of the sweetest pantaloons
ever made by Bourdon, the daintiest robe-de-chambre ever put together by Rombêrt --- to
say nothing of the taking my hair out of paper --- not to mention the trouble I should have
in drawing off my gloves?"
"Who am I? --- ah, true! I am Baal-Zebub, Prince of the Fly. I took thee, just now,
from a rose-wood coffin inlaid with ivory. Thou wast curiously scented, and labelled as
per invoice. Belial sent thee, --- my Inspector of Cemeteries. The pantaloons, which thou
sayest were made by Bourdon, are an excellent pair of linen drawers, and thy robe-dechambre is a shroud of no scanty dimensions."
"Sir!" replied the Duc, "I am not to be insulted with impunity! --- Sir! I shall take the
earliest opportunity of avenging this insult! --- Sir! you shall hear from me! in the
meantime au revoir!" --- and the Duc was bowing himself out of the Satanic presence,
when he was interrupted and brought back by a gentleman in waiting. Hereupon his
Grace rubbed his eyes, yawned, shrugged his shoulders, reflected. Having become
satisfied of his identity, he took a bird's eye view of his whereabouts.
The apartment was superb. Even De L'Omelette pronounced it bien comme il faut. It
was not its length nor its breadth, --- but its height --- ah, that was appalling! --- There
was no ceiling --- certainly none --- but a dense whirling mass of fiery-colored clouds.
His Grace's brain reeled as he glanced upward. From above, hung a chain of an unknown
blood-red metal --- its upper end lost, like the city of Boston, parmi les nues. From its
nether extremity swung a large cresset. The Duc knew it to be a ruby; but from it there
poured a light so intense, so still, so terrible, Persia never worshipped such --- Gheber
never imagined such --- Mussulman never dreamed of such when, drugged with opium,
he has tottered to a bed of poppies, his back to the flowers, and his face to the God
Apollo. The Duc muttered a slight oath, decidedly approbatory.
The corners of the room were rounded into niches. Three of these were filled with
statues of gigantic proportions. Their beauty was Grecian, their deformity Egyptian, their
tout ensemble French. In the fourth niche the statue was veiled; it was not colossal. But
then there was a taper ankle, a sandalled foot. De L'Omelette pressed his hand upon his
heart, closed his eyes, raised them, and caught his Satanic Majesty --- in a blush.
But the paintings! --- Kupris! Astarte! Astoreth! --- a thousand and the same! And
Rafaelle has beheld them! Yes, Rafaelle has been here, for did he not paint the ----? and
was he not consequently damned? The paintings --- the paintings! O luxury! O love! --who, gazing on those forbidden beauties, shall have eyes for the dainty devices of the
golden frames that besprinkled, like stars, the hyacinth and the porphyry walls?
But the Duc's heart is fainting within him. He is not, however, as you suppose, dizzy
with magnificence, nor drunk with the ecstatic breath of those innumerable censers. C'est
vrai que de toutes ces choses il a pense beaucoup --- mais! The Duc De L'Omelette is
terror-stricken; for, through the lurid vista which a single uncurtained window is
affording, lo! gleams the most ghastly of all fires!
Le pauvre Duc! He could not help imagining that the glorious, the voluptuous, the
never-dying melodies which pervaded that hall, as they passed filtered and transmuted
through the alchemy of the enchanted window-panes, were the wailings and the howlings
of the hopeless and the damned! And there, too! --- there! --- upon the ottoman! --- who
could he be? --- he, the petit-maitre --- no, the Deity --- who sat as if carved in marble, et
qui sourit, with his pale countenance, si amerement?
Mais il faut agir --- that is to say, a Frenchman never faints outright. Besides, his
Grace hated a scene --- De L'Omelette is himself again. There were some foils upon a
table --- some points also. The Duc had studied under B -------; il avait tue ses six
hommes. Now, then, il peut s echapper. He measures two points, and, with a grace
inimitable, offers his Majesty the choice. Horreur! his Majesty does not fence!
Mais il joue! --- how happy a thought! --- but his Grace had always an excellent
memory. He had dipped in the "Diable" of Abbe Gualtier. Therein it is said "que le
Diable n'ose pas refuser un jeu d'ecarte."
But the chances --- the chances! True --- desperate: but scarcely more desperate than
the Duc. Besides, was he not in the secret? --- had he not skimmed over Pere Le Brun? --was he not a member of the Club Vingt-un? --- "Si je perds," said he, "je serai deux fois
perdu --- I shall be doubly dammed --- voila tout! (Here his Grace shrugged his
shoulders.) Si je gagne, je reviendrai a mes ortolans --- que les cartes soient preparees!"
His Grace was all care, all attention --- his Majesty all confidence. A spectator would
have thought of Francis and Charles. His Grace thought of his game. His Majesty did not
think; he shuffled. The Duc cut.
The cards were dealt. The trump is turned --- it is --- it is --- the king! No --- it was the
queen. His Majesty cursed her masculine habiliments. De L'Omelette placed his hand
upon his heart.
They play. The Duc counts. The hand is out. His Majesty counts heavily, smiles, and is
taking wine. The Duc slips a card.
"C'est a vous a faire," said his Majesty, cutting. His Grace bowed, dealt, and arose
from the table en presentant le Roi.
His Majesty looked chagrined.
Had Alexander not been Alexander, he would have been Diogenes; and the Duc
assured his antagonist in taking leave, "que s'il n'eut ete De L'Omelette il n'aurait point
d'objection d'etre le Diable."
Eleonora
Sub conservatione formae specificae salva anima.
Raymond Lully
I AM come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion. Men have called me
mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest
intelligence --- whether much that is glorious- whether all that is profound --- does not
spring from disease of thought --- from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the
general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape
those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and
thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In
snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere
knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the
vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian
geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi."
We will say, then, that I am mad. I grant, at least, that there are two distinct conditions
of my mental existence --- the condition of a lucid reason, not to be disputed, and
belonging to the memory of events forming the first epoch of my life --- and a condition
of shadow and doubt, appertaining to the present, and to the recollection of what
constitutes the second great era of my being. Therefore, what I shall tell of the earlier
period, believe; and to what I may relate of the later time, give only such credit as may
seem due, or doubt it altogether, or, if doubt it ye cannot, then play unto its riddle the
Oedipus.
She whom I loved in youth, and of whom I now pen calmly and distinctly these
remembrances, was the sole daughter of the only sister of my mother long departed.
Eleonora was the name of my cousin. We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical
sun, in the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. No unguided footstep ever came upon that
vale; for it lay away up among a range of giant hills that hung beetling around about it,
shutting out the sunlight from its sweetest recesses. No path was trodden in its vicinity;
and, to reach our happy home, there was need of putting back, with force, the foliage of
many thousands of forest trees, and of crushing to death the glories of many millions of
fragrant flowers. Thus it was that we lived all alone, knowing nothing of the world
without the valley --- I, and my cousin, and her mother.
From the dim regions beyond the mountains at the upper end of our encircled domain,
there crept out a narrow and deep river, brighter than all save the eyes of Eleonora; and,
winding stealthily about in mazy courses, it passed away, at length, through a shadowy
gorge, among hills still dimmer than those whence it had issued. We called it the "River
of Silence"; for there seemed to be a hushing influence in its flow. No murmur arose from
its bed, and so gently it wandered along, that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to
gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but lay in a motionless content, each in
its own old station, shining on gloriously forever.
The margin of the river, and of the many dazzling rivulets that glided through devious
ways into its channel, as well as the spaces that extended from the margins away down
into the depths of the streams until they reached the bed of pebbles at the bottom, --these spots, not less than the whole surface of the valley, from the river to the mountains
that girdled it in, were carpeted all by a soft green grass, thick, short, perfectly even, and
vanilla-perfumed, but so besprinkled throughout with the yellow buttercup, the white
daisy, the purple violet, and the ruby-red asphodel, that its exceeding beauty spoke to our
hearts in loud tones, of the love and of the glory of God.
And, here and there, in groves about this grass, like wildernesses of dreams, sprang up
fantastic trees, whose tall slender stems stood not upright, but slanted gracefully toward
the light that peered at noon-day into the centre of the valley. Their mark was speckled
with the vivid alternate splendor of ebony and silver, and was smoother than all save the
cheeks of Eleonora; so that, but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves that spread from
their summits in long, tremulous lines, dallying with the Zephyrs, one might have fancied
them giant serpents of Syria doing homage to their sovereign the Sun.
Hand in hand about this valley, for fifteen years, roamed I with Eleonora before Love
entered within our hearts. It was one evening at the close of the third lustrum of her life,
and of the fourth of my own, that we sat, locked in each other's embrace, beneath the
serpent-like trees, and looked down within the water of the River of Silence at our images
therein. We spoke no words during the rest of that sweet day, and our words even upon
the morrow were tremulous and few. We had drawn the God Eros from that wave, and
now we felt that he had enkindled within us the fiery souls of our forefathers. The
passions which had for centuries distinguished our race, came thronging with the fancies
for which they had been equally noted, and together breathed a delirious bliss over the
Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. A change fell upon all things. Strange, brilliant
flowers, star-shaped, burn out upon the trees where no flowers had been known before.
The tints of the green carpet deepened; and when, one by one, the white daisies shrank
away, there sprang up in place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red asphodel. And life
arose in our paths; for the tall flamingo, hitherto unseen, with all gay glowing birds,
flaunted his scarlet plumage before us. The golden and silver fish haunted the river, out
of the bosom of which issued, little by little, a murmur that swelled, at length, into a
lulling melody more divine than that of the harp of Aeolus-sweeter than all save the voice
of Eleonora. And now, too, a voluminous cloud, which we had long watched in the
regions of Hesper, floated out thence, all gorgeous in crimson and gold, and settling in
peace above us, sank, day by day, lower and lower, until its edges rested upon the tops of
the mountains, turning all their dimness into magnificence, and shutting us up, as if
forever, within a magic prison-house of grandeur and of glory.
The loveliness of Eleonora was that of the Seraphim; but she was a maiden artless and
innocent as the brief life she had led among the flowers. No guile disguised the fervor of
love which animated her heart, and she examined with me its inmost recesses as we
walked together in the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass, and discoursed of the mighty
changes which had lately taken place therein.
At length, having spoken one day, in tears, of the last sad change which must befall
Humanity, she thenceforward dwelt only upon this one sorrowful theme, interweaving it
into all our converse, as, in the songs of the bard of Schiraz, the same images are found
occurring, again and again, in every impressive variation of phrase.
She had seen that the finger of Death was upon her bosom --- that, like the ephemeron,
she had been made perfect in loveliness only to die; but the terrors of the grave to her lay
solely in a consideration which she revealed to me, one evening at twilight, by the banks
of the River of Silence. She grieved to think that, having entombed her in the Valley of
the Many-Colored Grass, I would quit forever its happy recesses, transferring the love
which now was so passionately her own to some maiden of the outer and everyday world.
And, then and there, I threw myself hurriedly at the feet of Eleonora, and offered up a
vow, to herself and to Heaven, that I would never bind myself in marriage to any
daughter of Earth --- that I would in no manner prove recreant to her dear memory, or to
the memory of the devout affection with which she had blessed me. And I called the
Mighty Ruler of the Universe to witness the pious solemnity of my vow. And the curse
which I invoked of Him and of her, a saint in Helusion should I prove traitorous to that
promise, involved a penalty the exceeding great horror of which will not permit me to
make record of it here. And the bright eyes of Eleonora grew brighter at my words; and
she sighed as if a deadly burthen had been taken from her breast; and she trembled and
very bitterly wept; but she made acceptance of the vow, (for what was she but a child?)
and it made easy to her the bed of her death. And she said to me, not many days
afterward, tranquilly dying, that, because of what I had done for the comfort of her spirit
she would watch over me in that spirit when departed, and, if so it were permitted her
return to me visibly in the watches of the night; but, if this thing were, indeed, beyond the
power of the souls in Paradise, that she would, at least, give me frequent indications of
her presence, sighing upon me in the evening winds, or filling the air which I breathed
with perfume from the censers of the angels. And, with these words upon her lips, she
yielded up her innocent life, putting an end to the first epoch of my own.
Thus far I have faithfully said. But as I pass the barrier in Times path, formed by the
death of my beloved, and proceed with the second era of my existence, I feel that a
shadow gathers over my brain, and I mistrust the perfect sanity of the record. But let me
on. --- Years dragged themselves along heavily, and still I dwelled within the Valley of
the Many-Colored Grass; but a second change had come upon all things. The star-shaped
flowers shrank into the stems of the trees, and appeared no more. The tints of the green
carpet faded; and, one by one, the ruby-red asphodels withered away; and there sprang
up, in place of them, ten by ten, dark, eye-like violets, that writhed uneasily and were
ever encumbered with dew. And Life departed from our paths; for the tall flamingo
flaunted no longer his scarlet plumage before us, but flew sadly from the vale into the
hills, with all the gay glowing birds that had arrived in his company. And the golden and
silver fish swam down through the gorge at the lower end of our domain and bedecked
the sweet river never again. And the lulling melody that had been softer than the windharp of Aeolus, and more divine than all save the voice of Eleonora, it died little by little
away, in murmurs growing lower and lower, until the stream returned, at length, utterly,
into the solemnity of its original silence. And then, lastly, the voluminous cloud uprose,
and, abandoning the tops of the mountains to the dimness of old, fell back into the
regions of Hesper, and took away all its manifold golden and gorgeous glories from the
Valley of the Many-Colored Grass.
Yet the promises of Eleonora were not forgotten; for I heard the sounds of the
swinging of the censers of the angels; and streams of a holy perfume floated ever and
ever about the valley; and at lone hours, when my heart beat heavily, the winds that
bathed my brow came unto me laden with soft sighs; and indistinct murmurs filled often
the night air, and once --- oh, but once only! I was awakened from a slumber, like the
slumber of death, by the pressing of spiritual lips upon my own.
But the void within my heart refused, even thus, to be filled. I longed for the love
which had before filled it to overflowing. At length the valley pained me through its
memories of Eleonora, and I left it for ever for the vanities and the turbulent triumphs of
the world.
I found myself within a strange city, where all things might have served to blot from
recollection the sweet dreams I had dreamed so long in the Valley of the Many-Colored
Grass. The pomps and pageantries of a stately court, and the mad clangor of arms, and
the radiant loveliness of women, bewildered and intoxicated my brain. But as yet my soul
had proved true to its vows, and the indications of the presence of Eleonora were still
given me in the silent hours of the night. Suddenly these manifestations they ceased, and
the world grew dark before mine eyes, and I stood aghast at the burning thoughts which
possessed, at the terrible temptations which beset me; for there came from some far, far
distant and unknown land, into the gay court of the king I served, a maiden to whose
beauty my whole recreant heart yielded at once --- at whose footstool I bowed down
without a struggle, in the most ardent, in the most abject worship of love. What, indeed,
was my passion for the young girl of the valley in comparison with the fervor, and the
delirium, and the spirit-lifting ecstasy of adoration with which I poured out my whole
soul in tears at the feet of the ethereal Ermengarde? --- Oh, bright was the seraph
Ermengarde! and in that knowledge I had room for none other. --- Oh, divine was the
angel Ermengarde! and as I looked down into the depths of her memorial eyes, I thought
only of them --- and of her.
I wedded; --- nor dreaded the curse I had invoked; and its bitterness was not visited
upon me. And once --- but once again in the silence of the night; there came through my
lattice the soft sighs which had forsaken me; and they modelled themselves into familiar
and sweet voice, saying:
"Sleep in peace! --- for the Spirit of Love reigneth and ruleth, and, in taking to thy
passionate heart her who is Ermengarde, thou art absolved, for reasons which shall be
made known to thee in Heaven, of thy vows unto Eleonora."
The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar
OF COURSE I shall not pretend to consider it any matter for wonder, that the extraordinary
case of M. Valdemar has excited discussion. It would have been a miracle had it notespecially under the circumstances. Through the desire of all parties concerned, to keep
the affair from the public, at least for the present, or until we had farther opportunities for
investigation --- through our endeavors to effect this --- a garbled or exaggerated account
made its way into society, and became the source of many unpleasant misrepresentations,
and, very naturally, of a great deal of disbelief.
It is now rendered necessary that I give the facts --- as far as I comprehend them
myself. They are, succinctly, these:
My attention, for the last three years, had been repeatedly drawn to the subject of
Mesmerism; and, about nine months ago it occurred to me, quite suddenly, that in the
series of experiments made hitherto, there had been a very remarkable and most
unaccountable omission: --- no person had as yet been mesmerized in articulo mortis. It
remained to be seen, first, whether, in such condition, there existed in the patient any
susceptibility to the magnetic influence; secondly, whether, if any existed, it was
impaired or increased by the condition; thirdly, to what extent, or for how long a period,
the encroachments of Death might be arrested by the process. There were other points to
be ascertained, but these most excited my curiosity --- the last in especial, from the
immensely important character of its consequences.
In looking around me for some subject by whose means I might test these particulars, I
was brought to think of my friend, M. Ernest Valdemar, the well-known compiler of the
"Bibliotheca Forensica," and author (under the nom de plume of Issachar Marx) of the
Polish versions of "Wallenstein" and "Gargantua." M. Valdemar, who has resided
principally at Harlem, N.Y., since the year 1839, is (or was) particularly noticeable for
the extreme spareness of his person --- his lower limbs much resembling those of John
Randolph; and, also, for the whiteness of his whiskers, in violent contrast to the blackness
of his hair --- the latter, in consequence, being very generally mistaken for a wig. His
temperament was markedly nervous, and rendered him a good subject for mesmeric
experiment. On two or three occasions I had put him to sleep with little difficulty, but
was disappointed in other results which his peculiar constitution had naturally led me to
anticipate. His will was at no period positively, or thoroughly, under my control, and in
regard to clairvoyance, I could accomplish with him nothing to be relied upon. I always
attributed my failure at these points to the disordered state of his health. For some months
previous to my becoming acquainted with him, his physicians had declared him in a
confirmed phthisis. It was his custom, indeed, to speak calmly of his approaching
dissolution, as of a matter neither to be avoided nor regretted.
When the ideas to which I have alluded first occurred to me, it was of course very
natural that I should think of M. Valdemar. I knew the steady philosophy of the man too
well to apprehend any scruples from him; and he had no relatives in America who would
be likely to interfere. I spoke to him frankly upon the subject; and, to my surprise, his
interest seemed vividly excited. I say to my surprise, for, although he had always yielded
his person freely to my experiments, he had never before given me any tokens of
sympathy with what I did. His disease was if that character which would admit of exact
calculation in respect to the epoch of its termination in death; and it was finally arranged
between us that he would send for me about twenty-four hours before the period
announced by his physicians as that of his decease.
It is now rather more than seven months since I received, from M. Valdemar himself,
the subjoined note:
"MY DEAR P --- ,
"You may as well come now. D --- and F --- are agreed that I cannot hold out beyond
to-morrow midnight; and I think they have hit the time very nearly.
VALDEMAR"
I received this note within half an hour after it was written, and in fifteen minutes more
I was in the dying man's chamber. I had not seen him for ten days, and was appalled by
the fearful alteration which the brief interval had wrought in him. His face wore a leaden
hue; the eyes were utterly lustreless; and the emaciation was so extreme that the skin had
been broken through by the cheek-bones. His expectoration was excessive. The pulse was
barely perceptible. He retained, nevertheless, in a very remarkable manner, both his
mental power and a certain degree of physical strength. He spoke with distinctness --took some palliative medicines without aid --- and, when I entered the room, was
occupied in penciling memoranda in a pocket-book. He was propped up in the bed by
pillows. Doctors D --- and F --- were in attendance.
After pressing Valdemar's hand, I took these gentlemen aside, and obtained from them
a minute account of the patient's condition. The left lung had been for eighteen months in
a semi-osseous or cartilaginous state, and was, of course, entirely useless for all purposes
of vitality. The right, in its upper portion, was also partially, if not thoroughly, ossified,
while the lower region was merely a mass of purulent tubercles, running one into another.
Several extensive perforations existed; and, at one point, permanent adhesion to the ribs
had taken place. These appearances in the right lobe were of comparatively recent date.
The ossification had proceeded with very unusual rapidity; no sign of it had discovered a
month before, and the adhesion had only been observed during the three previous days.
Independently of the phthisis, the patient was suspected of aneurism of the aorta; but on
this point the osseous symptoms rendered an exact diagnosis impossible. It was the
opinion of both physicians that M. Valdemar would die about midnight on the morrow
(Sunday). It was then seven o'clock on Saturday evening.
On quitting the invalid's bed-side to hold conversation with myself, Doctors D --- and
F --- had bidden him a final farewell. It had not been their intention to return; but, at my
request, they agreed to look in upon the patient about ten the next night.
When they had gone, I spoke freely with M. Valdemar on the subject of his
approaching dissolution, as well as, more particularly, of the experiment proposed. He
still professed himself quite willing and even anxious to have it made, and urged me to
commence it at once. A male and a female nurse were in attendance; but I did not feel
myself altogether at liberty to engage in a task of this character with no more reliable
witnesses than these people, in case of sudden accident, might prove. I therefore
postponed operations until about eight the next night, when the arrival of a medical
student with whom I had some acquaintance, (Mr. Theodore L --- l,) relieved me from
farther embarrassment. It had been my design, originally, to wait for the physicians; but I
was induced to proceed, first, by the urgent entreaties of M. Valdemar, and secondly, by
my conviction that I had not a moment to lose, as he was evidently sinking fast.
Mr. L --- l was so kind as to accede to my desire that he would take notes of all that
occurred, and it is from his memoranda that what I now have to relate is, for the most
part, either condensed or copied verbatim.
It wanted about five minutes of eight when, taking the patient's hand, I begged him to
state, as distinctly as he could, to Mr. L --- l, whether he (M. Valdemar) was entirely
willing that I should make the experiment of mesmerizing him in his then condition.
He replied feebly, yet quite audibly, "Yes, I wish to be "I fear you have mesmerized" -- adding immediately afterwards, deferred it too long."
While he spoke thus, I commenced the passes which I had already found most
effectual in subduing him. He was evidently influenced with the first lateral stroke of my
hand across his forehead; but although I exerted all my powers, no farther perceptible
effect was induced until some minutes after ten o'clock, when Doctors D --- and F --called, according to appointment. I explained to them, in a few words, what I designed,
and as they opposed no objection, saying that the patient was already in the death agony,
I proceeded without hesitation --- exchanging, however, the lateral passes for downward
ones, and directing my gaze entirely into the right eye of the sufferer.
By this time his pulse was imperceptible and his breathing was stertorous, and at
intervals of half a minute.
This condition was nearly unaltered for a quarter of an hour. At the expiration of this
period, however, a natural although a very deep sigh escaped the bosom of the dying
man, and the stertorious breathing ceased --- that is to say, its stertoriousness was no
longer apparent; the intervals were undiminished. The patient's extremities were of an icy
coldness.
At five minutes before eleven I perceived unequivocal signs of the mesmeric influence.
The glassy roll of the eye was changed for that expression of uneasy inward examination
which is never seen except in cases of sleep-waking, and which it is quite impossible to
mistake. With a few rapid lateral passes I made the lids quiver, as in incipient sleep, and
with a few more I closed them altogether. I was not satisfied, however, with this, but
continued the manipulations vigorously, and with the fullest exertion of the will, until I
had completely stiffened the limbs of the slumberer, after placing them in a seemingly
easy position. The legs were at full length; the arms were nearly so, and reposed on the
bed at a moderate distance from the loin. The head was very slightly elevated.
When I had accomplished this, it was fully midnight, and I requested the gentlemen
present to examine M. Valdemar's condition. After a few experiments, they admitted him
to be an unusually perfect state of mesmeric trance. The curiosity of both the physicians
was greatly excited. Dr. D --- resolved at once to remain with the patient all night, while
Dr. F --- took leave with a promise to return at daybreak. Mr. L --- l and the nurses
remained.
We left M. Valdemar entirely undisturbed until about three o'clock in the morning,
when I approached him and found him in precisely the same condition as when Dr. F --went away --- that is to say, he lay in the same position; the pulse was imperceptible; the
breathing was gentle (scarcely noticeable, unless through the application of a mirror to
the lips); the eyes were closed naturally; and the limbs were as rigid and as cold as
marble. Still, the general appearance was certainly not that of death.
As I approached M. Valdemar I made a kind of half effort to influence his right arm
into pursuit of my own, as I passed the latter gently to and fro above his person. In such
experiments with this patient had never perfectly succeeded before, and assuredly I had
little thought of succeeding now; but to my astonishment, his arm very readily, although
feebly, followed every direction I assigned it with mine. I determined to hazard a few
words of conversation.
"M. Valdemar," I said, "are you asleep?" He made no answer, but I perceived a tremor
about the lips, and was thus induced to repeat the question, again and again. At its third
repetition, his whole frame was agitated by a very slight shivering; the eyelids unclosed
themselves so far as to display a white line of the ball; the lips moved sluggishly, and
from between them, in a barely audible whisper, issued the words:
"Yes; --- asleep now. Do not wake me! --- let me die so!"
I here felt the limbs and found them as rigid as ever. The right arm, as before, obeyed
the direction of my hand. I questioned the sleep-waker again:
"Do you still feel pain in the breast, M. Valdemar?"
The answer now was immediate, but even less audible than before:
"No pain --- I am dying."
I did not think it advisable to disturb him farther just then, and nothing more was said
or done until the arrival of Dr. F --- , who came a little before sunrise, and expressed
unbounded astonishment at finding the patient still alive. After feeling the pulse and
applying a mirror to the lips, he requested me to speak to the sleep-waker again. I did so,
saying:
"M. Valdemar, do you still sleep?"
As before, some minutes elapsed ere a reply was made; and during the interval the
dying man seemed to be collecting his energies to speak. At my fourth repetition of the
question, he said very faintly, almost inaudibly:
"Yes; still asleep --- dying."
It was now the opinion, or rather the wish, of the physicians, that M. Valdemar should
be suffered to remain undisturbed in his present apparently tranquil condition, until death
should supervene --- and this, it was generally agreed, must now take place within a few
minutes. I concluded, however, to speak to him once more, and merely repeated my
previous question.
While I spoke, there came a marked change over the countenance of the sleep-waker.
The eyes rolled themselves slowly open, the pupils disappearing upwardly; the skin
generally assumed a cadaverous hue, resembling not so much parchment as white paper;
and the circular hectic spots which, hitherto, had been strongly defined in the centre of
each cheek, went out at once. I use this expression, because the suddenness of their
departure put me in mind of nothing so much as the extinguishment of a candle by a puff
of the breath. The upper lip, at the same time, writhed itself away from the teeth, which it
had previously covered completely; while the lower jaw fell with an audible jerk, leaving
the mouth widely extended, and disclosing in full view the swollen and blackened
tongue. I presume that no member of the party then present had been unaccustomed to
death-bed horrors; but so hideous beyond conception was the appearance of M. Valdemar
at this moment, that there was a general shrinking back from the region of the bed.
I now feel that I have reached a point of this narrative at which every reader will be
startled into positive disbelief. It is my business, however, simply to proceed.
There was no longer the faintest sign of vitality in M. Valdemar; and concluding him to
be dead, we were consigning him to the charge of the nurses, when a strong vibratory
motion was observable in the tongue. This continued for perhaps a minute. At the
expiration of this period, there issued from the distended and motionless jaws a voice --such as it would be madness in me to attempt describing. There are, indeed, two or three
epithets which might be considered as applicable to it in part; I might say, for example,
that the sound was harsh, and broken and hollow; but the hideous whole is indescribable,
for the simple reason that no similar sounds have ever jarred upon the ear of humanity.
There were two particulars, nevertheless, which I thought then, and still think, might
fairly be stated as characteristic of the intonation --- as well adapted to convey some idea
of its unearthly peculiarity. In the first place, the voice seemed to reach our ears --- at
least mine --- from a vast distance, or from some deep cavern within the earth. In the
second place, it impressed me (I fear, indeed, that it will be impossible to make myself
comprehended) as gelatinous or glutinous matters impress the sense of touch.
I have spoken both of "sound" and of "voice." I mean to say that the sound was one of
distinct --- of even wonderfully, thrillingly distinct --- syllabification. M. Valdemar spoke
--- obviously in reply to the question I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had
asked him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He now said:
"Yes; --- no; --- I have been sleeping --- and now --- now --- I am dead.
No person present even affected to deny, or attempted to repress, the unutterable,
shuddering horror which these few words, thus uttered, were so well calculated to
convey. Mr. L --- l (the student) swooned. The nurses immediately left the chamber, and
could not be induced to return. My own impressions I would not pretend to render
intelligible to the reader. For nearly an hour, we busied ourselves, silently --- without the
utterance of a word --- in endeavors to revive Mr. L --- l. When he came to himself, we
addressed ourselves again to an investigation of M. Valdemar's condition.
It remained in all respects as I have last described it, with the exception that the mirror
no longer afforded evidence of respiration. An attempt to draw blood from the arm failed.
I should mention, too, that this limb was no farther subject to my will. I endeavored in
vain to make it follow the direction of my hand. The only real indication, indeed, of the
mesmeric influence, was now found in the vibratory movement of the tongue, whenever I
addressed M. Valdemar a question. He seemed to be making an effort to reply, but had no
longer sufficient volition. To queries put to him by any other person than myself he
seemed utterly insensible --- although I endeavored to place each member of the
company in mesmeric rapport with him. I believe that I have now related all that is
necessary to an understanding of the sleep-waker's state at this epoch. Other nurses were
procured; and at ten o'clock I left the house in company with the two physicians and Mr.
L --- l.
In the afternoon we all called again to see the patient. His condition remained precisely
the same. We had now some discussion as to the propriety and feasibility of awakening
him; but we had little difficulty in agreeing that no good purpose would be served by so
doing. It was evident that, so far, death (or what is usually termed death) had been
arrested by the mesmeric process. It seemed clear to us all that to awaken M. Valdemar
would be merely to insure his instant, or at least his speedy dissolution.
From this period until the close of last week --- an interval of nearly seven months --we continued to make daily calls at M. Valdemar's house, accompanied, now and then,
by medical and other friends. All this time the sleeper-waker remained exactly as I have
last described him. The nurses' attentions were continual.
It was on Friday last that we finally resolved to make the experiment of awakening or
attempting to awaken him; and it is the (perhaps) unfortunate result of this latter
experiment which has given rise to so much discussion in private circles --- to so much of
what I cannot help thinking unwarranted popular feeling.
For the purpose of relieving M. Valdemar from the mesmeric trance, I made use of the
customary passes. These, for a time, were unsuccessful. The first indication of revival
was afforded by a partial descent of the iris. It was observed, as especially remarkable,
that this lowering of the pupil was accompanied by the profuse out-flowing of a
yellowish ichor (from beneath the lids) of a pungent and highly offensive odor.
It was now suggested that I should attempt to influence the patient's arm, as heretofore.
I made the attempt and failed. Dr. F --- then intimated a desire to have me put a question.
I did so, as follows:
"M. Valdemar, can you explain to us what are your feelings or wishes now?"
There was an instant return of the hectic circles on the cheeks; the tongue quivered, or
rather rolled violently in the mouth (although the jaws and lips remained rigid as before;)
and at length the same hideous voice which I have already described, broke forth:
"For God's sake! --- quick! --- quick! --- put me to sleep --- or, quick! --- waken me! --quick! --- I say to you that I am dead!"
I was thoroughly unnerved, and for an instant remained undecided what to do. At first I
made an endeavor to re-compose the patient; but, failing in this through total abeyance of
the will, I retraced my steps and as earnestly struggled to awaken him. In this attempt I
soon saw that I should be successful --- or at least I soon fancied that my success would
be complete --- and I am sure that all in the room were prepared to see the patient
awaken.
For what really occurred, however, it is quite impossible that any human being could
have been prepared.
As I rapidly made the mesmeric passes, amid ejaculations of "dead! dead!" absolutely
bursting from the tongue and not from the lips of the sufferer, his whole frame at once --within the space of a single minute, or even less, shrunk --- crumbled --- absolutely rotted
away beneath my hands. Upon the bed, before that whole company, there lay a nearly
liquid mass of loathsome --- of detestable putrescence.
The Fall of the House of Usher
Son
coeur
Sitot qu'on le touche il resonne.
est
un
luth
suspendu;
De Beranger
DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when
the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback,
through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of
the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it
was --- but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded
my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that halfpleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the
sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me --upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain --- upon the bleak
walls --- upon the vacant eye-like windows --- upon a few rank sedges --- and upon a few
white trunks of decayed trees --- with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to
no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium --the bitter lapse into everyday life --- the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an
iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart --- an unredeemed dreariness of thought which
no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it --- I
paused to think --- what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of
Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that
crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory
conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural
objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies
among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different
arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be
sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and,
acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn
that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down --- but with a shudder even
more thrilling than before --- upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge,
and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.
Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of some
weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood;
but many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached
me in a distant part of the country--- a letter from him --- which, in its wildly
importunate nature, had admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS gave
evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness --- of a mental
disorder which oppressed him --- and of an earnest desire to see me, as his best, and
indeed his only personal friend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my
society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in which all this, and much
more, was said --- it was the apparent heart that went with his request --- which allowed
me no room for hesitation; and I accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a
very singular summons.
Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet I really knew little of my
friend. His reserve had been always excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that
his very ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of
temperament, displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, and
manifested, of late, in repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity, as well as in
a passionate devotion to the intricacies, perhaps even more than to the orthodox and
easily recognizable beauties of musical science. I had learned, too, the very remarkable
fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honoured as it was, had put forth, at no
period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of
descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary variation, so lain. It was
this deficiency, I considered, while running over in thought the perfect keeping of the
character of the premises with the accredited character of the people, and while
speculating upon the possible influence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries,
might have exercised upon the other --- it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue,
and the consequent undeviating transmission, from sire to son, of the patrimony with the
name, which had, at length, so identified the two as to merge the original title of the
estate in the quaint and equivocal appellation of the "House of Usher"--- an appellation
which seemed to include, in the minds of the peasantry who used it, both the family and
the family mansion.
I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment--- that of looking
down within the tarn --- had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no
doubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition --- for why should I
not so term it? --- served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I have long
known, is the paradoxical law of all sentiments having terror as a basis. And it might
have been for this reason only, that, when I again uplifted my eyes to the house itself,
from its image in the pool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy --- a fancy so
ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention it to show the vivid force of the sensations which
oppressed me. I had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe that about the
whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their
immediate vicinity --- an atmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but
which had reeked up from the decayed trees, and the gray wall, and the silent tarn --- a
pestilent and mystic vapor, dull, sluggish, faintly discernible, and leaden-hued.
Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the
real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive
antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole
exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from
any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared
to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling
condition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the
specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected
vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of
extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a
scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which,
extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag
direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.
Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waiting
took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step,
thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my
progress to the studio of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I
know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While
the objects around me --- while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the
walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which
rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed
from my infancy --- while I hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this --- I
still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were
stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, I
thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with
trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the
presence of his master.
The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. The windows were long,
narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be
altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way
through the trellised panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent
objects around; the eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the
chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the
walls. The general furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books
and musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I
felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable
gloom hung over and pervaded all.
Upon my entrance, Usher rose from a sofa on which he had been lying at full length,
and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, I at first thought, of an
overdone cordiality --- of the constrained effort of the ennuye man of the world. A
glance, however, at his countenance, convinced me of his perfect sincerity. We sat down;
and for some moments, while he spoke not, I gazed upon him with a feeling half of pity,
half of awe. Surely, man had never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had
Roderick Usher! It was with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity of
the wan being before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yet the character of
his face had been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large,
liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of a
surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of
nostril unusual in similar formations; a finely-moulded chin, speaking, in its want of
prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and
tenuity;--- these features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple,
made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the mere
exaggeration of the prevailing character of these features, and of the expression they were
wont to convey, lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly
pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the eye, above all things startled and
even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its
wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the face, I could not, even with
effort, connect its Arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity.
In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence --- an
inconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from a series of feeble and futile struggles to
overcome an habitual trepidancy --- an excessive nervous agitation. For something of this
nature I had indeed been prepared, no less by his letter, than by reminiscences of certain
boyish traits, and by conclusions deduced from his peculiar physical conformation and
temperament. His action was alternately vivacious and sullen. His voice varied rapidly
from a tremulous indecision (when the animal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that
species of energetic concision --- that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, and hollow-sounding
enunciation --- that leaden, self- balanced and perfectly modulated guttural utterance,
which may be observed in the lost drunkard, or the irreclaimable eater of opium, during
the periods of his most intense excitement.
It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest desire to see me, and
of the solace he expected me to afford him. He entered, at some length, into what he
conceived to be the nature of his malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family
evil, and one for which he despaired to find a remedy --- a mere nervous affection, he
immediately added, which would undoubtedly soon pass off. It displayed itself in a host
of unnatural sensations. Some of these, as he detailed them, interested and bewildered
me; although, perhaps, the terms, and the general manner of the narration had their
weight. He suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipid food
was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certain texture; the odors of all
flowers were oppressive; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; and there were but
peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire him with
horror.
To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden slave. "I shall perish," said
he, "I must perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. I
dread the events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results. I shudder at the
thought of any, even the most trivial, incident, which may operate upon this intolerable
agitation of soul. I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect--in terror. In this unnerved --- in this pitiable condition --- I feel that the period will sooner
or later arrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the
grim phantasm, FEAR."
I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken and equivocal hints, another
singular feature of his mental condition. He was enchained by certain superstitious
impressions in regard to the dwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, he
had never ventured forth --- in regard to an influence whose supposititious force was
conveyed in terms too shadowy here to be re-stated --- an influence which some
peculiarities in the mere form and substance of his family mansion, had, by dint of long
sufferance, he said, obtained over his spirit --- an effect which the physique of the gray
walls and turrets, and of the dim tarn into which they all looked down, had, at length,
brought about upon the morale of his existence.
He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which
thus afflicted him could be traced to a more natural and far more palpable origin --- to the
severe and long-continued illness --- indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution --of a tenderly beloved sister, his sole companion for long years, his last and only relative
on earth. "Her decease," he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget, "would leave
him (him the hopeless and the frail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers." While he
spoke, the lady Madeline (for so was she called) passed slowly through a remote portion
of the apartment, and, without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I regarded her
with an utter astonishment not unmingled with dread; and yet I found it impossible to
account for such feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed me, as my eyes followed her
retreating steps. When a door, at length, closed upon her, my glance sought instinctively
and eagerly the countenance of the brother; but he had buried his face in his hands, and I
could only perceive that a far more than ordinary wanness had overspread the emaciated
fingers through which trickled many passionate tears.
The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of her physicians. A settled
apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person, and frequent although transient affections
of a partially cataleptical character, were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she had steadily
borne up against the pressure of her malady, and had not betaken herself finally to bed;
but, on the closing in of the evening of my arrival at the house, she succumbed (as her
brother told me at night with inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of the
destroyer; and I learned that the glimpse I had obtained of her person would thus
probably be the last I should obtain --- that the lady, at least while living, would be seen
by me no more.
For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either Usher or myself: and
during this period I was busied in earnest endeavors to alleviate the melancholy of my
friend. We painted and read together; or I listened, as if in a dream, to the wild
improvisations of his speaking guitar. And thus, as a closer and still closer intimacy
admitted me more unreservedly into the recesses of his spirit, the more bitterly did I
perceive the futility of all attempt at cheering a mind from which darkness, as if an
inherent positive quality, poured forth upon all objects of the moral and physical
universe, in one unceasing radiation of gloom.
I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many solemn hours I thus spent alone with
the master of the House of Usher. Yet I should fail in any attempt to convey an idea of
the exact character of the studies, or of the occupations, in which he involved me, or led
me the way. An excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureous lustre over
all. His long improvised dirges will ring for ever in my ears. Among other things, I hold
painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last
waltz of Von Weber. From the paintings over which his elaborate fancy brooded, and
which grew, touch by touch, into vagueness at which I shuddered the more thrillingly,
because I shuddered knowing not why; --- from these paintings (vivid as their images
now are before me) I would in vain endeavor to educe more than a small portion which
should lie within the compass of merely written words. By the utter simplicity, by the
nakedness of his designs, he arrested and overawed attention. If ever mortal painted an
idea, that mortal was Roderick Usher. For me at least, in the circumstances then
surrounding me, there arose out of the pure abstractions which the hypochondriac
contrived to throw upon his canvas, an intensity of intolerable awe, no shadow of which
felt I ever yet in the contemplation of the certainly glowing yet too concrete reveries of
Fuseli.
One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend, partaking not so rigidly of the
spirit of abstraction, may be shadowed forth, although feebly, in words. A small picture
presented the interior of an immensely long and rectangular vault or tunnel, with low
walls, smooth, white, and without interruption or device. Certain accessory points of the
design served well to convey the idea that this excavation lay at an exceeding depth
below the surface of the earth. No outlet was observed in any portion of its vast extent,
and no torch, or other artificial source of light was discernible; yet a flood of intense rays
rolled throughout, and bathed the whole in a ghastly and inappropriate splendor.
I have just spoken of that morbid condition of the auditory nerve which rendered all
music intolerable to the sufferer, with the exception of certain effects of stringed
instruments. It was, perhaps, the narrow limits to which he thus confined himself upon
the guitar, which gave birth, in great measure, to the fantastic character of the
performances. But the fervid facility of his impromptus could not be so accounted for.
They must have been, and were, in the notes, as well as in the words of his wild fantasias
(for he not unfrequently accompanied himself with rhymed verbal improvisations), the
result of that intense mental collectedness and concentration to which I have previously
alluded as observable only in particular moments of the highest artificial excitement. The
words of one of these rhapsodies I have easily remembered. I was, perhaps, the more
forcibly impressed with it, as he gave it, because, in the under or mystic current of its
meaning, I fancied that I perceived, and for the first time, a full consciousness on the part
of Usher, of the tottering of his lofty reason upon her throne. The verses, which were
entitled "The Haunted Palace," ran very nearly, if not accurately, thus:--I.
In
the
By
a
Radiant
the
greenest
good
Once
fair
palace
In
monarch
It
Never
seraph
Over fabric half so fair.
of
our
angels
and
stately
--reared
its
Thought's
dominion
stood
spread
a
valleys,
tenanted,
palace--head.
--there!
pinion
II.
Banners
yellow,
glorious,
On
its
roof
did
float
and
(This
--all
this
--was
in
the
Time
long
And
every
gentle
air
that
In
that
sweet
Along
the
ramparts
plumed
and
A winged odor went away.
golden,
flow;
olden
ago)
dallied,
day,
pallid,
III.
Wanderers
in
Through
Spirits
To
Round
a
about
that
two
luminous
moving
lute's
well
a
throne,
In
state
his
The ruler of the realm was seen.
glory
happy
windows
valley
saw
musically
tuned
law,
where
sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
well
befitting,
IV.
And
all
with
pearl
and
ruby
Was
the
fair
palace
Through
which
came
flowing,
flowing,
And
sparkling
A
troop
of
Echoes
whose
sweet
Was
but
to
In
voices
of
surpassing
The wit and wisdom of their king.
glowing
door,
flowing
evermore,
duty
sing,
beauty,
V.
But
evil
things,
in
robes
of
Assailed
the
monarch's
high
(Ah,
let
us
mourn,
for
never
Shall
dawn
upon
him,
And,
round
about
his
home,
the
That
blushed
and
Is
but
a
dim-remembered
Of the old time entombed.
VI.
sorrow,
estate;
morrow
desolate!)
glory
bloomed
story,
And
travellers
now
within
that
valley,
Through
the
red-litten
windows,
see
Vast
forms
that
move
fantastically
To
a
discordant
melody;
While,
like
a
rapid
ghastly
river,
Through
the
pale
door,
A
hideous
throng
rush
out
forever,
And laugh --- but smile no more.
I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad, led us into a train of thought
wherein there became manifest an opinion of Usher's which I mention not so much on
account of its novelty (for other men* have thought thus,) as on account of the pertinacity
with which he maintained it. This opinion, in its general form, was that of the sentience
of all vegetable things. But, in his disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a more daring
character, and trespassed, under certain conditions, upon the kingdom of inorganization. I
lack words to express the full extent, or the earnest abandon of his persuasion. The belief,
however, was connected (as I have previously hinted) with the gray stones of the home of
his forefathers. The conditions of the sentience had been here, he imagined, fulfilled in
the method of collocation of these stones --- in the order of their arrangement, as well as
in that of the many fungi which overspread them, and of the decayed trees which stood
around --- above all, in the long undisturbed endurance of this arrangement, and in its
reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its evidence --- the evidence of the sentience -- was to be seen, he said, (and I here started as he spoke,) in the gradual yet certain
condensation of an atmosphere of their own about the waters and the walls. The result
was discoverable, he added, in that silent, yet importunate and terrible influence which
for centuries had moulded the destinies of his family, and which made him what I now
saw him --- what he was. Such opinions need no comment, and I will make none.
* Watson, Dr Percival, Spallanzani, and especially the Bishop of Landaff.
Our books--- the books which, for years, had formed no small portion of the mental
existence of the invalid --- were, as might be supposed, in strict keeping with this
character of phantasm. We pored together over such works as the "Ververt et Chartreuse"
of Gresset; the "Belphegor" of Machiavelli; the "Heaven and Hell" of Swedenborg; the
"Subterranean Voyage of Nicholas Klimm" of Holberg; the "Chiromancy" of Robert
Flud, of Jean D'Indagine, and of De la Chambre; the "Journey into the Blue Distance" of
Tieck; and the "City of the Sun" by Campanella. One favorite volume was a small octavo
edition of the "Directorium Inquisitorum", by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne; and
there were passages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African Satyrs and OEgipans, over
which Usher would sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however, was found in the
perusal of an exceedingly rare and curious book in quarto Gothic --- the manual of a
forgotten church --- the Vigiliae Mortuorum Secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae.
I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, and of its probable influence
upon the hypochondriac, when, one evening, having informed me abruptly that the lady
Madeline was no more, he stated his intention of preserving her corpse for a fortnight,
(previously to its final interment), in one of the numerous vaults within the main walls of
the building. The worldly reason, however, assigned for this singular proceeding, was one
which I did not feel at liberty to dispute. The brother had been led to his resolution (so he
told me) by consideration of the unusual character of the malady of the deceased, of
certain obtrusive and eager inquiries on the part of her medical men, and of the remote
and exposed situation of the burial-ground of the family. I will not deny that when I
called to mind the sinister countenance of the person whom I met upon the staircase, on
the day of my arrival at the house, I had no desire to oppose what I regarded as at best but
a harmless, and by no means an unnatural, precaution.
At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the arrangements for the temporary
entombment. The body having been encoffined, we two alone bore it to its rest. The vault
in which we placed it (and which had been so long unopened that our torches, half
smothered in its oppressive atmosphere, gave us little opportunity for investigation) was
small, damp, and entirely without means of admission for light; lying, at great depth,
immediately beneath that portion of the building in which was my own sleeping
apartment. It had been used, apparently, in remote feudal times, for the worst purposes of
a donjon-keep, and, in later days, as a place of deposit for powder, or some other highly
combustible substance, as a portion of its floor, and the whole interior of a long archway
through which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper. The door, of massive
iron, had been, also, similarly protected. Its immense weight caused an unusually sharp
grating sound, as it moved upon its hinges.
Having deposited our mournful burden upon tressels within this region of horror, we
partially turned aside the yet unscrewed lid of the coffin, and looked upon the face of the
tenant. A striking similitude between the brother and sister now first arrested my
attention; and Usher, divining, perhaps, my thoughts, murmured out some few words
from which I learned that the deceased and himself had been twins, and that sympathies
of a scarcely intelligible nature had always existed between them. Our glances, however,
rested not long upon the dead --- for we could not regard her unawed. The disease which
had thus entombed the lady in the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a
strictly cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face,
and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so terrible in death. We
replaced and screwed down the lid, and, having secured the door of iron, made our way,
with toil, into the scarcely less gloomy apartments of the upper portion of the house.
And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change came over the
features of the mental disorder of my friend. His ordinary manner had vanished. His
ordinary occupations were neglected or forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamber
with hurried, unequal, and objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, if
possible, a more ghastly hue --- but the luminousness of his eye had utterly gone out. The
once occasional huskiness of his tone was heard no more; and a tremulous quaver, as if of
extreme terror, habitually characterized his utterance. There were times, indeed, when I
thought his unceasingly agitated mind was laboring with some oppressive secret, to
divulge which he struggled for the necessary courage. At times, again, I was obliged to
resolve all into the mere inexplicable vagaries of madness, for I beheld him gazing upon
vacancy for long hours, in an attitude of the profoundest attention, as if listening to some
imaginary sound. It was no wonder that his condition terrified --- that it infected me. I felt
creeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees, the wild influences of his own fantastic
yet impressive superstitions.
It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of the seventh or eighth day
after the placing of the lady Madeline within the donjon, that I experienced the full power
of such feelings. Sleep came not near my couch --- while the hours waned and waned
away. I struggled to reason off the nervousness which had dominion over me. I
endeavored to believe that much, if not all of what I felt, was due to the bewildering
influence of the gloomy furniture of the room --- of the dark and tattered draperies,
which, tortured into motion by the breath of a rising tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro
upon the walls, and rustled uneasily about the decorations of the bed. But my efforts were
fruitless. An irrepressible tremor gradually pervaded my frame; and, at length, there sat
upon my very heart an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking this off with a gasp
and a struggle, I uplifted myself upon the pillows, and, peering earnestly within the
intense darkness of the chamber, hearkened --- I know not why, except that an instinctive
spirit prompted me --- to certain low and indefinite sounds which came, through the
pauses of the storm, at long intervals, I knew not whence. Overpowered by an intense
sentiment of horror, unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw on my clothes with haste (for
I felt that I should sleep no more during the night), and endeavored to arouse myself from
the pitiable condition into which I had fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the
apartment.
I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on an adjoining staircase
arrested my attention. I presently recognized it as that of Usher. In an instant afterwards
he rapped, with a gentle touch, at my door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance
was, as usual, cadaverously wan --- but, moreover, there was a species of mad hilarity in
his eyes --- an evidently restrained hysteria in his whole demeanor. His air appalled me -- but anything was preferable to the solitude which I had so long endured, and I even
welcomed his presence as a relief.
"And you have not seen it?" he said abruptly, after having stared about him for some
moments in silence --- "you have not then seen it? --- but, stay! you shall." Thus
speaking, and having carefully shaded his lamp, he hurried to one of the casements, and
threw it freely open to the storm.
The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted us from our feet. It was, indeed, a
tempestuous yet sternly beautiful night, and one wildly singular in its terror and its
beauty. A whirlwind had apparently collected its force in our vicinity; for there were
frequent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind; and the exceeding density of
the clouds (which hung so low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not prevent
our perceiving the lifelike velocity with which they flew careering from all points against
each other, without passing away into the distance. I say that even their exceeding density
did not prevent our perceiving this --- yet we had no glimpse of the moon or stars --- nor
was there any flashing forth of the lightning. But the under surfaces of the huge masses of
agitated vapor, as well as all terrestrial objects immediately around us, were glowing in
the unnatural light of a faintly luminous and distinctly visible gaseous exhalation which
hung about and enshrouded the mansion.
"You must not --- you shall not behold this!" said I, shudderingly, to Usher, as I led
him, with a gentle violence, from the window to a seat. "These appearances, which
bewilder you, are merely electrical phenomena not uncommon --- or it may be that they
have their ghastly origin in the rank miasma of the tarn. Let us close this casement; --- the
air is chilling and dangerous to your frame. Here is one of your favorite romances. I will
read, and you shall listen; --- and so we will pass away this terrible night together."
The antique volume which I had taken up was the "Mad Trist" of Sir Launcelot
Canning; but I had called it a favorite of Usher's more in sad jest than in earnest; for, in
truth, there is little in its uncouth and unimaginative prolixity which could have had
interest for the lofty and spiritual ideality of my friend. It was, however, the only book
immediately at hand; and I indulged a vague hope that the excitement which now agitated
the hypochondriac, might find relief (for the history of mental disorder is full of similar
anomalies) even in the extremeness of the folly which I should read. Could I have judged,
indeed, by the wild overstrained air of vivacity with which he hearkened, or apparently
hearkened, to the words of the tale, I might well have congratulated myself upon the
success of my design.
I had arrived at that well-known portion of the story where Ethelred, the hero of the
Trist, having sought in vain for peaceable admission into the dwelling of the hermit,
proceeds to make good an entrance by force. Here, it will be remembered, the words of
the narrative run thus:
"And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and who was now mighty
withal, on account of the powerfulness of the wine which he had drunken, waited no
longer to hold parley with the hermit, who, in sooth, was of an obstinate and maliceful
turn, but, feeling the rain upon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the tempest,
uplifted his mace outright, and, with blows, made quickly room in the plankings of the
door for his gauntleted hand; and now pulling therewith sturdily, he so cracked, and
ripped, and tore all asunder, that the noise of the dry and hollow-sounding wood alarmed
and reverberated throughout the forest."
At the termination of this sentence I started, and for a moment, paused; for it appeared to
me (although I at once concluded that my excited fancy had deceived me) --- it appeared
to me that, from some very remote portion of the mansion, there came, indistinctly, to my
ears, what might have been, in its exact similarity of character, the echo (but a stifled and
dull one certainly) of the very cracking and ripping sound which Sir Launcelot had so
particularly described. It was, beyond doubt, the coincidence alone which had arrested
my attention; for, amid the rattling of the sashes of the casements, and the ordinary
commingled noises of the still increasing storm, the sound, in itself, had nothing, surely,
which should have interested or disturbed me. I continued the story:
"But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the door, was sore enraged and
amazed to perceive no signal of the maliceful hermit; but, in the stead thereof, a dragon
of a scaly and prodigious demeanor, and of a fiery tongue, which sate in guard before a
palace of gold, with a floor of silver; and upon the wall there hung a shield of shining
brass with this legend enwritten --Who
entereth
herein,
a
Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win;
conqueror
hath
bin;
And Ethelred uplifted his mace, and struck upon the head of the dragon, which fell before
him, and gave up his pesty breath, with a shriek so horrid and harsh, and withal so
piercing, that Ethelred had fain to close his ears with his hands against the dreadful noise
of it, the like whereof was never before heard."
Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild amazement --- for there
could be no doubt whatever that, in this instance, I did actually hear (although from what
direction it proceeded I found it impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but
harsh, protracted, and most unusual screaming or grating sound--- the exact counterpart
of what my fancy had already conjured up for the dragon's unnatural shriek as described
by the romancer.
Oppressed, as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of the second and most
extraordinary coincidence, by a thousand conflicting sensations, in which wonder and
extreme terror were predominant, I still retained sufficient presence of mind to avoid
exciting, by any observation, the sensitive nervousness of my companion. I was by no
means certain that he had noticed the sounds in question; although, assuredly, a strange
alteration had, during the last few minutes, taken place in his demeanor. From a position
fronting my own, he had gradually brought round his chair, so as to sit with his face to
the door of the chamber; and thus I could but partially perceive his features, although I
saw that his lips trembled as if he were murmuring inaudibly. His head had dropped upon
his breast --- yet I knew that he was not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the
eye as I caught a glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too, was at variance with
this idea --- for he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet constant and uniform sway.
Having rapidly taken notice of all this, I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which
thus proceeded:
"And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the dragon,
bethinking himself of the brazen shield, and of the breaking up of the enchantment which
was upon it, removed the carcass from out of the way before him, and approached
valorously over the silver pavement of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall;
which in sooth tarried not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the silver
floor, with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound."
No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than --- as if a shield of brass had
indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor of silver--- I became aware of a
distinct, hollow, metallic, and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation.
Completely unnerved, I leaped to my feet; but the measured rocking movement of Usher
was undisturbed. I rushed to the chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly before
him, and throughout his whole countenance there reigned a stony rigidity. But, as I
placed my hand upon his shoulder, there came a strong shudder over his whole person; a
sickly smile quivered about his lips; and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, and
gibbering murmur, as if unconscious of my presence. Bending closely over him, I at
length drank in the hideous import of his words.
"Not hear it? --- yes, I hear it, and have heard it. Long --- long --- long --- many
minutes, many hours, many days, have I heard it --- yet I dared not --- oh, pity me,
miserable wretch that I am! --- I dared not--- I dared not speak! We have put her living in
the tomb! Said I not that my senses were acute? I now tell you that I heard her first feeble
movements in the hollow coffin. I heard them --- many, many days ago --- yet I dared not
--- I dared not speak! And now --- to-night --- Ethelred --- ha! ha! --- the breaking of the
hermit's door, and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of the shield! --- say,
rather, the rending of her coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges of her prison, and her
struggles within the coppered archway of the vault! Oh whither shall I fly? Will she not
be here anon? Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste? Have I not heard her
footsteps on the stair? Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating of her heart?
Madman!" here he sprang furiously to his feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the
effort he were giving up his soul --- "Madman! I tell you that she now stands without the
door!"
As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been found the potency of a
spell --- the huge antique panels to which the speaker pointed, threw slowly back, upon
the instant, their ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust- -- but
then without those doors there did stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the lady
Madeline of Usher. There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some
bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment she remained
trembling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold, --- then, with a low moaning cry, fell
heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her violent and now final deathagonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated.
From that chamber, and from that mansion, I fled aghast. The storm was still abroad in
all its wrath as I found myself crossing the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along the
path a wild light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued; for
the vast house and its shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was that of the full,
setting, and blood-red moon which now shone vividly through that once barelydiscernible fissure of which I have before spoken as extending from the roof of the
building, in a zigzag direction, to the base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened --there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind --- the entire orb of the satellite burst at once
upon my sight --- my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder --- there was
a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters --- and the deep and
dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the "House of
Usher".
Four Beasts in One; The Homo-Camelopard
THE HOMO-CAMELOPARD
Chacun
a
--- Crebillon's Xerxes
ses
vertus.
ANTIOCHUS EPIPHANES is very generally looked upon as the Gog of the prophet Ezekiel.
This honor is, however, more properly attributable to Cambyses, the son of Cyrus. And,
indeed, the character of the Syrian monarch does by no means stand in need of any
adventitious embellishment. His accession to the throne, or rather his usurpation of the
sovereignty, a hundred and seventy-one years before the coming of Christ; his attempt to
plunder the temple of Diana at Ephesus; his implacable hostility to the Jews; his pollution
of the Holy of Holies; and his miserable death at Taba, after a tumultuous reign of eleven
years, are circumstances of a prominent kind, and therefore more generally noticed by the
historians of his time than the impious, dastardly, cruel, silly, and whimsical
achievements which make up the sum total of his private life and reputation.
* * * * *
Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is now the year of the world three thousand eight
hundred and thirty, and let us, for a few minutes, imagine ourselves at that most
grotesque habitation of man, the remarkable city of Antioch. To be sure there were, in
Syria and other countries, sixteen cities of that appellation, besides the one to which I
more particularly allude. But ours is that which went by the name of Antiochia
Epidaphne, from its vicinity to the little village of Daphne, where stood a temple to that
divinity. It was built (although about this matter there is some dispute) by Seleucus
Nicanor, the first king of the country after Alexander the Great, in memory of his father
Antiochus, and became immediately the residence of the Syrian monarchy. In the
flourishing times of the Roman Empire, it was the ordinary station of the prefect of the
eastern provinces; and many of the emperors of the queen city (among whom may be
mentioned, especially, Verus and Valens) spent here the greater part of their time. But I
perceive we have arrived at the city itself. Let us ascend this battlement, and throw our
eyes upon the town and neighboring country.
"What broad and rapid river is that which forces its way, with innumerable falls,
through the mountainous wilderness, and finally through the wilderness of buildings?"
That is the Orontes, and it is the only water in sight, with the exception of the
Mediterranean, which stretches, like a broad mirror, about twelve miles off to the
southward. Every one has seen the Mediterranean; but let me tell you, there are few who
have had a peep at Antioch. By few, I mean, few who, like you and me, have had, at the
same time, the advantages of a modern education. Therefore cease to regard that sea, and
give your whole attention to the mass of houses that lie beneath us. You will remember
that it is now the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and thirty. Were it later -- for example, were it the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and forty-five, we should be
deprived of this extraordinary spectacle. In the nineteenth century Antioch is --- that is to
say, Antioch will be --- in a lamentable state of decay. It will have been, by that time,
totally destroyed, at three different periods, by three successive earthquakes. Indeed, to
say the truth, what little of its former self may then remain, will be found in so desolate
and ruinous a state that the patriarch shall have removed his residence to Damascus. This
is well. I see you profit by my advice, and are making the most of your time in inspecting
the premises --- in
--satisfying
With
the
memorials
That most renown this city. ---
and
the
your
things
of
eyes
fame
I beg pardon; I had forgotten that Shakespeare will not flourish for seventeen hundred
and fifty years to come. But does not the appearance of Epidaphne justify me in calling it
grotesque?
"It is well fortified; and in this respect is as much indebted to nature as to art."
Very true.
"There are a prodigious number of stately palaces."
There are.
"And the numerous temples, sumptuous and magnificent, may bear comparison with
the most lauded of antiquity."
All this I must acknowledge. Still there is an infinity of mud huts, and abominable
hovels. We cannot help perceiving abundance of filth in every kennel, and, were it not for
the over-powering fumes of idolatrous incense, I have no doubt we should find a most
intolerable stench. Did you ever behold streets so insufferably narrow, or houses so
miraculously tall? What gloom their shadows cast upon the ground! It is well the
swinging lamps in those endless colonnades are kept burning throughout the day; we
should otherwise have the darkness of Egypt in the time of her desolation.
"It is certainly a strange place! What is the meaning of yonder singular building? See!
it towers above all others, and lies to the eastward of what I take to be the royal palace."
That is the new Temple of the Sun, who is adored in Syria under the title of Elah
Gabalah. Hereafter a very notorious Roman Emperor will institute this worship in Rome,
and thence derive a cognomen, Heliogabalus. I dare say you would like to take a peep at
the divinity of the temple. You need not look up at the heavens; his Sunship is not there -- at least not the Sunship adored by the Syrians. That deity will be found in the interior of
yonder building. He is worshipped under the figure of a large stone pillar terminating at
the summit in a cone or pyramid, whereby is denoted Fire.
"Hark --- behold! --- who can those ridiculous beings be, half naked, with their faces
painted, shouting and gesticulating to the rabble?"
Some few are mountebanks. Others more particularly belong to the race of
philosophers. The greatest portion, however --- those especially who belabor the
populace with clubs --- are the principal courtiers of the palace, executing as in duty
bound, some laudable comicality of the king's.
"But what have we here? Heavens! the town is swarming with wild beasts! How terrible
a spectacle! --- how dangerous a peculiarity!"
Terrible, if you please; but not in the least degree dangerous. Each animal if you will
take the pains to observe, is following, very quietly, in the wake of its master. Some few,
to be sure, are led with a rope about the neck, but these are chiefly the lesser or timid
species. The lion, the tiger, and the leopard are entirely without restraint. They have been
trained without difficulty to their present profession, and attend upon their respective
owners in the capacity of valets-de-chambre. It is true, there are occasions when Nature
asserts her violated dominions; --- but then the devouring of a man-at-arms, or the
throttling of a consecrated bull, is a circumstance of too little moment to be more than
hinted at in Epidaphne.
"But what extraordinary tumult do I hear? Surely this is a loud noise even for Antioch!
It argues some commotion of unusual interest."
Yes --- undoubtedly. The king has ordered some novel spectacle -- some gladiatorial
exhibition at the hippodrome --- or perhaps the massacre of the Scythian prisoners --- or
the conflagration of his new palace --- or the tearing down of a handsome temple -- or,
indeed, a bonfire of a few Jews. The uproar increases. Shouts of laughter ascend the
skies. The air becomes dissonant with wind instruments, and horrible with clamor of a
million throats. Let us descend, for the love of fun, and see what is going on! This way --be careful! Here we are in the principal street, which is called the street of Timarchus.
The sea of people is coming this way, and we shall find a difficulty in stemming the tide.
They are pouring through the alley of Heraclides, which leads directly from the palace; -therefore the king is most probably among the rioters. Yes --- I hear the shouts of the
herald proclaiming his approach in the pompous phraseology of the East. We shall have a
glimpse of his person as he passes by the temple of Ashimah. Let us ensconce ourselves
in the vestibule of the sanctuary; he will be here anon. In the meantime let us survey this
image. What is it? Oh! it is the god Ashimah in proper person. You perceive, however,
that he is neither a lamb, nor a goat, nor a satyr, neither has he much resemblance to the
Pan of the Arcadians. Yet all these appearances have been given --- I beg pardon --- will
be given --- by the learned of future ages, to the Ashimah of the Syrians. Put on your
spectacles, and tell me what it is. What is it?
"Bless me! it is an ape!"
True --- a baboon; but by no means the less a deity. His name is a derivation of the
Greek Simia --- what great fools are antiquarians! But see! --- see! --- yonder scampers a
ragged little urchin. Where is he going? What is he bawling about? What does he say?
Oh! he says the king is coming in triumph; that he is dressed in state; that he has just
finished putting to death, with his own hand, a thousand chained Israelitish prisoners! For
this exploit the ragamuffin is lauding him to the skies. Hark! here comes a troop of a
similar description. They have made a Latin hymn upon the valor of the king, and are
singing it as they go:
Mille,
Mille,
Decollavimus,
Mille,
mille,
Mille,
Vivat
qui
Tantum
vini
Quantum sanguinis effudit!*
mille,
mille,
unus
mille,
mille,
mille
mille,
mille
habet
mille,
mille,
homo!
decollavimus!
mille,
occidit!
nemo
* Flavius Vospicus says, that the hymn here introduced was sung by the rabble upon the occasion of
Aurelian, in the Sarmatic war, having slain, with his own hand, nine hundred and fifty of the enemy.
Which may be thus paraphrased:
A
thousand,
a
thousand,
a
A
thousand,
a
thousand,
a
We,
with
one
warrior,
have
A
thousand,
a
thousand,
a
thousand,
a
Sing
a
thousand
over
Soho!
-let
us
Long
life
to
our
Who
knocked
over
a
thousand
so
Soho!
--let
us
He
has
given
us
Red
gallons
of
Than all Syria can furnish of wine!
thousand,
thousand,
slain!
thousand.
again!
sing
king,
fine!
roar,
more
gore
"Do you hear that flourish of trumpets?"
Yes --- the king is coming! See! the people are aghast with admiration, and lift up their
eyes to the heavens in reverence. He comes! --- he is coming! --- there he is!
"Who? --- where? --- the king? -- I do not behold him; --- cannot say that I perceive
him."
Then you must be blind.
"Very possible. Still I see nothing but a tumultuous mob of idiots and madmen, who
are busy in prostrating themselves before a gigantic camelopard, and endeavoring to
obtain a kiss of the animal's hoofs. See! the beast has very justly kicked one of the rabble
over --- and another --- and another --- and another. Indeed, I cannot help admiring the
animal for the excellent use he is making of his feet."
Rabble, indeed! --- why these are the noble and free citizens of Epidaphne! Beasts, did
you say? --- take care that you are not overheard. Do you not perceive that the animal has
the visage of a man? Why, my dear sir, that cameleopard is no other than Antiochus
Epiphanes, Antiochus the Illustrious, King of Syria, and the most potent of all the
autocrats of the East! It is true, that he is entitled, at times, Antiochus Epimanes --Antiochus the madman -- but that is because all people have not the capacity to
appreciate his merits. It is also certain that he is at present ensconced in the hide of a
beast, and is doing his best to play the part of a camelopard; but this is done for the better
sustaining his dignity as king. Besides, the monarch is of gigantic stature, and the dress is
therefore neither unbecoming nor over large. We may, however, presume he would not
have adopted it but for some occasion of especial state. Such, you will allow, is the
massacre of a thousand Jews. With how superior a dignity the monarch perambulates on
all fours! His tail, you perceive, is held aloft by his two principal concubines, Elline and
Argelais; and his whole appearance would be infinitely prepossessing, were it not for the
protuberance of his eyes, which will certainly start out of his head, and the queer color of
his face, which has become nondescript from the quantity of wine he has swallowed. Let
us follow him to the hippodrome, whither he is proceeding, and listen to the song of
triumph which he is commencing:
Who
is
Say
--Who
is
Bravo!
There
is
No
--So
tear
And put out the sun!
king
do
king
--none
there
down
but
you
but
but
is
the
Epiphanes?
know?
Epiphanes?
bravo!
Epiphanes,
none:
temples,
Well and strenuously sung! The populace are hailing him "Prince of Poets," as well as
"Glory of the East," "Delight of the Universe," and "Most Remarkable of Camelopards."
They have encored his effusion, and do you hear? -- he is singing it over again. When he
arrives at the hippodrome, he will be crowned with the poetic wreath, in anticipation of
his victory at the approaching Olympics.
"But, good Jupiter! what is the matter in the crowd behind us?"
Behind us, did you say? --- oh! ah! --- I perceive. My friend, it is well that you spoke in
time. Let us get into a place of safety as soon as possible. Here! --- let us conceal
ourselves in the arch of this aqueduct, and I will inform you presently of the origin of the
commotion. It has turned out as I have been anticipating. The singular appearance of the
camelopard and the head of a man, has, it seems, given offence to the notions of propriety
entertained, in general, by the wild animals domesticated in the city. A mutiny has been
the result; and, as is usual upon such occasions, all human efforts will be of no avail in
quelling the mob. Several of the Syrians have already been devoured; but the general
voice of the four-footed patriots seems to be for eating up the camelopard. "The Prince of
Poets," therefore, is upon his hinder legs, running for his life. His courtiers have left him
in the lurch, and his concubines have followed so excellent an example. "Delight of the
Universe," thou art in a sad predicament! "Glory of the East," thou art in danger of
mastication! Therefore never regard so piteously thy tail; it will undoubtedly be draggled
in the mud, and for this there is no help. Look not behind thee, then, at its unavoidable
degradation; but take courage, ply thy legs with vigor, and scud for the hippodrome!
Remember that thou art Antiochus Epiphanes. Antiochus the Illustrious! --- also "Prince
of Poets," "Glory of the East," "Delight of the Universe," and 'Most Remarkable of
Cameleopards!'" Heavens! what a power of speed thou art displaying! What a capacity
for leg-bail thou art developing! Run, Prince! --- Bravo, Epiphanes! Well done,
Camelopard! --- Glorious Antiochus! --- He runs! --- he leaps! --- he flies! Like an arrow
from a catapult he approaches the hippodrome! He leaps! --- he shrieks! --- he is there!
This is well; for hadst thou, "Glory of the East," been half a second longer in reaching the
gates of the Amphitheatre, there is not a bear's cub in Epidaphne that would not have had
a nibble at thy carcass. Let us be off --- let us take our departure! --- for we shall find our
delicate modern ears unable to endure the vast uproar which is about to commence in
celebration of the king's escape! Listen! it has already commenced. See! --- the whole
town is topsy-turvy.
"Surely this is the most populous city of the East! What a wilderness of people! what a
jumble of all ranks and ages! what a multiplicity of sects and nations! what a variety of
costumes! what a Babel of languages! what a screaming of beasts! what a tinkling of
instruments! what a parcel of philosophers!"
Come let us be off.
"Stay a moment! I see a vast hubbub in the hippodrome; what is the meaning of it, I
beseech you?"
That? -- oh, nothing! The noble and free citizens of Epidaphne being, as they declare,
well satisfied of the faith, valor, wisdom, and divinity of their king, and having,
moreover, been eye-witnesses of his late superhuman agility, do think it no more than
their duty to invest his brows (in addition to the poetic crown) with the wreath of victory
in the footrace --- a wreath which it is evident he must obtain at the celebration of the
next Olympiad, and which, therefore, they now give him in advance.
The Gold-Bug
What
ho!
what
ho!
this
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
fellow
is
dancing
mad
!
--- All in the Wrong.
MANY years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an
ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had
reduced him to want. To avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left
New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan's Island,
near Charleston, South Carolina.
This Island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than the sea sand, and is
about three miles long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated
from the main land by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness
of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh hen. The vegetation, as might be
supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near
the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame
buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may
be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this
western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense
undergrowth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The
shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost
impenetrable coppice, burthening the air with its fragrance.
In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or more remote end of
the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere
accident, made his acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship --- for there was much
in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated, with unusual
powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of
alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely employed
them. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and
through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological specimens --- his collection of the
latter might have been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually
accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted before the
reverses of the family, but who could be induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to
abandon what he considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young
"Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him to be
somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a
view to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very severe, and in the fall of
the year it is a rare event indeed when a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of
October, 18 ---, there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before
sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I had
not visited for several weeks --- my residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a
distance of nine miles from the Island, while the facilities of passage and re-passage were
very far behind those of the present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my
custom, and getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked
the door and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth. It was a novelty, and by no
means an ungrateful one. I threw off an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling logs,
and awaited patiently the arrival of my hosts.
Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. Jupiter, grinning
from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one
of his fits --- how else shall I term them? --- of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown
bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and secured, with
Jupiter's assistance, a scarabæus which he believed to be totally new, but in respect to
which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow.
"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and wishing the
whole tribe of scarabæi at the devil.
"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's so long since I saw
you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very night of all others?
As I was coming home I met Lieutenant G ---, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent
him the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay here tonight, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!"
"What? --- sunrise?"
"Nonsense! no! --- the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color --- about the size of a large
hickory-nut --- with two jet black spots near one extremity of the back, and another,
somewhat longer, at the other. The antennæ are --- "
"Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you," here interrupted Jupiter;
"de bug is a goole bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing --- neber feel
half so hebby a bug in my life."
"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly, it seemed to me,
than the case demanded, "is that any reason for your letting the birds burn? The color" --here he turned to me --- "is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw
a more brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit - but of this you cannot judge till
tomorrow. In the mean time I can give you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he
seated himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for
some in a drawer, but found none.
"Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer;" and he drew from his waistcoat
pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing
with the pen. While he did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When
the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, a loud growl
was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large
Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded
me with caresses; for I had shown him much attention during previous visits. When his
gambols were over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little
puzzled at what my friend had depicted.
"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this is a strange scarabæus, I
must confess: new to me: never saw anything like it before --- unless it was a skull, or a
death's-head, which it more nearly resembles than anything else that has come under my
observation."
"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand. "Oh --- yes --- well, it has something of that
appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes, eh? and the
longer one at the bottom like a mouth --- and then the shape of the whole is oval."
"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must wait until I see the
beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its personal appearance."
"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw tolerably --- should do it at least -- have had good masters, and flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead."
"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, "this is a very passable skull --indeed, I may say that it is a very excellent skull, according to the vulgar notions about
such specimens of physiology --- and your scarabæus must be the queerest scarabæus in
the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit of superstition upon
this hint. I presume you will call the bug scarabæus caput hominis, or something of that
kind - there are many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the antennæ
you spoke of?"
"The antennæ!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably warm upon the
subject; "I am sure you must see the antennæ. I made them as distinct as they are in the
original insect, and I presume that is sufficient."
"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have --- still I don't see them;" and I handed him the
paper without additional remark, not wishing to ruffle his temper; but I was much
surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his ill humor puzzled me --- and, as for the
drawing of the beetle, there were positively no antennæ visible, and the whole did bear a
very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death's-head.
He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it, apparently to throw
it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In
an instant his face grew violently red --- in another as excessively pale. For some minutes
he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At length he arose, took a
candle from the table, and proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the farthest
corner of the room. Here again he made an anxious examination of the paper; turning it in
all directions. He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I
thought it prudent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any
comment. Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper carefully in it,
and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew more composed in
his demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not
so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore away he became more and more
absorbed in reverie, from which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been my
intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host
in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press me to remain, but, as I
departed, he shook my hand with even more than his usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen nothing of Legrand)
when I received a visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good
old negro look so dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my
friend.
"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now? --- how is your master?"
"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought be."
"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?"
"Dar! dat's it! - him neber 'plain of notin' --- but him berry sick for all dat."
"Very sick, Jupiter! --- why didn't you say so at once? Is he confined to bed?"
"No, dat he aint! --- he aint find nowhar --- dat's just whar de shoe pinch - my mind is
got to be berry hebby 'bout poor Massa Will."
"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking about. You say your
master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails him?"
"Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad about de matter --- Massa Will say noffin
at all aint de matter wid him --- but den what make him go about looking dis here way,
wid he head down and he soldiers up, and as white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon
all de time --- "
"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"
"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate --- de queerest figgurs I ebber did see. Ise
gittin to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep mighty tight eye 'pon him 'noovers.
Todder day he gib me slip 'fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I
had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did come --- but Ise
sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all --- he look so berry poorly."
"Eh? --- what? --- ah yes! --- upon the whole I think you had better not be too severe
with the poor fellow - don't flog him, Jupiter --- he can't very well stand it - but can you
form no idea of what has occasioned this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has
anything unpleasant happened since I saw you?"
"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin unpleasant since den --- 'twas fore den I'm feared --'twas de berry day you was dare."
"How? what do you mean?"
"Why, massa, I mean de bug --- dare now."
"The what?"
"De bug --- I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout de head by dat
goole-bug."
"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?"
"Claws enuff, massa, and mouth too. I nebber did see sick a deuced bug - he kick and
he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him
go gin mighty quick, I tell you --- den was de time he must ha got de bite. I did n't like de
look oh de bug mouff, myself, no how, so I would n't take hold ob him wid my finger, but
I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff piece ob
it in he mouff --- dat was de way."
"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the beetle, and that the bite
made him sick?"
"I don't think noffin about it --- I nose it. What make him dream bout de goole so
much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Ise heerd 'bout dem goole-bugs 'fore dis."
"But how do you know he dreams about gold?"
"How I know? why 'cause he talk about it in he sleep --- dat's how I nose."
"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate circumstance am I to attribute
the honor of a visit from you to-day?"
"What de matter, massa?"
"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand "
"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;" and here Jupiter handed me a note which ran thus:
"MY DEAR ---
"Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have not been so foolish as to
take offence at any little brusquerie of mine; but no, that is improbable. Since I saw you I
have had great cause for anxiety. I have something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to
tell it, or whether I should tell it at all.
"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup annoys me, almost
beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions Would you believe it? --- he had
prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which to chastise me for giving him the slip,
and spending the day, solus, among the hills on the main land. I verily believe that my ill
looks alone saved me a flogging.
"I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.
"If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with Jupiter. Do come. I wish
to see you tonight, upon business of importance. I assure you that it is of the highest
importance.
"Ever yours,
"WILLIAM LEGRAND"
There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great uneasiness. Its
whole style differed materially from that of Legrand. What could he be dreaming of?
What new crotchet possessed his excitable brain? What "business of the highest
importance" could he possibly have to transact? Jupiter's account of him boded no good. I
dreaded lest the continued pressure of misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled the
reason of my friend. Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I prepared to accompany
the negro.
Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all apparently new, lying
in the bottom of the boat in which we were to embark.
"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I inquired.
"Him syfe, massa, and spade."
"Very true; but what are they doing here?"
"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis 'pon my buying for him in de town,
and de debbil's own lot of money I had to gib for 'em."
"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa Will' going to do with
scythes and spades?"
"Dat's more dan I know, and debbil take me if I don't b'lieve 'tis more dan he know,
too. But it's all cum ob de bug."
Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose whole intellect
seemed to be absorbed by "de bug," I now stepped into the boat and made sail. With a
fair and strong breeze we soon ran into the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie,
and a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about three in the afternoon
when we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. He grasped my
hand with a nervous empressement which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions
already entertained. His countenance was pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes
glared with unnatural lustre. After some inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not
knowing what better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabæus from Lieutenant G ---.
"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the next morning. Nothing
should tempt me to part with that scarabæus. Do you know that Jupiter is quite right
about it?"
"In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart.
"In supposing it to be a bug of real gold." He said this with an air of profound
seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked.
"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with a triumphant smile, "to reinstate
me in my family possessions. Is it any wonder, then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has
thought fit to bestow it upon me, I have only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the
gold of which it is the index. Jupiter; bring me that scarabæus!"
"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug - you mus git him for your
own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air, and brought me the
beetle from a glass case in which it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabæus, and, at
that time, unknown to naturalists --- of course a great prize in a scientific point of view.
There were two round, black spots near one extremity of the back, and a long one near
the other. The scales were exceedingly hard and glossy, with all the appearance of
burnished gold. The weight of the insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things into
consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting it; but what to make
of Legrand's concordance with that opinion, I could not, for the life of me, tell.
"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had completed my
examination of the beetle, "I sent for you, that I might have your counsel and assistance
in furthering the views of Fate and of the bug" --"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly unwell, and had better
use some little precautions. You shall go to bed, and I will remain with you a few days,
until you get over this. You are feverish and ---"
"Feel my pulse," said he.
I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest indication of fever.
"But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to prescribe for you. In
the first place, go to bed. In the next ---"
"You are mistaken," he interposed, "I am as well as I can expect to be under the
excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, you will relieve this excitement."
"And how is this to be done?"
"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into the hills, upon the
main land, and, in this expedition we shall need the aid of some person in whom we can
confide. You are the only one we can trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement
which you now perceive in me will be equally allayed."
"I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied; "but do you mean to say that this
infernal beetle has any connection with your expedition into the hills?"
"It has."
"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding."
"I am sorry --- very sorry --- for we shall have to try it by ourselves."
"Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad! --- but stay! --- how long do you
propose to be absent?"
"Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at all events, by sunrise."
"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of yours is over, and
the bug business (good God!) settled to your satisfaction, you will then return home and
follow my advice implicitly, as that of your physician?"
"Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to lose."
With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four o'clock --Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with him the scythe and spades - the
whole of which he insisted upon carrying - more through fear, it seemed to me, of
trusting either of the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess of
industry or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and "dat deuced
bug" were the sole words which escaped his lips during the journey. For my own part, I
had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand contented himself with the
scarabæus, which he carried attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to and
fro, with the air of a conjuror, as he went. When I observed this last, plain evidence of my
friend's aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I thought it best, however,
to humor his fancy, at least for the present, or until I could adopt some more energetic
measures with a chance of success. In the mean time I endeavored, but all in vain, to
sound him in regard to the object of the expedition. Having succeeded in inducing me to
accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold conversation upon any topic of minor
importance, and to all my questions vouchsafed no other reply than "we shall see!"
We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff; and, ascending the
high grounds on the shore of the main land, proceeded in a northwesterly direction,
through a tract of country excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human
footstep was to be seen. Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an instant,
here and there, to consult what appeared to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance
upon a former occasion.
In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was just setting when we
entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yet seen. It was a species of table land,
near the summit of an almost inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle,
and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the soil, and in many
cases were prevented from precipitating themselves into the valleys below, merely by the
support of the trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave
an air of still sterner solemnity to the scene.
The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly overgrown with
brambles, through which we soon discovered that it would have been impossible to force
our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, by direction of his master, proceeded to clear for
us a path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight or ten
oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all, and all other trees which I had then ever
seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its branches, and in the
general majesty of its appearance. When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter,
and asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little staggered by
the question, and for some moments made no reply. At length he approached the huge
trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it with minute attention. When he had
completed his scrutiny, he merely said,
"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life."
"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too dark to see what we are
about."
"How far mus' go up, massa?" inquired Jupiter.
"Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way to go --- and here --stop! take this beetle with you."
"De bug, Massa Will! --- de goole bug!" cried the negro, drawing back in dismay --"what for mus' tote de bug way up de tree? --- d---n if I do!"
"If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold of a harmless little dead
beetle, why you can carry it up by this string --- but, if you do not take it up with you in
some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel."
"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently shamed into compliance; "always
want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was only funnin any how. Me feered de bug! what I
keer for de bug?" Here he took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and,
maintaining the insect as far from his person as circumstances would permit, prepared to
ascend the tree.
In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodendron Tulipiferum, the most magnificent of
American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and often rises to a great height
without lateral branches; but, in its riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while
many short limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, in
the present case, lay more in semblance than in reality. Embracing the huge cylinder, as
closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and
resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling,
at length wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed to consider the whole
business as virtually accomplished. The risk of the achievement was, in fact, now over,
although the climber was some sixty or seventy feet from the ground.
"Which way mus' go now, Massa Will?" he asked.
"Keep up the largest branch --- the one on this side," said Legrand. The negro obeyed
him promptly, and apparently with but little trouble; ascending higher and higher, until
no glimpse of his squat figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which
enveloped it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo.
"How much fudder is got for go?"
"How high up are you?" asked Legrand.
"Ebber so fur," replied the negro; "can see de sky fru de top ob de tree."
"Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk and count the
limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have you passed?"
"One, two, tree, four, fibe --- I done pass fibe big limb, massa, 'pon dis side."
"Then go one limb higher."
In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the seventh limb was
attained.
"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, "I want you to work your way out
upon that limb as far as you can. If you see anything strange, let me know."
By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor friend's insanity,
was put finally at rest. I had no alternative but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I
became seriously anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was
best to be done, Jupiter's voice was again heard.
"Mos' feerd for to venture 'pon dis limb berry far --- 'tis dead limb putty much all de
way."
"Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter?" cried Legrand in a quavering voice.
"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail --- done up for sartain --- done departed dis here
life."
"What in the name heaven shall I do?" asked Legrand, seemingly in the greatest
distress. "Do!" said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, "why come home and
go to bed. Come now! --- that's a fine fellow. It's getting late, and, besides, you remember
your promise."
"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, "do you hear me?"
"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain."
"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it very rotten."
"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in a few moments, "but not so berry
rotten as mought be. Mought venture out leetle way 'pon de limb by myself, dat's true."
"By yourself! --- what do you mean?"
"Why I mean de bug. 'Tis berry hebby bug. Spose I drop him down fuss, and den de
limb won't break wid just de weight ob one nigger."
"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, "what do you
mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you drop that beetle I'll break your
neck. Look here, Jupiter, do you hear me?"
"Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor nigger dat style."
"Well! now listen! --- if you will venture out on the limb as far as you think safe, and
not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present of a silver dollar as soon as you get down."
"I'm gwine, Massa Will - deed I is," replied the negro very promptly --- "mos' out to
the eend now."
"Out to the end!" here fairly screamed Legrand, "do you say you are out to the end of
that limb?"
"Soon be to de eend, massa, --- o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-gol-a-marcy! what is dis here 'pon de
tree?"
"Well!" cried Legrand, highly delighted, "what is it?"
"Why taint noffin but a skull --- somebody bin lef' him head up de tree, and de crows
done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off."
"A skull, you say! --- very well! --- how is it fastened to the limb? --- what holds it
on?"
"Sure nuff, massa; mus' look. Why dis berry curous sarcumstance, 'pon my word --dare's a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob it on to de tree."
"Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you --- do you hear?"
"Yes, massa."
"Pay attention, then! --- find the left eye of the skull."
"Hum! hoo! dat's good! why dey aint no eye lef' at all."
"Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand from your left?"
"Yes, I knows dat --- know all bout dat --- 'tis my lef' hand what I chops de wood wid."
"To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left. eye is on the same side as your left
hand. Now, I suppose, you can find the left eye of the skull, or the place where the left
eye has been. Have you found it?"
Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked,
"Is de lef' eye of de skull 'pon de same side as de lef' hand of de skull, too? --- cause de
skull aint got not a bit ob a hand at all - nebber mind! I got de lef' eye now --- here de lef'
eye! what mus' do wid it?"
"Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will reach --- but he careful and not
let go your hold of the string."
"All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru de hole - look out for
him dare below!"
During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person could be seen; but the beetle, which
he had suffered to descend, was now visible at the end of the string, and glistened, like a
globe of burnished gold, in the last rays of the setting sun, some of which still faintly
illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabæus hung quite clear of any
branches, and, if allowed to fall, would have fallen at our feet. Legrand immediately took
the scythe, and cleared with it a circular space, three or four yards in diameter, just
beneath the insect, and, having accomplished this, ordered Jupiter to let go the string and
come down from the tree.
Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at the precise spot where the beetle
fell, my friend now produced from his pocket a tape measure. Fastening one end of this at
that point of the trunk, of the tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached
the peg, and thence farther unrolled it, in the direction already established by the two
points of the tree and the peg, for the distance of fifty feet --- Jupiter clearing away the
brambles with the scythe. At the spot thus attained a second peg was driven, and about
this, as a centre, a rude circle, about four feet in diameter, described. Taking now a spade
himself, and giving one to Jupiter and one to me, Legrand begged us to set about digging
as quickly as possible.
To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at any time, and, at that
particular moment, would most willingly have declined it; for the night was coming on,
and I felt much fatigued with the exercise already taken; but I saw no mode of escape,
and was fearful of disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a refusal. Could I have
depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I would have had no hesitation in attempting to get
the lunatic home by force; but I was too well assured of the old negro's disposition, to
hope that he would assist me, under any circumstances, in a personal contest with his
master. I made no doubt that the latter had been infected with some of the innumerable
Southern superstitions about money buried, and that his phantasy had received
confirmation by the finding of the scarabæus, or, perhaps, by Jupiter's obstinacy in
maintaining it to be "a bug of real gold." A mind disposed to lunacy would readily be led
away by such suggestions - especially if chiming in with favorite preconceived ideas --and then I called to mind the poor fellow's speech about the beetle's being "the index of
his fortune." Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, but, at length, I concluded
to make a virtue of necessity --- to dig with a good will, and thus the sooner to convince
the visionary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinions he entertained.
The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with a zeal worthy a more rational
cause; and, as the glare fell upon our persons and implements, I could not help thinking
how picturesque a group we composed, and how strange and suspicious our labors must
have appeared to any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled upon our
whereabouts.
We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; and our chief embarrassment lay
in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceeding interest in our proceedings. He, at length,
became so obstreperous that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in
the vicinity; --- or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand; --- for myself, I should
have rejoiced at any interruption which might have enabled me to get the wanderer home.
The noise was, at length, very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of the hole
with a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth up with one of his suspenders,
and then returned, with a grave chuckle, to his task.
When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of five feet, and yet no
signs of any treasure became manifest. A general pause ensued, and I began to hope that
the farce was at an end. Legrand, however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped
his brow thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the entire circle of four feet
diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the limit, and went to the farther depth of two
feet. Still nothing appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length
clambered from the pit, with the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon every feature,
and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his coat, which he had thrown off at the
beginning of his labor. In the mean time I made no remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his
master, began to gather up his tools. This done, and the dog having been unmuzzled, we
turned in profound silence towards home.
We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction, when, with a loud oath, Legrand
strode up to Jupiter, and seized him by the collar. The astonished negro opened his eyes
and mouth to the fullest extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees.
"You scoundrel," said Legrand, hissing out the syllables from between his clenched
teeth --- "you infernal black villain! --- speak, I tell you! --- answer me this instant,
without prevarication! --- which --- which is your left eye?"
"Oh, my golly, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef' eye for sartain?" roared the terrified
Jupiter, placing his hand upon his right organ of vision, and holding it there with a
desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of his master's attempt at a gouge.
"I thought so! - I knew it! hurrah!" vociferated Legrand, letting the negro go, and
executing a series of curvets and caracols, much to the astonishment of his valet, who,
arising from his knees, looked, mutely, from his master to myself, and then from myself
to his master.
"Come! we must go back," said the latter, "the game's not up yet;" and he again led the
way to the tulip-tree.
"Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, "come here! was the skull nailed to the
limb with the face outwards, or with the face to the limb?"
"De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes good, widout any
trouble."
"Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you dropped the beetle?" --- here
Legrand touched each of Jupiter's eyes.
"Twas dis eye, massa --- de lef' eye --- jis as you tell me," and here it was his right eye
that the negro indicated.
"That will do --- must try it again."
Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or fancied that I saw, certain
indications of method, removed the peg which marked the spot where the beetle fell, to a
spot about three inches to the westward of its former position. Taking, now, the tape
measure from the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and continuing the
extension in a straight line to the distance of fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed, by
several yards, from the point at which we had been digging.
Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the former instance, was
now described, and we again set to work with the spades. I was dreadfully weary, but,
scarcely understanding what had occasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer
any great aversion from the labor imposed. I had become most unaccountably interested -- nay, even excited. Perhaps there was something, amid all the extravagant demeanor of
Legrand - some air of forethought, or of deliberation, which impressed me. I dug eagerly,
and now and then caught myself actually looking, with something that very much
resembled expectation, for the fancied treasure, the vision of which had demented my
unfortunate companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought most fully possessed
me, and when we had been at work perhaps an hour and a half, we were again interrupted
by the violent howlings of the dog. His uneasiness, in the first instance, had been,
evidently, but the result of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and
serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle him, he made furious resistance,
and, leaping into the hole, tore up the mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds
he had uncovered a mass of human bones, forming two complete skeletons, intermingled
with several buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of decayed woollen. One
or two strokes of a spade upturned the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as we dug
farther, three or four loose pieces of gold and silver coin came to light.
At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, but the countenance of
his master wore an air of extreme disappointment He urged us, however, to continue our
exertions, and the words were hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, having
caught the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half buried in the loose earth.
We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more intense
excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of wood, which,
from its perfect preservation and wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some
mineralizing process --- perhaps that of the Bi-chloride of Mercury. This box was three
feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half feet deep. It was firmly secured
by bands of wrought iron, riveted, and forming a kind of open trelliswork over the whole.
On each side of the chest, near the top, were three rings of iron --- six in all --- by means
of which a firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost united endeavors
served only to disturb the coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impossibility
of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two
sliding bolts. These we drew back - trembling and panting with anxiety. In an instant, a
treasure of incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays of the lanterns fell
within the pit, there flashed upwards a glow and a glare, from a confused heap of gold
and of jewels, that absolutely dazzled our eyes.
I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed. Amazement was, of
course, predominant. Legrand appeared exhausted with excitement, and spoke very few
words. Jupiter's countenance wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible,
in nature of things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed stupefied --thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in the pit, and, burying his naked arms
up to the elbows in gold, let them there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At
length, with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy,
"And dis all cum ob de goole-bug! de putty goole bug! de poor little goole-bug, what I
boosed in dat sabage kind ob style! Aint you shamed ob yourself, nigger? --- answer me
dat!"
It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master and valet to the expediency
of removing the treasure. It was growing late, and it behooved us to make exertion, that
we might get every thing housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what should be
done, and much time was spent in deliberation - so confused were the ideas of all. We,
finally, lightened the box by removing two thirds of its contents, when we were enabled,
with some trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles taken out were deposited among
the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon
any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to open his mouth until our return. We then
hurriedly made for home with the chest; reaching the hut in safety, but after excessive
toil, at one o'clock in the morning. Worn out as we were, it was not in human nature to do
more immediately. We rested until two, and had supper; starting for the hills immediately
afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which, by good luck, were upon the premises. A
little before four we arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equally as
might be, among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set out for the hut, at which,
for the second time, we deposited our golden burthens, just as the first faint streaks of the
dawn gleamed from over the tree-tops in the East.
We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of the time denied
us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three or four hours' duration, we arose, as if
by preconcert, to make examination of our treasure.
The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, and the greater part of
the next night, in a scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing like order or
arrangement. Every thing had been heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with
care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at first supposed.
In coin there was rather more than four hundred and fifty thousand dollars --- estimating
the value of the pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of the period. There was
not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique date and of great variety --- French,
Spanish, and German money, with a few English guineas, and some counters, of which
we had never seen specimens before. There were several very large and heavy coins, so
worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions. There was no American money.
The value of the jewels we found more difficulty in estimating. There were diamonds --some of them exceedingly large and fine --- a hundred and ten in all, and not one of them
small; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy; --- three hundred and ten emeralds, all
very beautiful; and twenty-one sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken
from their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings themselves, which we
picked out from among the other gold, appeared to have been beaten up with hammers, as
if to prevent identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of solid gold
ornaments; nearly two hundred massive finger and earrings; rich chains --- thirty of these,
if I remember; eighty-three very large and heavy crucifixes; - five gold censers of great
value; - a prodigious golden punch bowl, ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and
Bacchanalian figures; with two sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many other
smaller articles which I cannot recollect. The weight of these valuables exceeded three
hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; and in this estimate I have not included one
hundred and ninety-seven superb gold watches; three of the number being worth each
five hundred dollars, if one. Many of them were very old, and as time keepers valueless;
the works having suffered, more or less, from corrosion --- but all were richly jewelled
and in cases of great worth. We estimated the entire contents of the chest, that night, at a
million and a half of dollars; and upon the subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels
(a few being retained for our own use), it was found that we had greatly undervalued the
treasure. When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intense excitement
of the time had, in some measure, subsided, Legrand, who saw that I was dying with
impatience for a solution of this most extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all
the circumstances connected with it.
"You remember;" said he, "the night when I handed you the rough sketch I had made
of the scarabæus. You recollect also, that I became quite vexed at you for insisting that
my drawing resembled a death's-head. When you first made this assertion I thought you
were jesting; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots on the back of the insect,
and admitted to myself that your remark had some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer
at my graphic powers irritated me --- for I am considered a good artist --- and, therefore,
when you handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up and throw it
angrily into the fire."
"The scrap of paper, you mean," said I.
"No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I supposed it to be such, but
when I came to draw upon it, I discovered it, at once, to be a piece of very thin
parchment. It was quite dirty, you remember. Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling
it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you may
imagine my astonishment when I perceived, in fact, the figure of a death's-head just
where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I was too
much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my design was very different in detail
from this --- although there was a certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took a
candle, and seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to scrutinize the
parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch upon the reverse,
just as I had made it. My first idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable
similarity of outline --- at the singular coincidence involved in the fact, that unknown to
me, there should have been a skull upon the other side of the parchment, immediately
beneath my figure of the scarabæus, and that this skull, not only in outline, but in size,
should so closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this coincidence
absolutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual effect of such coincidences. The
mind struggles to establish a connection --- a sequence of cause and effect --- and, being
unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary paralysis. But, when I recovered from this
stupor, there dawned upon me gradually a conviction which startled me even far more
than the coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remember that there had been no
drawing upon the parchment when I made my sketch of the scarabæus. I became
perfectly certain of this; for I recollected turning up first one side and then the other, in
search of the cleanest spot. Had the skull been then there, of course I could not have
failed to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible to explain; but,
even at that early moment, there seemed to glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and
secret chambers of my intellect, a glow-worm-like conception of that truth which last
night's adventure brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I arose at once, and putting
the parchment securely away, dismissed all farther reflection until I should be alone.
"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook myself to a more
methodical investigation of the affair. In the first place I considered the manner in which
the parchment had come into my possession. The spot where we discovered the
scarabaeus was on the coast of the main land, about a mile eastward of the island, and
but a short distance above high water mark. Upon my taking hold of it, it gave me a sharp
bite, which caused me to let it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, before seizing
the insect, which had flown towards him, looked about him for a leaf, or something of
that nature, by which to take hold of it. It was at this moment that his eyes, and mine also,
fell upon the scrap of parchment, which I then supposed to be paper. It was lying half
buried in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the spot where we found it, I observed the
remnants of the hull of what appeared to have been a ship's long boat. The wreck seemed
to have been there for a very great while; for the resemblance to boat timbers could
scarcely be traced.
"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, and gave it to me.
Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on the way met Lieutenant G ---. I showed
him the insect, and he begged me to let him take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, he
thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, without the parchment in which it had been
wrapped, and which I had continued to hold in my hand during his inspection. Perhaps he
dreaded my changing my mind, and thought it best to make sure of the prize at once - you
know how enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected with Natural History. At the same
time, without being conscious of it, I must have deposited the parchment in my own
pocket.
"You remember that when I went to the table, for the purpose of making a sketch of
the beetle, I found no paper where it was usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and found
none there. I searched my pockets, hoping to find an old letter, when my hand fell upon
the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in which it came into my possession; for the
circumstances impressed me with peculiar force.
"No doubt you will think me fanciful --- but I had already established a kind of
connection. I had put together two links of a great chain. There was a boat lying upon a
sea-coast, and not far from the boat was a parchment --- not a paper --- with a skull
depicted upon it. You will, of course, ask 'where is the connection?' I reply that the skull,
or death's-head, is the well-known emblem of the pirate. The flag of the death's head is
hoisted in all engagements.
"I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. Parchment is durable - almost
imperishable. Matters of little moment are rarely consigned to parchment; since, for the
mere ordinary purposes of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper.
This reflection suggested some meaning --- some relevancy --- in the death's-head. I did
not fail to observe, also, the form of the parchment. Although one of its corners had been,
by some accident, destroyed, it could be seen that the original form was oblong. It was
just such a slip, indeed, as might have been chosen for a memorandum - for a record of
something to be long remembered and carefully preserved."
"But," I interposed, "you say that the skull was not upon the parchment when you
made the drawing of the beetle. How then do you trace any connection between the boat
and the skull --- since this latter, according to your own admission, must have been
designed (God only knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your
sketching the scarabæus?"
"Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at this point, I had
comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps were sure, and could afford but a
single result. I reasoned, for example, thus: When I drew the scarabæus, there was no
skull apparent upon the parchment. When I had completed the drawing I gave it to you,
and observed you narrowly until you returned it. You, therefore, did not design the skull,
and no one else was present to do it. Then it was not done by human agency. And
nevertheless it was done.
"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and did remember, with entire
distinctness, every incident which occurred about the period in question. The weather was
chilly (oh rare and happy accident!), and a fire was blazing upon the hearth. I was heated
with exercise and sat near the table. You, however, had drawn a chair close to the
chimney. Just as I placed the parchment in your hand, and as you were in the act of in.
inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With
your left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while your right, holding the
parchment, was permitted to fall listlessly between your knees, and in close proximity to
the fire. At one moment I thought the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution you,
but, before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were engaged in its examination.
When I considered all these particulars, I doubted not for a moment that heat had been
the agent in bringing to light, upon the parchment, the skull which I saw designed upon it.
You are well aware that chemical preparations exist, and have existed time out of mind,
by means of which it is possible to write upon either paper or vellum, so that the
characters shall become visible only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested
in aqua regia, and diluted with four times its weight of water, is sometimes employed; a
green tint results. The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre, gives a red. These
colors disappear at longer or shorter intervals after the material written upon cools, but
again become apparent upon the re-application of heat.
"I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its outer edges --- the edges of the
drawing nearest the edge of the vellum --- were far more distinct than the others. It was
clear that the action of the caloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a
fire, and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. At first, the only
effect was the strengthening of the faint lines in the skull; but, upon persevering in the
experiment, there became visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the spot
in which the death's-head was delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed to be a
goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it was intended for a kid."
"Ha! ha!" said I, "to be sure I have no right to laugh at you --- a million and a half of
money is too serious a matter for mirth --- but you are not about to establish a third link
in your chain --- you will not find any especial connection between your pirates and a
goat --- pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goats; they appertain to the farming
interest."
"But I have just said that the figure was not that of a goat."
"Well, a kid then --- pretty much the same thing."
"Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand. "You may have heard of one Captain
Kidd. I at once looked upon the figure of the animal as a kind of punning or
hieroglyphical signature. I say signature; because its position upon the vellum suggested
this idea. The death's-head at the corner diagonally opposite, had, in the same manner, the
air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put out by the absence of all else --- of the body
to my imagined instrument --- of the text for my context."
"I presume you expected to find a letter between the stamp and the signature."
"Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly impressed with a presentiment of
some vast good fortune impending. I can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was
rather a desire than an actual belief; --- but do you know that Jupiter's silly words, about
the bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect upon my fancy? And then the series
of accidents and coincidences --- these were so very extraordinary. Do you observe how
mere an accident it was that these events should have occurred upon the sole day of all
the year in which it has been, or may be, sufficiently cool for fire, and that without the
fire, or without the intervention of the dog at the precise moment in which he appeared, I
should never have become aware of the death's-head, and so never the possessor of the
treasure?"
"But proceed --- I am all impatience."
"Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current - the thousand vague rumors
afloat about money buried, somewhere upon the Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his
associates. These rumors must have had some foundation in fact. And that the rumors
have existed so long and so continuous, could have resulted, it appeared to me, only from
the circumstance of the buried treasure still remaining entombed. Had Kidd concealed his
plunder for a time, and afterwards reclaimed it, the rumors would scarcely have reached
us in their present unvarying form. You will observe that the stories told are all about
money-seekers, not about money-finders. Had the pirate recovered his money, there the
affair would have dropped. It seemed to me that some accident --- say the loss of a
memorandum indicating its locality --- had deprived him of the means of recovering it,
and that this accident had become known to his followers, who otherwise might never
have heard that treasure had been concealed at all, and who, busying themselves in vain,
because unguided attempts, to regain it, had given first birth, and then universal currency,
to the reports which are now so common. Have you ever heard of any important treasure
being unearthed along the coast?"
"Never."
"But that Kidd's accumulations were immense, is well known. I took it for granted,
therefore, that the earth still held them; and you will scarcely be surprised when I tell you
that I felt a hope, nearly amounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely found,
involved a lost record of the place of deposit."
"But how did you proceed?"
"I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat; but nothing appeared. I
now thought it possible that the coating of dirt might have something to do with the
failure; so I carefully rinsed the parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having
done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards, and put the pan upon a
furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having become thoroughly heated,
I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several places, with
what appeared to be figures arranged in lines. Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it
to remain another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just as you see it now." Here
Legrand, having re-heated the parchment, submitted it to my inspection. The following
characters were rudely traced, in a red tint, between the death's-head and the goat:
"53‡‡†305))6*;4826)4‡)4‡;806*;48‡8¶60))85;1-(;:*8†83(88)5*†
;46(;88*96*?;8)*‡(;485);5*†2:*‡(;4956*2(5*- 4)8¶8*;40692
85);)6†8)4;1(‡9;48081;8:8‡1;48†85;4)485†528806*81(‡9;48;
(88;4(‡?34;48)4‡;161;:188;‡?;"
"But," said I, returning him the slip, "I am as much in the dark as ever. Were all the
jewels of Golconda awaiting me upon my solution of this enigma, I am quite sure that I
should be unable to earn them."
"And yet," said Legrand, "the solution is by no means so difficult as you might be lead to
imagine from the first hasty inspection of the characters. These characters, as any one
might readily guess, form a cipher - that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then, from
what is known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of constructing any of the more
abstruse cryptographs. I made up my mind, at once, that this was of a simple species such, however, as would appear, to the crude intellect of the sailor, absolutely insoluble
without the key."
"And you really solved it?"
"Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand times greater.
Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles,
and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind
which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, having once
established connected and legible characters, I scarcely gave a thought to the mere
difficulty of developing their import.
"In the present case --- indeed in all cases of secret writing --- the first question regards
the language of the cipher; for the principles of solution, so far, especially, as the more
simple ciphers are concerned, depend upon, and are varied by, the genius of the particular
idiom. In general, there is no alternative but experiment (directed by probabilities) of
every tongue known to him who attempts the solution, until the true one be attained. But,
with the cipher now before us, all difficulty was removed by the signature. The pun upon
the word 'Kidd' is appreciable in no other language than the English. But for this
consideration I should have begun my attempts with the Spanish and French, as the
tongues in which a secret of this kind would most naturally have been written by a pirate
of the Spanish main. As it was, I assumed the cryptograph to be English.
"You observe there are no divisions between the words. Had there been divisions, the
task would have been comparatively easy. In such case I should have commenced with a
collation and analysis of the shorter words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as
is most likely, (a or I, for example,) I should have considered the solution as assured. But,
there being no division, my first step was to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as
the least frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table, thus:
;
there
33.
are
"
26.
4
"
19.
‡)
"
16.
*
"
13.
5
"
12.
6
"
11.
†1
"
8.
0
"
6.
92
"
5.
:3
"
4.
?
"
3.
¶
"
2.
-.
"
1.
Of the character 8
Contents
"Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we again see the combination ;48,
and employ it by way of termination to what immediately precedes. We have thus this
arrangement:
the tree ;4(‡?34 the,
or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus:
the tree thr‡?3h the.
"Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we leave blank spaces, or substitute dots,
we read thus:
the tree thr...h the,
when the word 'through' makes itself evident at once. But this discovery gives us three
new letters, o, u and g, represented by ‡ ? and 3.
"Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations of known characters, we
find, not very far from the beginning, this arrangement,
83(88, or egree,
which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word 'degree,' and gives us another letter, d,
represented by †.
"Four letters beyond the word 'degree,' we perceive the combination
;46(;88.
"Translating the known characters, and representing the unknown by dots, as before,
we read thus:
th.rtee,
an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word 'thirteen,' and again furnishing us
with two new characters, i and n, represented by 6 and *.
"Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, we find the combination,
53‡‡†.
"Translating, as before, we obtain
.good,
which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the first two words are 'A good.'
"It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as discovered, in a tabular form, to avoid
confusion. It will stand thus:
5 represents a
†
"
d
8
"
e
3
"
g
4
"
h
6
"
i
*
"
n
‡
"
o
(
"
r
;
"
t
?
"
u
"We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most important letters represented, and it
will be unnecessary to proceed with the details of the solution. I have said enough to
convince you that ciphers of this nature are readily soluble, and to give you some insight
into the rationale of their development. But be assured that the specimen before us
appertains to the very simplest species of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you
the full translation of the characters upon the parchment, as unriddled. Here it is:
" 'A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat forty-one degrees and thirteen
minutes northeast and by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye
of the death's-head a bee line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.' "
"But," said I, "the enigma seems still in as bad a condition as ever. How is it possible
to extort a meaning from all this jargon about 'devil's seats,' 'death's heads,' and 'bishop's
hotels?' "
"I confess," replied Legrand, "that the matter still wears a serious aspect, when
regarded with a casual glance. My first endeavor was to divide the sentence into the
natural division intended by the cryptographist."
"You mean, to punctuate it?"
"Something of that kind."
"But how was it possible to effect this?"
"I reflected that it had been a point with the writer to run his words together without
division, so as to increase the difficulty of solution. Now, a not over-acute man, in
pursuing such an object would be nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course
of his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject which would naturally require a
pause, or a point, he would be exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more
than usually close together. If you will observe the MS., in the present instance, you will
easily detect five such cases of unusual crowding. Acting upon this hint, I made the
division thus:
"'A good glass in the Bishop's hostel in the Devil's seat --- forty-one degrees and
thirteen minutes --- northeast and by north --- main branch seventh limb east side --shoot from the left eye of the death's-head - a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty
feet out.' "
"Even this division," said I, "leaves me still in the dark."
"It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, "for a few days; during which I made
diligent inquiry, in the neighborhood of Sullivan's Island, for any building which went by
the name of the 'Bishop's Hotel;' for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word 'hostel.'
Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the point of extending my sphere of
search, and proceeding in a more systematic manner, when, one morning, it entered into
my head, quite suddenly, that this 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some reference to an old
family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had held possession of an
ancient manor-house, about four miles to the northward of the Island. I accordingly went
over to the plantation, and re-instituted my inquiries among the older negroes of the
place. At length one of the most aged of the women said that she had heard of such a
place as Bessop's Castle, and thought that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a
castle nor a tavern, but a high rock.
"I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, she consented to
accompany me to the spot. We found it without much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I
proceeded to examine the place. The 'castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs
and rocks --- one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height as well as for its
insulated and artificial appearance I clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as
to what should be next done.
"While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge in the eastern face
of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This ledge projected
about eighteen inches, and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just
above it, gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used by our
ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the 'devil's seat' alluded to in the MS., and now I
seemed to grasp the full secret of the riddle.
"The 'good glass,' I knew, could have reference to nothing but a telescope; for the word
'glass' is rarely employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a
telescope to be used, and a definite point of view, admitting no variation, from which to
use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, "forty-one degrees and thirteen
minutes,' and 'northeast and by north,' were intended as directions for the levelling of the
glass. Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, and
returned to the rock.
"I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible to retain a seat upon it
except in one particular position. This fact confirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded
to use the glass. Of course, the 'forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes' could allude to
nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontal direction was clearly
indicated by the words, 'northeast and by north.' This latter direction I at once established
by means of a pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle of forty-one
degrees of elevation as I could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my
attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that
overtopped its fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived a white spot,
but could not, at first, distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I
again looked, and now made it out to be a human skull.
"Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma solved; for the
phrase 'main branch, seventh limb, east side,' could refer only to the position of the skull
upon the tree, while 'shoot from the left eye of the death's head' admitted, also, of but one
interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I perceived that the design was to
drop a bullet from the left eye of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a
straight line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk through 'the shot,' (or the spot
where the bullet fell,) and thence extended to a distance of fifty feet, would indicate a
definite point --- and beneath this point I thought it at least possible that a deposit of
value lay concealed."
"All this," I said, "is exceedingly clear, and, although ingenious, still simple and
explicit. When you left the Bishop's Hotel, what then?"
"Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned homewards. The instant
that I left 'the devil's seat,' however, the circular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of
it afterwards, turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this whole
business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has convinced me it is a fact) that the
circular opening in question is visible from no other attainable point of view than that
afforded by the narrow ledge upon the face of the rock.
"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had been attended by Jupiter, who had, no
doubt, observed, for some weeks past, the abstraction of my demeanor, and took especial
care not to leave me alone. But, on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to give
him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. After much toil I found it. When
I came home at night my valet proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest of the
adventure I believe you are as well acquainted as myself."
"I suppose," said I, "you missed the spot, in the first attempt at digging, through
Jupiter's stupidity in letting the bug fall through the right instead of through the left eye of
the skull."
"Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and a half in the 'shot' that is to say, in the position of the peg nearest the tree; and had the treasure been beneath
the 'shot,' the error would have been of little moment; but 'the shot,' together with the
nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the establishment of a line of
direction; of course the error, however trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded
with the line, and by the time we had gone fifty feet, threw us quite off the scent. But for
my deep-seated impressions that treasure was here somewhere actually buried, we might
have had all our labor in vain."
"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle - how excessively
odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you insist upon letting fall the bug, instead
of a bullet, from the skull?"
"Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident suspicions touching my
sanity, and so resolved to punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober
mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it fall it from the
tree. An observation of yours about its great weight suggested the latter idea."
"Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles me. What are we to
make of the skeletons found in the hole?"
"That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. There seems, however,
only one plausible way of accounting for them --- and yet it is dreadful to believe in such
atrocity as my suggestion would imply. It is clear that Kidd --- if Kidd indeed secreted
this treasure, which I doubt not --- it is clear that he must have had assistance in the labor.
But this labor concluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove all participants in
his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors
were busy in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen --- who shall tell?"
Hop-Frog
I NEVER knew anyone so keenly alive to a joke as the king was. He seemed to live only
for joking. To tell a good story of the joke kind, and to tell it well, was the surest road to
his favor. Thus it happened that his seven ministers were all noted for their
accomplishments as jokers. They all took after the king, too, in being large, corpulent,
oily men, as well as inimitable jokers. Whether people grow fat by joking, or whether
there is something in fat itself which predisposes to a joke, I have never been quite able to
determine; but certain it is that a lean joker is a rara avis in terris.
About the refinements, or, as he called them, the 'ghost' of wit, the king troubled
himself very little. He had an especial admiration for breadth in a jest, and would often
put up with length, for the sake of it. Over-niceties wearied him. He would have preferred
Rabelais' "Gargantua" to the "Zadig" of Voltaire: and, upon the whole, practical jokes
suited his taste far better than verbal ones.
At the date of my narrative, professing jesters had not altogether gone out of fashion at
court. Several of the great continental "powers" still retain their "fools," who wore
motley, with caps and bells, and who were expected to be always ready with sharp
witticisms, at a moment's notice, in consideration of the crumbs that fell from the royal
table.
Our king, as a matter of course, retained his "fool." The fact is, he required something
in the way of folly --- if only to counterbalance the heavy wisdom of the seven wise men
who were his ministers --- not to mention himself.
His fool, or professional jester, was not only a fool, however. His value was trebled in
the eyes of the king, by the fact of his being also a dwarf and a cripple. Dwarfs were as
common at court, in those days, as fools; and many monarchs would have found it
difficult to get through their days (days are rather longer at court than elsewhere) without
both a jester to laugh with, and a dwarf to laugh at. But, as I have already observed, your
jesters, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, are fat, round, and unwieldy --- so that it
was no small source of self-gratulation with our king that, in Hop-Frog (this was the
fool's name), he possessed a triplicate treasure in one person.
I believe the name "Hop-Frog" was not that given to the dwarf by his sponsors at
baptism, but it was conferred upon him, by general consent of the several ministers, on
account of his inability to walk as other men do. In fact, Hop-Frog could only get along
by a sort of interjectional gait --- something between a leap and a wriggle --- a movement
that afforded illimitable amusement, and of course consolation, to the king, for
(notwithstanding the protuberance of his stomach and a constitutional swelling of the
head) the king, by his whole court, was accounted a capital figure.
But although Hop-Frog, through the distortion of his legs, could move only with great
pain and difficulty along a road or floor, the prodigious muscular power which nature
seemed to have bestowed upon his arms, by way of compensation for deficiency in the
lower limbs, enabled him to perform many feats of wonderful dexterity, where trees or
ropes were in question, or any thing else to climb. At such exercises he certainly much
more resembled a squirrel, or a small monkey, than a frog.
I am not able to say, with precision, from what country Hop-Frog originally came. It
was from some barbarous region, however, that no person ever heard of --- a vast
distance from the court of our king. Hop-Frog, and a young girl very little less dwarfish
than himself (although of exquisite proportions, and a marvellous dancer), had been
forcibly carried off from their respective homes in adjoining provinces, and sent as
presents to the king, by one of his ever-victorious generals.
Under these circumstances, it is not to be wondered at that a close intimacy arose
between the two little captives. Indeed, they soon became sworn friends. Hop-Frog, who,
although he made a great deal of sport, was by no means popular, had it not in his power
to render Trippetta many services; but she, on account of her grace and exquisite beauty
(although a dwarf), was universally admired and petted; so she possessed much
influence; and never failed to use it, whenever she could, for the benefit of Hop-Frog.
On some grand state occasion --- I forgot what -- the king determined to have a
masquerade, and whenever a masquerade or any thing of that kind, occurred at our court,
then the talents, both of Hop-Frog and Trippetta were sure to be called into play. HopFrog, in especial, was so inventive in the way of getting up pageants, suggesting novel
characters, and arranging costumes, for masked balls, that nothing could be done, it
seems, without his assistance.
The night appointed for the fete had arrived. A gorgeous hall had been fitted up, under
Trippetta's eye, with every kind of device which could possibly give eclat to a
masquerade. The whole court was in a fever of expectation. As for costumes and
characters, it might well be supposed that everybody had come to a decision on such
points. Many had made up their minds (as to what roles they should assume) a week, or
even a month, in advance; and, in fact, there was not a particle of indecision anywhere --except in the case of the king and his seven ministers. Why they hesitated I never could
tell, unless they did it by way of a joke. More probably, they found it difficult, on account
of being so fat, to make up their minds. At all events, time flew; and, as a last resort they
sent for Trippetta and Hop-Frog.
When the two little friends obeyed the summons of the king they found him sitting at
his wine with the seven members of his cabinet council; but the monarch appeared to be
in a very ill humor. He knew that Hop-Frog was not fond of wine, for it excited the poor
cripple almost to madness; and madness is no comfortable feeling. But the king loved his
practical jokes, and took pleasure in forcing Hop-Frog to drink and (as the king called it)
"to be merry."
"Come here, Hop-Frog," said he, as the jester and his friend entered the room; "swallow
this bumper to the health of your absent friends, [here Hop-Frog sighed,] and then let us
have the benefit of your invention. We want characters --- characters, man --- something
novel --- out of the way. We are wearied with this everlasting sameness. Come, drink! the
wine will brighten your wits."
Hop-Frog endeavored, as usual, to get up a jest in reply to these advances from the
king; but the effort was too much. It happened to be the poor dwarf's birthday, and the
command to drink to his 'absent friends' forced the tears to his eyes. Many large, bitter
drops fell into the goblet as he took it, humbly, from the hand of the tyrant.
"Ah! ha! ha!" roared the latter, as the dwarf reluctantly drained the beaker. --- "See
what a glass of good wine can do! Why, your eyes are shining already!"
Poor fellow! his large eyes gleamed, rather than shone; for the effect of wine on his
excitable brain was not more powerful than instantaneous. He placed the goblet
nervously on the table, and looked round upon the company with a half -- insane stare.
They all seemed highly amused at the success of the king's "joke."
"And now to business," said the prime minister, a very fat man.
"Yes," said the King; "Come lend us your assistance. Characters, my fine fellow; we
stand in need of characters --- all of us --- ha! ha! ha!" and as this was seriously meant for
a joke, his laugh was chorused by the seven.
Hop-Frog also laughed although feebly and somewhat vacantly.
"Come, come," said the king, impatiently, "have you nothing to suggest?"
"I am endeavoring to think of something novel," replied the dwarf, abstractedly, for he
was quite bewildered by the wine.
"Endeavoring!" cried the tyrant, fiercely; "what do you mean by that? Ah, I perceive.
You are Sulky, and want more wine. Here, drink this!" and he poured out another goblet
full and offered it to the cripple, who merely gazed at it, gasping for breath.
"Drink, I say!" shouted the monster, "or by the fiends ---"
The dwarf hesitated. The king grew purple with rage. The courtiers smirked. Trippetta,
pale as a corpse, advanced to the monarch's seat, and, falling on her knees before him,
implored him to spare her friend.
The tyrant regarded her, for some moments, in evident wonder at her audacity. He
seemed quite at a loss what to do or say --- how most becomingly to express his
indignation. At last, without uttering a syllable, he pushed her violently from him, and
threw the contents of the brimming goblet in her face.
The poor girl got up the best she could, and, not daring even to sigh, resumed her
position at the foot of the table.
There was a dead silence for about half a minute, during which the falling of a leaf, or
of a feather, might have been heard. It was interrupted by a low, but harsh and protracted
grating sound which seemed to come at once from every corner of the room.
"What --- what --- what are you making that noise for?" demanded the king, turning
furiously to the dwarf.
The latter seemed to have recovered, in great measure, from his intoxication, and
looking fixedly but quietly into the tyrant's face, merely ejaculated:
"I --- I? How could it have been me?"
"The sound appeared to come from without," observed one of the courtiers. "I fancy it
was the parrot at the window, whetting his bill upon his cage-wires."
"True," replied the monarch, as if much relieved by the suggestion; "but, on the honor
of a knight, I could have sworn that it was the gritting of this vagabond's teeth."
Hereupon the dwarf laughed (the king was too confirmed a joker to object to any one's
laughing), and displayed a set of large, powerful, and very repulsive teeth. Moreover, he
avowed his perfect willingness to swallow as much wine as desired. The monarch was
pacified; and having drained another bumper with no very perceptible ill effect, HopFrog entered at once, and with spirit, into the plans for the masquerade.
"I cannot tell what was the association of idea," observed he, very tranquilly, and as if
he had never tasted wine in his life, "but just after your majesty, had struck the girl and
thrown the wine in her face --- just after your majesty had done this, and while the parrot
was making that odd noise outside the window, there came into my mind a capital
diversion --- one of my own country frolics --- often enacted among us, at our
masquerades: but here it will be new altogether. Unfortunately, however, it requires a
company of eight persons and ---"
"Here we are!" cried the king, laughing at his acute discovery of the coincidence;
"eight to a fraction --- I and my seven ministers. Come! what is the diversion?"
"We call it," replied the cripple, "the Eight Chained Ourang-Outangs, and it really is
excellent sport if well enacted."
"We will enact it," remarked the king, drawing himself up, and lowering his eyelids.
"The beauty of the game," continued Hop-Frog, "lies in the fright it occasions among
the women."
"Capital!" roared in chorus the monarch and his ministry.
"I will equip you as ourang-outangs," proceeded the dwarf; "leave all that to me. The
resemblance shall be so striking, that the company of masqueraders will take you for real
beasts --- and of course, they will be as much terrified as astonished."
"Oh, this is exquisite!" exclaimed the king. "Hop-Frog! I will make a man of you."
"The chains are for the purpose of increasing the confusion by their jangling. You are
supposed to have escaped, en masse, from your keepers. Your majesty cannot conceive
the effect produced, at a masquerade, by eight chained ourang-outangs, imagined to be
real ones by most of the company; and rushing in with savage cries, among the crowd of
delicately and gorgeously habited men and women. The contrast is inimitable!"
"It must be," said the king: and the council arose hurriedly (as it was growing late), to
put in execution the scheme of Hop-Frog.
His mode of equipping the party as ourang-outangs was very simple, but effective
enough for his purposes. The animals in question had, at the epoch of my story, very
rarely been seen in any part of the civilized world; and as the imitations made by the
dwarf were sufficiently beast-like and more than sufficiently hideous, their truthfulness to
nature was thus thought to be secured.
The king and his ministers were first encased in tight-fitting stockinet shirts and
drawers. They were then saturated with tar. At this stage of the process, some one of the
party suggested feathers; but the suggestion was at once overruled by the dwarf, who
soon convinced the eight, by ocular demonstration, that the hair of such a brute as the
ourang-outang was much more efficiently represented by flu. A thick coating of the latter
was accordingly plastered upon the coating of tar. A long chain was now procured. First,
it was passed about the waist of the king, and tied, then about another of the party, and
also tied; then about all successively, in the same manner. When this chaining
arrangement was complete, and the party stood as far apart from each other as possible,
they formed a circle; and to make all things appear natural, Hop-Frog passed the residue
of the chain in two diameters, at right angles, across the circle, after the fashion adopted,
at the present day, by those who capture Chimpanzees, or other large apes, in Borneo.
The grand saloon in which the masquerade was to take place, was a circular room, very
lofty, and receiving the light of the sun only through a single window at top. At night (the
season for which the apartment was especially designed) it was illuminated principally by
a large chandelier, depending by a chain from the centre of the sky-light, and lowered, or
elevated, by means of a counter-balance as usual; but (in order not to look unsightly) this
latter passed outside the cupola and over the roof.
The arrangements of the room had been left to Trippetta's superintendence; but, in
some particulars, it seems, she had been guided by the calmer judgment of her friend the
dwarf. At his suggestion it was that, on this occasion, the chandelier was removed. Its
waxen drippings (which, in weather so warm, it was quite impossible to prevent) would
have been seriously detrimental to the rich dresses of the guests, who, on account of the
crowded state of the saloon, could not all be expected to keep from out its centre --- that
is to say, from under the chandelier. Additional sconces were set in various parts of the
hall, out of the war, and a flambeau, emitting sweet odor, was placed in the right hand of
each of the Caryatides that stood against the wall --- some fifty or sixty altogether.
The eight ourang-outangs, taking Hop-Frog's advice, waited patiently until midnight
(when the room was thoroughly filled with masqueraders) before making their
appearance. No sooner had the clock ceased striking, however, than they rushed, or rather
rolled in, all together --- for the impediments of their chains caused most of the party to
fall, and all to stumble as they entered.
The excitement among the masqueraders was prodigious, and filled the heart of the
king with glee. As had been anticipated, there were not a few of the guests who supposed
the ferocious-looking creatures to be beasts of some kind in reality, if not precisely
ourang-outangs. Many of the women swooned with affright; and had not the king taken
the precaution to exclude all weapons from the saloon, his party might soon have
expiated their frolic in their blood. As it was, a general rush was made for the doors; but
the king had ordered them to be locked immediately upon his entrance; and, at the
dwarf's suggestion, the keys had been deposited with him.
While the tumult was at its height, and each masquerader attentive only to his own
safety (for, in fact, there was much real danger from the pressure of the excited crowd),
the chain by which the chandelier ordinarily hung, and which had been drawn up on its
removal, might have been seen very gradually to descend, until its hooked extremity
came within three feet of the floor.
Soon after this, the king and his seven friends having reeled about the hall in all
directions, found themselves, at length, in its centre, and, of course, in immediate contact
with the chain. While they were thus situated, the dwarf, who had followed noiselessly at
their heels, inciting them to keep up the commotion, took hold of their own chain at the
intersection of the two portions which crossed the circle diametrically and at right angles.
Here, with the rapidity of thought, he inserted the hook from which the chandelier had
been wont to depend; and, in an instant, by some unseen agency, the chandelier-chain
was drawn so far upward as to take the hook out of reach, and, as an inevitable
consequence, to drag the ourang-outangs together in close connection, and face to face.
The masqueraders, by this time, had recovered, in some measure, from their alarm;
and, beginning to regard the whole matter as a well-contrived pleasantry, set up a loud
shout of laughter at the predicament of the apes.
"Leave them to me!" now screamed Hop-Frog, his shrill voice making itself easily
heard through all the din. "Leave them to me. I fancy I know them. If I can only get a
good look at them, I can soon tell who they are."
Here, scrambling over the heads of the crowd, he managed to get to the wall; when,
seizing a flambeau from one of the Caryatides, he returned, as he went, to the centre of
the room --- leaping, with the agility of a monkey, upon the king's head --- and thence
clambered a few feet up the chain; holding down the torch to examine the group of
ourang-outangs, and still screaming: "I shall soon find out who they are!"
And now, while the whole assembly (the apes included) were convulsed with laughter,
the jester suddenly uttered a shrill whistle; when the chain flew violently up for about
thirty feet --- dragging with it the dismayed and struggling ourang-outangs, and leaving
them suspended in mid-air between the sky-light and the floor. Hop-Frog, clinging to the
chain as it rose, still maintained his relative position in respect to the eight maskers, and
still (as if nothing were the matter) continued to thrust his torch down toward them, as
though endeavoring to discover who they were.
So thoroughly astonished was the whole company at this ascent, that a dead silence, of
about a minute's duration, ensued. It was broken by just such a low, harsh, grating sound,
as had before attracted the attention of the king and his councillors when the former
threw the wine in the face of Trippetta. But, on the present occasion, there could be no
question as to whence the sound issued. It came from the fang --- like teeth of the dwarf,
who ground them and gnashed them as he foamed at the mouth, and glared, with an
expression of maniacal rage, into the upturned countenances of the king and his seven
companions.
"Ah, ha!" said at length the infuriated jester. "Ah, ha! I begin to see who these people
are now!" Here, pretending to scrutinize the king more closely, he held the flambeau to
the flaxen coat which enveloped him, and which instantly burst into a sheet of vivid
flame. In less than half a minute the whole eight ourang-outangs were blazing fiercely,
amid the shrieks of the multitude who gazed at them from below, horror-stricken, and
without the power to render them the slightest assistance.
At length the flames, suddenly increasing in virulence, forced the jester to climb higher
up the chain, to be out of their reach; and, as he made this movement, the crowd again
sank, for a brief instant, into silence. The dwarf seized his opportunity, and once more
spoke:
"I now see distinctly." he said, "what manner of people these maskers are. They are a
great king and his seven privy-councillors, --- a king who does not scruple to strike a
defenceless girl and his seven councillors who abet him in the outrage. As for myself, I
am simply Hop-Frog, the jester --- and this is my last jest."
Owing to the high combustibility of both the flax and the tar to which it adhered, the
dwarf had scarcely made an end of his brief speech before the work of vengeance was
complete. The eight corpses swung in their chains, a fetid, blackened, hideous, and
indistinguishable mass. The cripple hurled his torch at them, clambered leisurely to the
ceiling, and disappeared through the sky-light.
It is supposed that Trippetta, stationed on the roof of the saloon, had been the
accomplice of her friend in his fiery revenge, and that, together, they effected their escape
to their own country: for neither was seen again.
How To Write A Blackwood Article
"In the name of the Prophet --- figs!!"
--- Cry of the Turkish fig-peddler
I PRESUME everybody has heard of me. My name is the Signora Psyche Zenobia. This I
know to be a fact. Nobody but my enemies ever calls me Suky Snobbs. I have been
assured that Suky is but a vulgar corruption of Psyche, which is good Greek, and means
"the soul" (that's me, I'm all soul) and sometimes "a butterfly," which latter meaning
undoubtedly alludes to my appearance in my new crimson satin dress, with the sky-blue
Arabian mantelet, and the trimmings of green agraffas, and the seven flounces of orangecolored auriculas. As for Snobbs --- any person who should look at me would be
instantly aware that my name wasn't Snobbs. Miss Tabitha Turnip propagated that report
through sheer envy. Tabitha Turnip indeed! Oh the little wretch! But what can we expect
from a turnip? Wonder if she remembers the old adage about "blood out of a turnip,"
etc.? [Mem. put her in mind of it the first opportunity.] [Mem. again --- pull her nose.]
Where was I? Ah! I have been assured that Snobbs is a mere corruption of Zenobia, and
that Zenobia was a queen --- (So am I. Dr. Moneypenny always calls me the Queen of the
Hearts) --- and that Zenobia, as well as Psyche, is good Greek, and that my father was "a
Greek," and that consequently I have a right to our patronymic, which is Zenobia and not
by any means Snobbs. Nobody but Tabitha Turnip calls me Suky Snobbs. I am the
Signora Psyche Zenobia.
As I said before, everybody has heard of me. I am that very Signora Psyche Zenobia,
so justly celebrated as corresponding secretary to the "Philadelphia, Regular, Exchange,
Tea, Total, Young, Belles, Lettres, Universal, Experimental, Bibliographical,
Association, To, Civilize, Humanity." Dr. Moneypenny made the title for us, and says he
chose it because it sounded big like an empty rum-puncheon. (A vulgar man that
sometimes --- but he's deep.) We all sign the initials of the society after our names, in the
fashion of the R. S. A., Royal Society of Arts --- the S. D. U. K., Society for the
Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, &c, &c. Dr. Moneypenny says that S. stands for stale,
and that D. U. K. spells duck, (but it don't,) that S. D. U. K. stands for Stale Duck and not
for Lord Brougham's society --- but then Dr. Moneypenny is such a queer man that I am
never sure when he is telling me the truth. At any rate we always add to our names the
initials P. R. E. T. T. Y. B. L. U. E. B. A. T. C. H. --- that is to say, Philadelphia, Regular,
Exchange, Tea, Total, Young, Belles, Lettres, Universal, Experimental, Bibliographical,
Association, To, Civilize, Humanity --- one letter for each word, which is a decided
improvement upon Lord Brougham. Dr. Moneypenny will have it that our initials give
our true character --- but for my life I can't see what he means.
Notwithstanding the good offices of the Doctor, and the strenuous exertions of the
association to get itself into notice, it met with no very great success until I joined it. The
truth is, the members indulged in too flippant a tone of discussion. The papers read every
Saturday evening were characterized less by depth than buffoonery. They were all
whipped syllabub. There was no investigation of first causes, first principles. There was
no investigation of any thing at all. There was no attention paid to that great point, the
"fitness of things." In short there was no fine writing like this. It was all low --- very! No
profundity, no reading, no metaphysics --- nothing which the learned call spirituality, and
which the unlearned choose to stigmatize as cant. [Dr. M. says I ought to spell "cant"
with a capital K --- but I know better.]
When I joined the society it was my endeavor to introduce a better style of thinking
and writing, and all the world knows how well I have succeeded. We get up as good
papers now in the P. R. E. T. T. Y. B. L. U. E. B. A. T. C. H. as any to be found even in
Blackwood. I say, Blackwood, because I have been assured that the finest writing, upon
every subject, is to be discovered in the pages of that justly celebrated Magazine. We
now take it for our model upon all themes, and are getting into rapid notice accordingly.
And, after all, it's not so very difficult a matter to compose an article of the genuine
Blackwood stamp, if one only goes properly about it. Of course I don't speak of the
political articles. Everybody knows how they are managed, since Dr. Moneypenny
explained it. Mr. Blackwood has a pair of tailor's-shears, and three apprentices who stand
by him for orders. One hands him the "Times," another the "Examiner" and a third a
"Gulley's New Compendium of Slang-Whang." Mr. B. merely cuts out and intersperses.
It is soon done --- nothing but "Examiner," "Slang-Whang," and "Times" --- then
"Times," "Slang-Whang," and "Examiner" --- and then "Times," "Examiner," and "SlangWhang."
But the chief merit of the Magazine lies in its miscellaneous articles; and the best of
these come under the head of what Dr. Moneypenny calls the bizarreries (whatever that
may mean) and what everybody else calls the intensities. This is a species of writing
which I have long known how to appreciate, although it is only since my late visit to Mr.
Blackwood (deputed by the society) that I have been made aware of the exact method of
composition. This method is very simple, but not so much so as the politics. Upon my
calling at Mr. B.'s, and making known to him the wishes of the society, he received me
with great civility, took me into his study, and gave me a clear explanation of the whole
process.
"My dear madam," said he, evidently struck with my majestic appearance, for I had on
the crimson satin, with the green agraffas, and orange-colored auriculas. "My dear
madam," said he, "sit down. The matter stands thus: In the first place your writer of
intensities must have very black ink, and a very big pen, with a very blunt nib. And, mark
me, Miss Psyche Zenobia!" he continued, after a pause, with the most expressive energy
and solemnity of manner, "mark me! --- that pen --- must --- never be mended! Herein,
madam, lies the secret, the soul, of intensity. I assume upon myself to say, that no
individual, of however great genius ever wrote with a good pen --- understand me, --- a
good article. You may take, it for granted, that when manuscript can be read it is never
worth reading. This is a leading principle in our faith, to which if you cannot readily
assent, our conference is at an end."
He paused. But, of course, as I had no wish to put an end to the conference, I assented
to a proposition so very obvious, and one, too, of whose truth I had all along been
sufficiently aware. He seemed pleased, and went on with his instructions.
"It may appear invidious in me, Miss Psyche Zenobia, to refer you to any article, or set
of articles, in the way of model or study, yet perhaps I may as well call your attention to a
few cases. Let me see. There was 'The Dead Alive,' a capital thing! --- the record of a
gentleman's sensations when entombed before the breath was out of his body --- full of
tastes, terror, sentiment, metaphysics, and erudition. You would have sworn that the
writer had been born and brought up in a coffin. Then we had the 'Confessions of an
Opium-eater' --- fine, very fine! --- glorious imagination --- deep philosophy acute
speculation --- plenty of fire and fury, and a good spicing of the decidedly unintelligible.
That was a nice bit of flummery, and went down the throats of the people delightfully.
They would have it that Coleridge wrote the paper --- but not so. It was composed by my
pet baboon, Juniper, over a rummer of Hollands and water, 'hot, without sugar.'" [This I
could scarcely have believed had it been anybody but Mr. Blackwood, who assured me of
it.] "Then there was 'The Involuntary Experimentalist,' all about a gentleman who got
baked in an oven, and came out alive and well, although certainly done to a turn. And
then there was 'The Diary of a Late Physician,' where the merit lay in good rant, and
indifferent Greek --- both of them taking things with the public. And then there was 'The
Man in the Bell,' a paper by-the-by, Miss Zenobia, which I cannot sufficiently
recommend to your attention. It is the history of a young person who goes to sleep under
the clapper of a church bell, and is awakened by its tolling for a funeral. The sound drives
him mad, and, accordingly, pulling out his tablets, he gives a record of his sensations.
Sensations are the great things after all. Should you ever be drowned or hung, be sure and
make a note of your sensations --- they will be worth to you ten guineas a sheet. If you
wish to write forcibly, Miss Zenobia, pay minute attention to the sensations."
"That I certainly will, Mr. Blackwood," said I.
"Good!" he replied. "I see you are a pupil after my own heart. But I must put you au
fait to the details necessary in composing what may be denominated a genuine
Blackwood article of the sensation stamp --- the kind which you will understand me to
say I consider the best for all purposes.
"The first thing requisite is to get yourself into such a scrape as no one ever got into
before. The oven, for instance, --- that was a good hit. But if you have no oven or big
bell, at hand, and if you cannot conveniently tumble out of a balloon, or be swallowed up
in an earthquake, or get stuck fast in a chimney, you will have to be contented with
simply imagining some similar misadventure. I should prefer, however, that you have the
actual fact to bear you out. Nothing so well assists the fancy, as an experimental
knowledge of the matter in hand. 'Truth is strange,' you know, 'stranger than fiction' --besides being more to the purpose."
Here I assured him I had an excellent pair of garters, and would go and hang myself
forthwith.
"Good!" he replied, "do so; --- although hanging is somewhat hacknied. Perhaps you
might do better. Take a dose of Brandreth's pills, and then give us your sensations.
However, my instructions will apply equally well to any variety of misadventure, and in
your way home you may easily get knocked in the head, or run over by an omnibus, or
bitten by a mad dog, or drowned in a gutter. But to proceed.
"Having determined upon your subject, you must next consider the tone, or manner, of
your narration. There is the tone didactic, the tone enthusiastic, the tone natural --- all
common --- place enough. But then there is the tone laconic, or curt, which has lately
come much into use. It consists in short sentences. Somehow thus: Can't be too brief.
Can't be too snappish. Always a full stop. And never a paragraph.
"Then there is the tone elevated, diffusive, and interjectional. Some of our best
novelists patronize this tone. The words must be all in a whirl, like a humming-top, and
make a noise very similar, which answers remarkably well instead of meaning. This is the
best of all possible styles where the writer is in too great a hurry to think.
"The tone metaphysical is also a good one. If you know any big words this is your
chance for them. Talk of the Ionic and Eleatic schools --- of Archytas, Gorgias, and
Alcmaeon. Say something about objectivity and subjectivity. Be sure and abuse a man
named Locke. Turn up your nose at things in general, and when you let slip any thing a
little too absurd, you need not be at the trouble of scratching it out, but just add a footnote
and say that you are indebted for the above profound observation to the 'Kritik der reinem
Vernunft,' or to the 'Metaphysiche Anfongsgrunde der Naturwissenchaft.' This would look
erudite and --- and --- and frank.
"There are various other tones of equal celebrity, but I shall mention only two more --the tone transcendental and the tone heterogeneous. In the former the merit consists in
seeing into the nature of affairs a very great deal farther than anybody else. This second
sight is very efficient when properly managed. A little reading of the 'Dial' will carry you
a great way. Eschew, in this case, big words; get them as small as possible, and write
them upside down. Look over Channing's poems and quote what he says about a 'fat little
man with a delusive show of Can.' Put in something about the Supernal Oneness. Don't
say a syllable about the Infernal Twoness. Above all, study innuendo. Hint everything --assert nothing. If you feel inclined to say 'bread and butter,' do not by any means say it
outright. You may say any thing and every thing approaching to 'bread and butter.' You
may hint at buck-wheat cake, or you may even go so far as to insinuate oat-meal
porridge, but if bread and butter be your real meaning, be cautious, my dear Miss Psyche,
not on any account to say 'bread and butter!'
I assured him that I should never say it again as long as I lived. He kissed me and
continued:
"As for the tone heterogeneous, it is merely a judicious mixture, in equal proportions,
of all the other tones in the world, and is consequently made up of every thing deep,
great, odd, piquant, pertinent, and pretty.
"Let us suppose now you have determined upon your incidents and tone. The most
important portion --- in fact, the soul of the whole business, is yet to be attended to --- I
allude to the filling up. It is not to be supposed that a lady, or gentleman either, has been
leading the life of a book worm. And yet above all things it is necessary that your article
have an air of erudition, or at least afford evidence of extensive general reading. Now I'll
put you in the way of accomplishing this point. See here!" (pulling down some three or
four ordinary-looking volumes, and opening them at random). "By casting your eye down
almost any page of any book in the world, you will be able to perceive at once a host of
little scraps of either learning or bel-espritism, which are the very thing for the spicing of
a Blackwood article. You might as well note down a few while I read them to you. I shall
make two divisions: first, Piquant Facts for the Manufacture of Similes, and, second,
Piquant Expressions to be introduced as occasion may require. Write now!" --- and I
wrote as he dictated.
"PIQUANT FACTS FOR SIMILES. 'There were originally but three Muses --- Melete,
Mneme, Aoede --- meditation, memory, and singing.' You may make a good deal of that
little fact if properly worked. You see it is not generally known, and looks recherche.
You must be careful and give the thing with a downright improviso air.
"Again. 'The river Alpheus passed beneath the sea, and emerged without injury to the
purity of its waters.' Rather stale that, to be sure, but, if properly dressed and dished up,
will look quite as fresh as ever.
"Here is something better. 'The Persian Iris appears to some persons to possess a sweet
and very powerful perfume, while to others it is perfectly scentless.' Fine that, and very
delicate! Turn it about a little, and it will do wonders. We'll have some thing else in the
botanical line. There's nothing goes down so well, especially with the help of a little
Latin. Write!
"'The Epidendrum Flos Aeris, of Java, bears a very beautiful flower, and will live when
pulled up by the roots. The natives suspend it by a cord from the ceiling, and enjoy its
fragrance for years.' That's capital! That will do for the similes. Now for the Piquant
Expressions.
"PIQUANT EXPRESSIONS. 'The Venerable Chinese novel Ju-Kiao-Li.' Good! By
introducing these few words with dexterity you will evince your intimate acquaintance
with the language and literature of the Chinese. With the aid of this you may either get
along without either Arabic, or Sanscrit, or Chickasaw. There is no passing muster,
however, without Spanish, Italian, German, Latin, and Greek. I must look you out a little
specimen of each. Any scrap will answer, because you must depend upon your own
ingenuity to make it fit into your article. Now write!
"'Aussi tendre que Zaire' --- as tender as Zaire-French. Alludes to the frequent
repetition of the phrase, la tendre Zaire, in the French tragedy of that name. Properly
introduced, will show not only your knowledge of the language, but your general reading
and wit. You can say, for instance, that the chicken you were eating (write an article
about being choked to death by a chicken-bone) was not altogether aussi tendre que
Zaire. Write!
'Van
muerte
Que
no
Porque
el
No mestorne a dar la vida.'
tan
te
plazer
escondida,
venir,
morir,
sienta
del
"That's Spanish --- from Miguel de Cervantes. 'Come quickly, O death! but be sure and
don't let me see you coming, lest the pleasure I shall feel at your appearance should
unfortunately bring me back again to life.' This you may slip in quite a propos when you
are struggling in the last agonies with the chicken-bone. Write!
'Il
pover
'huomo
che
Andava combattendo, e era morto.'
non
se'n
era
accorto,
That's Italian, you perceive --- from Ariosto. It means that a great hero, in the heat of
combat, not perceiving that he had been fairly killed, continued to fight valiantly, dead as
he was. The application of this to your own case is obvious --- for I trust, Miss Psyche,
that you will not neglect to kick for at least an hour and a half after you have been choked
to death by that chicken-bone. Please to write!
'Und
sterb'
ich
Durch sie --- durch sie!'
doch,
so
sterb'
ich
denn
That's German --- from Schiller. 'And if I die, at least I die --- for thee --- for thee!' Here
it is clear that you are apostrophizing the cause of your disaster, the chicken. Indeed what
gentleman (or lady either) of sense, wouldn't die, I should like to know, for a well
fattened capon of the right Molucca breed, stuffed with capers and mushrooms, and
served up in a salad-bowl, with orange-jellies en mosaiques. Write! (You can get them
that way at Tortoni's) --- Write, if you please!
"Here is a nice little Latin phrase, and rare too, (one can't be too recherche or brief in
one's Latin, it's getting so common --- ignoratio elenchi. He has committed an ignoratio
elenchi --- that is to say, he has understood the words of your proposition, but not the
idea. The man was a fool, you see. Some poor fellow whom you address while choking
with that chicken-bone, and who therefore didn't precisely understand what you were
talking about. Throw the ignoratio elenchi in his teeth, and, at once, you have him
annihilated. If he dares to reply, you can tell him from Lucan (here it is) that speeches are
mere anemonae verborum, anemone words. The anemone, with great brilliancy, has no
smell. Or, if he begins to bluster, you may be down upon him with insomnia Jovis,
reveries of Jupiter --- a phrase which Silius Italicus (see here!) applies to thoughts
pompous and inflated. This will be sure and cut him to the heart. He can do nothing but
roll over and die. Will you be kind enough to write?
"In Greek we must have some thing pretty --- from Demosthenes, for example.
Ανερο φευγων και παλιν μαχεσεται. [Aner o pheugon kai palin makesetai.] There is a
tolerably good translation of it in Hudibras --'For
he
that
Which he can never do that's slain.'
flies
may
fight
again,
In a Blackwood article nothing makes so fine a show as your Greek. The very letters have
an air of profundity about them. Only observe, madam, the astute look of that Epsilon!
That Phi ought certainly to be a bishop! Was ever there a smarter fellow than that
Omicron? Just twig that Tau! In short, there is nothing like Greek for a genuine
sensation-paper. In the present case your application is the most obvious thing in the
world. Rap out the sentence, with a huge oath, and by way of ultimatum at the good-fornothing dunder-headed villain who couldn't understand your plain English in relation to
the chicken-bone. He'll take the hint and be off, you may depend upon it."
These were all the instructions Mr. B. could afford me upon the topic in question, but I
felt they would be entirely sufficient. I was, at length, able to write a genuine Blackwood
article, and determined to do it forthwith. In taking leave of me, Mr. B. made a
proposition for the purchase of the paper when written; but as he could offer me only fifty
guineas a sheet, I thought it better to let our society have it, than sacrifice it for so paltry a
sum. Notwithstanding this niggardly spirit, however, the gentleman showed his
consideration for me in all other respects, and indeed treated me with the greatest civility.
His parting words made a deep impression upon my heart, and I hope I shall always
remember them with gratitude.
"My dear Miss Zenobia," he said, while the tears stood in his eyes, "is there anything
else I can do to promote the success of your laudable undertaking? Let me reflect! It is
just possible that you may not be able, so soon as convenient, to --- to --- get yourself
drowned, or --- choked with a chicken-bone, or --- or hung, --- or --- bitten by a --- but
stay! Now I think me of it, there are a couple of very excellent bull-dogs in the yard --fine fellows, I assure you --- savage, and all that --- indeed just the thing for your money -- they'll have you eaten up, auriculas and all, in less than five minutes (here's my
watch!) --- and then only think of the sensations! Here! I say --- Tom! --- Peter! --- Dick,
you villain! --- let out those" --- but as I was really in a great hurry, and had not another
moment to spare, I was reluctantly forced to expedite my departure, and accordingly took
leave at once --- somewhat more abruptly, I admit, than strict courtesy would have
otherwise allowed.
It was my primary object upon quitting Mr. Blackwood, to get into some immediate
difficulty, pursuant to his advice, and with this view I spent the greater part of the day in
wandering about Edinburgh, seeking for desperate adventures --- adventures adequate to
the intensity of my feelings, and adapted to the vast character of the article I intended to
write. In this excursion I was attended by one negro- servant, Pompey, and my little lapdog Diana, whom I had brought with me from Philadelphia. It was not, however, until
late in the afternoon that I fully succeeded in my arduous undertaking. An important
event then happened of which the following Blackwood article, in the tone
heterogeneous, is the substance and result.
The Imp of the Perverse
IN THE consideration of the faculties and impulses --- of the prima mobilia of the human
soul, the phrenologists have failed to make room for a propensity which, although
obviously existing as a radical, primitive, irreducible sentiment, has been equally
overlooked by all the moralists who have preceded them. In the pure arrogance of the
reason, we have all overlooked it. We have suffered its existence to escape our senses,
solely through want of belief --- of faith; --- whether it be faith in Revelation, or faith in
the Kabbala. The idea of it has never occurred to us, simply because of its supererogation.
We saw no need of the impulse --- for the propensity. We could not perceive its
necessity. We could not understand, that is to say, we could not have understood, had the
notion of this primum mobile ever obtruded itself; --- we could not have understood in
what manner it might be made to further the objects of humanity, either temporal or
eternal. It cannot be denied that phrenology and, in great measure, all metaphysicianism
have been concocted a priori. The intellectual or logical man, rather than the
understanding or observant man, set himself to imagine designs --- to dictate purposes to
God. Having thus fathomed, to his satisfaction, the intentions of Jehovah, out of these
intentions he built his innumerable systems of mind. In the matter of phrenology, for
example, we first determined, naturally enough, that it was the design of the Deity that
man should eat. We then assigned to man an organ of alimentiveness, and this organ is
the scourge with which the Deity compels man, will-I nill-I, into eating. Secondly, having
settled it to be God's will that man should continue his species, we discovered an organ of
amativeness, forthwith. And so with combativeness, with ideality, with causality, with
constructiveness, --- so, in short, with every organ, whether representing a propensity, a
moral sentiment, or a faculty of the pure intellect. And in these arrangements of the
Principia of human action, the Spurzheimites, whether right or wrong, in part, or upon the
whole, have but followed, in principle, the footsteps of their predecessors: deducing and
establishing every thing from the preconceived destiny of man, and upon the ground of
the objects of his Creator.
It would have been wiser, it would have been safer, to classify (if classify we must)
upon the basis of what man usually or occasionally did, and was always occasionally
doing, rather than upon the basis of what we took it for granted the Deity intended him to
do. If we cannot comprehend God in his visible works, how then in his inconceivable
thoughts, that call the works into being? If we cannot understand him in his objective
creatures, how then in his substantive moods and phases of creation?
Induction, a posteriori, would have brought phrenology to admit, as an innate and
primitive principle of human action, a paradoxical something, which we may call
perverseness, for want of a more characteristic term. In the sense I intend, it is, in fact, a
mobile without motive, a motive not motiviert. Through its promptings we act without
comprehensible object; or, if this shall be understood as a contradiction in terms, we may
so far modify the proposition as to say, that through its promptings we act, for the reason
that we should not. In theory, no reason can be more unreasonable, but, in fact, there is
none more strong. With certain minds, under certain conditions, it becomes absolutely
irresistible. I am not more certain that I breathe, than that the assurance of the wrong or
error of any action is often the one unconquerable force which impels us, and alone
impels us to its prosecution. Nor will this overwhelming tendency to do wrong for the
wrong's sake, admit of analysis, or resolution into ulterior elements. It is a radical, a
primitive impulse-elementary. It will be said, I am aware, that when we persist in acts
because we feel we should not persist in them, our conduct is but a modification of that
which ordinarily springs from the combativeness of phrenology. But a glance will show
the fallacy of this idea. The phrenological combativeness has for its essence, the necessity
of self-defence. It is our safeguard against injury. Its principle regards our well-being;
and thus the desire to be well is excited simultaneously with its development. It follows,
that the desire to be well must be excited simultaneously with any principle which shall
be merely a modification of combativeness, but in the case of that something which I
term perverseness, the desire to be well is not only not aroused, but a strongly
antagonistical sentiment exists.
An appeal to one's own heart is, after all, the best reply to the sophistry just noticed.
No one who trustingly consults and thoroughly questions his own soul, will be disposed
to deny the entire radicalness of the propensity in question. It is not more
incomprehensible than distinctive. There lives no man who at some period has not been
tormented, for example, by an earnest desire to tantalize a listener by circumlocution. The
speaker is aware that he displeases; he has every intention to please, he is usually curt,
precise, and clear, the most laconic and luminous language is struggling for utterance
upon his tongue, it is only with difficulty that he restrains himself from giving it flow; he
dreads and deprecates the anger of him whom he addresses; yet, the thought strikes him,
that by certain involutions and parentheses this anger may be engendered. That single
thought is enough. The impulse increases to a wish, the wish to a desire, the desire to an
uncontrollable longing, and the longing (to the deep regret and mortification of the
speaker, and in defiance of all consequences) is indulged.
We have a task before us which must be speedily performed. We know that it will be
ruinous to make delay. The most important crisis of our life calls, trumpet-tongued, for
immediate energy and action. We glow, we are consumed with eagerness to commence
the work, with the anticipation of whose glorious result our whole souls are on fire. It
must, it shall be undertaken to-day, and yet we put it off until to-morrow, and why? There
is no answer, except that we feel perverse, using the word with no comprehension of the
principle. To-morrow arrives, and with it a more impatient anxiety to do our duty, but
with this very increase of anxiety arrives, also, a nameless, a positively fearful, because
unfathomable, craving for delay. This craving gathers strength as the moments fly. The
last hour for action is at hand. We tremble with the violence of the conflict within us, --of the definite with the indefinite --- of the substance with the shadow. But, if the contest
have proceeded thus far, it is the shadow which prevails, --- we struggle in vain. The
clock strikes, and is the knell of our welfare. At the same time, it is the chanticleer --note to the ghost that has so long overawed us. It flies --- it disappears --- we are free.
The old energy returns. We will labor now. Alas, it is too late!
We stand upon the brink of a precipice. We peer into the abyss --- we grow sick and
dizzy. Our first impulse is to shrink from the danger. Unaccountably we remain. By slow
degrees our sickness and dizziness and horror become merged in a cloud of unnamable
feeling. By gradations, still more imperceptible, this cloud assumes shape, as did the
vapor from the bottle out of which arose the genius in the Arabian Nights. But out of this
our cloud upon the precipice's edge, there grows into palpability, a shape, far more
terrible than any genius or any demon of a tale, and yet it is but a thought, although a
fearful one, and one which chills the very marrow of our bones with the fierceness of the
delight of its horror. It is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the
sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height. And this fall --- this rushing
annihilation --- for the very reason that it involves that one most ghastly and loathsome of
all the most ghastly and loathsome images of death and suffering which have ever
presented themselves to our imagination --- for this very cause do we now the most
vividly desire it. And because our reason violently deters us from the brink, therefore do
we the most impetuously approach it. There is no passion in nature so demoniacally
impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a
Plunge. To indulge, for a moment, in any attempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for
reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore it is, I say, that we cannot. If there be no
friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward
from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed.
Examine these similar actions as we will, we shall find them resulting solely from the
spirit of the Perverse. We perpetrate them merely because we feel that we should not.
Beyond or behind this there is no intelligible principle; and we might, indeed, deem this
perverseness a direct instigation of the Arch-Fiend, were it not occasionally known to
operate in furtherance of good.
I have said thus much, that in some measure I may answer your question, that I may
explain to you why I am here, that I may assign to you something that shall have at least
the faint aspect of a cause for my wearing these fetters, and for my tenanting this cell of
the condemned. Had I not been thus prolix, you might either have misunderstood me
altogether, or, with the rabble, have fancied me mad. As it is, you will easily perceive that
I am one of the many uncounted victims of the Imp of the Perverse.
It is impossible that any deed could have been wrought with a more thorough
deliberation. For weeks, for months, I pondered upon the means of the murder. I rejected
a thousand schemes, because their accomplishment involved a chance of detection. At
length, in reading some French Memoirs, I found an account of a nearly fatal illness that
occurred to Madame Pilau, through the agency of a candle accidentally poisoned. The
idea struck my fancy at once. I knew my victim's habit of reading in bed. I knew, too, that
his apartment was narrow and ill-ventilated. But I need not vex you with impertinent
details. I need not describe the easy artifices by which I substituted, in his bed-room
candle-stand, a wax-light of my own making for the one which I there found. The next
morning he was discovered dead in his bed, and the Coroner's verdict was --- "Death by
the visitation of God."
Having inherited his estate, all went well with me for years. The idea of detection
never once entered my brain. Of the remains of the fatal taper I had myself carefully
disposed. I had left no shadow of a clew by which it would be possible to convict, or even
to suspect me of the crime. It is inconceivable how rich a sentiment of satisfaction arose
in my bosom as I reflected upon my absolute security. For a very long period of time I
was accustomed to revel in this sentiment. It afforded me more real delight than all the
mere worldly advantages accruing from my sin. But there arrived at length an epoch,
from which the pleasurable feeling grew, by scarcely perceptible gradations, into a
haunting and harassing thought. It harassed because it haunted. I could scarcely get rid of
it for an instant. It is quite a common thing to be thus annoyed with the ringing in our
ears, or rather in our memories, of the burthen of some ordinary song, or some
unimpressive snatches from an opera. Nor will we be the less tormented if the song in
itself be good, or the opera air meritorious. In this manner, at last, I would perpetually
catch myself pondering upon my security, and repeating, in a low undertone, the phrase,
"I am safe."
One day, whilst sauntering along the streets, I arrested myself in the act of murmuring,
half aloud, these customary syllables. In a fit of petulance, I remodelled them thus; "I am
safe --- I am safe --- yes --- if I be not fool enough to make open confession!"
No sooner had I spoken these words, than I felt an icy chill creep to my heart. I had
had some experience in these fits of perversity, (whose nature I have been at some trouble
to explain), and I remembered well that in no instance I had successfully resisted their
attacks. And now my own casual self-suggestion that I might possibly be fool enough to
confess the murder of which I had been guilty, confronted me, as if the very ghost of him
whom I had murdered --- and beckoned me on to death.
At first, I made an effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul. I walked vigorously --faster --- still faster --- at length I ran. I felt a maddening desire to shriek aloud. Every
succeeding wave of thought overwhelmed me with new terror, for, alas! I well, too well
understood that to think, in my situation, was to be lost. I still quickened my pace. I
bounded like a madman through the crowded thoroughfares. At length, the populace took
the alarm, and pursued me. I felt then the consummation of my fate. Could I have torn out
my tongue, I would have done it, but a rough voice resounded in my ears --- a rougher
grasp seized me by the shoulder. I turned --- I gasped for breath. For a moment I
experienced all the pangs of suffocation; I became blind, and deaf, and giddy; and then
some invisible fiend, I thought, struck me with his broad palm upon the back. The long
imprisoned secret burst forth from my soul.
They say that I spoke with a distinct enunciation, but with marked emphasis and
passionate hurry, as if in dread of interruption before concluding the brief, but pregnant
sentences that consigned me to the hangman and to hell.
Having related all that was necessary for the fullest judicial conviction, I fell prostrate
in a swoon.
But why shall I say more? To-day I wear these chains, and am here! To-morrow I shall
be fetterless! --- but where?
The Island of the Fay
Nullus enim locus sine genio est. --- Servius.
"LA MUSIQUE," says Marmontel, in those "Contes Moraux"* which in all our
translations, we have insisted upon calling "Moral Tales," as if in mockery of their spirit -- "la musique est le seul des talents qui jouissent de lui meme; tous les autres veulent des
temoins." He here confounds the pleasure derivable from sweet sounds with the capacity
for creating them. No more than any other talent, is that for music susceptible of
complete enjoyment, where there is no second party to appreciate its exercise. And it is
only in common with other talents that it produces effects which may be fully enjoyed in
solitude. The idea which the raconteur has either failed to entertain clearly, or has
sacrificed in its expression to his national love of point, is, doubtless, the very tenable one
that the higher order of music is the most thoroughly estimated when we are exclusively
alone. The proposition, in this form, will be admitted at once by those who love the lyre
for its own sake, and for its spiritual uses. But there is one pleasure still within the reach
of fallen mortality --- and perhaps only one --- which owes even more than does music to
the accessory sentiment of seclusion. I mean the happiness experienced in the
contemplation of natural scenery. In truth, the man who would behold aright the glory of
God upon earth must in solitude behold that glory. To me, at least, the presence --- not of
human life only, but of life in any other form than that of the green things which grow
upon the soil and are voiceless --- is a stain upon the landscape --- is at war with the
genius of the scene. I love, indeed, to regard the dark valleys, and the gray rocks, and the
waters that silently smile, and the forests that sigh in uneasy slumbers, and the proud
watchful mountains that look down upon all, --- I love to regard these as themselves but
the colossal members of one vast animate and sentient whole --- a whole whose form
(that of the sphere) is the most perfect and most inclusive of all; whose path is among
associate planets; whose meek handmaiden is the moon, whose mediate sovereign is the
sun; whose life is eternity, whose thought is that of a God; whose enjoyment is
knowledge; whose destinies are lost in immensity, whose cognizance of ourselves is akin
with our own cognizance of the animalculae which infest the brain --- a being which we,
in consequence, regard as purely inanimate and material much in the same manner as
these animalculae must thus regard us.
* Moraux is here derived from moeurs, and its meaning is "fashionable" or more strictly "of manners."
Our telescopes and our mathematical investigations assure us on every hand --notwithstanding the cant of the more ignorant of the priesthood --- that space, and
therefore that bulk, is an important consideration in the eyes of the Almighty. The cycles
in which the stars move are those best adapted for the evolution, without collision, of the
greatest possible number of bodies. The forms of those bodies are accurately such as,
within a given surface, to include the greatest possible amount of matter; --- while the
surfaces themselves are so disposed as to accommodate a denser population than could be
accommodated on the same surfaces otherwise arranged. Nor is it any argument against
bulk being an object with God, that space itself is infinite; for there may be an infinity of
matter to fill it. And since we see clearly that the endowment of matter with vitality is a
principle --- indeed, as far as our judgments extend, the leading principle in the
operations of Deity, --- it is scarcely logical to imagine it confined to the regions of the
minute, where we daily trace it, and not extending to those of the august. As we find
cycle within cycle without end, --- yet all revolving around one far-distant centre which is
the God-head, may we not analogically suppose in the same manner, life within life, the
less within the greater, and all within the Spirit Divine? In short, we are madly erring,
through self-esteem, in believing man, in either his temporal or future destinies, to be of
more moment in the universe than that vast "clod of the valley" which he tills and
contemns, and to which he denies a soul for no more profound reason than that he does
not behold it in operation.*
* Speaking of the tides, Pomponius Mela, in his treatise "De Situ Orbis," says "either the world is a great
animal, or" etc.
These fancies, and such as these, have always given to my meditations among the
mountains and the forests, by the rivers and the ocean, a tinge of what the everyday world
would not fail to term fantastic. My wanderings amid such scenes have been many, and
far-searching, and often solitary; and the interest with which I have strayed through many
a dim, deep valley, or gazed into the reflected Heaven of many a bright lake, has been an
interest greatly deepened by the thought that I have strayed and gazed alone. What
flippant Frenchman was it who said in allusion to the well-known work of Zimmerman,
that, "la solitude est une belle chose; mais il faut quelqu'un pour vous dire que la solitude
est une belle chose?" The epigram cannot be gainsaid; but the necessity is a thing that
does not exist.
It was during one of my lonely journeyings, amid a far distant region of mountain
locked within mountain, and sad rivers and melancholy tarn writhing or sleeping within
all --- that I chanced upon a certain rivulet and island. I came upon them suddenly in the
leafy June, and threw myself upon the turf, beneath the branches of an unknown odorous
shrub, that I might doze as I contemplated the scene. I felt that thus only should I look
upon it --- such was the character of phantasm which it wore.
On all sides --- save to the west, where the sun was about sinking --- arose the verdant
walls of the forest. The little river which turned sharply in its course, and was thus
immediately lost to sight, seemed to have no exit from its prison, but to be absorbed by
the deep green foliage of the trees to the east --- while in the opposite quarter (so it
appeared to me as I lay at length and glanced upward) there poured down noiselessly and
continuously into the valley, a rich golden and crimson waterfall from the sunset
fountains of the sky.
About midway in the short vista which my dreamy vision took in, one small circular
island, profusely verdured, reposed upon the bosom of the stream.
So
blended
bank
That each seemed pendulous in air ---
and
shadow
there
so mirror-like was the glassy water, that it was scarcely possible to say at what point
upon the slope of the emerald turf its crystal dominion began.
My position enabled me to include in a single view both the eastern and western
extremities of the islet; and I observed a singularly-marked difference in their aspects.
The latter was all one radiant harem of garden beauties. It glowed and blushed beneath
the eyes of the slant sunlight, and fairly laughed with flowers. The grass was short,
springy, sweet-scented, and Asphodel-interspersed. The trees were lithe, mirthful, erect -- bright, slender, and graceful, --- of Eastern figure and foliage, with bark smooth, glossy,
and parti-colored. There seemed a deep sense of life and joy about all; and although no
airs blew from out the heavens, yet every thing had motion through the gentle sweepings
to and fro of innumerable butterflies, that might have been mistaken for tulips with
wings.*
* Florem putares nare per liquidum aethera. --- P. Commire.
The other or eastern end of the isle was whelmed in the blackest shade. A sombre, yet
beautiful and peaceful gloom here pervaded all things. The trees were dark in color, and
mournful in form and attitude, wreathing themselves into sad, solemn, and spectral
shapes that conveyed ideas of mortal sorrow and untimely death. The grass wore the deep
tint of the cypress, and the heads of its blades hung droopingly, and hither and thither
among it were many small unsightly hillocks, low and narrow, and not very long, that had
the aspect of graves, but were not; although over and all about them the rue and the
rosemary clambered. The shade of the trees fell heavily upon the water, and seemed to
bury itself therein, impregnating the depths of the element with darkness. I fancied that
each shadow, as the sun descended lower and lower, separated itself sullenly from the
trunk that gave it birth, and thus became absorbed by the stream; while other shadows
issued momently from the trees, taking the place of their predecessors thus entombed.
This idea, having once seized upon my fancy, greatly excited it, and I lost myself
forthwith in revery. "If ever island were enchanted," said I to myself, "this is it. This is
the haunt of the few gentle Fays who remain from the wreck of the race. Are these green
tombs theirs? --- or do they yield up their sweet lives as mankind yield up their own? In
dying, do they not rather waste away mournfully, rendering unto God, little by little, their
existence, as these trees render up shadow after shadow, exhausting their substance unto
dissolution? What the wasting tree is to the water that imbibes its shade, growing thus
blacker by what it preys upon, may not the life of the Fay be to the death which engulfs
it?"
As I thus mused, with half-shut eyes, while the sun sank rapidly to rest, and eddying
currents careered round and round the island, bearing upon their bosom large, dazzling,
white flakes of the bark of the sycamore --- flakes which, in their multiform positions
upon the water, a quick imagination might have converted into any thing it pleased, --while I thus mused, it appeared to me that the form of one of those very Fays about
whom I had been pondering made its way slowly into the darkness from out the light at
the western end of the island. She stood erect in a singularly fragile canoe, and urged it
with the mere phantom of an oar. While within the influence of the lingering sunbeams,
her attitude seemed indicative of joy --- but sorrow deformed it as she passed within the
shade. Slowly she glided along, and at length rounded the islet and re-entered the region
of light. "The revolution which has just been made by the Fay," continued I, musingly, "is
the cycle of the brief year of her life. She has floated through her winter and through her
summer. She is a year nearer unto Death; for I did not fail to see that, as she came into the
shade, her shadow fell from her, and was swallowed up in the dark water, making its
blackness more black."
And again the boat appeared and the Fay, but about the attitude of the latter there was
more of care and uncertainty and less of elastic joy. She floated again from out the light
and into the gloom (which deepened momently) and again her shadow fell from her into
the ebony water, and became absorbed into its blackness. And again and again she made
the circuit of the island, (while the sun rushed down to his slumbers), and at each issuing
into the light there was more sorrow about her person, while it grew feebler and far
fainter and more indistinct, and at each passage into the gloom there fell from her a
darker shade, which became whelmed in a shadow more black. But at length when the
sun had utterly departed, the Fay, now the mere ghost of her former self, went
disconsolately with her boat into the region of the ebony flood --- and that she issued
thence at all I cannot say, for darkness fell over an things and I beheld her magical figure
no more.
King Pest
A TALE CONTAINING AN ALLEGORY
The
gods
do
bear
and
The things which they abhor in rascal routes.
will
allow
in
kings
--- Buckhurst's Tragedy of Ferrex and Porrex.
ABOUT twelve o'clock, one night in the month of October, and during the chivalrous
reign of the third Edward, two seamen belonging to the crew of the "Free and Easy," a
trading schooner plying between Sluys and the Thames, and then at anchor in that river,
were much astonished to find themselves seated in the tap-room of an ale-house in the
parish of St. Andrews, London --- which ale-house bore for sign the portraiture of a
"Jolly Tar."
The room, although ill-contrived, smoke-blackened, low-pitched, and in every other
respect agreeing with the general character of such places at the period --- was,
nevertheless, in the opinion of the grotesque groups scattered here and there within it,
sufficiently well adapted to its purpose.
Of these groups our two seamen formed, I think, the most interesting, if not the most
conspicuous.
The one who appeared to be the elder, and whom his companion addressed by the
characteristic appellation of "Legs," was at the same time much the taller of the two. He
might have measured six feet and a half, and an habitual stoop in the shoulders seemed to
have been the necessary consequence of an altitude so enormous. Superfluities in height
were, however, more than accounted for by deficiencies in other respects. He was
exceedingly thin; and might, as his associates asserted, have answered, when drunk, for a
pennant at the mast-head, or, when sober, have served for a jib-boom. But these jests, and
others of a similar nature, had evidently produced, at no time, any effect upon the
cachinnatory muscles of the tar. With high cheek-bones, a large hawk-nose, retreating
chin, fallen under-jaw, and huge protruding white eyes, the expression of his
countenance, although tinged with a species of dogged indifference to matters and things
in general, was not the less utterly solemn and serious beyond all attempts at imitation or
description.
The younger seaman was, in all outward appearance, the converse of his companion.
His stature could not have exceeded four feet. A pair of stumpy bow-legs supported his
squat, unwieldy figure, while his unusually short and thick arms, with no ordinary fists at
their extremities, swung off dangling from his sides like the fins of a sea-turtle. Small
eyes, of no particular color, twinkled far back in his head. His nose remained buried in
the mass of flesh which enveloped his round, full, and purple face; and his thick upper-lip
rested upon the still thicker one beneath with an air of complacent self-satisfaction, much
heightened by the owner's habit of licking them at intervals. He evidently regarded his
tall shipmate with a feeling half-wondrous, half-quizzical; and stared up occasionally in
his face as the red setting sun stares up at the crags of Ben Nevis.
Various and eventful, however, had been the peregrinations of the worthy couple in
and about the different tap-houses of the neighborhood during the earlier hours of the
night. Funds even the most ample, are not always everlasting: and it was with empty
pockets our friends had ventured upon the present hostelrie.
At the precise period, then, when this history properly commences, Legs, and his
fellow Hugh Tarpaulin, sat, each with both elbows resting upon the large oaken table in
the middle of the floor, and with a hand upon either cheek. They were eyeing, from
behind a huge flagon of unpaid-for "humming-stuff," the portentous words, "No Chalk,"
which to their indignation and astonishment were scored over the doorway by means of
that very mineral whose presence they purported to deny. Not that the gift of decyphering
written characters --- a gift among the commonalty of that day considered little less
cabalistical than the art of inditing --- could, in strict justice, have been laid to the charge
of either disciple of the sea; but there was, to say the truth, a certain twist in the formation
of the letters --- an indescribable lee-lurch about the whole --- -which foreboded, in the
opinion of both seamen, a long run of dirty weather; and determined them at once, in the
allegorical words of Legs himself, to "pump ship, clew up all sail, and scud before the
wind."
Having accordingly disposed of what remained of the ale, and looped up the points of
their short doublets, they finally made a bolt for the street. Although Tarpaulin rolled
twice into the fire-place, mistaking it for the door, yet their escape was at length happily
effected --- and half after twelve o'clock found our heroes ripe for mischief, and running
for life down a dark alley in the direction of St. Andrew's Stair, hotly pursued by the
landlady of the "Jolly Tar."
At the epoch of this eventful tale, and periodically, for many years before and after, all
England, but more especially the metropolis, resounded with the fearful cry of "Plague!"
The city was in a great measure depopulated --- and in those horrible regions, in the
vicinity of the Thames, where amid the dark, narrow, and filthy lanes and alleys, the
Demon of Disease was supposed to have had his nativity, Awe, Terror, and Superstition
were alone to be found stalking abroad.
By authority of the king such districts were placed under ban, and all persons
forbidden, under pain of death, to intrude upon their dismal solitude. Yet neither the
mandate of the monarch, nor the huge barriers erected at the entrances of the streets, nor
the prospect of that loathsome death which, with almost absolute certainty, overwhelmed
the wretch whom no peril could deter from the adventure, prevented the unfurnished and
untenanted dwellings from being stripped, by the hand of nightly rapine, of every article,
such as iron, brass, or lead-work, which could in any manner be turned to a profitable
account.
Above all, it was usually found, upon the annual winter opening of the barriers, that
locks, bolts, and secret cellars, had proved but slender protection to those rich stores of
wines and liquors which, in consideration of the risk and trouble of removal, many of the
numerous dealers having shops in the neighborhood had consented to trust, during the
period of exile, to so insufficient a security.
But there were very few of the terror-stricken people who attributed these doings to the
agency of human hands. Pest-spirits, plague-goblins, and fever-demons, were the popular
imps of mischief; and tales so blood-chilling were hourly told, that the whole mass of
forbidden buildings was, at length, enveloped in terror as in a shroud, and the plunderer
himself was often scared away by the horrors his own depreciations had created; leaving
the entire vast circuit of prohibited district to gloom, silence, pestilence, and death.
It was by one of the terrific barriers already mentioned, and which indicated the region
beyond to be under the Pest-ban, that, in scrambling down an alley, Legs and the worthy
Hugh Tarpaulin found their progress suddenly impeded. To return was out of the
question, and no time was to be lost, as their pursuers were close upon their heels. With
thorough-bred seamen to clamber up the roughly fashioned plank-work was a trifle; and,
maddened with the twofold excitement of exercise and liquor, they leaped unhesitatingly
down within the enclosure, and holding on their drunken course with shouts and yellings,
were soon bewildered in its noisome and intricate recesses.
Had they not, indeed, been intoxicated beyond moral sense, their reeling footsteps must
have been palsied by the horrors of their situation. The air was cold and misty. The
paving-stones, loosened from their beds, lay in wild disorder amid the tall, rank grass,
which sprang up around the feet and ankles. Fallen houses choked up the streets. The
most fetid and poisonous smells everywhere prevailed; --- and by the aid of that ghastly
light which, even at midnight, never fails to emanate from a vapory and pestilential at
atmosphere, might be discerned lying in the by-paths and alleys, or rotting in the
windowless habitations, the carcass of many a nocturnal plunderer arrested by the hand of
the plague in the very perpetration of his robbery.
But it lay not in the power of images, or sensations, or impediments such as these, to
stay the course of men who, naturally brave, and at that time especially, brimful of
courage and of "humming-stuff!" would have reeled, as straight as their condition might
have permitted, undauntedly into the very jaws of Death. Onward --- still onward stalked
the grim Legs, making the desolate solemnity echo and re-echo with yells like the terrific
war-whoop of the Indian: and onward, still onward rolled the dumpy Tarpaulin, hanging
on to the doublet of his more active companion, and far surpassing the latter's most
strenuous exertions in the way of vocal music, by bull-roarings in basso, from the
profundity of his stentorian lungs.
They had now evidently reached the strong hold of the pestilence. Their way at every
step or plunge grew more noisome and more horrible --- the paths more narrow and more
intricate. Huge stones and beams falling momently from the decaying roofs above them,
gave evidence, by their sullen and heavy descent, of the vast height of the surrounding
houses; and while actual exertion became necessary to force a passage through frequent
heaps of rubbish, it was by no means seldom that the hand fell upon a skeleton or rested
upon a more fleshly corpse.
Suddenly, as the seamen stumbled against the entrance of a tall and ghastly-looking
building, a yell more than usually shrill from the throat of the excited Legs, was replied to
from within, in a rapid succession of wild, laughter-like, and fiendish shrieks. Nothing
daunted at sounds which, of such a nature, at such a time, and in such a place, might have
curdled the very blood in hearts less irrevocably on fire, the drunken couple rushed
headlong against the door, burst it open, and staggered into the midst of things with a
volley of curses.
The room within which they found themselves proved to be the shop of an undertaker;
but an open trap-door, in a corner of the floor near the entrance, looked down upon a long
range of wine-cellars, whose depths the occasional sound of bursting bottles proclaimed
to be well stored with their appropriate contents. In the middle of the room stood a table -- in the centre of which again arose a huge tub of what appeared to be punch. Bottles of
various wines and cordials, together with jugs, pitchers, and flagons of every shape and
quality, were scattered profusely upon the board. Around it, upon coffin-tressels, was
seated a company of six. This company I will endeavor to delineate one by one.
Fronting the entrance, and elevated a little above his companions, sat a personage who
appeared to be the president of the table. His stature was gaunt and tall, and Legs was
confounded to behold in him a figure more emaciated than himself. His face was as
yellow as saffron --- but no feature excepting one alone, was sufficiently marked to merit
a particular description. This one consisted in a forehead so unusually and hideously
lofty, as to have the appearance of a bonnet or crown of flesh superadded upon the
natural head. His mouth was puckered and dimpled into an expression of ghastly
affability, and his eyes, as indeed the eyes of all at table, were glazed over with the fumes
of intoxication. This gentleman was clothed from head to foot in a richly-embroidered
black silk-velvet pall, wrapped negligently around his form after the fashion of a Spanish
cloak. His head was stuck full of sable hearse-plumes, which he nodded to and fro with a
jaunty and knowing air; and, in his right hand, he held a huge human thigh-bone, with
which he appeared to have been just knocking down some member of the company for a
song.
Opposite him, and with her back to the door, was a lady of no whit the less
extraordinary character. Although quite as tall as the person just described, she had no
right to complain of his unnatural emaciation. She was evidently in the last stage of a
dropsy; and her figure resembled nearly that of the huge puncheon of October beer which
stood, with the head driven in, close by her side, in a corner of the chamber. Her face was
exceedingly round, red, and full; and the same peculiarity, or rather want of peculiarity,
attached itself to her countenance, which I before mentioned in the case of the president -- that is to say, only one feature of her face was sufficiently distinguished to need a
separate characterization: indeed the acute Tarpaulin immediately observed that the same
remark might have applied to each individual person of the party; every one of whom
seemed to possess a monopoly of some particular portion of physiognomy. With the lady
in question this portion proved to be the mouth. Commencing at the right ear, it swept
with a terrific chasm to the left --- the short pendants which she wore in either auricle
continually bobbing into the aperture. She made, however, every exertion to keep her
mouth closed and look dignified, in a dress consisting of a newly starched and ironed
shroud coming up close under her chin, with a crimpled ruffle of cambric muslin.
At her right hand sat a diminutive young lady whom she appeared to patronize. This
delicate little creature, in the trembling of her wasted fingers, in the livid hue of her lips,
and in the slight hectic spot which tinged her otherwise leaden complexion, gave evident
indications of a galloping consumption. An air of gave extreme haut ton, however,
pervaded her whole appearance; she wore in a graceful and degage manner, a large and
beautiful winding-sheet of the finest India lawn; her hair hung in ringlets over her neck; a
soft smile played about her mouth; but her nose, extremely long, thin, sinuous, flexible
and pimpled, hung down far below her under lip, and in spite of the delicate manner in
which she now and then moved it to one side or the other with her tongue, gave to her
countenance a somewhat equivocal expression.
Over against her, and upon the left of the dropsical lady, was seated a little puffy,
wheezing, and gouty old man, whose cheeks reposed upon the shoulders of their owner,
like two huge bladders of Oporto wine. With his arms folded, and with one bandaged leg
deposited upon the table, he seemed to think himself entitled to some consideration. He
evidently prided himself much upon every inch of his personal appearance, but took more
especial delight in calling attention to his gaudy-colored surtout. This, to say the truth,
must have cost him no little money, and was made to fit him exceedingly well --- being
fashioned from one of the curiously embroidered silken covers appertaining to those
glorious escutcheons which, in England and elsewhere, are customarily hung up, in some
conspicuous place, upon the dwellings of departed aristocracy.
Next to him, and at the right hand of the president, was a gentleman in long white hose
and cotton drawers. His frame shook, in a ridiculous manner, with a fit of what Tarpaulin
called "the horrors." His jaws, which had been newly shaved, were tightly tied up by a
bandage of muslin; and his arms being fastened in a similar way at the wrists, I I
prevented him from helping himself too freely to the liquors upon the table; a precaution
rendered necessary, in the opinion of Legs, by the peculiarly sottish and wine-bibbing
cast of his visage. A pair of prodigious ears, nevertheless, which it was no doubt found
impossible to confine, towered away into the atmosphere of the apartment, and were
occasionally pricked up in a spasm, at the sound of the drawing of a cork.
Fronting him, sixthly and lastly, was situated a singularly stiff-looking personage, who,
being afflicted with paralysis, must, to speak seriously, have felt very ill at ease in his
unaccommodating habiliments. He was habited, somewhat uniquely, in a new and
handsome mahogany coffin. Its top or head-piece pressed upon the skull of the wearer,
and extended over it in the fashion of a hood, giving to the entire face an air of
indescribable interest. Arm-holes had been cut in the sides, for the sake not more of
elegance than of convenience; but the dress, nevertheless, prevented its proprietor from
sitting as erect as his associates; and as he lay reclining against his tressel, at an angle of
forty-five degrees, a pair of huge goggle eyes rolled up their awful whites towards the
ceiling in absolute amazement at their own enormity.
Before each of the party lay a portion of a skull, which was used as a drinking cup.
Overhead was suspended a human skeleton, by means of a rope tied round one of the legs
and fastened to a ring in the ceiling. The other limb, confined by no such fetter, stuck off
from the body at right angles, causing the whole loose and rattling frame to dangle and
twirl about at the caprice of every occasional puff of wind which found its way into the
apartment. In the cranium of this hideous thing lay quantity of ignited charcoal, which
threw a fitful but vivid light over the entire scene; while coffins, and other wares
appertaining to the shop of an undertaker, were piled high up around the room, and
against the windows, preventing any ray from escaping into the street.
At sight of this extraordinary assembly, and of their still more extraordinary
paraphernalia, our two seamen did not conduct themselves with that degree of decorum
which might have been expected. Legs, leaning against the wall near which he happened
to be standing, dropped his lower jaw still lower than usual, and spread open his eyes to
their fullest extent: while Hugh Tarpaulin, stooping down so as to bring his nose upon a
level with the table, and spreading out a palm upon either knee, burst into a long, loud,
and obstreperous roar of very ill-timed and immoderate laughter.
Without, however, taking offence at behavior so excessively rude, the tall president
smiled very graciously upon the intruders --- nodded to them in a dignified manner with
his head of sable plumes --- and, arising, took each by an arm, and led him to a seat
which some others of the company had placed in the meantime for his accommodation.
Legs to all this offered not the slightest resistance, but sat down as he was directed; while
tile gallant Hugh, removing his coffin tressel from its station near the head of the table, to
the vicinity of the little consumptive lady in the winding sheet, plumped down by her side
in high glee, and pouring out a skull of red wine, quaffed it to their better acquaintance.
But at this presumption the stiff gentleman in the coffin seemed exceedingly nettled; and
serious consequences might have ensued, had not the president, rapping upon the table
with his truncheon, diverted the attention of all present to the following speech:
"It becomes our duty upon the present happy occasion" --"Avast there!" interrupted Legs, looking very serious, "avast there a bit, I say, and tell
us who the devil ye all are, and what business ye have here, rigged off like the foul
fiends, and swilling the snug blue ruin stowed away for the winter by my honest
shipmate, Will Wimble the undertaker!"
At this unpardonable piece of ill-breeding, all the original company half started to their
feet, and uttered the same rapid succession of wild fiendish shrieks which had before
caught the attention of the seamen. The president, however, was the first to recover his
composure, and at length, turning to Legs with great dignity, recommenced:
"Most willingly will we gratify any reasonable curiosity on the part of guests so
illustrious, unbidden though they be. Know then that in these dominions I am monarch,
and here rule with undivided empire under the title of 'King Pest the First.'
"This apartment, which you no doubt profanely suppose to be the shop of Will Wimble
the undertaker --- a man whom we know not, and whose plebeian appellation has never
before this night thwarted our royal ears --- this apartment, I say, is the Dais-Chamber of
our Palace, devoted to the councils of our kingdom, and to other sacred and lofty
purposes.
"The noble lady who sits opposite is Queen Pest, our Serene Consort. The other
exalted personages whom you behold are all of our family, and wear the insignia of the
blood royal under the respective titles of 'His Grace the Arch Duke Pest-Iferous' --- 'His
Grace the Duke Pest-Ilential' --- 'His Grace the Duke Tem-Pest' --- and 'Her Serene
Highness the Arch Duchess Ana-Pest.'
"As regards," continued he, "your demand of the business upon which we sit here in
council, we might be pardoned for replying that it concerns, and concerns alone, our own
private and regal interest, and is in no manner important to any other than ourself. But in
consideration of those rights to which as guests and strangers you may feel yourselves
entitled, we will furthermore explain that we are here this night, prepared by deep
research and accurate investigation, to examine, analyze, and thoroughly determine the
indefinable spirit --- the incomprehensible qualities and nature --- of those inestimable
treasures of the palate, the wines, ales, and liqueurs of this goodly metropolis: by so
doing to advance not more our own designs than the true welfare of that unearthly
sovereign whose reign is over us all, whose dominions are unlimited, and whose name is
'Death.'
"Whose name is Davy Jones!" ejaculated Tarpaulin, helping the lady by his side to a
skull of liqueur, and pouring out a second for himself.
"Profane varlet!" said the president, now turning his attention to the worthy Hugh,
"profane and execrable wretch! --- we have said, that in consideration of those rights
which, even in thy filthy person, we feel no inclination to violate, we have condescended
to make reply to thy rude and unseasonable inquiries. We nevertheless, for your
unhallowed intrusion upon our councils, believe it our duty to mulct thee and thy
companion in each a gallon of Black Strap --- having imbibed which to the prosperity of
our kingdom --- at a single draught --- and upon your bended knees --- ye shall be
forthwith free either to proceed upon your way, or remain and be admitted to the
privileges of our table, according to your respective and individual pleasures."
"It would be a matter of utter impossibility," replied Legs, whom the assumptions and
dignity of King Pest the First had evidently inspired some feelings of respect, and who
arose and steadied himself by the table as he spoke --- "It would, please your majesty, be
a matter of utter impossibility to stow away in my hold even one-fourth part of the same
liquor which your majesty has just mentioned. To say nothing of the stuffs placed on
board in the forenoon by way of ballast, and not to mention the various ales and liqueurs
shipped this evening at different sea-ports, I have, at present, a full cargo of 'humming
stuff' taken in and duly paid for at the sign of the 'Jolly Tar.' You will, therefore, please
your majesty, be so good as to take the will for the deed --- for by no manner of means
either can I or will I swallow another drop --- least of all a drop of that villainous bilgewater that answers to the hall of 'Black Strap.'"
"Belay that!" interrupted Tarpaulin, astonished not more at the length of his
companion's speech than at the nature of his refusal --- "Belay that you lubber! --- and I
say, Legs, none of your palaver! My hull is still light, although I confess you yourself
seem to be a little top-heavy; and as for the matter of your share of the cargo, why rather
than raise a squall I would find stowage-room for it myself, but ---"
"This proceeding," interposed the president, "is by no means in accordance with the
terms of the mulct or sentence, which is in its nature Median, and not to be altered or
recalled. The conditions we have imposed must be fulfilled to the letter, and that without
a moment's hesitation --- in failure of which fulfilment we decree that you do here be tied
neck and heels together, and duly drowned as rebels in yon hogshead of October beer!"
"A sentence! --- a sentence! --- a righteous and just sentence! --- a glorious decree! --a most worthy and upright, and holy condemnation!" shouted the Pest family altogether.
The king elevated his forehead into innumerable wrinkles; the gouty little old man puffed
like a pair of bellows; the lady of the winding sheet waved her nose to and fro; the
gentleman in the cotton drawers pricked up his ears; she of the shroud gasped like a dying
fish; and he of the coffin looked stiff and rolled up his eyes.
"Ugh! ugh! ugh!" chuckled Tarpaulin without heeding the general excitation, "ugh!
ugh! ugh! --- ugh! ugh! ugh! --- ugh! ugh! ugh! --- I was saying," said he, "I was saying
when Mr. King Pest poked in his marlin-spike, that as for the matter of two or three
gallons more or less of Black Strap, it was a trifle to a tight sea-boat like myself not
overstowed --- but when it comes to drinking the health of the Devil (whom God
assoilzie) and going down upon my marrow bones to his ill-favored majesty there, whom
I know, as well as I know myself to be a sinner, to be nobody in the whole world, but
Tim Hurlygurly the stage-player --- why! it's quite another guess sort of a thing, and
utterly and altogether past my comprehension."
He was not allowed to finish this speech in tranquility. At the name Tim Hurlygurly
the whole assembly leaped from their name seats.
"Treason!" shouted his Majesty King Pest the First.
"Treason!" said the little man with the gout.
"Treason!" screamed the Arch Duchess Ana-Pest.
"Treason!" muttered the gentleman with his jaws tied up.
"Treason!" growled he of the coffin.
"Treason! treason!" shrieked her majesty of the mouth; and, seizing by the hinder part
of his breeches the unfortunate Tarpaulin, who had just commenced pouring out for
himself a skull of liqueur, she lifted him high into the air, and let him fall without
ceremony into the huge open puncheon of his beloved ale. Bobbing up and down, for a
few seconds, like an apple in a bowl of toddy, he, at length, finally disappeared amid the
whirlpool of foam which, in the already effervescent liquor, his struggles easily
succeeded in creating.
Not tamely, however, did the tall seaman behold the discomfiture of his companion.
Jostling King Pest through the open trap, the valiant Legs slammed the door down upon
him with an oath, and strode towards the centre of the room. Here tearing down the
skeleton which swung over the table, he laid it about him with so much energy and good
will, that, as the last glimpses of light died away within the apartment, he succeeded in
knocking out the brains of the little gentleman with the gout. Rushing then with all his
force against the fatal hogshead full of October ale and Hugh Tarpaulin, he rolled it over
and over in an instant. Out burst a deluge of liquor so fierce --- so impetuous --- so
overwhelming --- that the room was flooded from wall to wall --- the loaded table was
overturned --- the tressels were thrown upon their backs --- the tub of punch into the fireplace --- and the ladies into hysterics. Piles of death-furniture floundered about. Jugs,
pitchers, and carboys mingled promiscuously in the melee, and wicker flagons
encountered desperately with bottles of junk. The man with the horrors was drowned
upon the spot-the little stiff gentleman floated off in his coffin --- and the victorious Legs,
seizing by the waist the fat lady in the shroud, rushed out with her into the street, and
made a bee-line for the "Free and Easy," followed under easy sail by the redoubtable
Hugh Tarpaulin, who, having sneezed three or four times, panted and puffed after him
with the Arch Duchess Ana-Pest.
Landor's Cottage
A Pendant to "The Domain of Arnheim"
DURING A pedestrian trip last summer, through one or two of the river counties of New
York, I found myself, as the day declined, somewhat embarrassed about the road I was
pursuing. The land undulated very remarkably; and my path, for the last hour, had wound
about and about so confusedly, in its effort to keep in the valleys, that I no longer knew in
what direction lay the sweet village of B ---, where I had determined to stop for the night.
The sun had scarcely shone --- strictly speaking --- during the day, which nevertheless,
had been unpleasantly warm. A smoky mist, resembling that of the Indian summer,
enveloped all things, and of course, added to my uncertainty. Not that I cared much about
the matter. If I did not hit upon the village before sunset, or even before dark, it was more
than possible that a little Dutch farmhouse, or something of that kind, would soon make
its appearance --- although, in fact, the neighborhood (perhaps on account of being more
picturesque than fertile) was very sparsely inhabited. At all events, with my knapsack for
a pillow, and my hound as a sentry, a bivouac in the open air was just the thing which
would have amused me. I sauntered on, therefore, quite at ease --- Ponto taking charge of
my gun --- until at length, just as I had begun to consider whether the numerous little
glades that led hither and thither, were intended to be paths at all, I was conducted by one
of them into an unquestionable carriage track. There could be no mistaking it. The traces
of light wheels were evident; and although the tall shrubberies and overgrown
undergrowth met overhead, there was no obstruction whatever below, even to the passage
of a Virginian mountain wagon --- the most aspiring vehicle, I take it, of its kind. The
road, however, except in being open through the wood --- if wood be not too weighty a
name for such an assemblage of light trees --- and except in the particulars of evident
wheel-tracks --- bore no resemblance to any road I had before seen. The tracks of which I
speak were but faintly perceptible --- having been impressed upon the firm, yet pleasantly
moist surface of --- what looked more like green Genoese velvet than any thing else. It
was grass, clearly --- but grass such as we seldom see out of England --- so short, so
thick, so even, and so vivid in color. Not a single impediment lay in the wheel-route --not even a chip or dead twig. The stones that once obstructed the way had been carefully
placed --- not thrown-along the sides of the lane, so as to define its boundaries at bottom
with a kind of half-precise, half-negligent, and wholly picturesque definition. Clumps of
wild flowers grew everywhere, luxuriantly, in the interspaces.
What to make of all this, of course I knew not. Here was art undoubtedly --- that did
not surprise me --- all roads, in the ordinary sense, are works of art; nor can I say that
there was much to wonder at in the mere excess of art manifested; all that seemed to have
been done, might have been done here --- with such natural "capabilities" (as they have it
in the books on Landscape Gardening) --- with very little labor and expense. No; it was
not the amount but the character of the art which caused me to take a seat on one of the
blossomy stones and gaze up and down this fairy --- like avenue for half an hour or more
in bewildered admiration. One thing became more and more evident the longer I gazed:
an artist, and one with a most scrupulous eye for form, had superintended all these
arrangements. The greatest care had been taken to preserve a due medium between the
neat and graceful on the one hand, and the pittoresque, in the true sense of the Italian
term, on the other. There were few straight, and no long uninterrupted lines. The same
effect of curvature or of color appeared twice, usually, but not oftener, at any one point of
view. Everywhere was variety in uniformity. It was a piece of "composition," in which
the most fastidiously critical taste could scarcely have suggested an emendation.
I had turned to the right as I entered this road, and now, arising, I continued in the
same direction. The path was so serpentine, that at no moment could I trace its course for
more than two or three paces in advance. Its character did not undergo any material
change.
Presently the murmur of water fell gently upon my ear --- and in a few moments
afterward, as I turned with the road somewhat more abruptly than hitherto, I became
aware that a building of some kind lay at the foot of a gentle declivity just before me. I
could see nothing distinctly on account of the mist which occupied all the little valley
below. A gentle breeze, however, now arose, as the sun was about descending; and while
I remained standing on the brow of the slope, the fog gradually became dissipated into
wreaths, and so floated over the scene.
As it came fully into view --- thus gradually as I describe it --- piece by piece, here a
tree, there a glimpse of water, and here again the summit of a chimney, I could scarcely
help fancying that the whole was one of the ingenious illusions sometimes exhibited
under the name of "vanishing pictures."
By the time, however, that the fog had thoroughly disappeared, the sun had made its
way down behind the gentle hills, and thence, as it with a slight chassez to the south, had
come again fully into sight, glaring with a purplish lustre through a chasm that entered
the valley from the west. Suddenly, therefore --- and as if by the hand of magic --- this
whole valley and every thing in it became brilliantly visible.
The first coup d'oeil, as the sun slid into the position described, impressed me very
much as I have been impressed, when a boy, by the concluding scene of some wellarranged theatrical spectacle or melodrama. Not even the monstrosity of color was
wanting; for the sunlight came out through the chasm, tinted all orange and purple; while
the vivid green of the grass in the valley was reflected more or less upon all objects from
the curtain of vapor that still hung overhead, as if loth to take its total departure from a
scene so enchantingly beautiful.
The little vale into which I thus peered down from under the fog canopy could not have
been more than four hundred yards long; while in breadth it varied from fifty to one
hundred and fifty or perhaps two hundred. It was most narrow at its northern extremity,
opening out as it tended southwardly, but with no very precise regularity. The widest
portion was within eighty yards of the southern extreme. The slopes which encompassed
the vale could not fairly be called hills, unless at their northern face. Here a precipitous
ledge of granite arose to a height of some ninety feet; and, as I have mentioned, the valley
at this point was not more than fifty feet wide; but as the visitor proceeded southwardly
from the cliff, he found on his right hand and on his left, declivities at once less high, less
precipitous, and less rocky. All, in a word, sloped and softened to the south; and yet the
whole vale was engirdled by eminences, more or less high, except at two points. One of
these I have already spoken of. It lay considerably to the north of west, and was where
the setting sun made its way, as I have before described, into the amphitheatre, through a
cleanly cut natural cleft in the granite embankment; this fissure might have been ten yards
wide at its widest point, so far as the eye could trace it. It seemed to lead up, up like a
natural causeway, into the recesses of unexplored mountains and forests. The other
opening was directly at the southern end of the vale. Here, generally, the slopes were
nothing more than gentle inclinations, extending from east to west about one hundred and
fifty yards. In the middle of this extent was a depression, level with the ordinary floor of
the valley. As regards vegetation, as well as in respect to every thing else, the scene
softened and sloped to the south. To the north --- on the craggy precipice --- a few paces
from the verge --- up sprang the magnificent trunks of numerous hickories, black
walnuts, and chestnuts, interspersed with occasional oak, and the strong lateral branches
thrown out by the walnuts especially, spread far over the edge of the cliff. Proceeding
southwardly, the explorer saw, at first, the same class of trees, but less and less lofty and
Salvatorish in character; then he saw the gentler elm, succeeded by the sassafras and
locust --- these again by the softer linden, red-bud, catalpa, and maple --- these yet again
by still more graceful and more modest varieties. The whole face of the southern
declivity was covered with wild shrubbery alone --- an occasional silver willow or white
poplar excepted. In the bottom of the valley itself --- (for it must be borne in mind that
the vegetation hitherto mentioned grew only on the cliffs or hillsides) --- were to be seen
three insulated trees. One was an elm of fine size and exquisite form: it stood guard over
the southern gate of the vale. Another was a hickory, much larger than the elm, and
altogether a much finer tree, although both were exceedingly beautiful: it seemed to have
taken charge of the northwestern entrance, springing from a group of rocks in the very
jaws of the ravine, and throwing its graceful body, at an angle of nearly forty-five
degrees, far out into the sunshine of the amphitheatre. About thirty yards east of this tree
stood, however, the pride of the valley, and beyond all question the most magnificent tree
I have ever seen, unless, perhaps, among the cypresses of the Itchiatuckanee. It was a
triple-stemmed tulip-tree --- the Liriodendron Tulipiferum --- one of the natural order of
magnolias. Its three trunks separated from the parent at about three feet from the soil, and
diverging very slightly and gradually, were not more than four feet apart at the point
where the largest stem shot out into foliage: this was at an elevation of about eighty feet.
The whole height of the principal division was one hundred and twenty feet. Nothing can
surpass in beauty the form, or the glossy, vivid green of the leaves of the tulip-tree. In the
present instance they were fully eight inches wide; but their glory was altogether eclipsed
by the gorgeous splendor of the profuse blossoms. Conceive, closely congregated, a
million of the largest and most resplendent tulips! Only thus can the reader get any idea
of the picture I would convey. And then the stately grace of the clean, delicatelygranulated columnar stems, the largest four feet in diameter, at twenty from the ground.
The innumerable blossoms, mingling with those of other trees scarcely less beautiful,
although infinitely less majestic, filled the valley with more than Arabian perfumes.
The general floor of the amphitheatre was grass of the same character as that I had
found in the road; if anything, more deliciously soft, thick, velvety, and miraculously
green. It was hard to conceive how all this beauty had been attained.
I have spoken of two openings into the vale. From the one to the northwest issued a
rivulet, which came, gently murmuring and slightly foaming, down the ravine, until it
dashed against the group of rocks out of which sprang the insulated hickory. Here, after
encircling the tree, it passed on a little to the north of east, leaving the tulip tree some
twenty feet to the south, and making no decided alteration in its course until it came near
the midway between the eastern and western boundaries of the valley. At this point, after
a series of sweeps, it turned off at right angles and pursued a generally southern direction
--- meandering as it went until it became lost in a small lake of irregular figure (although
roughly oval), that lay gleaming near the lower extremity of the vale. This lakelet was,
perhaps, a hundred yards in diameter at its widest part. No crystal could be clearer than
its waters. Its bottom, which could be distinctly seen, consisted altogether, of pebbles
brilliantly white. Its banks, of the emerald grass already described, rounded, rather than
sloped, off into the clear heaven below; and so clear was this heaven, so perfectly, at
times, did it reflect all objects above it, that where the true bank ended and where the
mimic one commenced, it was a point of no little difficulty to determine. The trout, and
some other varieties of fish, with which this pond seemed to be almost inconveniently
crowded, had all the appearance of veritable flying-fish. It was almost impossible to
believe that they were not absolutely suspended in the air. A light birch canoe that lay
placidly on the water, was reflected in its minutest fibres with a fidelity unsurpassed by
the most exquisitely polished mirror. A small island, fairly laughing with flowers in full
bloom, and affording little more space than just enough for a picturesque little building,
seemingly a fowl-house --- arose from the lake not far from its northern shore --- to
which it was connected by means of an inconceivably light- looking and yet very
primitive bridge. It was formed of a single, broad and thick plank of the tulip wood. This
was forty feet long, and spanned the interval between shore and shore with a slight but
very perceptible arch, preventing all oscillation. From the southern extreme of the lake
issued a continuation of the rivulet, which, after meandering for, perhaps, thirty yards,
finally passed through the "depression" (already described) in the middle of the southern
declivity, and tumbling down a sheer precipice of a hundred feet, made its devious and
unnoticed way to the Hudson.
The lake was deep --- at some points thirty feet --- but the rivulet seldom exceeded
three, while its greatest width was about eight. Its bottom and banks were as those of the
pond --- if a defect could have been attributed, in point of picturesqueness, it was that of
excessive neatness.
The expanse of the green turf was relieved, here and there, by an occasional showy
shrub, such as the hydrangea, or the common snowball, or the aromatic seringa; or, more
frequently, by a clump of geraniums blossoming gorgeously in great varieties. These
latter grew in pots which were carefully buried in the soil, so as to give the plants the
appearance of being indigenous. Besides all this, the lawn's velvet was exquisitely
spotted with sheep --- a considerable flock of which roamed about the vale, in company
with three tamed deer, and a vast number of brilliantly- plumed ducks. A very large
mastiff seemed to be in vigilant attendance upon these animals, each and all.
Along the eastern and western cliffs --- where, toward the upper portion of the
amphitheatre, the boundaries were more or less precipitous --- grew ivy in great profusion
--- so that only here and there could even a glimpse of the naked rock be obtained. The
northern precipice, in like manner, was almost entirely clothed by grape-vines of rare
luxuriance; some springing from the soil at the base of the cliff, and others from ledges
on its face.
The slight elevation which formed the lower boundary of this little domain, was
crowned by a neat stone wall, of sufficient height to prevent the escape of the deer.
Nothing of the fence kind was observable elsewhere; for nowhere else was an artificial
enclosure needed: --- any stray sheep, for example, which should attempt to make its way
out of the vale by means of the ravine, would find its progress arrested, after a few yards'
advance, by the precipitous ledge of rock over which tumbled the cascade that had
arrested my attention as I first drew near the domain. In short, the only ingress or egress
was through a gate occupying a rocky pass in the road, a few paces below the point at
which I stopped to reconnoitre the scene.
I have described the brook as meandering very irregularly through the whole of its
course. Its two general directions, as I have said, were first from west to east, and then
from north to south. At the turn, the stream, sweeping backward, made an almost circular
loop, so as to form a peninsula which was very nearly an island, and which included
about the sixteenth of an acre. On this peninsula stood a dwelling-house --- and when I
say that this house, like the infernal terrace seen by Vathek, "etait d'une architecture
inconnue dans les annales de la terre," I mean, merely, that its tout ensemble struck me
with the keenest sense of combined novelty and propriety --- in a word, of poetry --- (for,
than in the words just employed, I could scarcely give, of poetry in the abstract, a more
rigorous definition) --- and I do not mean that merely outre was perceptible in any
respect.
In fact nothing could well be more simple --- more utterly unpretending than this
cottage. Its marvellous effect lay altogether in its artistic arrangement as a picture. I could
have fancied, while I looked at it, that some eminent landscape-painter had built it with
his brush.
The point of view from which I first saw the valley, was not altogether, although it was
nearly, the best point from which to survey the house. I will therefore describe it as I
afterwards saw it --- from a position on the stone wall at the southern extreme of the
amphitheatre.
The main building was about twenty-four feet long and sixteen broad --- certainly not
more. Its total height, from the ground to the apex of the roof, could not have exceeded
eighteen feet. To the west end of this structure was attached one about a third smaller in
all its proportions: --- the line of its front standing back about two yards from that of the
larger house, and the line of its roof, of course, being considerably depressed below that
of the roof adjoining. At right angles to these buildings, and from the rear of the main one
--- not exactly in the middle --- extended a third compartment, very small --- being, in
general, one-third less than the western wing. The roofs of the two larger were very steep
--- sweeping down from the ridge-beam with a long concave curve, and extending at least
four feet beyond the walls in front, so as to form the roofs of two piazzas. These latter
roofs, of course, needed no support; but as they had the air of needing it, slight and
perfectly plain pillars were inserted at the corners alone. The roof of the northern wing
was merely an extension of a portion of the main roof. Between the chief building and
western wing arose a very tall and rather slender square chimney of hard Dutch bricks,
alternately black and red: --- a slight cornice of projecting bricks at the top. Over the
gables the roofs also projected very much: --- in the main building about four feet to the
east and two to the west. The principal door was not exactly in the main division, being a
little to the east --- while the two windows were to the west. These latter did not extend to
the floor, but were much longer and narrower than usual --- they had single shutters like
doors --- the panes were of lozenge form, but quite large. The door itself had its upper
half of glass, also in lozenge panes --- a movable shutter secured it at night. The door to
the west wing was in its gable, and quite simple --- a single window looked out to the
south. There was no external door to the north wing, and it also had only one window to
the east.
The blank wall of the eastern gable was relieved by stairs (with a balustrade) running
diagonally across it --- the ascent being from the south. Under cover of the widely
projecting eave these steps gave access to a door leading to the garret, or rather loft --- for
it was lighted only by a single window to the north, and seemed to have been intended as
a store-room.
The piazzas of the main building and western wing had no floors, as is usual; but at the
doors and at each window, large, flat irregular slabs of granite lay imbedded in the
delicious turf, affording comfortable footing in all weather. Excellent paths of the same
material --- not nicely adapted, but with the velvety sod filling frequent intervals between
the stones, led hither and thither from the house, to a crystal spring about five paces off,
to the road, or to one or two out --- houses that lay to the north, beyond the brook, and
were thoroughly concealed by a few locusts and catalpas.
Not more than six steps from the main door of the cottage stood the dead trunk of a
fantastic pear-tree, so clothed from head to foot in the gorgeous bignonia blossoms that
one required no little scrutiny to determine what manner of sweet thing it could be. From
various arms of this tree hung cages of different kinds. In one, a large wicker cylinder
with a ring at top, revealed a mocking bird; in another an oriole; in a third the impudent
bobolink --- while three or four more delicate prisons were loudly vocal with canaries.
The pillars of the piazza were enwreathed in jasmine and sweet honeysuckle; while
from the angle formed by the main structure and its west wing, in front, sprang a grapevine of unexampled luxuriance. Scorning all restraint, it had clambered first to the lower
roof --- then to the higher; and along the ridge of this latter it continued to writhe on,
throwing out tendrils to the right and left, until at length it fairly attained the east gable,
and fell trailing over the stairs.
The whole house, with its wings, was constructed of the old-fashioned Dutch shingles -- broad, and with unrounded corners. It is a peculiarity of this material to give houses
built of it the appearance of being wider at bottom than at top --- after the manner of
Egyptian architecture; and in the present instance, this exceedingly picturesque effect was
aided by numerous pots of gorgeous flowers that almost encompassed the base of the
buildings.
The shingles were painted a dull gray; and the happiness with which this neutral tint
melted into the vivid green of the tulip tree leaves that partially overshadowed the
cottage, can readily be conceived by an artist.
From the position near the stone wall, as described, the buildings were seen at great
advantage --- for the southeastern angle was thrown forward --- so that the eye took in at
once the whole of the two fronts, with the picturesque eastern gable, and at the same time
obtained just a sufficient glimpse of the northern wing, with parts of a pretty roof to the
spring-house, and nearly half of a light bridge that spanned the brook in the near vicinity
of the main buildings.
I did not remain very long on the brow of the hill, although long enough to make a
thorough survey of the scene at my feet. It was clear that I had wandered from the road to
the village, and I had thus good traveller's excuse to open the gate before me, and inquire
my way, at all events; so, without more ado, I proceeded.
The road, after passing the gate, seemed to lie upon a natural ledge, sloping gradually
down along the face of the north-eastern cliffs. It led me on to the foot of the northern
precipice, and thence over the bridge, round by the eastern gable to the front door. In this
progress, I took notice that no sight of the out-houses could be obtained.
As I turned the corner of the gable, the mastiff bounded towards me in stern silence,
but with the eye and the whole air of a tiger. I held him out my hand, however, in token
of amity --- and I never yet knew the dog who was proof against such an appeal to his
courtesy. He not only shut his mouth and wagged his tail, but absolutely offered me his
paw-afterward extending his civilities to Ponto.
As no bell was discernible, I rapped with my stick against the door, which stood half
open. Instantly a figure advanced to the threshold --- that of a young woman about
twenty-eight years of age --- slender, or rather slight, and somewhat above the medium
height. As she approached, with a certain modest decision of step altogether
indescribable. I said to myself, "Surely here I have found the perfection of natural, in
contradistinction from artificial grace." The second impression which she made on me,
but by far the more vivid of the two, was that of enthusiasm. So intense an expression of
romance, perhaps I should call it, or of unworldliness, as that which gleamed from her
deep-set eyes, had never so sunk into my heart of hearts before. I know not how it is, but
this peculiar expression of the eye, wreathing itself occasionally into the lips, is the most
powerful, if not absolutely the sole spell, which rivets my interest in woman. "Romance,
provided my readers fully comprehended what I would here imply by the word --"romance" and "womanliness" seem to me convertible terms: and, after all, what man
truly loves in woman, is simply her womanhood. The eyes of Annie (I heard some one
from the interior call her "Annie, darling!") were "spiritual gray;" her hair, a light
chestnut: this is all I had time to observe of her.
At her most courteous of invitations, I entered --- passing first into a tolerably wide
vestibule. Having come mainly to observe, I took notice that to my right as I stepped in,
was a window, such as those in front of the house; to the left, a door leading into the
principal room; while, opposite me, an open door enabled me to see a small apartment,
just the size of the vestibule, arranged as a study, and having a large bow window looking
out to the north.
Passing into the parlor, I found myself with Mr. Landor --- for this, I afterwards found,
was his name. He was civil, even cordial in his manner, but just then, I was more intent
on observing the arrangements of the dwelling which had so much interested me, than the
personal appearance of the tenant.
The north wing, I now saw, was a bed-chamber, its door opened into the parlor. West
of this door was a single window, looking toward the brook. At the west end of the
parlor, were a fireplace, and a door leading into the west wing --- probably a kitchen.
Nothing could be more rigorously simple than the furniture of the parlor. On the floor
was an ingrain carpet, of excellent texture --- a white ground, spotted with small circular
green figures. At the windows were curtains of snowy white jaconet muslin: they were
tolerably full, and hung decisively, perhaps rather formally in sharp, parallel plaits to the
floor --- just to the floor. The walls were prepared with a French paper of great delicacy,
a silver ground, with a faint green cord running zig-zag throughout. Its expanse was
relieved merely by three of Julien's exquisite lithographs a trois crayons, fastened to the
wall without frames. One of these drawings was a scene of Oriental luxury, or rather
voluptuousness; another was a "carnival piece," spirited beyond compare; the third was a
Greek female head --- a face so divinely beautiful, and yet of an expression so
provokingly indeterminate, never before arrested my attention.
The more substantial furniture consisted of a round table, a few chairs (including a
large rocking-chair), and a sofa, or rather "settee;" its material was plain maple painted a
creamy white, slightly interstriped with green; the seat of cane. The chairs and table were
"to match," but the forms of all had evidently been designed by the same brain which
planned "the grounds;" it is impossible to conceive anything more graceful.
On the table were a few books, a large, square, crystal bottle of some novel perfume, a
plain ground --- glass astral (not solar) lamp with an Italian shade, and a large vase of
resplendently-blooming flowers. Flowers, indeed, of gorgeous colors and delicate odor
formed the sole mere decoration of the apartment. The fire-place was nearly filled with a
vase of brilliant geranium. On a triangular shelf in each angle of the room stood also a
similar vase, varied only as to its lovely contents. One or two smaller bouquets adorned
the mantel, and late violets clustered about the open windows.
It is not the purpose of this work to do more than give, in detail, a picture of Mr.
Landor's residence --- as I found it.
Ligeia
And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For God
is but a great will pervading all things by nature of its intentness. Man doth not yield himself to the angels,
nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will. --- Joseph Glanvill.
I CANNOT, for my soul, remember how, when, or even precisely where, I first became
acquainted with the lady Ligeia. Long years have since elapsed, and my memory is feeble
through much suffering. Or, perhaps, I cannot now bring these points to mind, because, in
truth, the character of my beloved, her rare learning, her singular yet placid cast of
beauty, and the thrilling and enthralling eloquence of her low musical language, made
their way into my heart by paces so steadily and stealthily progressive that they have
been unnoticed and unknown. Yet I believe that I met her first and most frequently in
some large, old, decaying city near the Rhine. Of her family --- I have surely heard her
speak. That it is of a remotely ancient date cannot be doubted. Ligeia! Ligeia! in studies
of a nature more than all else adapted to deaden impressions of the outward world, it is by
that sweet word alone --- by Ligeia --- that I bring before mine eyes in fancy the image of
her who is no more. And now, while I write, a recollection flashes upon me that I have
never known the paternal name of her who was my friend and my betrothed, and who
became the partner of my studies, and finally the wife of my bosom. Was it a playful
charge on the part of my Ligeia? or was it a test of my strength of affection, that I should
institute no inquiries upon this point? or was it rather a caprice of my own --- a wildly
romantic offering on the shrine of the most passionate devotion? I but indistinctly recall
the fact itself --- what wonder that I have utterly forgotten the circumstances which
originated or attended it? And, indeed, if ever she, the wan and the misty-winged
Ashtophet of idolatrous Egypt, presided, as they tell, over marriages ill-omened, then
most surely she presided over mine.
There is one dear topic, however, on which my memory falls me not. It is the person of
Ligeia. In stature she was tall, somewhat slender, and, in her latter days, even emaciated.
I would in vain attempt to portray the majesty, the quiet ease, of her demeanor, or the
incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall. She came and departed as a
shadow. I was never made aware of her entrance into my closed study save by the dear
music of her low sweet voice, as she placed her marble hand upon my shoulder. In beauty
of face no maiden ever equalled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream --- an airy
and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the phantasies which hovered vision
about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos. Yet her features were not of that
regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the
heathen. "There is no exquisite beauty," says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all
the forms and genera of beauty, without some strangeness in the proportion." Yet,
although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic regularity --- although I
perceived that her loveliness was indeed "exquisite," and felt that there was much of
"strangeness" pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace
home my own perception of "the strange." I examined the contour of the lofty and pale
forehead --- it was faultless --- how cold indeed that word when applied to a majesty so
divine! --- the skin rivalling the purest ivory, the commanding extent and repose, the
gentle prominence of the regions above the temples; and then the raven-black, the glossy,
the luxuriant and naturally-curling tresses, setting forth the full force of the Homeric
epithet, "hyacinthine!" I looked at the delicate outlines of the nose --- and nowhere but in
the graceful medallions of the Hebrews had I beheld a similar perfection. There were the
same luxurious smoothness of surface, the same scarcely perceptible tendency to the
aquiline, the same harmoniously curved nostrils speaking the free spirit. I regarded the
sweet mouth. Here was indeed the triumph of all things heavenly --- the magnificent turn
of the short upper lip --- the soft, voluptuous slumber of the under --- the dimples which
sported, and the color which spoke --- the teeth glancing back, with a brilliancy almost
startling, every ray of the holy light which fell upon them in her serene and placid, yet
most exultingly radiant of all smiles. I scrutinized the formation of the chin --- and here,
too, I found the gentleness of breadth, the softness and the majesty, the fullness and the
spirituality, of the Greek --- the contour which the god Apollo revealed but in a dream, to
Cleomenes, the son of the Athenian. And then I peered into the large eves of Ligeia.
For eyes we have no models in the remotely antique. It might have been, too, that in
these eves of my beloved lay the secret to which Lord Verulam alludes. They were, I
must believe, far larger than the ordinary eyes of our own race. They were even fuller
than the fullest of the gazelle eyes of the tribe of the valley of Nourjahad. Yet it was only
at intervals --- in moments of intense excitement --- that this peculiarity became more
than slightly noticeable in Ligeia. And at such moments was her beauty --- in my heated
fancy thus it appeared perhaps --- the beauty of beings either above or apart from the
earth --- the beauty of the fabulous Houri of the Turk. The hue of the orbs was the most
brilliant of black, and, far over them, hung jetty lashes of great length. The brows,
slightly irregular in outline, had the same tint. The "strangeness," however, which I found
in the eyes, was of a nature distinct from the formation, or the color, or the brilliancy of
the features, and must, after all, be referred to the expression. Ah, word of no meaning!
behind whose vast latitude of mere sound we intrench our ignorance of so much of the
spiritual. The expression of the eyes of Ligeia! How for long hours have I pondered upon
it! How have I, through the whole of a midsummer night, struggled to fathom it! What
was it --- that something more profound than the well of Democritus --- which lay far
within the pupils of my beloved? What was it? I was possessed with a passion to
discover. Those eyes! those large, those shining, those divine orbs! they became to me
twin stars of Leda, and I to them devoutest of astrologers.
There is no point, among the many incomprehensible anomalies of the science of mind,
more thrillingly exciting than the fact --- never, I believe, noticed in the schools --- that,
in our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves
upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember. And
thus how frequently, in my intense scrutiny of Ligeia's eyes, have I felt approaching the
full knowledge of their expression --- felt it approaching --- yet not quite be mine --- and
so at length entirely depart! And (strange, oh strangest mystery of all!) I found, in the
commonest objects of the universe, a circle of analogies to that expression. I mean to say
that, subsequently to the period when Ligeia's beauty passed into my spirit, there
dwelling as in a shrine, I derived, from many existences in the material world, a
sentiment such as I felt always aroused within me by her large and luminous orbs. Yet
not the more could I define that sentiment, or analyze, or even steadily view it. I
recognized it, let me repeat, sometimes in the survey of a rapidly-growing vine --- in the
contemplation of a moth, a butterfly, a chrysalis, a stream of running water. I have felt it
in the ocean; in the falling of a meteor. I have felt it in the glances of unusually aged
people. And there are one or two stars in heaven --- (one especially, a star of the sixth
magnitude, double and changeable, to be found near the large star in Lyra) in a telescopic
scrutiny of which I have been made aware of the feeling. I have been filled with it by
certain sounds from stringed instruments, and not unfrequently by passages from books.
Among innumerable other instances, I well remember something in a volume of Joseph
Glanvill, which (perhaps merely from its quaintness --- who shall say?) never failed to
inspire me with the sentiment; --- "And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who
knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For God is but a great will pervading all
things by nature of its intentness. Man doth not yield him to the angels, nor unto death
utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will."
Length of years, and subsequent reflection, have enabled me to trace, indeed, some
remote connection between this passage in the English moralist and a portion of the
character of Ligeia. An intensity in thought, action, or speech, was possibly, in her, a
result, or at least an index, of that gigantic volition which, during our long intercourse,
failed to give other and more immediate evidence of its existence. Of all the women
whom I have ever known, she, the outwardly calm, the ever-placid Ligeia, was the most
violently a prey to the tumultuous vultures of stern passion. And of such passion I could
form no estimate, save by the miraculous expansion of those eyes which at once so
delighted and appalled me --- by the almost magical melody, modulation, distinctness and
placidity of her very low voice --- and by the fierce energy (rendered doubly effective by
contrast with her manner of utterance) of the wild words which she habitually uttered.
I have spoken of the learning of Ligeia: it was immense --- such as I have never known
in woman. In the classical tongues was she deeply proficient, and as far as my own
acquaintance extended in regard to the modern dialects of Europe, I have never known
her at fault. Indeed upon any theme of the most admired, because simply the most
abstruse of the boasted erudition of the academy, have I ever found Ligeia at fault? How
singularly --- how thrillingly, this one point in the nature of my wife has forced itself, at
this late period only, upon my attention! I said her knowledge was such as I have never
known in woman --- but where breathes the man who has traversed, and successfully, all
the wide areas of moral, physical, and mathematical science? I saw not then what I now
clearly perceive, that the acquisitions of Ligeia were gigantic, were astounding; yet I was
sufficiently aware of her infinite supremacy to resign myself, with a child-like
confidence, to her guidance through the chaotic world of metaphysical investigation at
which I was most busily occupied during the earlier years of our marriage. With how vast
a triumph --- with how vivid a delight --- with how much of all that is ethereal in hope --did I feel, as she bent over me in studies but little sought --- but less known --- that
delicious vista by slow degrees expanding before me, down whose long, gorgeous, and
all untrodden path, I might at length pass onward to the goal of a wisdom too divinely
precious not to be forbidden!
How poignant, then, must have been the grief with which, after some years, I beheld
my well-grounded expectations take wings to themselves and fly away! Without Ligeia I
was but as a child groping benighted. Her presence, her readings alone, rendered vividly
luminous the many mysteries of the transcendentalism in which we were immersed.
Wanting the radiant lustre of her eyes, letters, lambent and golden, grew duller than
Saturnian lead. And now those eyes shone less and less frequently upon the pages over
which I pored. Ligeia grew ill. The wild eyes blazed with a too --- too glorious
effulgence; the pale fingers became of the transparent waxen hue of the grave, and the
blue veins upon the lofty forehead swelled and sank impetuously with the tides of the
gentle emotion. I saw that she must die --- and I struggled desperately in spirit with the
grim Azrael. And the struggles of the passionate wife were, to my astonishment, even
more energetic than my own. There had been much in her stern nature to impress me with
the belief that, to her, death would have come without its terrors; --- but not so. Words are
impotent to convey any just idea of the fierceness of resistance with which she wrestled
with the Shadow. I groaned in anguish at the pitiable spectacle. would have soothed --- I
would have reasoned; but, in the intensity of her wild desire for life, --- for life --- but for
life --- solace and reason were the uttermost folly. Yet not until the last instance, amid the
most convulsive writhings of her fierce spirit, was shaken the external placidity of her
demeanor. Her voice grew more gentle --- grew more low --- yet I would not wish to
dwell upon the wild meaning of the quietly uttered words. My brain reeled as I hearkened
entranced, to a melody more than mortal --- to assumptions and aspirations which
mortality had never before known.
That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that,
in a bosom such as hers, love would have reigned no ordinary passion. But in death only,
was I fully impressed with the strength of her affection. For long hours, detaining my
hand, would she pour out before me the overflowing of a heart whose more than
passionate devotion amounted to idolatry. How had I deserved to be so blessed by such
confessions? --- how had I deserved to be so cursed with the removal of my beloved in
the hour of her making them, But upon this subject I cannot bear to dilate. Let me say
only, that in Ligeia's more than womanly abandonment to a love, alas! all unmerited, all
unworthily bestowed, I at length recognized the principle of her longing with so wildly
earnest a desire for the life which was now fleeing so rapidly away. It is this wild longing
--- it is this eager vehemence of desire for life --- but for life --- that I have no power to
portray --- no utterance capable of expressing.
At high noon of the night in which she departed, beckoning me, peremptorily, to her
side, she bade me repeat certain verses composed by herself not many days before. I
obeyed her. They were these: --Lo!
An
Sit
'tis
a
gala
Within
the
lonesome
latter
angel
throng,
bewinged,
In
veils,
and
drowned
in
in
a
theatre,
to
A
play
of
hopes
and
night
years!
bedight
tears,
see
fears,
While
the
The music of the spheres.
orchestra
breathes
Mimes,
in
the
form
of
Mutter
and
And
hither
and
Mere
puppets
they,
who
At
bidding
of
vast
That
shift
the
scenery
Flapping
from
Condor wings Invisible Woe!
That
motley
It
its
drama!
shall
With
Phantom
By
a
crowd
Through
a
circle
that
To
the
And
much
of
Madness
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But
see,
A
blood-red
Out
--And
--not
chased
that
amid
crawling
thing
that
fitfully
God
on
mumble
thither
come
and
formless
to
and
out
oh,
be
be
forever
seize
ever
self-same
and
more
it
returneth
of
mimic
shape
A
writhes
from
The
scenic
It
writhes!
--it
writhes!
--with
mortal
The
mimes
become
its
And
the
seraphs
sob
at
vermin
In human gore imbued.
out
are
over
curtain,
down
with
And
angels,
Uprising,
That
the
play
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
the
the
lights
each
The
a
the
all
Comes
the
is
--out
quivering
funeral
rush
of
a
pallid
and
unveiling,
the
tragedy,
high,
low,
fly;
go
things
fro,
their
sure
forgot!
more,
not,
in
spot,
Sin
rout,
intrude!
out
solitude!
pangs
food,
fangs
all!
form,
pall,
storm,
wan,
affirm
"Man,"
"O God!" half shrieked Ligeia, leaping to her feet and extending her arms aloft with a
spasmodic movement, as I made an end of these lines --- "O God! O Divine Father! --shall these things be undeviatingly so? --- shall this Conqueror be not once conquered?
Are we not part and parcel in Thee? Who --- who knoweth the mysteries of the will with
its vigor? Man doth not yield him to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through
the weakness of his feeble will."
And now, as if exhausted with emotion, she suffered her white arms to fall, and
returned solemnly to her bed of death. And as she breathed her last sighs, there came
mingled with them a low murmur from her lips. I bent to them my ear and distinguished,
again, the concluding words of the passage in Glanvill --- "Man doth not yield him to the
angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will."
She died; --- and I, crushed into the very dust with sorrow, could no longer endure the
lonely desolation of my dwelling in the dim and decaying city by the Rhine. I had no lack
of what the world calls wealth. Ligeia had brought me far more, very far more than
ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. After a few months, therefore, of weary and aimless
wandering, I purchased, and put in some repair, an abbey, which I shall not name, in one
of the wildest and least frequented portions of fair England. The gloomy and dreary
grandeur of the building, the almost savage aspect of the domain, the many melancholy
and time-honored memories connected with both, had much in unison with the feelings of
utter abandonment which had driven me into that remote and unsocial region of the
country. Yet although the external abbey, with its verdant decay hanging about it,
suffered but little alteration, I gave way, with a child-like perversity, and perchance with
a faint hope of alleviating my sorrows, to a display of more than regal magnificence
within. --- For such follies, even in childhood, I had imbibed a taste and now they came
back to me as if in the dotage of grief. Alas, I feel how much even of incipient madness
might have been discovered in the gorgeous and fantastic draperies, in the solemn
carvings of Egypt, in the wild cornices and furniture, in the Bedlam patterns of the
carpets of tufted gold! I had become a bounden slave in the trammels of opium, and my
labors and my orders had taken a coloring from my dreams. But these absurdities must
not pause to detail. Let me speak only of that one chamber, ever accursed, whither in a
moment of mental alienation, I led from the altar as my bride --- as the successor of the
unforgotten Ligeia --- the fair-haired and blue-eyed Lady Rowena Trevanion, of
Tremaine.
There is no individual portion of the architecture and decoration of that bridal chamber
which is not now visibly before me. Where were the souls of the haughty family of the
bride, when, through thirst of gold, they permitted to pass the threshold of an apartment
so bedecked, a maiden and a daughter so beloved? I have said that I minutely remember
the details of the chamber --- yet I am sadly forgetful on topics of deep moment --- and
here there was no system, no keeping, in the fantastic display, to take hold upon the
memory. The room lay in a high turret of the castellated abbey, was pentagonal in shape,
and of capacious size. Occupying the whole southern face of the pentagon was the sole
window --- an immense sheet of unbroken glass from Venice --- a single pane, and tinted
of a leaden hue, so that the rays of either the sun or moon, passing through it, fell with a
ghastly lustre on the objects within. Over the upper portion of this huge window,
extended the trellis-work of an aged vine, which clambered up the massy walls of the
turret. The ceiling, of gloomy-looking oak, was excessively lofty, vaulted, and
elaborately fretted with the wildest and most grotesque specimens of a semi-Gothic,
semi-Druidical device. From out the most central recess of this melancholy vaulting,
depended, by a single chain of gold with long links, a huge censer of the same metal,
Saracenic in pattern, and with many perforations so contrived that there writhed in and
out of them, as if endued with a serpent vitality, a continual succession of parti-colored
fires.
Some few ottomans and golden candelabra, of Eastern figure, were in various stations
about --- and there was the couch, too --- bridal couch --- of an Indian model, and low,
and sculptured of solid ebony, with a pall-like canopy above. In each of the angles of the
chamber stood on end a gigantic sarcophagus of black granite, from the tombs of the
kings over against Luxor, with their aged lids full of immemorial sculpture. But in the
draping of the apartment lay, alas! the chief phantasy of all. The lofty walls, gigantic in
height --- even unproportionably so --- were hung from summit to foot, in vast folds, with
a heavy and massive-looking tapestry --- tapestry of a material which was found alike as
a carpet on the floor, as a covering for the ottomans and the ebony bed, as a canopy for
the bed, and as the gorgeous volutes of the curtains which partially shaded the window.
The material was the richest cloth of gold. It was spotted all over, at irregular intervals,
with arabesque figures, about a foot in diameter, and wrought upon the cloth in patterns
of the most jetty black. But these figures partook of the true character of the arabesque
only when regarded from a single point of view. By a contrivance now common, and
indeed traceable to a very remote period of antiquity, they were made changeable in
aspect. To one entering the room, they bore the appearance of simple monstrosities; but
upon a farther advance, this appearance gradually departed; and step by step, as the
visitor moved his station in the chamber, he saw himself surrounded by an endless
succession of the ghastly forms which belong to the superstition of the Norman, or arise
in the guilty slumbers of the monk. The phantasmagoric effect was vastly heightened by
the artificial introduction of a strong continual current of wind behind the draperies --giving a hideous and uneasy animation to the whole.
In halls such as these --- in a bridal chamber such as this --- I passed, with the Lady of
Tremaine, the unhallowed hours of the first month of our marriage --- passed them with
but little disquietude. That my wife dreaded the fierce moodiness of my temper --- that
she shunned me and loved me but little --- I could not help perceiving; but it gave me
rather pleasure than otherwise. I loathed her with a hatred belonging more to demon than
to man. My memory flew back, (oh, with what intensity of regret!) to Ligeia, the beloved,
the august, the beautiful, the entombed. I revelled in recollections of her purity, of her
wisdom, of her lofty, her ethereal nature, of her passionate, her idolatrous love. Now,
then, did my spirit fully and freely burn with more than all the fires of her own. In the
excitement of my opium dreams (for I was habitually fettered in the shackles of the drug)
I would call aloud upon her name, during the silence of the night, or among the sheltered
recesses of the glens by day, as if, through the wild eagerness, the solemn passion, the
consuming ardor of my longing for the departed, I could restore her to the pathway she
had abandoned --- ah, could it be forever? --- upon the earth.
About the commencement of the second month of the marriage, the Lady Rowena was
attacked with sudden illness, from which her recovery was slow. The fever which
consumed her rendered her nights uneasy; and in her perturbed state of half-slumber, she
spoke of sounds, and of motions, in and about the chamber of the turret, which I
concluded had no origin save in the distemper of her fancy, or perhaps in the
phantasmagoric influences of the chamber itself. She became at length convalescent --finally well. Yet but a brief period elapsed, ere a second more violent disorder again
threw her upon a bed of suffering; and from this attack her frame, at all times feeble,
never altogether recovered. Her illnesses were, after this epoch, of alarming character,
and of more alarming recurrence, defying alike the knowledge and the great exertions of
her physicians. With the increase of the chronic disease which had thus, apparently, taken
too sure hold upon her constitution to be eradicated by human means, I could not fall to
observe a similar increase in the nervous irritation of her temperament, and in her
excitability by trivial causes of fear. She spoke again, and now more frequently and
pertinaciously, of the sounds --- of the slight sounds --- and of the unusual motions
among the tapestries, to which she had formerly alluded.
One night, near the closing in of September, she pressed this distressing subject with
more than usual emphasis upon my attention. She had just awakened from an unquiet
slumber, and I had been watching, with feelings half of anxiety, half of vague terror, the
workings of her emaciated countenance. I sat by the side of her ebony bed, upon one of
the ottomans of India. She partly arose, and spoke, in an earnest low whisper, of sounds
which she then heard, but which I could not hear --- of motions which she then saw, but
which I could not perceive. The wind was rushing hurriedly behind the tapestries, and I
wished to show her (what, let me confess it, I could not all believe) that those almost
inarticulate breathings, and those very gentle variations of the figures upon the wall, were
but the natural effects of that customary rushing of the wind. But a deadly pallor,
overspreading her face, had proved to me that my exertions to reassure her would be
fruitless. She appeared to be fainting, and no attendants were within call. I remembered
where was deposited a decanter of light wine which had been ordered by her physicians,
and hastened across the chamber to procure it. But, as I stepped beneath the light of the
censer, two circumstances of a startling nature attracted my attention. I had felt that some
palpable although invisible object had passed lightly by my person; and I saw that there
lay upon the golden carpet, in the very middle of the rich lustre thrown from the censer, a
shadow --- a faint, indefinite shadow of angelic aspect --- such as might be fancied for the
shadow of a shade. But I was wild with the excitement of an immoderate dose of opium,
and heeded these things but little, nor spoke of them to Rowena. Having found the wine, I
recrossed the chamber, and poured out a gobletful, which I held to the lips of the fainting
lady. She had now partially recovered, however, and took the vessel herself, while I sank
upon an ottoman near me, with my eyes fastened upon her person. It was then that I
became distinctly aware of a gentle footfall upon the carpet, and near the couch; and in a
second thereafter, as Rowena was in the act of raising the wine to her lips, I saw, or may
have dreamed that I saw, fall within the goblet, as if from some invisible spring in the
atmosphere of the room, three or four large drops of a brilliant and ruby colored fluid. If
this I saw --- not so Rowena. She swallowed the wine unhesitatingly, and I forbore to
speak to her of a circumstance which must, after all, I considered, have been but the
suggestion of a vivid imagination, rendered morbidly active by the terror of the lady, by
the opium, and by the hour.
Yet I cannot conceal it from my own perception that, immediately subsequent to the fall
of the ruby-drops, a rapid change for the worse took place in the disorder of my wife; so
that, on the third subsequent night, the hands of her menials prepared her for the tomb,
and on the fourth, I sat alone, with her shrouded body, in that fantastic chamber which
had received her as my bride. --- Wild visions, opium-engendered, flitted, shadow-like,
before me. I gazed with unquiet eye upon the sarcophagi in the angles of the room, upon
the varying figures of the drapery, and upon the writhing of the parti-colored fires in the
censer overhead. My eyes then fell, as I called to mind the circumstances of a former
night, to the spot beneath the glare of the censer where I had seen the faint traces of the
shadow. It was there, however, no longer; and breathing with greater freedom, I turned
my glances to the pallid and rigid figure upon the bed. Then rushed upon me a thousand
memories of Ligeia --- and then came back upon my heart, with the turbulent violence of
a flood, the whole of that unutterable woe with which I had regarded her thus
enshrouded. The night waned; and still, with a bosom full of bitter thoughts of the one
only and supremely beloved, I remained gazing upon the body of Rowena.
It might have been midnight, or perhaps earlier, or later, for I had taken no note of
time, when a sob, low, gentle, but very distinct, startled me from my revery. I felt that it
came from the bed of ebony --- the bed of death. I listened in an agony of superstitious
terror --- but there was no repetition of the sound. I strained my vision to detect any
motion in the corpse --- but there was not the slightest perceptible. Yet I could not have
been deceived. I had heard the noise, however faint, and my soul was awakened within
me. I resolutely and perseveringly kept my attention riveted upon the body. Many
minutes elapsed before any circumstance occurred tending to throw light upon the
mystery. At length it became evident that a slight, a very feeble, and barely noticeable
tinge of color had flushed up within the cheeks, and along the sunken small veins of the
eyelids. Through a species of unutterable horror and awe, for which the language of
mortality has no sufficiently energetic expression, I felt my heart cease to beat, my limbs
grow rigid where I sat. Yet a sense of duty finally operated to restore my self-possession.
I could no longer doubt that we had been precipitate in our preparations --- that Rowena
still lived. It was necessary that some immediate exertion be made; yet turret was
altogether apart from the portion of the abbey tenanted by the servants --- there were
none within call --- I had no means of summoning them to my aid without leaving the
room for many minutes --- and this I could not venture to do. I therefore struggled alone
in my endeavors to call back the spirit ill hovering. In a short period it was certain,
however, that a relapse had taken place; the color disappeared from both eyelid and
cheek, leaving a wanness even more than that of marble; the lips became doubly
shrivelled and pinched up in the ghastly expression of death; a repulsive clamminess and
coldness overspread rapidly the surface of the body; and all the usual rigorous illness
immediately supervened. I fell back with a shudder upon the couch from which I had
been so startlingly aroused, and again gave myself up to passionate waking visions of
Ligeia.
An hour thus elapsed when (could it be possible?) I was a second time aware of some
vague sound issuing from the region of the bed. I listened --- in extremity of horror. The
sound came again --- it was a sigh. Rushing to the corpse, I saw --- distinctly saw --- a
tremor upon the lips. In a minute afterward they relaxed, disclosing a bright line of the
pearly teeth. Amazement now struggled in my bosom with the profound awe which had
hitherto reigned there alone. I felt that my vision grew dim, that my reason wandered; and
it was only by a violent effort that I at length succeeded in nerving myself to the task
which duty thus once more had pointed out. There was now a partial glow upon the
forehead and upon the cheek and throat; a perceptible warmth pervaded the whole frame;
there was even a slight pulsation at the heart. The lady lived; and with redoubled ardor I
betook myself to the task of restoration. I chafed and bathed the temples and the hands,
and used every exertion which experience, and no little. medical reading, could suggest.
But in vain. Suddenly, the color fled, the pulsation ceased, the lips resumed the
expression of the dead, and, in an instant afterward, the whole body took upon itself the
icy chilliness, the livid hue, the intense rigidity, the sunken outline, and all the loathsome
peculiarities of that which has been, for many days, a tenant of the tomb.
And again I sunk into visions of Ligeia --- and again, (what marvel that I shudder
while I write,) again there reached my ears a low sob from the region of the ebony bed.
But why shall I minutely detail the unspeakable horrors of that night? Why shall I pause
to relate how, time after time, until near the period of the gray dawn, this hideous drama
of revivification was repeated; how each terrific relapse was only into a sterner and
apparently more irredeemable death; how each agony wore the aspect of a struggle with
some invisible foe; and how each struggle was succeeded by I know not what of wild
change in the personal appearance of the corpse? Let me hurry to a conclusion.
The greater part of the fearful night had worn away, and she who had been dead, once
again stirred --- and now more vigorously than hitherto, although arousing from a
dissolution more appalling in its utter hopelessness than any. I had long ceased to
struggle or to move, and remained sitting rigidly upon the ottoman, a helpless prey to a
whirl of violent emotions, of which extreme awe was perhaps the least terrible, the least
consuming. The corpse, I repeat, stirred, and now more vigorously than before. The hues
of life flushed up with unwonted energy into the countenance --- the limbs relaxed --and, save that the eyelids were yet pressed heavily together, and that the bandages and
draperies of the grave still imparted their charnel character to the figure, I might have
dreamed that Rowena had indeed shaken off, utterly, the fetters of Death. But if this idea
was not, even then, altogether adopted, I could at least doubt no longer, when, arising
from the bed, tottering, with feeble steps, with closed eyes, and with the manner of one
bewildered in a dream, the thing that was enshrouded advanced boldly and palpably into
the middle of the apartment.
I trembled not --- I stirred not --- for a crowd of unutterable fancies connected with the
air, the stature, the demeanor of the figure, rushing hurriedly through my brain, had
paralyzed --- had chilled me into stone. I stirred not --- but gazed upon the apparition.
There was a mad disorder in my thoughts --- a tumult unappeasable. Could it, indeed, be
the living Rowena who confronted me? Could it indeed be Rowena at all --- the fairhaired, the blue-eyed Lady Rowena Trevanion of Tremaine? Why, why should I doubt it?
The bandage lay heavily about the mouth --- but then might it not be the mouth of the
breathing Lady of Tremaine? And the cheeks-there were the roses as in her noon of life --
- yes, these might indeed be the fair cheeks of the living Lady of Tremaine. And the chin,
with its dimples, as in health, might it not be hers? --- but had she then grown taller since
her malady? What inexpressible madness seized me with that thought? One bound, and I
had reached her feet! Shrinking from my touch, she let fall from her head, unloosened,
the ghastly cerements which had confined it, and there streamed forth, into the rushing
atmosphere of the chamber, huge masses of long and dishevelled hair; it was blacker than
the raven wings of the midnight! And now slowly opened the eyes of the figure which
stood before me. "Here then, at least," I shrieked aloud, "can I never --- can I never be
mistaken --- these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes --- of my lost love --- of
the lady --- of the LADY LIGEIA."
Lionizing
-------all
Upon their ten toes in wild wonderment.
people
went
--- Bishop Hall's Satires.
I AM --- that is to say I was --- a great man; but I am neither the author of Junius nor the
man in the mask; for my name, I believe, is Robert Jones, and I was born somewhere in
the city of Fum-Fudge.
The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose with both hands. My mother
saw this and called me a genius: --- my father wept for joy and presented me with a
treatise on Nosology. This I mastered before I was breeched.
I now began to feel my way in the science, and soon came to understand that, provided
a man had a nose sufficiently conspicuous, he might, by merely following it, arrive at a
Lionship. But my attention was not confined to theories alone. Every morning I gave my
proboscis a couple of pulls and swallowed a half dozen of drams.
When I came of age my father asked me, one day, if I would step with him into his
study.
"My son," said he, when we were seated, "what is the chief end of your existence?"
"My father," I answered, "it is the study of Nosology."
"And what, Robert," he inquired, "is Nosology?"
"Sir," I said, "it is the Science of Noses."
"And can you tell me," he demanded, "what is the meaning of a nose?"
"A nose, my father," I replied, greatly softened, "has been variously defined by about a
thousand different authors." [Here I pulled out my watch.] "It is now noon or thereabouts
--- we shall have time enough to get through with them all before midnight. To
commence then: --- The nose, according to Bartholinus, is that protuberance -- that bump
--- that excrescence --- that --- "
"Will do, Robert," interrupted the good old gentleman. "I am thunderstruck at the
extent of your information --- I am positively -- upon my soul." [Here he closed his eyes
and placed his hand upon his heart.] "Come here!" [Here he took me by the arm.] "Your
education may now be considered as finished --- it is high time you should scuffle for
yourself --- and you cannot do a better thing than merely follow your nose --- so --- so --so --- " [Here he kicked me down stairs and out of the door] --- "so get out of my house,
and God bless you!"
As I felt within me the divine afflatus, I considered this accident rather fortunate than
otherwise. I resolved to be guided by the paternal advice. I determined to follow my nose.
I gave it a pull or two upon the spot, and wrote a pamphlet on Nosology forthwith.
All Fum-Fudge was in an uproar.
"Wonderful genius!" said the Quarterly.
"Superb physiologist!" said the Westminster.
"Clever fellow!" said the Foreign.
"Fine writer!" said the Edinburgh.
"Profound thinker!" said the Dublin.
"Great man!" said Bentley.
"Divine soul!" said Fraser.
"One of us!" said Blackwood.
"Who can he be?" said Mrs. Bas-Bleu.
"What can he be?" said big Miss Bas-Bleu.
"Where can he be?" said little Miss Bas-Bleu. --- But I paid these people no attention
whatever --- I just stepped into the shop of an artist.
The Duchess of Bless-my-Soul was sitting for her portrait; the Marquis of So-and-So
was holding the Duchess' poodle; the Earl of This-and-That was flirting with her salts;
and his Royal Highness of Touch-me-Not was leaning upon the back of her chair.
I approached the artist and turned up my nose.
"Oh, beautiful!" sighed her Grace.
"Oh my!" lisped the Marquis.
"Oh, shocking!" groaned the Earl.
"Oh, abominable!" growled his Royal Highness.
"What will you take for it?" asked the artist.
"For his nose!" shouted her Grace.
"A thousand pounds," said I, sitting down.
"A thousand pounds?" inquired the artist, musingly.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"Beautiful!" said he, entranced.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"Do you warrant it?" he asked, turning the nose to the light.
"I do," said I, blowing it well.
"Is it quite original?" he inquired, touching it with reverence.
"Humph!" said I, twisting it to one side.
"Has no copy been taken?" he demanded, surveying it through a microscope.
"None," said I, turning it up.
"Admirable!" he ejaculated, thrown quite off his guard by the beauty of the manœuvre.
"A thousand pounds," said I.
"A thousand pounds?" said he.
"Precisely," said I.
"A thousand pounds?" said he.
"Just so," said I.
"You shall have them," said he. "What a piece of virtu!" So he drew me a check upon
the spot, and took a sketch of my nose. I engaged rooms in Jermyn street, and sent her
Majesty the ninety-ninth edition of the "Nosology," with a portrait of the proboscis. --That sad little rake, the Prince of Wales, invited me to dinner.
We were all lions and recherchés.
There was a modern Platonist. He quoted Porphyry, Iamblicus, Plotinus, Proclus,
Hierocles, Maximus Tyrius, and Syrianus.
There was a human-perfectibility man. He quoted Turgôt, Price, Priestly, Condorcet,
De Stäel, and the "Ambitious Student in Ill Health."
There was Sir Positive Paradox. He observed that all fools were philosophers, and that
all philosophers were fools.
There was Æstheticus Ethix. He spoke of fire, unity, and atoms; bi-part and preexistent soul; affinity and discord; primitive intelligence and homöomeria.
There was Theologos Theology. He talked of Eusebius and Arianus; heresy and the
Council of Nice; Puseyism and consubstantialism; Homousios and Homouioisios.
There was Fricassée from the Rocher de Cancale. He mentioned Muriton of red tongue;
cauliflowers with velouté sauce; veal à la St. Menehoult; marinade à la St. Florentin; and
orange jellies en mosäiques.
There was Bibulus O'Bumper. He touched upon Latour and Markbrünnen; upon
Mousseux and Chambertin; upon Richbourg and St. George; upon Haubrion, Leonville,
and Medoc; upon Barac and Preignac; upon Grâve, upon Sauterne, upon Lafitte, and
upon St. Peray. He shook his head at Clos de Vougeot, and told, with his eyes shut, the
difference between Sherry and Amontillado.
There was Signor Tintontintino from Florence. He discoursed of Cimabué, Arpino,
Carpaccio, and Argostino --- of the gloom of Caravaggio, of the amenity of Albano, of
the colors of Titian, of the frows of Rubens, and of the waggeries of Jan Steen.
There was the President of the Fum-Fudge University. He was of opinion that the
moon was called Bendis in Thrace, Bubastis in Egypt, Dian in Rome, and Artemis in
Greece.
There was a Grand Turk from Stamboul. He could not help thinking that the angels
were horses, cocks, and bulls; that somebody in the sixth heaven had seventy thousand
heads; and that the earth was supported by a sky-blue cow with an incalculable number of
green horns.
There was Delphinus Polyglott. He told us what had become of the eighty-three lost
tragedies of Æschylus; of the fifty-four orations of Isæus; of the three hundred and
ninety-one speeches of Lysias; of the hundred and eighty treatises of Theophrastus; of the
eighth book of the conic sections of Apollonius; of Pindar's hymns and dithyrambics; and
of the five and forty tragedies of Homer Junior.
There was Ferdinand Fitz-Fossillus Feltspar. He informed us all about internal fires
and tertiary formations; about äeriforms, fluidiforms, and solidiforms; about quartz and
marl; about schist and schorl; about gypsum and trap; about talc and calc; about blende
and horn-blende; about mica-slate and pudding-stone; about cyanite and lepidolite; about
hæmatite and tremolite; about antimony and calcedony; about manganese and whatever
you please.
There was myself. I spoke of myself; --- of myself, of myself, of myself; --- of
Nosology, of my pamphlet, and of myself. I turned up my nose, and I spoke of myself.
"Marvellous clever man!" said the Prince.
"Superb!" said his guests: --- and next morning her Grace of Bless-my-Soul paid me a
visit.
"Will you go to Almack's, pretty creature?" she said, tapping me under the chin.
"Upon honor," said I.
"Nose and all?" she asked.
"As I live," I replied.
"Here then is a card, my life. Shall I say you will be there?"
"Dear Duchess, with all my heart."
"Pshaw, no! --- but with all your nose?"
"Every bit of it, my love," said I: --- so I gave it a twist or two, and found myself at
Almack's.
The rooms were crowded to suffocation.
"He is coming!" said somebody on the staircase.
"He is coming!" said somebody farther up.
"He is coming!" said somebody farther still.
"He is come!" exclaimed the Duchess. "He is come, the little love!" --- and, seizing me
firmly by both hands, she kissed me thrice upon the nose.
A marked sensation immediately ensued.
"Diavolo!" cried Count Capricornutti.
"Dios guarda!" muttered Don Stiletto.
"Mille tonnerres!" ejaculated the Prince de Grenouille.
"Tousand teufel!" growled the Elector of Bluddennuff.
It was not to be borne. I grew angry. I turned short upon Bluddennuff.
"Sir!" said I to him, "you are a baboon."
"Sir," he replied, after a pause, "Donner und Blitzen!"
This was all that could be desired. We exchanged cards. At Chalk-Farm, the next
morning, I shot off his nose --- and then called upon my friends.
"Bête!" said the first.
"Fool!" said the second.
"Dolt!" said the third.
"Ass!" said the fourth.
"Ninny!" said the fifth.
"Noodle!" said the sixth.
"Be off!" said the seventh.
At all this I felt mortified, and so called upon my father.
"Father," I asked, "what is the chief end of my existence?"
"My son," he replied, "it is still the study of Nosology; but in hitting the Elector upon
the nose you have overshot your mark. You have a fine nose, it is true; but then
Bluddennuff has none. You are damned, and he has become the hero of the day. I grant
you that in Fum-Fudge the greatness of a lion is in proportion to the size of his proboscis
--- but, good heavens! there is no competing with a lion who has no proboscis at all."
The Literary Life of Thingum Bob, Esq
LATE
BY HIMSELF
EDITOR
OF
THE
"GOOSETHERUMFOODLE"
I AM now growing in years, and --- since I understand that Shakespeare and Mr. Emmons
are deceased --- it is not impossible that I may even die. It has occurred to me, therefore,
that I may as well retire from the field of Letters and repose upon my laurels. But I am
ambitious of signalizing my abdication of the literary sceptre by some important bequest
to posterity; and, perhaps, I cannot do a better thing than just pen for it an account of my
earlier career. My name, indeed, has been so long and so constantly before the public eye,
that I am not only willing to admit the naturalness of the interest which it has everywhere
excited, but ready to satisfy the extreme curiosity which it has inspired. In fact, it is no
more than the duty of him who achieves greatness to leave behind him, in his ascent, such
landmarks as may guide others to be great. I propose, therefore, in the present paper
(which I had some idea of calling "Memoranda to Serve for the Literary History of
America") to give a detail of those important, yet feeble and tottering, first steps, by
which, at length, I attained the high road to the pinnacle of human renown.
Of one's very remote ancestors it is superfluous to say much. My father, Thomas Bob,
Esq., stood for many years at the summit of his profession, which was that of a merchantbarber, in the city of Smug. His warehouse was the resort of all the principal people of
the place, and especially of the editorial corps --- a body which inspires all about it with
profound veneration and awe. For my own part, I regarded them as gods, and drank in
with avidity the rich wit and wisdom which continuously flowed from their august
mouths during the process of what is styled "lather." My first moment of positive
inspiration must be dated from that ever-memorable epoch, when the brilliant conductor
of the "Gad-Fly," in the intervals of the important process just mentioned, recited aloud,
before a conclave of our apprentices, an inimitable poem in honor of the "Only Genuine
Oil-of-Bob" (so called from its talented inventor, my father), and for which effusion the
editor of the "Fly" was remunerated with a regal liberality by the firm of Thomas Bob &
Company, merchant-barbers.
The genius of the stanzas to the "Oil-of-Bob" first breathed into me, I say, the divine
afflatus. I resolved at once to become a great man, and to commence by becoming a great
poet. That very evening I fell upon my knees at the feet of my father.
"Father," I said, "pardon me! --- but I have a soul above lather. It is my firm intention
to cut the shop. I would be an editor --- I would be a poet --- I would pen stanzas to the
'Oil-of-Bob.' Pardon me and aid me to be great!"
"My dear Thingum," replied father, (I had been christened Thingum after a wealthy
relative so surnamed,) "My dear Thingum," he said, raising me from my knees by the
ears --- "Thingum, my boy, you're a trump, and take after your father in having a soul.
You have an immense head, too, and it must hold a great many brains. This I have long
seen, and therefore had thoughts of making you a lawyer. The business, however, has
grown ungenteel and that of a politician don't pay. Upon the whole you judge wisely; --the trade of editor is best: --- and if you can be a poet at the same time, --- as most of the
editors are, by the by, --- why, you will kill two birds with the one stone. To encourage
you in the beginning of things, I will allow you a garret, pen, ink, and paper, a rhyming
dictionary; and a copy of the 'Gad-Fly.' I suppose you would scarcely demand any more."
"I would be an ungrateful villain if I did" I replied with enthusiasm. "Your generosity
is boundless. I will repay it by making you the father of a genius."
Thus ended my conference with the best of men, and immediately upon its termination,
I betook myself with zeal to my poetical labors; as upon these, chiefly, I founded my
hopes of ultimate elevation to the editorial chair.
In my first attempts at composition I found the stanzas to "The Oil-of-Bob" rather a
drawback than otherwise. Their splendor more dazzled than enlightened me. The
contemplation of their excellence tended, naturally, to discourage me by comparison with
my own abortions; so that for a long time I labored in vain. At length there came into my
head one of those exquisitely original ideas which now and then will permeate the brain
of a man of genius. It was this: --- or, rather, thus was it carried into execution. From the
rubbish of an old book-stall, in a very remote corner of the town, I got together several
antique and altogether unknown or forgotten volumes. The bookseller sold them to me
for a song. From one of these, which purported to be a translation of one Dantes
"Inferno," I copied with remarkable neatness a long passage about a man named Ugolino,
who had a parcel of brats. From another, which contained a good many old plays by some
person whose name I forget, I enacted in the same manner, and with the same care, a
great number of lines about "angels" and "ministers saying grace," and "goblins damned,"
and more besides of that sort. From a third, which was the composition of some blind
man or other, either a Greek or a Choctaw --- I cannot be at the pains of remembering
every trifle exactly, --- I took about fifty verses beginning with "Achilles' wrath," and
"grease," and something else. From a fourth, which I recollect was also the work of a
blind man, I selected a page or two all about "hail" and "holy light"; and, although a blind
man has no business to write about light, still the verses were sufficiently good in their
way.
Having made fair copies of these poems, I signed every one of them "Oppodeldoc" (a
fine sonorous name), and, doing each up nicely in a separate envelope, I dispatched one
to each of the four principal Magazines, with a request for speedy insertion and prompt
pay. The result of this well-conceived plan, however, (the success of which would have
saved me much trouble in after-life,) served to convince me that some editors are not to
be bamboozled, and gave the coup-de-grace (as they say in France) to my nascent hopes
(as they say in the city of the transcendentals).
The fact is, that each and every one of the Magazines in question gave Mr.
"Oppodeldoc" a complete using-up, in the "Monthly Notices to Correspondents." The
"Hum-Drum" gave him a dressing after this fashion:
"'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) has sent us a long tirade concerning a bedlamite whom he
styles 'Ugolino,' had a great many children that should have been all whipped and sent to
bed without their suppers. The whole affair is exceedingly tame --- not to say flat.
'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) is entirely devoid of imagination --- and imagination, in our
humble opinion, is not only the soul of Poesy, but also its very heart. 'Oppodeldoc'
(whoever he is) has the audacity to demand of us, for his twattle, a 'speedy insertion and
prompt pay.' We neither insert nor purchase any stuff of the sort. There can be no doubt,
however, that he would meet with a ready sale for all the balderdash he can scribble, at
the office of either the 'Rowdy-Dow,' the 'Lollipop,' or the 'Goosetherumfoodle.'"
All this, it must be acknowledged, was very severe upon "Oppodeldoc," --- but the
unkindest cut was putting the word Poesy in small caps. In those five pre-eminent letters
what a world of bitterness is there not involved!
But "Oppodeldoc" was punished with equal severity in the "Rowdy Dow," which
spoke thus:
"We have received a most singular and insolent communication from a person
(whoever he is) signing himself 'Oppodeldoc,' --- thus desecrating the greatness of the
illustrious Roman emperor so named. Accompanying the letter of 'Oppodeldoc' (whoever
he is) we find sundry lines of most disgusting and unmeaning rant about 'angels and
ministers of grace,' --- rant such as no madman short of a Nat Lee, or an 'Oppodeldoc,'
could possibly perpetrate. And for this trash of trash, we are modestly requested to 'pay
promptly.' No, sir --- no! We pay for nothing of that sort. Apply to the 'Hum-Drum,' the
'Lollipop,' or the 'Goosetherumfoodle.' These periodicals will undoubtedly accept any
literary offal you may send them --- and as undoubtedly promise to pay for it."
This was bitter indeed upon poor "Oppodeldoc"; but, in this instance, the weight of the
satire falls upon the "Hum-Drum," the "Lollipop," and the "Goosetherumfoodle," who are
pungently styled "periodicals" --- in Italics, too --- a thing that must have cut them to the
heart.
Scarcely less savage was the "Lollipop," which thus discoursed:
"Some individual, who rejoices in the appellation 'Oppodeldoc,' (to what low uses are
the names of the illustrious dead too often applied!) has enclosed us some fifty or sixty
verses commencing after this fashion:
'Achilles'
wrath,
to
Greece
Of woes unnumbered, &c., &c., &c, &c.'
the
direful
spring
"'Oppodeldoc?' (whoever he is) is respectfully informed that there is not a printer's
devil in our office who is not in the daily habit of composing better lines. Those of
'Oppodeldoc' will not scan. 'Oppodeldoc' should learn to count. But why he should have
conceived the idea that we (of all others, we!) would disgrace our pages with his ineffable
nonsense is utterly beyond comprehension. Why, the absurd twattle is scarcely good
enough for the 'Hum-Drum,' the 'Rowdy-Dow,' the 'Goosetherumfoodle,' --- things that
are in the practice of publishing 'Mother Gooses Melodies' as original lyrics. And
'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) has even the assurance to demand pay for this drivel. Does
'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) know --- is he aware that we could not be paid to insert it?"
As I perused this I felt myself growing gradually smaller and smaller, and when I came
to the point at which the editor sneered at the poem as "verses," there was little more than
an ounce of me left. As for "Oppodeldoc," I began to experience compassion for the poor
fellow. But the "Goosetherumfoodle" showed, if possible, less mercy than the "Lollipop."
It was the "Goosetherumfoodle" that said --"A wretched poetaster, who signs himself 'Oppodeldoc,' is silly enough to fancy that
we will print and pay for a medley of incoherent and ungrammatical bombast which he
has transmitted to us, and which commences with the following most intelligible line:
'Hail Holy Light! Offspring of Heaven, first born.'
"We say, 'most intelligible.' 'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) will be kind enough to tell
us, perhaps, how 'hail' can be 'holy light.' We always regarded it as frozen rain. Will he
inform us, also, how frozen rain can be, at one and the same time, both 'holy light'
(whatever that is) and an 'off-spring'? --- which latter term (if we understand anything
about English) is only employed, with propriety, in reference to small babies of about six
weeks old. But it is preposterous to descant upon such absurdity --- although
'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) has the unparalleled effrontery to suppose that we will not
only 'insert' his ignorant ravings, but (absolutely) pay for them?
"Now this is fine --- it is rich! --- and we have half a mind to punish this young
scribbler for his egotism by really publishing his effusion verbatim et literatim, as he has
written it. We could inflict no punishment so severe, and we would inflict it, but for the
boredom which we should cause our readers in so doing.
"Let 'Oppodeldoc' (whoever he is) send any future composition of like character to the
'Hum-Drum,' the 'Lollipop,' or the 'Rowdy-Dow: They will 'insert' it. They 'insert' every
month just such stuff. Send it to them. WE are not to be insulted with impunity."
This made an end of me, and as for the "Hum-Drum," the "Rowdy-Dow," and the
"Lollipop," I never could comprehend how they survived it. The putting them in the
smallest possible minion (that was the rub --- thereby insinuating their lowness --- their
baseness,) while WE stood looking upon them in gigantic capitals! --- oh it was too
bitter! --- it was wormwood --- it was gall. Had I been either of these periodicals I would
have spared no pains to have the "Goosetherumfoodle" prosecuted. It might have been
done under the Act for the "Prevention of Cruelty to Animals." for Oppodeldoc (whoever
he was), I had by this time lost all patience with the fellow, and sympathized with him no
longer. He was a fool, beyond doubt, (whoever he was,) and got not a kick more than he
deserved.
The result of my experiment with the old books convinced me, in the first place, that
"honesty is the best policy," and, in the second, that if I could not write better than Mr.
Dante, and the two blind men, and the rest of the old set, it would, at least, be a difficult
matter to write worse. I took heart, therefore, and determined to prosecute the "entirely
original" (as they say on the covers of the magazines), at whatever cost of study and
pains. I again placed before my eyes, as a model, the brilliant stanzas on "The Oil-ofBob" by the editor of the "Gad-Fly" and resolved to construct an ode on the same sublime
theme, in rivalry of what had already been done.
With my first line I had no material difficulty. It ran thus:
"To pen an Ode upon the 'Oil-of-Bob.'"
Having carefully looked out, however, all the legitimate rhymes to "Bob," I found it
impossible to proceed. In this dilemma I had recourse to paternal aid; and, after some
hours of mature thought, my father and myself thus constructed the poem:
"To
pen
Is all sorts of a job.
an
Ode
upon
the
'Oil-of-Bob'
(Signed) Snob."
To be sure, this composition was of no very great length, --- but I "have yet to learn,"
as they say in the "Edinburgh Review," that the mere extent of a literary work has
anything to do with its merit. As for the Quarterly cant about "sustained effort," it is
impossible to see the sense of it. Upon the whole, therefore, I was satisfied with the
success of my maiden attempt, and now the only question regarded the disposal I should
make of it. My father suggested that I should send it to the "Gad-Fly," --- but there were
two reasons which operated to prevent me from so doing. I dreaded the jealousy of the
editor --- and I had ascertained that he did not pay for original contributions. I therefore,
after due deliberation, consigned the article to the more dignified pages of the "Lollipop"
and awaited the event in anxiety, but with resignation.
In the very next published number I had the proud satisfaction of seeing my poem
printed at length, as the leading article, with the following significant words, prefixed in
italics and between brackets:
[We call the attention of our readers to the subjoined admirable on "The Oil-of-Bob."
We need say nothing of their sublimity, or of their pathos. --- it is impossible to peruse
them without tears. Those who have been nauseated with a sad dose on the same august
topic from the goose-quill of the editor of the "Gad-Fly," will do well to compare the two
compositions.
P. S. --- We are consumed with anxiety to probe the mystery which envelops the
evident pseudonym "Snob" May we hope for a personal interview?]
All this was scarcely more than justice, but it was, I confess, rather more than I had
expected: --- I acknowledge this, be it observed, to the everlasting disgrace of my country
and of mankind. I lost no time, however, in calling upon the editor of the "Lollipop" and
had the good fortune to find this gentleman at home. He saluted me with an air of
profound respect, slightly blended with a fatherly and patronizing admiration, wrought in
him, no doubt, by my appearance of extreme youth and inexperience. Begging me to be
seated, he entered at once upon the subject of my poem; --- but modesty will ever forbid
me to repeat the thousand compliments which he lavished upon me. The eulogies of Mr.
Crab (such was the editor's name) were, however, by no means fulsomely indiscriminate.
He analyzed my composition with much freedom and great ability --- not hesitating to
point out a few trivial defects --- a circumstance which elevated him highly in my esteem.
The "Gad-Fly" was, of course, brought upon the tapis, and I hope never to be subjected to
a criticism so searching, or to rebukes so withering, as were bestowed by Mr. Crab upon
that unhappy effusion. I had been accustomed to regard the editor of the "Gad-Fly" as
something superhuman; but Mr. Crab soon disabused me of that idea. He set the literary
as well as the personal character of the Fly (so Mr. C. satirically designated the rival
editor), in its true light. He, the Fly, was very little better than he should be. He had
written infamous things. He was a penny-a-liner, and a buffoon. He was a villain. He had
composed a tragedy which set the whole country in a guffaw, and a farce which deluged
the universe in tears. Besides all this, he had the impudence to pen what he meant for a
lampoon upon himself (Mr. Crab), and the temerity to style him "an ass." Should I at any
time wish to express my opinion of Mr. Fly, the pages of the "Lollipop," Mr. Crab
assured me, were at my unlimited disposal. In the meantime, as it was very certain that I
would be attacked in the "Fly" for my attempt at composing a rival poem on the "Oil-ofBob," he (Mr. Crab) would take it upon himself to attend, pointedly, to my private and
personal interests. If I were not made a man of at once, it should not be the fault of
himself (Mr. Crab).
Mr. Crab having now paused in his discourse (the latter portion of which I found it
impossible to comprehend), I ventured to suggest something about the remuneration
which I had been taught to expect for my poem, by an announcement on the cover of the
"Lollipop," declaring that it (the "Lollipop") "insisted upon being permitted to pay
exorbitant prices for all accepted contributions, --- frequently expending more money for
a single brief poem than the whole annual cost of the 'Hum-Drum,' the 'Rowdy-Dow,' and
the 'Goosetherumfoodle' combined."
As I mentioned the word "remuneration," Mr. Crab first opened his eyes, and then his
mouth, to quite a remarkable extent, causing his personal appearance to resemble that of a
highly agitated elderly duck in the act of quacking; and in this condition he remained
(ever and anon pressing his hinds tightly to his forehead, as if in a state of desperate
bewilderment) until I had nearly made an end of what I had to say.
Upon my conclusion, he sank back into his seat, as if much overcome, letting his arms
fall lifelessly by his side, but keeping his mouth still rigorously open, after the fashion of
the duck. While I remained in speechless astonishment at behavior so alarming he
suddenly leaped to his feet and made a rush at the bell-rope; but just as he reached this,
he appeared to have altered his intention, whatever it was, for he dived under a table and
immediately re-appeared with a cudgel. This he was in the act of uplifting (for what
purpose I am at a loss to imagine), when all at once, there came a benign smile over his
features, and he sank placidly back in his chair.
"Mr. Bob," he said, (for I had sent up my card before ascending myself,) "Mr. Bob,
you are a young man, I presume --- very?"
I assented; adding that I had not yet concluded my third lustrum.
"Ah!" he replied, "very good! I see how it is --- say no more! Touching this matter of
compensation, what you observe is very just, --- in fact it is excessively so. But ah --- ah -- the first contribution --- the first, I say --- it is never the Magazine custom to pay for, -- you comprehend, eh? The truth is, we are usually the recipients in such case." [Mr. Crab
smiled blandly as he emphasized the word "recipients."] "for the most part, we are paid
for the insertion of a maiden attempt --- especially in verse. In the second place, Mr. Bob,
the Magazine rule is never to disburse what we term in France the argent comptant: --- I
have no doubt you understand. In a quarter or two after publication of the article --- or in
a year or two --- we make no objection to giving our note at nine months; provided,
always, that we can so arrange our affairs as to be quite certain of a 'burst up' in six. I
really do hope, Mr. Bob, that you will look upon this explanation as satisfactory." Here
Mr. Crab concluded, and the tears stood in his eyes.
Grieved to the soul at having been, however innocently, the cause of pain to so
eminent and so sensitive a man, I hastened to apologize, and to reassure him, by
expressing my perfect coincidence with his views, as well as my entire appreciation of
the delicacy of his position. Having done all this in a neat speech, I took leave.
One fine morning, very shortly afterwards, "I awoke and found myself famous." The
extent of my renown will be best estimated by reference to the editorial opinions of the
day. These opinions, it will be seen, were embodied in critical notices of the number of
the "Lollipop" containing my poem, and are perfectly satisfactory, conclusive, and clear
with the exception, perhaps, of the hieroglyphical marks, "Sep. 15 --- 1 t," appended to
each of the critiques.
The "Owl" a journal of profound sagacity, and well known for the deliberate gravity of
its literary decisions --- the "Owl," I say, spoke as follows:
"The LOLLIPOP! The October number of this delicious Magazine surpasses its
predecessors, and sets competition at defiance. In the beauty of its typography and paper -- in the number and excellence of its steel plates --- as well as in the literary merit of its
contributions --- the 'Lollipop' compares with its slow-paced rivals as Hyperion with
Satyr. The 'Hum-Drum,' the 'Rowdy-Dow,' and the 'Goosetherumfoodle,' excel, it is true,
in braggadocio, but in all other points, give us the 'Lollipop'! How this celebrated journal
can sustain its evidently tremendous expenses, is more than we can understand. To be
sure, it has a circulation of 100,000 and its subscription list has increased one fourth
during the last month; but, on the other hand, the sums it disburses constantly for
contributions are inconceivable. It is reported that Mr. Slyass received no less than thirtyseven and a half cents for his inimitable paper on 'Pigs.' With Mr. Crab, as editor, and
with such names upon the list of contributors as SNOB and Slyass, there can be no such
word as 'fail' for the 'Lollipop.' Go and subscribe. Sep. 15 --- 1 t."
I must say that I was gratified with this high-toned notice from a paper so respectable
as the "Owl." The placing my name --- that is to say, my nom de guerre --- in priority of
station to that of the great Slyass, was a compliment as happy as I felt it to be deserved.
My attention was next arrested by these paragraphs in the "Toad" --- a print highly
distinguished for its uprightness and independence --- for its entire freedom from
sycophancy and subservience to the givers of dinners:
"The 'Lollipop' for October is out in advance of all its contemporaries, and infinitely
surpasses them, of course, in the splendor of its embellishments, as well as in the richness
of its contents. The 'Hum-Drum,' the 'Rowdy-Dow,' and the 'Goosetherumfoodle' excel,
we admit, in braggadocio, but, in all other points, give us the 'Lollipop.' How this
celebrated Magazine can sustain its evidently tremendous expenses is more than we can
understand. To be sure, it has a circulation of 200,000 and its subscription list has
increased one third during the last fortnight, but, on the other hand, the sums it disburses,
monthly, for contributions, are fearfully great. We learn that Mr. Mumblethumb received
no less than fifty cents for his late 'Monody in a Mud-Puddle.'
"Among the original contributors to the present number we notice (besides the eminent
editor, Mr. Crab), such men as SNOB, Slyass, and Mumblethumb. Apart from the
editorial matter, the most valuable paper, nevertheless, is, we think, a poetical gem by
Snob, on the 'Oil-of-Bob.' --- but our readers must not suppose, from the title of this
incomparable bijou, that it bears any similitude to some balderdash on the same subject
by a certain contemptible individual whose name is unmentionable to ears polite. The
present poem 'On the Oil-of-Bob,' has excited universal anxiety and curiosity in respect
to the owner of the evident pseudonym, 'Snob,' --- a curiosity which, happily, we have it
in our power to satisfy. 'Snob' is the nom de plume of Mr. Thingum Bob, of this city, a
relative of the great Mr. Thingum, (after whom he is named), and otherwise connected
with the most illustrious families of the State. His father, Thomas Bob, Esq., is an opulent
merchant in Smug. Sep. 15 --- 1 t."
This generous approbation touched me to the heart --- the more especially as it
emanated from a source so avowedly --- so proverbially pure as the "Toad." The word
"balderdash," as applied to the "Oil-of-Bob" of the Fly, I considered singularly pungent
and appropriate. The words "gem" and "bijou," however, used in reference to my
composition, struck me as being, in some degree, feeble. They seemed to me to be
deficient in force. They were not sufficiently prononces (as we have it in France).
I had hardly finished reading the "Toad," when a friend placed in my hands a copy of
the "Mole," a daily, enjoying high reputation for the keenness of its perception about
matters in general, and for the open, honest, above-ground style of its editorials. The
"Mole" spoke of the "Lollypop" as follows:
"We have just received the 'Lollipop' for October, and must say that never before have
we perused any single number of any periodical which afforded us a felicity so supreme.
We speak advisedly. The 'Hum-Drum.' the 'Rowdy-Dow,' and the 'Goosetherumfoodle'
must look well to their laurels. These prints, no doubt, surpass everything in loudness of
pretension, but, in all other points, give us the 'Lollipop'! How this celebrated Magazine
can sustain its evidently tremendous expenses, is more than we can comprehend. To be
sure, it has a circulation of 300,000; and its subscription list has increased one half within
the last week, but then the sum it disburses, monthly, for contributions, is astoundingly
enormous. We have it upon good authority that Mr. Fatquack received no less than sixtytwo cents and a half for his late Domestic Nouvellette, the 'Dish-Clout.'
"The contributors to the number before us are Mr. CRAB (the eminent editor), SNOB,
Mumblethumb, Fatquack, and others; but, after the inimitable compositions of the editor
himself, we prefer a diamond --- like effusion from the pen of a rising poet who writes
over the signature 'Snob' --- a nom de guerre which we predict will one day extinguish
the radiance of 'BOZ.' 'SNOB,' we learn, is a Mr. THINGUM BOB, Esq., sole heir of a
wealthy merchant of this city, Thomas Bob, Esq., and a near relative of the distinguished
Mr. Thingum. The title of Mr. B.'s admirable poem is the 'Oil-of-Bob' --- a somewhat
unfortunate name, by-the-bye, as some contemptible vagabond connected with the penny
press has already disgusted the town with a great deal of drivel upon the same topic.
There will be no danger, however, of confounding the compositions. Sep. 15 --- 1 t.
The generous approbation of so clear-sighted a journal as the "Mole" penetrated my
soul with delight. The only objection which occurred to me was, that the terms
"contemptible vagabond" might have been better written "odious and contemptible
wretch, villain, and vagabond." This would have sounded more graceful, I think.
"Diamond-like," also, was scarcely, it will be admitted, of sufficient intensity to express
what the "Mole" evidently thought of the brilliancy of the "Oil-of-Bob."
On the same afternoon in which I saw these notices in the "Owl," the "Toad" and the
"Mole," I happened to meet with a copy of the "Daddy-Long-Legs," a periodical
proverbial for the extreme extent of its understanding. And it was the "Daddy-LongLegs" which spoke thus:
"The 'Lollipop'! This gorgeous Magazine is already before the public for October. The
question of pre-eminence is forever put to rest, and hereafter it will be preposterous in the
'Hum-Drum,' the 'Rowdy-Dow,' or the 'Goosetherumfoodle' to make any further
spasmodic attempts at competition. These journals may excel the 'Lollipop' in outcry, but,
in all other points, give us the 'Lollipop'! How this celebrated Magazine can sustain its
evidently tremendous expenses, is past comprehension. To be sure it has a circulation of
precisely half a million, and its subscription list has increased seventy-five per cent.
within the last couple of days, but then the sums it disburses, monthly, for contributions,
are scarcely credible; we are cognizant of the fact, that Mademoiselle Cribalittle received
no less than eighty-seven cents and a half for her late valuable Revolutionary Tale,
entitled 'The York-Town Katy-Did, and the Bunker-Hill Katy-Didn't.'
"The most able papers in the present number are, of course, those furnished by the
editor (the eminent Mr. CRAB), but there are numerous magnificent contributions from
such names as SNOB, Mademoiselle Cribalittle, Slyass, Mrs. Fibalittle, Mumblethumb,
Mrs. Squibalittle, and last, though not least, Fatquack. The world may well be challenged
to produce so rich a galaxy of genius.
"The poem over the signature, "SNOB" is, we find, attracting universal commendation,
and, we are constrained to say, deserves, if possible, even more applause than it has
received. The 'Oil-of-Bob' is the title of this masterpiece of eloquence and art. One or two
of our readers may have a very faint, although sufficiently disgusting recollection of a
poem (?) similarly entitled, the perpetration of a miserable penny-a-liner, mendicant, and
cut-throat, connected in the capacity of scullion, we believe, with one of the indecent
prints about the purlieus of the city, we beg them, for God's sake, not to confound the
compositions. The author of the 'Oil-of-Bob' is, we hear, Thingum Bob, Esq, a gentleman
of high genius, and a scholar. 'Snob' is merely a nom de guerre. Sep. 15 --- 1 t."
I could scarcely restrain my indignation while I perused the concluding portions of this
diatribe. It was clear to me that the yea-nay manner --- not to say the gentleness, --- the
positive forbearance --- with which the "Daddy-Long-Legs" spoke of that pig, the editor
of the "Gad-Fly," --- it was evident to me, I say, that this gentleness of speech could
proceed from nothing else than a partiality for the "Fly" --- whom it was clearly the
intention of the "Daddy-Long-Legs" to elevate into reputation at my expense. Any one,
indeed, might perceive, with half an eye, that, had the real design of the "Daddy" been
what it wished to appear, it (the "Daddy") might have expressed itself in terms more
direct, more pungent, and altogether more to the purpose. The words "penny-a-liner,"
"mendicant," "scullion," and "cut-throat," were epithets so intentionally inexpressive and
equivocal, as to be worse than nothing when applied to the author of the very worst
stanzas ever penned by one of the human race. We all know what is meant by "damning
with faint praise," and, on the other hand, who could fail seeing through the covert
purpose of the "Daddy," --- that of glorifying with feeble abuse?
What the "Daddy" chose to say to the "Fly," however, was no business of mine. What
it said of myself was. After the noble manner in which the "Owl," the "Toad," the
"Mole," had expressed themselves in respect to my ability, it was rather too much to be
coolly spoken of by a thing like the "Daddy-Long-Legs," as merely "a gentleman of high
genius and scholar." Gentleman indeed! I made up my mind at once either to get written
apology from the "Daddy-Long-Legs," or to call it out.
Full of this purpose, I looked about me to find a friend whom I could entrust with a
message to his "Daddy"ship, and as the editor of the "Lollipop" had given me marked
tokens of regard, I at length concluded to seek assistance upon the present occasion.
I have never yet been able to account, in a manner satisfactory to my own understanding,
for the very peculiar countenance and demeanor with which Mr. Crab listened to me, as I
unfolded to him my design. He again went through the scene of the bell-rope and cudgel,
and did not omit the duck. At one period I thought he really intended to quack. His fit,
nevertheless, finally subsided as before, and he began to act and speak in a rational way.
He declined bearing the cartel, however, and in fact, dissuaded me from sending it at all;
but was candid enough to admit that the "Daddy-Long-Legs" had been disgracefully in
the wrong --- more especially in what related to the epithets "gentleman and scholar."
Toward the end of this interview with Mr. Crab, who really appeared to take a paternal
interest in my welfare, he suggested to me that I might turn an honest penny, and at the
same time, advance my reputation, by occasionally playing Thomas Hawk for the
"Lollypop."
I begged Mr. Crab to inform me who was Mr. Thomas Hawk, and how it was expected
that I should play him.
Here Mr. Crab again "made great eyes" (as we say in Germany), but at length,
recovering himself from a profound attack of astonishment, he assured me that he
employed the words "Thomas Hawk" to avoid the colloquialism, Tommy, which was low
--- but that the true idea was Tommy Hawk --- or tomahawk --- and that by "playing
tomahawk" he referred to scalping, brow-beating, and otherwise using --- up the herd of
poor-devil authors.
I assured my patron that, if this was all, I was perfectly resigned to the task of playing
Thomas Hawk. Hereupon Mr. Crab desired me to use up the editor of the "Gad-Fly"
forthwith, in the fiercest style within the scope of my ability, and as a specimen of my
powers. This I did, upon the spot, in a review of the original "Oil-of-Bob," occupying
thirty-six pages of the "Lollipop." I found playing Thomas Hawk, indeed, a far less
onerous occupation than poetizing; for I went upon system altogether, and thus it was
easy to do the thing thoroughly well. My practice was this. I bought auction copies
(cheap) of "Lord Brougham's speeches," "Cobbett's Complete Works," the "New SlangSyllabus," the "Whole Art of Snubbing," "Prentice's Billingsgate" (folio edition), and
"Lewis G. Clarke on Tongue." These works I cut up thoroughly with a curry-comb, and
then, throwing the shreds into a sieve, sifted out carefully all that might be thought decent
(a mere trifle); reserving the hard phrases, which I threw into a large tin pepper-castor
with longitudinal holes, so that an entire sentence could get through without material
injury. The mixture was then ready for use. When called upon to play Thomas Hawk, I
anointed a sheet of foolscap with the white of a gander's egg; then, shredding the thing to
be reviewed as I had previously shredded the books --- only with more care, so as to get
every word separate --- I threw the latter shreds in with the former, screwed on the lid of
the castor, gave it a shake, and so dusted out the mixture upon the egged foolscap; where
it stuck. The effect was beautiful to behold. It was captivating. Indeed, the reviews I
brought to pass by this simple expedient have never been approached, and were the
wonder of the world. At first, through bashfulness --- the result of inexperience --- I was a
little put out by a certain inconsistency --- a certain air of the bizarre (as we say in
France), worn by the composition as a whole. All the phrases did not fit (as we say in the
Anglo-Saxon). Many were quite awry. Some, even, were upside-down; and there were
none of them which were not in some measure, injured in regard to effect, by this latter
species of accident, when it occurred --- with the exception of Mr. Lewis Clarkes
paragraphs, which were so vigorous and altogether stout, that they seemed not
particularly disconcerted by any extreme of position, but looked equally happy and
satisfactory, whether on their heads, or on their heels.
What became of the editor of the "Gad-Fly" after the publication of my criticism on his
"Oil-of-Bob," it is somewhat difficult to determine. The most reasonable conclusion is,
that he wept himself to death. At all events he disappeared instantaneously from the face
of the earth, and no man has seen even the ghost of him since.
This matter having been properly accomplished, and the Furies appeased, I grew at
once into high favor with Mr. Crab. He took me into his confidence, gave me a
permanent situation as Thomas Hawk of the "Lollipop," and, as for the present, he could
afford me no salary, allowed me to profit, at discretion, by his advice.
"My dear Thingum," said he to me one day after dinner, "I respect your abilities and
love you as a son. You shall be my heir. When I die I will bequeath you the "Lollipop."
In the meantime I will make a man of you --- I will --- provided always that you follow
my counsel. The first thing to do is to get rid of the old bore."
"Boar?" said I inquiringly --- "pig, eh? --- aper? (as we say in Latin) --- who? --where?"
"Your father," said he.
"Precisely," I replied --- "pig."
"You have your fortune to make, Thingum," resumed Mr. Crab, "and that governor of
yours is a millstone about your neck. We must cut him at once." [Here I took out my
knife.] "We must cut him," continued Mr. Crab, "decidedly and forever. He won't do --he won't. Upon second thoughts, you had better kick him, or cane him, or something of
that kind."
"What do you say," I suggested modestly, "to my kicking him in the first instance,
caning him afterward, and winding up by tweaking his nose?"
Mr. Crab looked at me musingly for some moments, and then answered:
"I think, Mr. Bob, that what you propose would answer sufficiently well --- indeed
remarkably well --- that is to say, as far as it went --- but barbers are exceedingly hard to
cut, and I think, upon the whole, that, having performed upon Thomas Bob the operations
you suggest, it would be advisable to blacken, with your fists, both his eyes, very
carefully and thoroughly, to prevent his ever seeing you again in fashionable promenades.
After doing this, I really do not perceive that you can do any more. However --- it might
be just as well to roll him once or twice in the gutter, and then put him in charge of the
police. Any time the next morning you can call at the watch-house and swear an assault."
I was much affected by the kindness of feeling toward me personally, which was
evinced in this excellent advice of Mr. Crab, and I did not fail to profit by it forthwith.
The result was, that I got rid of the old bore, and began to feel a little independent and
gentleman-like. The want of money, however, was, for a few weeks, a source of some
discomfort; but at length, by carefully putting to use my two eyes, and observing how
matters went just in front of my nose, I perceived how the thing was to be brought about.
I say "thing" --- be it observed --- for they tell me in the Latin for it is rem. By the way,
talking of Latin, can any one tell me the meaning of quocunque --- or what is the meaning
of modo?
My plan was exceedingly simple. I bought, for a song, a sixteenth of the "SnappingTurtle": --- that was all. The thing was done, and I put money in my purse. There were
some trivial arrangements afterward, to be sure, but these formed no portion of the plan.
They were a consequence --- a result. For example, I bought pen, ink, and paper, and put
them into furious activity. Having thus completed a Magazine article, I gave it, for
appellation, "Fol Lol, by the Author of 'THE OIL-OF-BOB,'" and enveloped it to the
"Goosetherumfoodle." That journal, however, having pronounced it "twattle" in the
"Monthly Notices to Correspondents," I reheaded the paper "Hey-Diddle-Diddle," by
THINGUM BOB, Esq., Author of the Ode on 'The Oil-of-Bob,' and Editor of the 'Snapping
Turtle.'" With this amendment, I re-enclosed it to the "Goosetherumfoodle," and, while I
awaited a reply, published daily, in the "Turtle," six columns of what may be termed
philosophical and analytical investigation of the literary merits of the
"Goosetherumfoodle," as well as of the personal character of the editor of the
"Goosetherumfoodle." At the end of a week the "Goosetherumfoodle," discovered that it
had, by some odd mistake, "confounded a stupid article, headed 'Hey-Diddle-Diddle,' and
composed by some unknown ignoramus, with a gem of resplendent lustre similarly
entitled, the work of Thingum Bob, Esq, the celebrated author of 'The Oil-of-Bob.'" The
"Goosetherumfoodle" deeply "regretted this very natural accident," and promised,
moreover, an insertion of the genuine "Hey-Diddle-Diddle" in the very next number of
the Magazine.
The fact is, I thought --- I really thought --- I thought at the time --- I thought then --and have no reason for thinking otherwise now --- that the "Goosetherumfoodle" did
make a mistake. With the best intentions in the world, I never knew any thing that made
as many singular mistakes as the "Goosetherumfoodle." From that day I took a liking to
the "Goosetherumfoodle" and the result was I soon saw into the very depths of its literary
merits, and did not fail to expatiate upon them, in the "Turtle," whenever a fitting
opportunity occurred. And it is to be regarded as a very peculiar coincidence --- as one of
those positively remarkable coincidences which set a man to serious thinking --- that just
such a total revolution of opinion --- just such entire bouleversement (as we say in
French) --- just such thorough topsiturviness (if I may be permitted to employ a rather
forcible term of the Choctaws), as happened, pro and con, between myself on the one
part, and the "Goosetherumfoodle" on the other, did actually again happen, in a brief
period afterwards, and with precisely similar circumstances, in the case of myself and the
"Rowdy-Dow," and in the case of myself and the "Hum-Drum."
Thus it was that, by a master-stroke of genius, I at length consummated my triumphs
by "putting money in my purse," and thus may be said really and fairly to have
commenced that brilliant and eventful career which rendered me illustrious, and which
now enables me to say with Chateaubriand: "I have made history" --- J'ai fait l'histoire."
I have indeed "made history." From the bright epoch which I now record, my actions -- my works --- are the property of mankind. They are familiar to the world. It is, then,
needless for me to detail how, soaring rapidly, I fell heir to the "Lollipop" --- how I
merged this journal in the "Hum-Drum" --- how again I made purchase of the "RowdyDow," thus combining the three periodicals --- how lastly, I effected a bargain for the
sole remaining rival, and united all the literature of the country in one magnificent
Magazine known everywhere as the
Rowdy-Dow,
and
GOOSETHERUMFOODLE
Lollipop,
Hum-Drum,
Yes, I have made history. My fame is universal. It extends to the uttermost ends of the
earth. You cannot take up a common newspaper in which you shall not see some allusion
to the immortal Thigum Bob. It is Mr. Thingum Bob said so, and Mr. Thingum Bob
wrote this, and Mr. Thingum Bob did that. But I am meek and expire with an humble
heart. After all, what is it? --- this indescribable something which men will persist in
terming "genius"? I agree with Buffon --- with Hogarth --- it is but diligence after all.
Look at me! --- how I labored --- how I toiled --- how I wrote! Ye Gods, did I not
write? I knew not the word "ease." By day I adhered to my desk, and at night, a pale
student, I consumed the midnight oil. You should have seen me --- you should. I leaned
to the right. I leaned to the left. I sat forward. I sat backward. I sat tete baissee (as they
have it in the Kickapoo), bowing my head close to the alabaster page. And, through all, I
--- wrote. Through joy and through sorrow, I-wrote. Through hunger and through thirst,
I-wrote. Through good report and through ill report --- I wrote. Through sunshine and
through moonshine, I-wrote. What I wrote it is unnecessary to say. The style! --- that was
the thing. I caught it from Fatquack --- whizz! --- fizz! --- and I am giving you a
specimen of it now.
Loss of Breath
A TALE NEITHER IN NOR OUT OF "BLACKWOOD"
O Breathe not, etc. --- Moore's Melodies
THE most notorious ill-fortune must in the end yield to the untiring courage of philosophy
--- as the most stubborn city to the ceaseless vigilance of an enemy. Shalmanezer, as we
have it in holy writings, lay three years before Samaria; yet it fell. Sardanapalus --- see
Diodorus --- maintained himself seven in Nineveh; but to no purpose. Troy expired at the
close of the second lustrum; and Azoth, as Aristaeus declares upon his honour as a
gentleman, opened at last her gates to Psammetichus, after having barred them for the
fifth part of a century. . . .
"Thou wretch! --- thou vixen! --- thou shrew!" said I to my wife on the morning after
our wedding; "thou witch! --- thou hag! --- thou whippersnapper --- thou sink of iniquity!
--- thou fiery-faced quintessence of all that is abominable! --- thou --- thou ---" here
standing upon tiptoe, seizing her by the throat, and placing my mouth close to her ear, I
was preparing to launch forth a new and more decided epithet of opprobrium, which
should not fail, if ejaculated, to convince her of her insignificance, when to my extreme
horror and astonishment I discovered that I had lost my breath.
The phrases "I am out of breath," "I have lost my breath," etc., are often enough
repeated in common conversation; but it had never occurred to me that the terrible
accident of which I speak could bona fide and actually happen! Imagine --- that is if you
have a fanciful turn --- imagine, I say, my wonder --- my consternation --- my despair!
There is a good genius, however, which has never entirely deserted me. In my most
ungovernable moods I still retain a sense of propriety, et le chemin des passions me
conduit --- as Lord Edouard in the "Julie" says it did him --- a la philosophie veritable.
Although I could not at first precisely ascertain to what degree the occurrence had
affected me, I determined at all events to conceal the matter from my wife, until further
experience should discover to me the extent of this my unheard of calamity. Altering my
countenance, therefore, in a moment, from its bepuffed and distorted appearance, to an
expression of arch and coquettish benignity, I gave my lady a pat on the one cheek, and a
kiss on the other, and without saying one syllable (Furies! I could not), left her astonished
at my drollery, as I pirouetted out of the room in a Pas de Zephyr.
Behold me then safely ensconced in my private boudoir, a fearful instance of the ill
consequences attending upon irascibility --- alive, with the qualifications of the dead --dead, with the propensities of the living --- an anomaly on the face of the earth --- being
very calm, yet breathless.
Yes! breathless. I am serious in asserting that my breath was entirely gone. I could not
have stirred with it a feather if my life had been at issue, or sullied even the delicacy of a
mirror. Hard fate! --- yet there was some alleviation to the first overwhelming paroxysm
of my sorrow. I found, upon trial, that the powers of utterance which, upon my inability
to proceed in the conversation with my wife, I then concluded to be totally destroyed,
were in fact only partially impeded, and I discovered that had I, at that interesting crisis,
dropped my voice to a singularly deep guttural, I might still have continued to her the
communication of my sentiments; this pitch of voice (the guttural) depending, I find, not
upon the current of the breath, but upon a certain spasmodic action of the muscles of the
throat.
Throwing myself upon a chair, I remained for some time absorbed in meditation. My
reflections, be sure, were of no consolatory kind. A thousand vague and lachrymatory
fancies took possession of my soul --- and even the idea of suicide flitted across my
brain; but it is a trait in the perversity of human nature to reject the obvious and the ready,
for the far-distant and equivocal. Thus I shuddered at self-murder as the most decided of
atrocities while the tabby cat purred strenuously upon the rug, and the very water dog
wheezed assiduously under the table, each taking to itself much merit for the strength of
its lungs, and all obviously done in derision of my own pulmonary incapacity.
Oppressed with a tumult of vague hopes and fears, I at length heard the footsteps of my
wife descending the staircase. Being now assured of her absence, I returned with a
palpitating heart to the scene of my disaster.
Carefully locking the door on the inside, I commenced a vigorous search. It was
possible, I thought, that, concealed in some obscure corner, or lurking in some closet or
drawer, might be found the lost object of my inquiry. It might have a vapory --- it might
even have a tangible form. Most philosophers, upon many points of philosophy, are still
very unphilosophical. William Godwin, however, says in his "Mandeville," that "invisible
things are the only realities," and this, all will allow, is a case in point. I would have the
judicious reader pause before accusing such asseverations of an undue quantum of
absurdity. Anaxagoras, it will be remembered, maintained that snow is black, and this I
have since found to be the case.
Long and earnestly did I continue the investigation: but the contemptible reward of my
industry and perseverance proved to be only a set of false teeth, two pair of hips, an eye,
and a bundle of billets-doux from Mr. Windenough to my wife. I might as well here
observe that this confirmation of my lady's partiality for Mr. W. occasioned me little
uneasiness. That Mrs. Lackobreath should admire anything so dissimilar to myself was a
natural and necessary evil. I am, it is well known, of a robust and corpulent appearance,
and at the same time somewhat diminutive in stature. What wonder, then, that the lathlike tenuity of my acquaintance, and his altitude, which has grown into a proverb, should
have met with all due estimation in the eyes of Mrs. Lackobreath. But to return.
My exertions, as I have before said, proved fruitless. Closet after closet --- drawer after
drawer --- corner after corner --- were scrutinized to no purpose. At one time, however, I
thought myself sure of my prize, having, in rummaging a dressing-case, accidentally
demolished a bottle of Grandjean's Oil of Archangels --- which, as an agreeable perfume,
I here take the liberty of recommending.
With a heavy heart I returned to my boudoir --- there to ponder upon some method of
eluding my wife's penetration, until I could make arrangements prior to my leaving the
country, for to this I had already made up my mind. In a foreign climate, being unknown,
I might, with some probability of success, endeavor to conceal my unhappy calamity --- a
calamity calculated, even more than beggary, to estrange the affections of the multitude,
and to draw down upon the wretch the well-merited indignation of the virtuous and the
happy. I was not long in hesitation. Being naturally quick, I committed to memory the
entire tragedy of "Metamora." I had the good fortune to recollect that in the accentuation
of this drama, or at least of such portion of it as is allotted to the hero, the tones of voice
in which I found myself deficient were altogether unnecessary, and the deep guttural was
expected to reign monotonously throughout.
I practised for some time by the borders of a well frequented marsh; --- herein,
however, having no reference to a similar proceeding of Demosthenes, but from a design
peculiarly and conscientiously my own. Thus armed at all points, I determined to make
my wife believe that I was suddenly smitten with a passion for the stage. In this, I
succeeded to a miracle; and to every question or suggestion found myself at liberty to
reply in my most frog-like and sepulchral tones with some passage from the tragedy --any portion of which, as I soon took great pleasure in observing, would apply equally
well to any particular subject. It is not to be supposed, however, that in the delivery of
such passages I was found at all deficient in the looking asquint --- the showing my teeth
--- the working my knees --- the shuffling my feet --- or in any of those unmentionable
graces which are now justly considered the characteristics of a popular performer. To be
sure they spoke of confining me in a strait-jacket --- but, good God! they never suspected
me of having lost my breath.
Having at length put my affairs in order, I took my seat very early one morning in the
mail stage for ---, giving it to be understood, among my acquaintances, that business of
the last importance required my immediate personal attendance in that city.
The coach was crammed to repletion; but in the uncertain twilight the features of my
companions could not be distinguished. Without making any effectual resistance, I
suffered myself to be placed between two gentlemen of colossal dimensions; while a
third, of a size larger, requesting pardon for the liberty he was about to take, threw
himself upon my body at full length, and falling asleep in an instant, drowned all my
guttural ejaculations for relief, in a snore which would have put to blush the roarings of
the bull of Phalaris. Happily the state of my respiratory faculties rendered suffocation an
accident entirely out of the question.
As, however, the day broke more distinctly in our approach to the outskirts of the city,
my tormentor, arising and adjusting his shirt-collar, thanked me in a very friendly manner
for my civility. Seeing that I remained motionless (all my limbs were dislocated and my
head twisted on one side), his apprehensions began to be excited; and arousing the rest of
the passengers, he communicated, in a very decided manner, his opinion that a dead man
had been palmed upon them during the night for a living and responsible fellow-traveller;
here giving me a thump on the right eye, by way of demonstrating the truth of his
suggestion.
Hereupon all, one after another (there were nine in company), believed it their duty to
pull me by the ear. A young practising physician, too, having applied a pocket-mirror to
my mouth, and found me without breath, the assertion of my persecutor was pronounced
a true bill; and the whole party expressed a determination to endure tamely no such
impositions for the future, and to proceed no farther with any such carcasses for the
present.
I was here, accordingly, thrown out at the sign of the "Crow" (by which tavern the
coach happened to be passing), without meeting with any farther accident than the
breaking of both my arms, under the left hind wheel of the vehicle. I must besides do the
driver the justice to state that he did not forget to throw after me the largest of my trunks,
which, unfortunately falling on my head, fractured my skull in a manner at once
interesting and extraordinary.
The landlord of the "Crow," who is a hospitable man, finding that my trunk contained
sufficient to indemnify him for any little trouble he might take in my behalf, sent
forthwith for a surgeon of his acquaintance, and delivered me to his care with a bill and
receipt for ten dollars.
The purchaser took me to his apartments and commenced operations immediately.
Having cut off my ears, however, he discovered signs of animation. He now rang the bell,
and sent for a neighboring apothecary with whom to consult in the emergency. In case of
his suspicions with regard to my existence proving ultimately correct, he, in the
meantime, made an incision in my stomach, and removed several of my viscera for
private dissection.
The apothecary had an idea that I was actually dead. This idea I endeavored to confute,
kicking and plunging with all my might, and making the most furious contortions --- for
the operations of the surgeon had, in a measure, restored me to the possession of my
faculties. All, however, was attributed to the effects of a new galvanic battery, wherewith
the apothecary, who is really a man of information, performed several curious
experiments, in which, from my personal share in their fulfillment, I could not help
feeling deeply interested. It was a course of mortification to me, nevertheless, that
although I made several attempts at conversation, my powers of speech were so entirely
in abeyance, that I could not even open my mouth; much less, then, make reply to some
ingenious but fanciful theories of which, under other circumstances, my minute
acquaintance with the Hippocratian pathology would have afforded me a ready
confutation.
Not being able to arrive at a conclusion, the practitioners remanded me for farther
examination. I was taken up into a garret; and the surgeon's lady having accommodated
me with drawers and stockings, the surgeon himself fastened my hands, and tied up my
jaws with a pocket-handkerchief --- then bolted the door on the outside as he hurried to
his dinner, leaving me alone to silence and to meditation.
I now discovered to my extreme delight that I could have spoken had not my mouth
been tied up with the pocket-handkerchief. Consoling myself with this reflection, I was
mentally repeating some passages of the "Omnipresence of the Deity," as is my custom
before resigning myself to sleep, when two cats, of a greedy and vituperative turn,
entering at a hole in the wall, leaped up with a flourish a la Catalani, and alighting
opposite one another on my visage, betook themselves to indecorous contention for the
paltry consideration of my nose.
But, as the loss of his ears proved the means of elevating to the throne of Cyrus, the
Magian or Mige-Gush of Persia, and as the cutting off his nose gave Zopyrus possession
of Babylon, so the loss of a few ounces of my countenance proved the salvation of my
body. Aroused by the pain, and burning with indignation, I burst, at a single effort, the
fastenings and the bandage. Stalking across the room I cast a glance of contempt at the
belligerents, and throwing open the sash to their extreme horror and disappointment,
precipitated myself, very dexterously, from the window.
The mail-robber W., to whom I bore a singular resemblance, was at this moment
passing from the city jail to the scaffold erected for his execution in the suburbs. His
extreme infirmity and long continued ill health had obtained him the privilege of
remaining unmanacled; and habited in his gallows costume --- one very similar to my
own, --- he lay at full length in the bottom of the hangman's cart (which happened to be
under the windows of the surgeon at the moment of my precipitation) without any other
guard than the driver, who was asleep, and two recruits of the sixth infantry, who were
drunk.
As ill-luck would have it, I alit upon my feet within the vehicle. immediately, he bolted
out behind, and turning down an alley, was out of sight in the twinkling of an eye. The
recruits, aroused by the bustle, could not exactly comprehend the merits of the
transaction. Seeing, however, a man, the precise counterpart of the felon, standing upright
in the cart before their eyes, they were of (so they expressed themselves,) and, having
communicated this opinion to one another, they took each a dram, and then knocked me
down with the butt-ends of their muskets.
It was not long ere we arrived at the place of destination. Of course nothing could be
said in my defence. Hanging was my inevitable fate. I resigned myself thereto with a
feeling half stupid, half acrimonious. Being little of a cynic, I had all the sentiments of a
dog. The hangman, however, adjusted the noose about my neck. The drop fell.
I forbear to depict my sensations upon the gallows; although here, undoubtedly, I could
speak to the point, and it is a topic upon which nothing has been well said. In fact, to
write upon such a theme it is necessary to have been hanged. Every author should confine
himself to matters of experience. Thus Mark Antony composed a treatise upon getting
drunk.
I may just mention, however, that die I did not. My body was, but I had no breath to
be, suspended; and but for the knot under my left ear (which had the feel of a military
stock) I dare say that I should have experienced very little inconvenience. As for the jerk
given to my neck upon the falling of the drop, it merely proved a corrective to the twist
afforded me by the fat gentleman in the coach.
For good reasons, however, I did my best to give the crowd the worth of their trouble.
My convulsions were said to be extraordinary. My spasms it would have been difficult to
beat. The populace encored. Several gentlemen swooned; and a multitude of ladies were
carried home in hysterics. Pinxit availed himself of the opportunity to retouch, from a
sketch taken upon the spot, his admirable painting of the "Marsyas flayed alive."
When I had afforded sufficient amusement, it was thought proper to remove my body
from the gallows; --- this the more especially as the real culprit had in the meantime been
retaken and recognized, a fact which I was so unlucky as not to know.
Much sympathy was, of course, exercised in my behalf, and as no one made claim to
my corpse, it was ordered that I should be interred in a public vault.
Here, after due interval, I was deposited. The sexton departed, and I was left alone. A
line of Marston's "Malcontent"Death's a good fellow and keeps open house --struck me at that moment as a palpable lie.
I knocked off, however, the lid of my coffin, and stepped out. The place was dreadfully
dreary and damp, and I became troubled with ennui. By way of amusement, I felt my way
among the numerous coffins ranged in order around. I lifted them down, one by one, and
breaking open their lids, busied myself in speculations about the mortality within.
"This," I soliloquized, tumbling over a carcass, puffy, bloated, and rotund --- "this has
been, no doubt, in every sense of the word, an unhappy --- an unfortunate man. It has
been his terrible lot not to walk but to waddle --- to pass through life not like a human
being, but like an elephant --- not like a man, but like a rhinoceros.
"His attempts at getting on have been mere abortions, and his circumgyratory
proceedings a palpable failure. Taking a step forward, it has been his misfortune to take
two toward the right, and three toward the left. His studies have been confined to the
poetry of Crabbe. He can have no idea of the wonder of a pirouette. To him a pas de
papillon has been an abstract conception. He has never ascended the summit of a hill. He
has never viewed from any steeple the glories of a metropolis. Heat has been his mortal
enemy. In the dog-days his days have been the days of a dog. Therein, he has dreamed of
flames and suffocation --- of mountains upon mountains --- of Pelion upon Ossa. He was
short of breath --- to say all in a word, he was short of breath. He thought it extravagant
to play upon wind instruments. He was the inventor of self-moving fans, wind-sails, and
ventilators. He patronized Du Pont the bellows-maker, and he died miserably in
attempting to smoke a cigar. His was a case in which I feel a deep interest --- a lot in
which I sincerely sympathize.
"But here," --- said I --- "here" --- and I dragged spitefully from its receptacle a gaunt,
tall and peculiar-looking form, whose remarkable appearance struck me with a sense of
unwelcome familiarity --- "here is a wretch entitled to no earthly commiseration." Thus
saying, in order to obtain a more distinct view of my subject, I applied my thumb and
forefinger to its nose, and causing it to assume a sitting position upon the ground, held it
thus, at the length of my arm, while I continued my soliloquy.
--- "Entitled," I repeated, "to no earthly commiseration. Who indeed would think of
compassioning a shadow? Besides, has he not had his full share of the blessings of
mortality? He was the originator of tall monuments --- shot-towers --- lightning-rods --Lombardy poplars. His treatise upon "Shades and Shadows" has immortalized him. He
edited with distinguished ability the last edition of "South on the Bones." He went early
to college and studied pneumatics. He then came home, talked eternally, and played upon
the French-horn. He patronized the bagpipes. Captain Barclay, who walked against Time,
would not walk against him. Windham and Allbreath were his favorite writers, --- his
favorite artist, Phiz. He died gloriously while inhaling gas --- levique flatu corrupitur,
like the fama pudicitae in Hieronymus.* He was indubitably a" --*Tenera res in feminis fama pudicitiae, et quasi flos pulcherrimus, cito ad levem marcessit auram, levique
flatu corrumpitur, maxime, etc;. --- Hieronymus ad Salvinam.
"How can you? --- how --- can --- you?" --- interrupted the object of my animadversions,
gasping for breath, and tearing off, with a desperate exertion, the bandage around its jaws
--- "how can you, Mr. Lackobreath, be so infernally cruel as to pinch me in that manner
by the nose? Did you not see how they had fastened up my mouth --- and you must know
--- if you know any thing --- how vast a superfluity of breath I have to dispose of! If you
do not know, however, sit down and you shall see. In my situation it is really a great
relief to be able to open ones mouth --- to be able to expatiate --- to be able to
communicate with a person like yourself, who do not think yourself called upon at every
period to interrupt the thread of a gentleman's discourse. Interruptions are annoying and
should undoubtedly be abolished --- don't you think so? --- no reply, I beg you, --- one
person is enough to be speaking at a time. --- I shall be done by and by, and then you may
begin. --- How the devil sir, did you get into this place? --- not a word I beseech you --been here some time myself --- terrible accident! --- heard of it, I suppose? --- awful
calamity! --- walking under your windows --- some short while ago --- about the time you
were stage-struck --- horrible occurrence! --- heard of "catching one's breath," eh? --hold your tongue I tell you! --- I caught somebody else's! --- had always too much of my
own --- met Blab at the corner of the street --- wouldn't give me a chance for a word --couldn't get in a syllable edgeways --- attacked, consequently, with epilepsis --- Blab
made his escape --- damn all fools! --- they took me up for dead, and put me in this place
--- pretty doings all of them! --- heard all you said about me --- every word a lie --horrible! --- wonderful --- outrageous! --- hideous! --- incomprehensible! --- et cetera --et cetera --- et cetera --- et cetera ---"
It is impossible to conceive my astonishment at so unexpected a discourse, or the joy
with which I became gradually convinced that the breath so fortunately caught by the
gentleman (whom I soon recognized as my neighbor Windenough) was, in fact, the
identical expiration mislaid by myself in the conversation with my wife. Time, place, and
circumstances rendered it a matter beyond question. I did not, however, immediately
release my hold upon Mr. W.'s proboscis --- not at least during the long period in which
the inventor of Lombardy poplars continued to favor me with his explanations.
In this respect I was actuated by that habitual prudence which has ever been my
predominating trait. I reflected that many difficulties might still lie in the path of my
preservation which only extreme exertion on my part would be able to surmount. Many
persons, I considered, are prone to estimate commodities in their possession --- however
valueless to the then proprietor --- however troublesome, or distressing --- in direct ratio
with the advantages to be derived by others from their attainment, or by themselves from
their abandonment. Might not this be the case with Mr. Windenough? In displaying
anxiety for the breath of which he was at present so willing to get rid, might I not lay
myself open to the exactions of his avarice? There are scoundrels in this world, I
remembered with a sigh, who will not scruple to take unfair opportunities with even a
next door neighbor, and (this remark is from Epictetus) it is precisely at that time when
men are most anxious to throw off the burden of their own calamities that they feel the
least desirous of relieving them in others.
Upon considerations similar to these, and still retaining my grasp upon the nose of Mr.
W., I accordingly thought proper to model my reply.
"Monster!" I began in a tone of the deepest indignation --- "monster and doublewinded idiot! --- dost thou, whom for thine iniquities it has pleased heaven to accurse
with a two-fold respiration --- dost thou, I say, presume to address me in the familiar
language of an old acquaintance? --- 'I lie,' forsooth! and 'hold my tongue,' to be sure! --pretty conversation indeed, to a gentleman with a single breath! --- all this, too, when I
have it in my power to relieve the calamity under which thou dost so justly suffer --- to
curtail the superfluities of thine unhappy respiration."
Like Brutus, I paused for a reply --- with which, like a tornado, Mr. Windenough
immediately overwhelmed me. Protestation followed upon protestation, and apology
upon apology. There were no terms with which he was unwilling to comply, and there
were none of which I failed to take the fullest advantage.
Preliminaries being at length arranged, my acquaintance delivered me the respiration;
for which (having carefully examined it) I gave him afterward a receipt.
I am aware that by many I shall be held to blame for speaking in a manner so cursory,
of a transaction so impalpable. It will be thought that I should have entered more
minutely, into the details of an occurrence by which --- and this is very true --- much new
light might be thrown upon a highly interesting branch of physical philosophy.
To all this I am sorry that I cannot reply. A hint is the only answer which I am
permitted to make. There were circumstances --- but I think it much safer upon
consideration to say as little as possible about an affair so delicate --- so delicate, I repeat,
and at the time involving the interests of a third party whose sulphurous resentment I
have not the least desire, at this moment, of incurring.
We were not long after this necessary arrangement in effecting an escape from the
dungeons of the sepulchre. The united strength of our resuscitated voices was soon
sufficiently apparent. Scissors, the Whig editor, republished a treatise upon "the nature
and origin of subterranean noises." A reply --- rejoinder --- confutation --- and
justification --- followed in the columns of a Democratic Gazette. It was not until the
opening of the vault to decide the controversy, that the appearance of Mr. Windenough
and myself proved both parties to have been decidedly in the wrong.
I cannot conclude these details of some very singular passages in a life at all times
sufficiently eventful, without again recalling to the attention of the reader the merits of
that indiscriminate philosophy which is a sure and ready shield against those shafts of
calamity which can neither be seen, felt nor fully understood. It was in the spirit of this
wisdom that, among the ancient Hebrews, it was believed the gates of Heaven would be
inevitably opened to that sinner, or saint, who, with good lungs and implicit confidence,
should vociferate the word "Amen!" It was in the spirit of this wisdom that, when a great
plague raged at Athens, and every means had been in vain attempted for its removal,
Epimenides, as Laertius relates, in his second book, of that philosopher, advised the
erection of a shrine and temple "to the proper God."
LYTTLETON BARRY
The Man of the Crowd
Ce grand malheur, de ne pouvoir être seul. --- La Bruyère.
IT was well said of a certain German book that "er lasst sich nicht lesen" --- it does not
permit itself to be read. There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told.
Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them
piteously in the eyes --- die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of
the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed. Now and
then, alas, the conscience of man takes up a burthen so heavy in horror that it can be
thrown down only into the grave. And thus the essence of all crime is undivulged.
Not long ago, about the closing in of an evening in autumn, I sat at the large bow
window of the D------ Coffee-House in London. For some months I had been ill in health,
but was now convalescent, and, with returning strength, found myself in one of those
happy moods which are so precisely the converse of ennui --- moods of the keenest
appetency, when the film from the mental vision departs --- the αχλυζ η πριν επηεν -- and the intellect, electrified, surpasses as greatly its every-day condition, as does the
vivid yet candid reason of Leibnitz, the mad and flimsy rhetoric of Gorgias. Merely to
breathe was enjoyment; and I derived positive pleasure even from many of the legitimate
sources of pain. I felt a calm but inquisitive interest in every thing. With a cigar in my
mouth and a newspaper in my lap, I had been amusing myself for the greater part of the
afternoon, now in poring over advertisements, now in observing the promiscuous
company in the room, and now in peering through the smoky panes into the street.
This latter is one of the principal thoroughfares of the city, and had been very much
crowded during the whole day. But, as the darkness came on, the throng momently
increased; and, by the time the lamps were well lighted, two dense and continuous tides
of population were rushing past the door. At this particular period of the evening I had
never before been in a similar situation, and the tumultuous sea of human heads filled me,
therefore, with a delicious novelty of emotion. I gave up, at length, all care of things
within the hotel, and became absorbed in contemplation of the scene without.
At first my observations took an abstract and generalizing turn. I looked at the
passengers in masses, and thought of them in their aggregate relations. Soon, however, I
descended to details, and regarded with minute interest the innumerable varieties of
figure, dress, air, gait, visage, and expression of countenance.
By far the greater number of those who went by had a satisfied business-like
demeanor, and seemed to be thinking only of making their way through the press. Their
brows were knit, and their eyes rolled quickly; when pushed against by fellow-wayfarers
they evinced no symptom of impatience, but adjusted their clothes and hurried on.
Others, still a numerous class, were restless in their movements, had flushed faces, and
talked and gesticulated to themselves, as if feeling in solitude on account of the very
denseness of the company around. When impeded in their progress, these people
suddenly ceased muttering, but re-doubled their gesticulations, and awaited, with an
absent and overdone smile upon the lips, the course of the persons impeding them. If
jostled, they bowed profusely to the jostlers, and appeared overwhelmed with confusion.
--- There was nothing very distinctive about these two large classes beyond what I have
noted. Their habiliments belonged to that order which is pointedly termed the decent.
They were undoubtedly noblemen, merchants, attorneys, tradesmen, stock-jobbers --- the
Eupatrids and the common-places of society --- men of leisure and men actively engaged
in affairs of their own --- conducting business upon their own responsibility. They did not
greatly excite my attention.
The tribe of clerks was an obvious one and here I discerned two remarkable divisions.
There were the junior clerks of flash houses --- young gentlemen with tight coats, bright
boots, well-oiled hair, and supercilious lips. Setting aside a certain dapperness of
carriage, which may be termed deskism for want of a better word, the manner of these
persons seemed to me an exact fac-simile of what had been the perfection of bon ton
about twelve or eighteen months before. They wore the cast-off graces of the gentry; --and this, I believe, involves the best definition of the class.
The division of the upper clerks of staunch firms, or of the "steady old fellows," it was
not possible to mistake. These were known by their coats and pantaloons of black or
brown, made to sit comfortably, with white cravats and waistcoats, broad solid-looking
shoes, and thick hose or gaiters. --- They had all slightly bald heads, from which the right
ears, long used to pen-holding, had an odd habit of standing off on end. I observed that
they always removed or settled their hats with both hands, and wore watches, with short
gold chains of a substantial and ancient pattern. Theirs was the affectation of
respectability; --- if indeed there be an affectation so honorable.
There were many individuals of dashing appearance, whom I easily understood as
belonging to the race of swell pick-pockets, with which all great cities are infested. I
watched these gentry with much inquisitiveness, and found it difficult to imagine how
they should ever be mistaken for gentlemen by gentlemen themselves. Their
voluminousness of wristband, with an air of excessive frankness, should betray them at
once.
The gamblers, of whom I descried not a few, were still more easily recognizable. They
wore every variety of dress, from that of the desperate thimble-rig bully, with velvet
waistcoat, fancy neckerchief, gilt chains, and filigreed buttons, to that of the scrupulously
inornate clergyman, than which nothing could be less liable to suspicion. Still all were
distinguished by a certain sodden swarthiness of complexion, a filmy dimness of eye, and
pallor and compression of lip. There were two other traits, moreover, by which I could
always detect them; --- a guarded lowness of tone in conversation, and a more than
ordinary extension of the thumb in a direction at right angles with the fingers. --- Very
often, in company with these sharpers, I observed an order of men somewhat different in
habits, but still birds of a kindred feather. They may be defined as the gentlemen who live
by their wits. They seem to prey upon the public in two battalions --- that of the dandies
and that of the military men. Of the first grade the leading features are long locks and
smiles; of the second frogged coats and frowns.
Descending in the scale of what is termed gentility, I found darker and deeper themes for
speculation. I saw Jew peddlers, with hawk eyes flashing from countenances whose every
other feature wore only an expression of abject humility; sturdy professional street
beggars scowling upon mendicants of a better stamp, whom despair alone had driven
forth into the night for charity; feeble and ghastly invalids, upon whom death had placed
a sure hand, and who sidled and tottered through the mob, looking every one
beseechingly in the face, as if in search of some chance consolation, some lost hope;
modest young girls returning from long and late labor to a cheerless home, and shrinking
more tearfully than indignantly from the glances of ruffians, whose direct contact, even,
could not be avoided; women of the town of all kinds and of all ages --- the unequivocal
beauty in the prime of her womanhood, putting one in mind of the statue in Lucian, with
the surface of Parian marble, and the interior filled with filth --- the loathsome and utterly
lost leper in rags --- the wrinkled, bejewelled and paint-begrimed beldame, making a last
effort at youth --- the mere child of immature form, yet, from long association, an adept
in the dreadful coquetries of her trade, and burning with a rabid ambition to be ranked the
equal of her elders in vice; drunkards innumerable and indescribable --- some in shreds
and patches, reeling, inarticulate, with bruised visage and lack-lustre eyes --- some in
whole although filthy garments, with a slightly unsteady swagger, thick sensual lips, and
hearty-looking rubicund faces --- others clothed in materials which had once been good,
and which even now were scrupulously well brushed --- men who walked with a more
than naturally firm and springy step, but whose countenances were fearfully pale, whose
eyes hideously wild and red, and who clutched with quivering fingers, as they strode
through the crowd, at every object which came within their reach; beside these, pie-men,
porters, coal- heavers, sweeps; organ-grinders, monkey-exhibiters and ballad mongers,
those who vended with those who sang; ragged artizans and exhausted laborers of every
description, and all full of a noisy and inordinate vivacity which jarred discordantly upon
the ear, and gave an aching sensation to the eye.
As the night deepened, so deepened to me the interest of the scene; for not only did the
general character of the crowd materially alter (its gentler features retiring in the gradual
withdrawal of the more orderly portion of the people, and its harsher ones coming out
into bolder relief, as the late hour brought forth every species of infamy from its den,) but
the rays of the gas-lamps, feeble at first in their struggle with the dying day, had now at
length gained ascendancy, and threw over every thing a fitful and garish lustre. All was
dark yet splendid --- as that ebony to which has been likened the style of Tertullian.
The wild effects of the light enchained me to an examination of individual faces; and
although the rapidity with which the world of light flitted before the window, prevented
me from casting more than a glance upon each visage, still it seemed that, in my then
peculiar mental state, I could frequently read, even in that brief interval of a glance, the
history
of
long
years.
With my brow to the glass, I was thus occupied in scrutinizing the mob, when
suddenly there came into view a countenance (that of a decrepid old man, some sixty-five
or seventy years of age,) --- a countenance which at once arrested and absorbed my whole
attention, on account of the absolute idiosyncrasy of its expression. Any thing even
remotely resembling that expression I had never seen before. I well remember that my
first thought, upon beholding it, was that Retzch, had he viewed it, would have greatly
preferred it to his own pictural incarnations of the fiend. As I endeavored, during the brief
minute of my original survey, to form some analysis of the meaning conveyed, there
arose confusedly and paradoxically within my mind, the ideas of vast mental power, of
caution, of penuriousness, of avarice, of coolness, of malice, of blood-thirstiness, of
triumph, of merriment, of excessive terror, of intense --- of supreme despair. I felt
singularly aroused, startled, fascinated. "How wild a history," I said to myself, "is written
within that bosom!" Then came a craving desire to keep the man in view --- to know
more of him. Hurriedly putting on an overcoat, and seizing my hat and cane, I made my
way into the street, and pushed through the crowd in the direction which I had seen him
take; for he had already disappeared. With some little difficulty I at length came within
sight of him, approached, and followed him closely, yet cautiously, so as not to attract his
attention.
I had now a good opportunity of examining his person. He was short in stature, very
thin, and apparently very feeble. His clothes, generally, were filthy and ragged; but as he
came, now and then, within the strong glare of a lamp, I perceived that his linen, although
dirty, was of beautiful texture; and my vision deceived me, or, through a rent in a closelybuttoned and evidently second-handed roquelaire which enveloped him, I caught a
glimpse both of a diamond and of a dagger. These observations heightened my curiosity,
and I resolved to follow the stranger whithersoever he should go.
It was now fully night-fall, and a thick humid fog hung over the city, soon ending in a
settled and heavy rain. This change of weather had an odd effect upon the crowd, the
whole of which was at once put into new commotion, and overshadowed by a world of
umbrellas. The waver, the jostle, and the hum increased in a tenfold degree. For my own
part I did not much regard the rain --- the lurking of an old fever in my system rendering
the moisture somewhat too dangerously pleasant. Tying a handkerchief about my mouth,
I kept on. For half an hour the old man held his way with difficulty along the great
thoroughfare; and I here walked close at his elbow through fear of losing sight of him.
Never once turning his head to look back, he did not observe me. By and bye he passed
into a cross street, which, although densely filled with people, was not quite so much
thronged as the main one he had quitted. Here a change in his demeanor became evident.
He walked more slowly and with less object than before --- more hesitatingly. He crossed
and re-crossed the way repeatedly without apparent aim; and the press was still so thick
that, at every such movement, I was obliged to follow him closely. The street was a
narrow and long one, and his course lay within it for nearly an hour, during which the
passengers had gradually diminished to about that number which is ordinarily seen at
noon in Broadway near the Park --- so vast a difference is there between a London
populace and that of the most frequented American city. A second turn brought us into a
square, brilliantly lighted, and overflowing with life. The old manner of the stranger reappeared. His chin fell upon his breast, while his eyes rolled wildly from under his knit
brows, in every direction, upon those who hemmed him in. He urged his way steadily and
perseveringly. I was surprised, however, to find, upon his having made the circuit of the
square, that he turned and retraced his steps. Still more was I astonished to see him repeat
the same walk several times --- once nearly detecting me as he came round with a sudden
movement.
In this exercise he spent another hour, at the end of which we met with far less
interruption from passengers than at first. The rain fell fast; the air grew cool; and the
people were retiring to their homes. With a gesture of impatience, the wanderer passed
into a bye-street comparatively deserted. Down this, some quarter of a mile long, he
rushed with an activity I could not have dreamed of seeing in one so aged, and which put
me to much trouble in pursuit. A few minutes brought us to a large and busy bazaar, with
the localities of which the stranger appeared well acquainted, and where his original
demeanor again became apparent, as he forced his way to and fro, without aim, among
the host of buyers and sellers.
During the hour and a half, or thereabouts, which we passed in this place, it required
much caution on my part to keep him within reach without attracting his observation.
Luckily I wore a pair of caoutchouc over-shoes, and could move about in perfect silence.
At no moment did he see that I watched him. He entered shop after shop, priced nothing,
spoke no word, and looked at all objects with a wild and vacant stare. I was now utterly
amazed at his behavior, and firmly resolved that we should not part until I had satisfied
myself in some measure respecting him.
A loud-toned clock struck eleven, and the company were fast deserting the bazaar. A
shop-keeper, in putting up a shutter, jostled the old man, and at the instant I saw a strong
shudder come over his frame. He hurried into the street, looked anxiously around him for
an instant, and then ran with incredible swiftness through many crooked and people-less
lanes, until we emerged once more upon the great thoroughfare whence we had started --the street of the D------ Hotel. It no longer wore, however, the same aspect. It was still
brilliant with gas; but the rain fell fiercely, and there were few persons to be seen. The
stranger grew pale. He walked moodily some paces up the once populous avenue, then,
with a heavy sigh, turned in the direction of the river, and, plunging through a great
variety of devious ways, came out, at length, in view of one of the principal theatres. It
was about being closed, and the audience were thronging from the doors. I saw the old
man gasp as if for breath while he threw himself amid the crowd; but I thought that the
intense agony of his countenance had, in some measure, abated. His head again fell upon
his breast; he appeared as I had seen him at first. I observed that he now took the course
in which had gone the greater number of the audience --- but, upon the whole, I was at a
loss to comprehend the waywardness of his actions.
As he proceeded, the company grew more scattered, and his old uneasiness and
vacillation were resumed. For some time he followed closely a party of some ten or
twelve roisterers; but from this number one by one dropped off, until three only remained
together, in a narrow and gloomy lane little frequented. The stranger paused, and, for a
moment, seemed lost in thought; then, with every mark of agitation, pursued rapidly a
route which brought us to the verge of the city, amid regions very different from those we
had hitherto traversed. It was the most noisome quarter of London, where every thing
wore the worst impress of the most deplorable poverty, and of the most desperate crime.
By the dim light of an accidental lamp, tall, antique, worm-eaten, wooden tenements
were seen tottering to their fall, in directions so many and capricious that scarce the
semblance of a passage was discernible between them. The paving-stones lay at random,
displaced from their beds by the rankly-growing grass. Horrible filth festered in the
dammed-up gutters. The whole atmosphere teemed with desolation. Yet, as we
proceeded, the sounds of human life revived by sure degrees, and at length large bands of
the most abandoned of a London populace were seen reeling to and fro. The spirits of the
old man again flickered up, as a lamp which is near its death-hour. Once more he strode
onward with elastic tread. Suddenly a corner was turned, a blaze of light burst upon our
sight, and we stood before one of the huge suburban temples of Intemperance --- one of
the palaces of the fiend, Gin.
It was now nearly day-break; but a number of wretched inebriates still pressed in and
out of the flaunting entrance. With a half shriek of joy the old man forced a passage
within, resumed at once his original bearing, and stalked backward and forward, without
apparent object, among the throng. He had not been thus long occupied, however, before
a rush to the doors gave token that the host was closing them for the night. It was
something even more intense than despair that I then observed upon the countenance of
the singular being whom I had watched so pertinaciously. Yet he did not hesitate in his
career, but, with a mad energy, retraced his steps at once, to the heart of the mighty
London. Long and swiftly he fled, while I followed him in the wildest amazement,
resolute not to abandon a scrutiny in which I now felt an interest all-absorbing. The sun
arose while we proceeded, and, when we had once again reached that most thronged mart
of the populous town, the street of the D------ Hotel, it presented an appearance of human
bustle and activity scarcely inferior to what I had seen on the evening before. And here,
long, amid the momently increasing confusion, did I persist in my pursuit of the stranger.
But, as usual, he walked to and fro, and during the day did not pass from out the turmoil
of that street. And, as the shades of the second evening came on, I grew wearied unto
death, and, stopping fully in front of the wanderer, gazed at him steadfastly in the face.
He noticed me not, but resumed his solemn walk, while I, ceasing to follow, remained
absorbed in contemplation. "This old man," I said at length, "is the type and the genius of
deep crime. He refuses to be alone. He is the man of the crowd. It will be in vain to
follow; for I shall learn no more of him, nor of his deeds. The worst heart of the world is
a grosser book than the 'Hortulus Animæ,' * and perhaps it is but one of the great mercies
of God that 'er lasst sich nicht lesen.' "
* The "Hortulus Animæ cum Oratiunculis Aliquibus Superadditis" of Grünninger.
The Man That Was Used Up
A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN
Pleurez,
pleurez,
mes
yeux,
et
La moitié de ma vie a mis l'autre au tombeau.
fondez
vous
en
eau!
--- Corneille
I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly
fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did
introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure --- at some public meeting, I know very well --held about something of great importance, no doubt --- at some place or other, I feel
convinced, --- whose name I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is --- that the
introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious embarrassment which
operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally
nervous --- this, with me, is a family failing, and I can't help it. In especial, the slightest
appearance of mystery --- of any point I cannot exactly comprehend --- puts me at once
into a pitiable state of agitation.
There was something, as it were, remarkable --- yes, remarkable, although this is but a
feeble term to express my full meaning --- about the entire individuality of the personage
in question. He was, perhaps, six feet in height, and of a presence singularly
commanding. There was an air distingué pervading the whole man, which spoke of high
breeding, and hinted at high birth. Upon this topic --- the topic of Smith's personal
appearance --- I have a kind of melancholy satisfaction in being minute. His head of hair
would have done honor to a Brutus; --- nothing could be more richly flowing, or possess
a brighter gloss. It was of a jetty black; --- which was also the color, or more properly
the no color of his unimaginable whiskers. You perceive I cannot speak of these latter
without enthusiasm; it is not too much to say that they were the handsomest pair of
whiskers under the sun. At all events, they encircled, and at times partially
overshadowed, a mouth utterly unequalled. Here were the most entirely even, and the
most brilliantly white of all conceivable teeth. From between them, upon every proper
occasion, issued a voice of surpassing clearness, melody, and strength. In the matter of
eyes, also, my acquaintance was pre-eminently endowed. Either one of such a pair was
worth a couple of the ordinary ocular organs. They were of a deep hazel, exceedingly
large and lustrous; and there was perceptible about them, ever and anon, just that amount
of interesting obliquity which gives pregnancy to expression.
The bust of the General was unquestionably the finest bust I ever saw. For your life
you could not have found a fault with its wonderful proportion. This rare peculiarity set
off to great advantage a pair of shoulders which would have called up a blush of
conscious inferiority into the countenance of the marble Apollo. I have a passion for fine
shoulders, and may say that I never beheld them in perfection before. The arms
altogether were admirably modelled. Nor were the lower limbs less superb. These were,
indeed, the ne plus ultra of good legs. Every connoisseur in such matters admitted the
legs to be good. There was neither too much flesh, nor too little, --- neither rudeness nor
fragility. I could not imagine a more graceful curve than that of the os femoris, and there
was just that due gentle prominence in the rear of the fibula which goes to the
conformation of a properly proportioned calf. I wish to God my young and talented
friend Chiponchipino, the sculptor, had but seen the legs of Brevet Brigadier-General
John A. B. C. Smith.
But although men so absolutely fine-looking are neither as plenty as reasons or
blackberries, still I could not bring myself to believe that the remarkable something to
which I alluded just now, --- that the odd air of je ne sais quoi which hung about my new
acquaintance, --- lay altogether, or indeed at all, in the supreme excellence of his bodily
endowments. Perhaps it might be traced to the manner; --- yet here again I could not
pretend to be positive. There was a primness, not to say stiffness, in his carriage --- a
degree of measured, and, if I may so express it, of rectangular precision, attending his
every movement, which, observed in a more diminutive figure, would have had the least
little savor in the world, of affectation, pomposity or constraint, but which noticed in a
gentleman of his undoubted dimensions, was readily placed to the account of reserve,
hauteur --- of a commendable sense, in short, of what is due to the dignity of colossal
proportion.
The kind friend who presented me to General Smith whispered in my ear some few
words of comment upon the man. He was a remarkable man --- a very remarkable man -- indeed one of the most remarkable men of the age. He was an especial favorite, too,
with the ladies --- chiefly on account of his high reputation for courage.
"In that point he is unrivalled --- indeed he is a perfect desperado --- a down-right fireeater, and no mistake," said my friend, here dropping his voice excessively low, and
thrilling me with the mystery of his tone.
"A downright fire-eater, and no mistake. Showed that, I should say, to some purpose,
in the late tremendous swamp-fight away down South, with the Bugaboo and Kickapoo
Indians." [Here my friend opened his eyes to some extent.] "Bless my soul! --- blood and
thunder, and all that! --- prodigies of valor! --- heard of him of course? --- you know he's
the man -------"
"Man alive, how do you do? why, how are ye? very glad to see ye, indeed!" here
interrupted the General himself, seizing my companion by the hand as he drew near, and
bowing stiffly, but profoundly, as I was presented. I then thought, (and I think so still)
that I never heard a clearer nor a stronger voice, nor beheld a finer set of teeth: but I must
say that I was sorry for the interruption just at that moment, as, owing to the whispers and
insinuations aforesaid, my interest had been greatly excited in the hero of the Bugaboo
and Kickapoo campaign.
However, the delightfully luminous conversation of Brevet Brigadier General John A.
B. C. Smith soon completely dissipated this chagrin. My friend leaving us immediately,
we had quite a long tête-à-tête, and I was not only pleased but really --- instructed. I
never heard a more fluent talker, or a man of greater general information. With
becoming modesty, he forbore, nevertheless, to touch upon the theme I had just then most
at heart --- I mean the mysterious circumstances attending the Bugaboo war --- and, on
my own part, what I conceive to be a proper sense of delicacy forbade me to broach the
subject ; although, in truth, I was exceedingly tempted to do so. I perceived, too, that the
gallant soldier preferred topics of philosophical interest, and that he delighted, especially,
in commenting upon the rapid march of mechanical invention. Indeed, lead him where I
would, this was a point to which he invariably came back.
"There is nothing at all like it," he would say; "we are a wonderful people, and live in a
wonderful age. Parachutes and rail-roads --- man-traps and spring-guns ! Our steamboats are upon every sea, and the Nassau balloon packet is about to run regular trips (fare
either way only twenty pounds sterling) between London and Timbuctoo. And who shall
calculate the immense influence upon social life --- upon arts --- upon commerce --- upon
literature --- which will be the immediate result of the great principles of
electromagnetics! Nor, is this all, let me assure you! There is really no end to the march
of invention. The most wonderful --- the most ingenious --- and let me add, Mr. --- Mr.
--- Thompson, I believe, is your name --- let me add, I say, the most useful --- the most
truly useful mechanical contrivances, are daily springing up like mushrooms, if I may so
express myself, or, more figuratively, like --- ah --- grasshoppers --- like grasshoppers,
Mr. Thompson --- about us and ah --- ah --- ah --- around us!"
Thompson, to be sure, is not my name ; but it is needless to say that I left General
Smith with a heightened interest in the man, with an exalted opinion of his conversational
powers, and a deep sense of the valuable privileges we enjoy in living in this age of
mechanical invention. My curiosity, however, had not been altogether satisfied, and I
resolved to prosecute immediate inquiry among my acquaintances touching the Brevet
Brigadier General himself, and particularly respecting the tremendous events quorum
pars magna fuit, during the Bugaboo and Kickapoo campaign.
The first opportunity which presented itself, and which (horresco referens) I did not in
the least scruple to seize, occurred at the Church of the Reverend Doctor
Drummummupp, where I found myself established, one Sunday, just at sermon time, not
only in the pew, but by the side, of that worthy and communicative little friend of mine,
Miss Tabitha T. Thus seated, I congratulated myself, and with much reason, upon the
very flattering state of affairs. If any person knew anything about Brevet Brigadier
General John A. B. C. Smith, that person, it was clear to me, was Miss Tabitha T. We
telegraphed a few signals, and then commenced, soto voce, a brisk tête-à-tête.
"Smith!" said she, in reply to my very earnest inquiry; "Smith! --- why, not General
John A. B. C.? Bless me, I thought you knew all about him! This is a wonderfully
inventive age! Horrid affair that! --- a bloody set of wretches, those Kickapoos! ---
fought like a hero --- prodigies of valor --- immortal renown. Smith! --- Brevet
Brigadier General John A. B. C.! why, you know he's the man ---------"
"Man," here broke in Doctor Drummummupp, at the top of his voice, and with a thump
that came near knocking the pulpit about our ears; "man that is born of a woman hath but
a short time to live; he cometh up and is cut down like a flower !" I started to the
extremity of the pew, and perceived by the animated looks of the divine, that the wrath
which had nearly proved fatal to the pulpit had been excited by the whispers of the lady
and myself. There was no help for it; so I submitted with a good grace, and listened, in
all the martyrdom of dignified silence, to the balance of that very capital discourse.
Next evening found me a somewhat late visitor at the Rantipole theatre, where I felt
sure of satisfying my curiosity at once, by merely stepping into the box of those exquisite
specimens of affability and omniscience, the Misses Arabella and Miranda Cognoscenti.
That fine tragedian, Climax, was doing Iago to a very crowded house, and I experienced
some little difficulty in making my wishes understood; especially, as our box was next
the slips, and completely overlooked the stage.
"Smith?" said Miss Arabella, as she at length comprehended the purport of my query;
"Smith? --- why, not General John A. B. C.?"
"Smith?" inquired Miranda, musingly. "God bless me, did you ever behold a finer
figure?"
"Never, madam, but do tell me ---------"
"Or so inimitable grace?"
"Never, upon my word! --- But pray inform me ---------"
"Or so just an appreciation of stage effect?"
"Madam!"
"Or a more delicate sense of the true beauties of Shakespeare? Be so good as to look
at that leg!"
"The devil!" and I turned again to her sister.
"Smith?" said she, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horrid affair that, wasn't it? --great wretches, those Bugaboos --- savage and so on --- but we live in a wonderfully
inventive age! --- Smith! --- O yes! great man! --- perfect desperado --- immortal
renown --- prodigies of valor ! Never heard!" [This was given in a scream.] "Bless my
soul ! why, he's the man ---------"
"--------------Nor
all
the
drowsy
Shall
ever
medicine
thee
Which thou owd'st yesterday!"
syrups
to
of
that
mandragora
the
world
sweet
sleep
here roared our Climax just in my ear, and shaking his fist in my face all the time, in a
way that I couldn't stand, and I wouldn't. I left the Misses Cognoscenti immediately, went
behind the scenes forthwith, and gave the beggarly scoundrel such a thrashing as I trust
he will remember to the day of his death.
At the soirée of the lovely widow, Mrs. Kathleen O'Trump, I was confident that I should
meet with no similar disappointment. Accordingly, I was no sooner seated at the cardtable, with my pretty hostess for a vis-à-vis, than I propounded those questions the
solution of which had become a matter so essential to my peace.
"Smith?" said my partner, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horrid affair that, wasn't
it? --- diamonds, did you say? --- terrible wretches those Kickapoos! --- we are playing
whist, if you please, Mr. Tattle --- however, this is the age of invention, most certainly the
age, one may say --- the age par excellence --- speak French? --- oh, quite a hero --perfect desperado! --- no hearts, Mr. Tattle? I don't believe it! --- immortal renown and
all that! --- prodigies of valor! Never heard!! --- why, bless me, he's the man ---------"
"Mann? --- Captain Mann?" here screamed some little feminine interloper from the
farthest corner of the room. "Are you talking about Captain Mann and the duel? --- oh, I
must hear --- do tell --- go on, Mrs. O'Trump! --- do now go on!" And go on Mrs.
O'Trump did --- all about a certain Captain Mann, who was either shot or hung, or should
have been both shot and hung. Yes! Mrs. O'Trump, she went on, and I --- I went off.
There was no chance of hearing anything farther that evening in regard to Brevet
Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith.
Still I consoled myself with the reflection that the tide of ill luck would not run against
me forever, and so determined to make a bold push for information at the rout of that
bewitching little angel, the graceful Mrs. Pirouette.
"Smith?" said Mrs. P., as we twirled about together in a pas de zephyr, "Smith? --why, not General John A. B. C.? Dreadful business that of the Bugaboos, wasn't it? --dreadful creatures, those Indians! --- do turn out your toes! I really am ashamed of you -- man of great courage, poor fellow! --- but this is a wonderful age for invention --- O
dear me, I'm out of breath --- quite a desperado --- prodigies of valor --- never heard!! --can't believe it --- I shall have to sit down and enlighten you --- Smith! why, he's the man
---------"
"Man-Fred, I tell you!" here bawled out Miss Bas-Bleu, as I led Mrs. Pirouette to a
seat. "Did ever anybody hear the like? It's Man-Fred, I say, and not at all by any means
Man-Friday." Here Miss Bas-Bleu beckoned to me in a very peremptory manner; and I
was obliged, will I nill I, to leave Mrs. P. for the purpose of deciding a dispute touching
the title of a certain poetical drama of Lord Byron's. Although I pronounced, with great
promptness, that the true title was Man-Friday, and not by any means Man-Fred, yet
when I returned to seek Mrs. Pirouette she was not to be discovered, and I made my
retreat from the house in a very bitter spirit of animosity against the whole race of the
Bas-Bleus.
Matters had now assumed a really serious aspect, and I resolved to call at once upon
my particular friend, Mr. Theodore Sinivate; for I knew that here at least I should get
something like definite information.
"Smith?" said he, in his well-known peculiar way of drawling out his syllables;
"Smith? --- why, not General John A. B. C.? Savage affair that with the Kickapo-o-o-os,
wasn't it? Say, don't you think so? --- perfect despera-a-ado --- great pity, 'pon my
honor! --- wonderfully inventive age! --- pro-o-odigies of valor! By the by, did you ever
hear about Captain Ma-a-a-a-n?"
"Captain Mann be d------d!" said I; "please to go on with your story."
"Hem! --- oh well! --- quite la même cho-o-ose, as we say in France. Smith, eh?
Brigadier-General John A. B. C.? I say" --- [here Mr. S. thought proper to put his finger
to the side of his nose] --- "I say, you don't mean to insinuate now, really and truly, and
conscientiously, that you don't know all about that affair of Smith's, as well as I do, eh?
Smith? John A---B---C.? Why, bless me, he's the ma-a-an ---------"
"Mr. Sinivate," said I, imploringly, "is he the man in the mask ?"
"No-o-o!" said he, looking wise, "nor the man in the mo-o-on."
This reply I considered a pointed and positive insult, and so left the house at once in
high dudgeon, with a firm resolve to call my friend, Mr. Sinivate, to a speedy account for
his ungentlemanly conduct and ill-breeding.
In the meantime, however, I had no notion of being thwarted touching the information
I desired. There was one resource left me yet. I would go to the fountain-head. I would
call forthwith upon the General himself, and demand, in explicit terms, a solution of this
abominable piece of mystery. Here, at least, there should be no chance for equivocation.
I would be plain, positive, peremptory --- as short as pie-crust --- as concise as Tacitus or
Montesquieu.
It was early when I called, and the General was dressing; but I pleaded urgent business,
and was shown at once into his bed-room by an old negro valet, who remained in
attendance during my visit. As I entered the chamber, I looked about, of course, for the
occupant, but did not immediately perceive him. There was a large and exceedingly odd-
looking bundle of something which lay close by my feet on the floor, and, as I was not in
the best humor in the world, I gave it a kick out of the way.
"Hem! ahem! rather civil that, I should say!" said the bundle, in one of the smallest, and
altogether the funniest little voices, between a squeak and a whistle, that I ever heard in
all the days of my existence.
"Ahem! rather civil that, I should observe."
I fairly shouted with terror, and made off, at a tangent, into the farthest extremity of the
room.
"God bless me! my dear fellow," here again whistled the bundle, "what --- what --what --- why, what is the matter? I really believe you don't know me at all."
What could I say to all this --- what could I? I staggered into an arm-chair, and, with
staring eyes and open mouth, awaited the solution of the wonder.
"Strange you shouldn't know me though, isn't it?" presently re-squeaked the
nondescript, which I now perceived was performing, upon the floor, some inexplicable
evolution, very analogous to the drawing on of a stocking. There was only a single leg,
however, apparent.
"Strange you shouldn't know me, though, isn't it? Pompey, bring me that leg!" Here
Pompey handed the bundle, a very capital cork leg, already dressed, which it screwed on
in a trice; and then it stood up before my eyes.
"And a bloody action it was," continued the thing, as if in a soliloquy; "but then one
mustn't fight with the Bugaboos and Kickapoos, and think of coming off with a mere
scratch. Pompey, I'll thank you now for that arm. Thomas" [turning to me] "is decidedly
the best hand at a cork leg ; but if you should ever want an arm, my dear fellow, you must
really let me recommend you to Bishop." Here Pompey screwed on an arm.
"We had rather hot work of it, that you may say. Now, you dog, slip on my shoulders
and bosom! Pettit makes the best shoulders, but for a bosom you will have to go to
Ducrow."
"Bosom!" said I.
"Pompey, will you never be ready with that wig? Scalping is a rough process after all ;
but then you can procure such a capital scratch at De L'Orme's."
"Scratch!"
"Now, you nigger, my teeth! For a good set of these you had better go to Parmly's at
once; high prices, but excellent work. I swallowed some very capital articles, though,
when the big Bugaboo rammed me down with the butt end of his rifle."
"Butt end! ram down!! my eye!!"
"O yes, by-the-by, my eye --- here, Pompey, you scamp, screw it in! Those Kickapoos
are not so very slow at a gouge; but he's a belied man, that Dr. Williams, after all; you
can't imagine how well I see with the eyes of his make."
I now began very clearly to perceive that the object before me was nothing more nor
less than my new acquaintance, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. The
manipulations of Pompey had made, I must confess, a very striking difference in the
appearance of the personal man. The voice, however, still puzzled me no little; but even
this apparent mystery was speedily cleared up.
"Pompey, you black rascal," squeaked the General, "I really do believe you would let
me go out without my palate."
Hereupon, the negro, grumbling out an apology, went up to his master, opened his
mouth with the knowing air of a horse-jockey, and adjusted therein a somewhat singularlooking machine, in a very dexterous manner, that I could not altogether comprehend.
The alteration, however, in the entire expression of the General's countenance was
instantaneous and surprising. When he again spoke, his voice had resumed all that rich
melody and strength which I had noticed upon our original introduction.
"D------n the vagabonds!" said he, in so clear a tone that I positively started at the
change, "D------n the vagabonds! they not only knocked in the roof of my mouth, but
took the trouble to cut off at least seven-eighths of my tongue. There isn't Bonfanti's
equal, however, in America, for really good articles of this description. I can recommend
you to him with confidence," [here the General bowed,] "and assure you that I have the
greatest pleasure in so doing."
I acknowledged his kindness in my best manner, and took leave of him at once, with a
perfect understanding of the true state of affairs --- with a full comprehension of the
mystery which had troubled me so long. It was evident. It was a clear case. Brevet
Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith was the man ----- was the man that was used up.
The Masque of the Red Death
THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal,
or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --- the redness and the horror of blood.
There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores,
with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the
victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his
fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the
incidents of half an hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions
were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted
friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep
seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent
structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty
wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought
furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither
of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The
abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to
contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to
grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were
buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there
was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red
Death."
It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the
pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand
friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.
It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which
it was held. There were seven --- an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites
form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on
either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was
very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The
apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one
at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel
effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window
looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These
windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue
of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was
hung, for example, in blue --- and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber
was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was
green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with
orange --- the fifth with white --- the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely
shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls,
falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber
only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here
were scarlet --- a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any
lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and
fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or
candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there
stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its
rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were
produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black
chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the
blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the
countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to
set foot within its precincts at all.
It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock
of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when
the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came
from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and
exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour,
the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their
performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their
evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the
chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more
aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or
meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the
assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness
and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the
clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty
minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,)
there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and
tremulousness and meditation as before.
But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke
were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere
fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre.
There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It
was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.
He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon
occasion of this great fête; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to
the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and
piquancy and phantasm --- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were
arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies
such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton,
much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have
excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of
dreams. And these --- the dreams --- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms,
and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon,
there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a
moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stifffrozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away --- they have endured but an
instant --- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now
again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever,
taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the
tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none
of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light
through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to
him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a
muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in
the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.
But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart
of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding
of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions
of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before.
But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it
happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of
the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before
the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many
individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a
masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the
rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at
length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and
surprise --- then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.
In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no
ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license
of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and
gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the
hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the
utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest
can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume
and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and
gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which
concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened
corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all
this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the
mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was
dabbled in blood --- and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled
with the scarlet horror.
When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and
solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the
waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of
terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him --- "who
dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him --- that we
may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"
It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered
these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was
a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.
It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his
side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the
direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with
deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain
nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole
party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he
passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one
impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way
uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished
him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple --- through the purple to the
green --- through the green to the orange --- through this again to the white --- and even
thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then,
however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own
momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed
him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger,
and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating
figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned
suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --- and the dagger dropped
gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death
the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the
revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer,
whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock,
gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which
they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief
in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their
revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock
went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And
Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Mellonta Tauta
TO THE EDITORS OF THE LADY'S BOOK:
I have the honor of sending you, for your magazine, an article which I hope you will be
able to comprehend rather more distinctly than I do myself. It is a translation, by my
friend, Martin Van Buren Mavis, (sometimes called the "Poughkeepsie Seer") of an oddlooking MS. which I found, about a year ago, tightly corked up in a jug floating in the
Mare Tenebrarum --- a sea well described by the Nubian geographer, but seldom visited
now-a-days, except for the transcendentalists and divers for crotchets.
Truly yours,
EDGAR A. POE
ON BOARD BALLOON "SKYLARK"
April, 1, 2848
NOW, my dear friend --- now, for your sins, you are to suffer the infliction of a long
gossiping letter. I tell you distinctly that I am going to punish you for all your
impertinences by being as tedious, as discursive, as incoherent and as unsatisfactory as
possible. Besides, here I am, cooped up in a dirty balloon, with some one or two hundred
of the canaille, all bound on a pleasure excursion, (what a funny idea some people have
of pleasure!) and I have no prospect of touching terra firma for a month at least. Nobody
to talk to. Nothing to do. When one has nothing to do, then is the time to correspond with
ones friends. You perceive, then, why it is that I write you this letter --- it is on account of
my ennui and your sins.
Get ready your spectacles and make up your mind to be annoyed. I mean to write at
you every day during this odious voyage.
Heigho! when will any Invention visit the human pericranium? Are we forever to be
doomed to the thousand inconveniences of the balloon? Will nobody contrive a more
expeditious mode of progress? The jog-trot movement, to my thinking, is little less than
positive torture. Upon my word we have not made more than a hundred miles the hour
since leaving home! The very birds beat us --- at least some of them. I assure you that I
do not exaggerate at all. Our motion, no doubt, seems slower than it actually is --- this on
account of our having no objects about us by which to estimate our velocity, and on
account of our going with the wind. To be sure, whenever we meet a balloon we have a
chance of perceiving our rate, and then, I admit, things do not appear so very bad.
Accustomed as I am to this mode of travelling, I cannot get over a kind of giddiness
whenever a balloon passes us in a current directly overhead. It always seems to me like
an immense bird of prey about to pounce upon us and carry us off in its claws. One went
over us this morning about sunrise, and so nearly overhead that its drag-rope actually
brushed the network suspending our car, and caused us very serious apprehension. Our
captain said that if the material of the bag had been the trumpery varnished "silk" of five
hundred or a thousand years ago, we should inevitably have been damaged. This silk, as
he explained it to me, was a fabric composed of the entrails of a species of earth-worm.
The worm was carefully fed on mulberries --- kind of fruit resembling a water-melon --and, when sufficiently fat, was crushed in a mill. The paste thus arising was called
papyrus in its primary state, and went through a variety of processes until it finally
became "silk." Singular to relate, it was once much admired as an article of female dress!
Balloons were also very generally constructed from it. A better kind of material, it
appears, was subsequently found in the down surrounding the seed-vessels of a plant
vulgarly called euphorbium, and at that time botanically termed milk-weed. This latter
kind of silk was designated as silk-buckingham, on account of its superior durability, and
was usually prepared for use by being varnished with a solution of gum caoutchouc --- a
substance which in some respects must have resembled the gutta percha now in common
use. This caoutchouc was occasionally called Indian rubber or rubber of twist, and was no
doubt one of the numerous fungi. Never tell me again that I am not at heart an
antiquarian.
Talking of drag-ropes --- our own, it seems, has this moment knocked a man overboard
from one of the small magnetic propellers that swarm in ocean below us --- a boat of
about six thousand tons, and, from all accounts, shamefully crowded. These diminutive
barques should be prohibited from carrying more than a definite number of passengers.
The man, of course, was not permitted to get on board again, and was soon out of sight,
he and his life-preserver. I rejoice, my dear friend, that we live in an age so enlightened
that no such a thing as an individual is supposed to exist. It is the mass for which the true
Humanity cares. By-the-by, talking of Humanity, do you know that our immortal
Wiggins is not so original in his views of the Social Condition and so forth, as his
contemporaries are inclined to suppose? Pundit assures me that the same ideas were put
nearly in the same way, about a thousand years ago, by an Irish philosopher called
Furrier, on account of his keeping a retail shop for cat peltries and other furs. Pundit
knows, you know; there can be no mistake about it. How very wonderfully do we see
verified every day, the profound observation of the Hindoo Aries Tottle (as quoted by
Pundit) --- "Thus must we say that, not once or twice, or a few times, but with almost
infinite repetitions, the same opinions come round in a circle among men."
April 2. --- Spoke to-day the magnetic cutter in charge of the middle section of floating
telegraph wires. I learn that when this species of telegraph was first put into operation by
Horse, it was considered quite impossible to convey the wires over sea, but now we are at
a loss to comprehend where the difficulty lay! So wags the world. Tempora mutantur --excuse me for quoting the Etruscan. What would we do without the Atalantic telegraph?
(Pundit says Atlantic was the ancient adjective.) We lay to a few minutes to ask the cutter
some questions, and learned, among other glorious news, that civil war is raging in
Africa, while the plague is doing its good work beautifully both in Yurope and Ayesher.
Is it not truly remarkable that, before the magnificent light shed upon philosophy by
Humanity, the world was accustomed to regard War and Pestilence as calamities? Do you
know that prayers were actually offered up in the ancient temples to the end that these
evils (!) might not be visited upon mankind? Is it not really difficult to comprehend upon
what principle of interest our forefathers acted? Were they so blind as not to perceive that
the destruction of a myriad of individuals is only so much positive advantage to the mass!
April 3. --- It is really a very fine amusement to ascend the rope-ladder leading to the
summit of the balloon-bag, and thence survey the surrounding world. From the car below
you know the prospect is not so comprehensive --- you can see little vertically. But seated
here (where I write this) in the luxuriously-cushioned open piazza of the summit, one can
see everything that is going on in all directions. Just now there is quite a crowd of
balloons in sight, and they present a very animated appearance, while the air is resonant
with the hum of so many millions of human voices. I have heard it asserted that when
Yellow or (Pundit will have it) Violet, who is supposed to have been the first aeronaut,
maintained the practicability of traversing the atmosphere in all directions, by merely
ascending or descending until a favorable current was attained, he was scarcely
hearkened to at all by his contemporaries, who looked upon him as merely an ingenious
sort of madman, because the philosophers (?) of the day declared the thing impossible.
Really now it does seem to me quite unaccountable how any thing so obviously feasible
could have escaped the sagacity of the ancient savants. But in all ages the great obstacles
to advancement in Art have been opposed by the so-called men of science. To be sure,
our men of science are not quite so bigoted as those of old: --- oh, I have something so
queer to tell you on this topic. Do you know that it is not more than a thousand years ago
since the metaphysicians consented to relieve the people of the singular fancy that there
existed but two possible roads for the attainment of Truth! Believe it if you can! It
appears that long, long ago, in the night of Time, there lived a Turkish philosopher (or
Hindoo possibly) called Aries Tottle. This person introduced, or at all events propagated
what was termed the deductive or a priori mode of investigation. He started with what he
maintained to be axioms or "self-evident truths," and thence proceeded "logically" to
results. His greatest disciples were one Neuclid, and one Cant. Well, Aries Tottle
flourished supreme until advent of one Hog, surnamed the "Ettrick Shepherd," who
preached an entirely different system, which he called the a posteriori or inductive. His
plan referred altogether to Sensation. He proceeded by observing, analyzing, and
classifying facts --- instantiae naturae, as they were affectedly called --- into general
laws. Aries Tottle's mode, in a word, was based on noumena; Hog's on phenomena. Well,
so great was the admiration excited by this latter system that, at its first introduction,
Aries Tottle fell into disrepute; but finally he recovered ground and was permitted to
divide the realm of Truth with his more modern rival. The savants now maintained the
Aristotelian and Baconian roads were the sole possible avenues to knowledge.
"Baconian," you must know, was an adjective invented as equivalent to Hog-ian and
more euphonious and dignified.
Now, my dear friend, I do assure you, most positively, that I represent this matter
fairly, on the soundest authority and you can easily understand how a notion so absurd on
its very face must have operated to retard the progress of all true knowledge --- which
makes its advances almost invariably by intuitive bounds. The ancient idea confined
investigations to crawling; and for hundreds of years so great was the infatuation about
Hog especially, that a virtual end was put to all thinking, properly so called. No man
dared utter a truth to which he felt himself indebted to his Soul alone. It mattered not
whether the truth was even demonstrably a truth, for the bullet-headed savants of the time
regarded only the road by which he had attained it. They would not even look at the end.
"Let us see the means," they cried, "the means!" If, upon investigation of the means, it
was found to come under neither the category Aries (that is to say Ram) nor under the
category Hog, why then the savants went no farther, but pronounced the "theorist" a fool,
and would have nothing to do with him or his truth.
Now, it cannot be maintained, even, that by the crawling system the greatest amount of
truth would be attained in any long series of ages, for the repression of imagination was
an evil not to be compensated for by any superior certainty in the ancient modes of
investigation. The error of these Jurmains, these Vrinch, these Inglitch, and these
Amriccans (the latter, by the way, were our own immediate progenitors), was an error
quite analogous with that of the wiseacre who fancies that he must necessarily see an
object the better the more closely he holds it to his eyes. These people blinded themselves
by details. When they proceeded Hoggishly, their "facts" were by no means always facts
--- a matter of little consequence had it not been for assuming that they were facts and
must be facts because they appeared to be such. When they proceeded on the path of the
Ram, their course was scarcely as straight as a ram's horn, for they never had an axiom
which was an axiom at all. They must have been very blind not to see this, even in their
own day; for even in their own day many of the long "established" axioms had been
rejected. For example --- "Ex nihilo nihil fit"; "a body cannot act where it is not"; "there
cannot exist antipodes"; "darkness cannot come out of light" --- all these, and a dozen
other similar propositions, formerly admitted without hesitation as axioms, were, even at
the period of which I speak, seen to be untenable. How absurd in these people, then, to
persist in putting faith in "axioms" as immutable bases of Truth! But even out of the
mouths of their soundest reasoners it is easy to demonstrate the futility, the impalpability
of their axioms in general. Who was the soundest of their logicians? Let me see! I will go
and ask Pundit and be back in a minute. . . . Ah, here we have it! Here is a book written
nearly a thousand years ago and lately translated from the Inglitch --- which, by the way,
appears to have been the rudiment of the Amriccan. Pundit says it is decidedly the
cleverest ancient work on its topic, Logic. The author (who was much thought of in his
day) was one Miller, or Mill; and we find it recorded of him, as a point of some
importance, that he had a mill-horse called Bentham. But let us glance at the treatise!
Ah! --- "Ability or inability to conceive," says Mr. Mill, very properly, "is in no case to
be received as a criterion of axiomatic truth." What modern in his senses would ever
think of disputing this truism? The only wonder with us must be, how it happened that
Mr. Mill conceived it necessary even to hint at any thing so obvious. So far good --- but
let us turn over another paper. What have we here? --- "Contradictories cannot both be
true --- that is, cannot co-exist in nature." Here Mr. Mill means, for example, that a tree
must be either a tree or not a tree --- that it cannot be at the same time a tree and not a
tree. Very well; but I ask him why. His reply is this --- and never pretends to be any thing
else than this --- "Because it is impossible to conceive that contradictories can both be
true." But this is no answer at all, by his own showing, for has he not just admitted as a
truism that "ability or inability to conceive is in no case to be received as a criterion of
axiomatic truth."
Now I do not complain of these ancients so much because their logic is, by their own
showing, utterly baseless, worthless and fantastic altogether, as because of their pompous
and imbecile proscription of all other roads of Truth, of all other means for its attainment
than the two preposterous paths ---- the one of creeping and the one of crawling ---- to
which they have dared to confine the Soul that loves nothing so well as to soar.
By the by, my dear friend, do you not think it would have puzzled these ancient
dogmaticians to have determined by which of their two roads it was that the most
important and most sublime of all their truths was, in effect, attained? I mean the truth of
Gravitation. Newton owed it to Kepler. Kepler admitted that his three laws were guessed
at --- these three laws of all laws which led the great Inglitch mathematician to his
principle, the basis of all physical principle --- to go behind which we must enter the
Kingdom of Metaphysics. Kepler guessed --- that is to say imagined. He was essentially a
"theorist" --- that word now of so much sanctity, formerly an epithet of contempt. Would
it not have puzzled these old moles too, to have explained by which of the two "roads" a
cryptographist unriddles a cryptograph of more than usual secrecy, or by which of the
two roads Champollion directed mankind to those enduring and almost innumerable
truths which resulted from his deciphering the Hieroglyphics.
One word more on this topic and I will be done boring you. Is it not passing strange
that, with their eternal prattling about roads to Truth, these bigoted people missed what
we now so clearly perceive to be the great highway --- that of Consistency? Does it not
seem singular how they should have failed to deduce from the works of God the vital fact
that a perfect consistency must be an absolute truth! How plain has been our progress
since the late announcement of this proposition! Investigation has been taken out of the
hands of the ground-moles and given, as a task, to the true and only true thinkers, the men
of ardent imagination. These latter theorize. Can you not fancy the shout of scorn with
which my words would be received by our progenitors were it possible for them to be
now looking over my shoulder? These men, I say, theorize; and their theories are simply
corrected, reduced, systematized --- cleared, little by little, of their dross of inconsistency
--- until, finally, a perfect consistency stands apparent which even the most stolid admit,
because it is a consistency, to be an absolute and an unquestionable truth.
April 4. --- The new gas is doing wonders, in conjunction with the new improvement
with gutta percha. How very safe, commodious, manageable, and in every respect
convenient are our modern balloons! Here is an immense one approaching us at the rate
of at least a hundred and fifty miles an hour. It seems to be crowded with people --perhaps there are three or four hundred passengers --- and yet it soars to an elevation of
nearly a mile, looking down upon poor us with sovereign contempt. Still a hundred or
even two hundred miles an hour is slow travelling after all. Do you remember our flight
on the railroad across the Kanadaw continent? --- fully three hundred miles the hour --that was travelling. Nothing to be seen though --- nothing to be done but flirt, feast and
dance in the magnificent saloons. Do you remember what an odd sensation was
experienced when, by chance, we caught a glimpse of external objects while the cars
were in full flight? Every thing seemed unique --- in one mass. For my part, I cannot say
but that I preferred the travelling by the slow train of a hundred miles the hour. Here we
were permitted to have glass windows --- even to have them open --- and something like
a distinct view of the country was attainable. . . . Pundit says that the route for the great
Kanadaw railroad must have been in some measure marked out about nine hundred years
ago! In fact, he goes so far as to assert that actual traces of a road are still discernible --traces referable to a period quite as remote as that mentioned. The track, it appears was
double only; ours, you know, has twelve paths; and three or four new ones are in
preparation. The ancient rails were very slight, and placed so close together as to be,
according to modern notions, quite frivolous, if not dangerous in the extreme. The present
width of track --- fifty feet --- is considered, indeed, scarcely secure enough. For my part,
I make no doubt that a track of some sort must have existed in very remote times, as
Pundit asserts; for nothing can be clearer, to my mind, than that, at some period --- not
less than seven centuries ago, certainly --- the Northern and Southern Kanadaw
continents were united; the Kanawdians, then, would have been driven, by necessity, to a
great railroad across the continent.
April 5. --- I am almost devoured by ennui. Pundit is the only conversible person on
board; and he, poor soul! can speak of nothing but antiquities. He has been occupied all
the day in the attempt to convince me that the ancient Amriccans governed themselves! -- did ever anybody hear of such an absurdity? --- that they existed in a sort of every-manfor-himself confederacy, after the fashion of the "prairie dogs" that we read of in fable.
He says that they started with the queerest idea conceivable, viz: that all men are born
free and equal --- this in the very teeth of the laws of gradation so visibly impressed upon
all things both in the moral and physical universe. Every man "voted," as they called it --that is to say meddled with public affairs --- until at length, it was discovered that what is
everybody's business is nobody's, and that the "Republic" (so the absurd thing was called)
was without a government at all. It is related, however, that the first circumstance which
disturbed, very particularly, the self-complacency of the philosophers who constructed
this "Republic," was the startling discovery that universal suffrage gave opportunity for
fraudulent schemes, by means of which any desired number of votes might at any time be
polled, without the possibility of prevention or even detection, by any party which should
be merely villainous enough not to be ashamed of the fraud. A little reflection upon this
discovery sufficed to render evident the consequences, which were that rascality must
predominate --- in a word, that a republican government could never be any thing but a
rascally one. While the philosophers, however, were busied in blushing at their stupidity
in not having foreseen these inevitable evils, and intent upon the invention of new
theories, the matter was put to an abrupt issue by a fellow of the name of Mob, who took
every thing into his own hands and set up a despotism, in comparison with which those of
the fabulous Zeros and Hellofagabaluses were respectable and delectable. This Mob (a
foreigner, by-the-by), is said to have been the most odious of all men that ever
encumbered the earth. He was a giant in stature --- insolent, rapacious, filthy, had the gall
of a bullock with the heart of a hyena and the brains of a peacock. He died, at length, by
dint of his own energies, which exhausted him. Nevertheless, he had his uses, as every
thing has, however vile, and taught mankind a lesson which to this day it is in no danger
of forgetting --- never to run directly contrary to the natural analogies. As for
Republicanism, no analogy could be found for it upon the face of the earth --- unless we
except the case of the "prairie dogs," an exception which seems to demonstrate, if
anything, that democracy is a very admirable form of government --- for dogs. April 6. --Last night had a fine view of Alpha Lyrae, whose disk, through our captain's spy-glass,
subtends an angle of half a degree, looking very much as our sun does to the naked eye
on a misty day. Alpha Lyrae, although so very much larger than our sun, by the by,
resembles him closely as regards its spots, its atmosphere, and in many other particulars.
It is only within the last century, Pundit tells me, that the binary relation existing between
these two orbs began even to be suspected. The evident motion of our system in the
heavens was (strange to say!) referred to an orbit about a prodigious star in the centre of
the galaxy. About this star, or at all events about a centre of gravity common to all the
globes of the Milky Way and supposed to be near Alcyone in the Pleiades, every one of
these globes was declared to be revolving, our own performing the circuit in a period of
117,000,000 of years! We, with our present lights, our vast telescopic improvements, and
so forth, of course find it difficult to comprehend the ground of an idea such as this. Its
first propagator was one Mudler. He was led, we must presume, to this wild hypothesis
by mere analogy in the first instance; but, this being the case, he should have at least
adhered to analogy in its development. A great central orb was, in fact, suggested; so far
Mudler was consistent. This central orb, however, dynamically, should have been greater
than all its surrounding orbs taken together. The question might then have been asked --"Why do we not see it?" --- we, especially, who occupy the mid region of the cluster --the very locality near which, at least, must be situated this inconceivable central sun. The
astronomer, perhaps, at this point, took refuge in the suggestion of non-luminosity; and
here analogy was suddenly let fall. But even admitting the central orb non-luminous, how
did he manage to explain its failure to be rendered visible by the incalculable host of
glorious suns glaring in all directions about it? No doubt what he finally maintained was
merely a centre of gravity common to all the revolving orbs --- but here again analogy
must have been let fall. Our system revolves, it is true, about a common centre of gravity,
but it does this in connection with and in consequence of a material sun whose mass more
than counterbalances the rest of the system. The mathematical circle is a curve composed
of an infinity of straight lines; but this idea of the circle --- this idea of it which, in regard
to all earthly geometry, we consider as merely the mathematical, in contradistinction
from the practical, idea --- is, in sober fact, the practical conception which alone we have
any right to entertain in respect to those Titanic circles with which we have to deal, at
least in fancy, when we suppose our system, with its fellows, revolving about a point in
the centre of the galaxy. Let the most vigorous of human imaginations but attempt to take
a single step toward the comprehension of a circuit so unutterable! I would scarcely be
paradoxical to say that a flash of lightning itself, travelling forever upon the
circumference of this inconceivable circle, would still forever be travelling in a straight
line. That the path of our sun along such a circumference --- that the direction of our
system in such an orbit --- would, to any human perception, deviate in the slightest
degree from a straight line even in a million of years, is a proposition not to be
entertained; and yet these ancient astronomers were absolutely cajoled, it appears, into
believing that a decisive curvature had become apparent during the brief period of their
astronomical history --- during the mere point --- during the utter nothingness of two or
three thousand years! How incomprehensible, that considerations such as this did not at
once indicate to them the true state of affairs --- that of the binary revolution of our sun
and Alpha Lyrae around a common centre of gravity!
April 7. --- Continued last night our astronomical amusements. Had a fine view of the
five Neptunian asteroids, and watched with much interest the putting up of a huge impost
on a couple of lintels in the new temple at Daphnis in the moon. It was amusing to think
that creatures so diminutive as the lunarians, and bearing so little resemblance to
humanity, yet evinced a mechanical ingenuity so much superior to our own. One finds it
difficult, too, to conceive the vast masses which these people handle so easily, to be as
light as our own reason tells us they actually are.
April 8. --- Eureka! Pundit is in his glory. A balloon from Kanadaw spoke us to-day
and threw on board several late papers; they contain some exceedingly curious
information relative to Kanawdian or rather Amriccan antiquities. You know, I presume,
that laborers have for some months been employed in preparing the ground for a new
fountain at Paradise, the Emperor's principal pleasure garden. Paradise, it appears, has
been, literally speaking, an island time out of mind --- that is to say, its northern boundary
was always (as far back as any record extends) a rivulet, or rather a very narrow arm of
the sea. This arm was gradually widened until it attained its present breadth --- a mile.
The whole length of the island is nine miles; the breadth varies materially. The entire area
(so Pundit says) was, about eight hundred years ago, densely packed with houses, some
of them twenty stories high; land (for some most unaccountable reason) being considered
as especially precious just in this vicinity. The disastrous earthquake, however, of the
year 2050, so totally uprooted and overwhelmed the town (for it was almost too large to
be called a village) that the most indefatigable of our antiquarians have never yet been
able to obtain from the site any sufficient data (in the shape of coins, medals or
inscriptions) wherewith to build up even the ghost of a theory concerning the manners,
customs, etc., etc., etc., of the aboriginal inhabitants. Nearly all that we have hitherto
known of them is, that they were a portion of the Knickerbocker tribe of savages infesting
the continent at its first discovery by Recorder Riker, a knight of the Golden Fleece. They
were by no means uncivilized, however, but cultivated various arts and even sciences
after a fashion of their own. It is related of them that they were acute in many respects,
but were oddly afflicted with monomania for building what, in the ancient Amriccan, was
denominated "churches" --- a kind of pagoda instituted for the worship of two idols that
went by the names of Wealth and Fashion. In the end, it is said, the island became, nine
tenths of it, church. The women, too, it appears, were oddly deformed by a natural
protuberance of the region just below the small of the back --- although, most
unaccountably, this deformity was looked upon altogether in the light of a beauty. One or
two pictures of these singular women have in fact, been miraculously preserved. They
look very odd, very --- like something between a turkey-cock and a dromedary.
Well, these few details are nearly all that have descended to us respecting the ancient
Knickerbockers. It seems, however, that while digging in the centre of the emperors
garden, (which, you know, covers the whole island), some of the workmen unearthed a
cubical and evidently chiseled block of granite, weighing several hundred pounds. It was
in good preservation, having received, apparently, little injury from the convulsion which
entombed it. On one of its surfaces was a marble slab with (only think of it!) an
inscription --- a legible inscription. Pundit is in ecstasies. Upon detaching the slab, a
cavity appeared, containing a leaden box filled with various coins, a long scroll of names,
several documents which appear to resemble newspapers, with other matters of intense
interest to the antiquarian! There can be no doubt that all these are genuine Amriccan
relics belonging to the tribe called Knickerbocker. The papers thrown on board our
balloon are filled with fac-similes of the coins, MSS., typography, &c., &c. I copy for
your amusement the Knickerbocker inscription on the marble slab: --This
Corner
Stone
of
a
Monument
to
the
Memory
of
GEORGE
WASHINGTON,
was
laid
with
appropriate
ceremonies
on
the
19th
Day
of
October,
1847,
the
anniversary
of
the
surrender
of
Lord
Cornwallis
to
General
Washington
at
Yorktown,
A.
D.
1781
under
the
auspices
of
the
Washington
Monument
Association
of
the
city of New York
This, as I give it, is a verbatim translation done by Pundit himself, so there can be no
mistake about it. From the few words thus preserved, we glean several important items of
knowledge, not the least interesting of which is the fact that a thousand years ago actual
monuments had fallen into disuse --- as was all very proper --- the people contenting
themselves, as we do now, with a mere indication of the design to erect a monument at
some future time; a corner-stone being cautiously laid by itself "solitary and alone"
(excuse me for quoting the great American poet Benton!), as a guarantee of the
magnanimous intention. We ascertain, too, very distinctly, from this admirable
inscription, the how as well as the where and the what, of the great surrender in question.
As to the where, it was Yorktown (wherever that was), and as to the what, it was General
Cornwallis (no doubt some wealthy dealer in corn). He was surrendered. The inscription
commemorates the surrender of --- what? why, "of Lord Cornwallis." The only question
is what could the savages wish him surrendered for. But when we remember that these
savages were undoubtedly cannibals, we are led to the conclusion that they intended him
for sausage. As to the how of the surrender, no language can be more explicit. Lord
Cornwallis was surrendered (for sausage) "under the auspices of the Washington
Monument Association" --- no doubt a charitable institution for the depositing of cornerstones. --- But, Heaven bless me! what is the matter? Ah, I see --- the balloon has
collapsed, and we shall have a tumble into the sea. I have, therefore, only time enough to
add that, from a hasty inspection of the fac-similes of newspapers, etc., etc., I find that the
great men in those days among the Amriccans, were one John, a smith, and one
Zacchary, a tailor.
Good-bye, until I see you again. Whether you ever get this letter or not is point of little
importance, as I write altogether for my own amusement. I shall cork the MS. up in a
bottle, however, and throw it into the sea.
Yours everlastingly,
PUNDITA.
Mesmeric Revelation
WHATEVER doubt may still envelop the rationale of mesmerism, its startling facts are
now almost universally admitted. Of these latter, those who doubt, are your mere
doubters by profession --- an unprofitable and disreputable tribe. There can be no more
absolute waste of time than the attempt to prove, at the present day, that man, by mere
exercise of will, can so impress his fellow, as to cast him into an abnormal condition, of
which the phenomena resemble very closely those of death, or at least resemble them
more nearly than they do the phenomena of any other normal condition within our
cognizance; that, while in this state, the person so impressed employs only with effort,
and then feebly, the external organs of sense, yet perceives, with keenly refined
perception, and through channels supposed unknown, matters beyond the scope of the
physical organs; that, moreover, his intellectual faculties are wonderfully exalted and
invigorated; that his sympathies with the person so impressing him are profound; and,
finally, that his susceptibility to the impression increases with its frequency, while, in the
same proportion, the peculiar phenomena elicited are more extended and more
pronounced.
I say that these --- which are the laws of mesmerism in its general features --- it would
be supererogation to demonstrate; nor shall I inflict upon my readers so needless a
demonstration; to-day. My purpose at present is a very different one indeed. I am
impelled, even in the teeth of a world of prejudice, to detail without comment the very
remarkable substance of a colloquy, occurring between a sleep-waker and myself.
I had been long in the habit of mesmerizing the person in question (Mr. Vankirk) and
the usual acute susceptibility and exaltation of the mesmeric perception had supervened.
For many months he had been laboring under confirmed phthisis, the more distressing
effects of which had been relieved by my manipulations; and on the night of Wednesday,
the fifteenth instant, I was summoned to his bedside.
The invalid was suffering with acute pain in the region of the heart, and breathed with
great difficulty, having all the ordinary symptoms of asthma. In spasms such as these he
had usually found relief from the application of mustard to the nervous centres, but tonight this had been attempted in vain.
As I entered his room he greeted me with a cheerful smile, and although evidently in
much bodily pain, appeared to be, mentally, quite at ease.
"I sent for you to-night," he said, "not so much to administer to my bodily ailment, as
to satisfy me concerning certain psychal impressions which, of late, have occasioned me
much anxiety and surprise. I need not tell you how sceptical I have hitherto been on the
topic of the soul's immortality. I cannot deny that there has always existed, as if in that
very soul which I have been denying, a vague half-sentiment of its own existence. But
this half-sentiment at no time amounted to conviction. With it my reason had nothing to
do. All attempts at logical inquiry resulted, indeed, in leaving me more sceptical than
before. I had been advised to study Cousin. I studied him in his own works as well as in
those of his European and American echoes. The 'Charles Elwood' of Mr. Brownson, for
example, was placed in my hands. I read it with profound attention. Throughout I found
it logical, but the portions which were not merely logical were unhappily the initial
arguments of the disbelieving hero of the book. In his summing up it seemed evident to
me that the reasoner had not even succeeded in convincing himself. His end had plainly
forgotten his beginning, like the government of Trinculo. In short, I was not long in
perceiving that if man is to be intellectually convinced of his own immortality, he will
never be so convinced by the mere abstractions which have been so long the fashion of
the moralists of England, of France, and of Germany. Abstractions may amuse and
exercise, but take no hold on the mind. Here upon earth, at least, philosophy, I am
persuaded, will always in vain call upon us to look upon qualities as things. The will
may assent --- the soul --- the intellect, never.
"I repeat, then, that I only half felt, and never intellectually believed. But latterly there
has been a certain deepening of the feeling, until it has come so nearly to resemble the
acquiescence of reason, that I find it difficult to distinguish between the two. I am
enabled, too, plainly to trace this effect to the mesmeric influence. I cannot better explain
my meaning than by the hypothesis that the mesmeric exaltation enables me to perceive a
train of ratiocination which, in my abnormal existence, convinces, but which, in full
accordance with the mesmeric phenomena, does not extend, except through its effect, into
my normal condition. In sleep-waking, the reasoning and its conclusion --- the cause and
its effect --- are present together. In my natural state, the cause vanishing, the effect only,
and perhaps only partially, remains.
"These considerations have led me to think that some good results might ensue from a
series of well-directed questions propounded to me while mesmerized. You have often
observed the profound self-cognizance evinced by the sleep-waker --- the extensive
knowledge he displays upon all points relating to the mesmeric condition itself; and from
this self-cognizance may be deduced hints for the proper conduct of a catechism."
I consented of course to make this experiment. A few passes threw Mr. Vankirk into
the mesmeric sleep. His breathing became immediately more easy, and he seemed to
suffer no physical uneasiness. The following conversation then ensued: --- V. in the
dialogue representing the patient, and P. myself.
P. Are you asleep?
V. Yes --- no; I would rather sleep more soundly.
P. [After a few more passes.] Do you sleep now?
V. Yes.
P. How do you think your present illness will result?
V. [After a long hesitation and speaking as if with effort.] I must die.
P. Does the idea of death afflict you?
V. [Very quickly.] No --- no!
P. Are you pleased with the prospect?
V. If I were awake I should like to die, but now it is no matter. The mesmeric
condition is so near death as to content me.
P. I wish you would explain yourself, Mr. Vankirk.
V. I am willing to do so, but it requires more effort than I feel able to make. You do
not question me properly.
P. What then shall I ask?
V. You must begin at the beginning.
P. The beginning ! but where is the beginning?
V. You know that the beginning is GOD. [This was said in a low, fluctuating tone, and
with every sign of the most profound veneration.]
P. What then is God?
V. [Hesitating for many minutes.] I cannot tell.
P. Is not God spirit?
V. While I was awake I knew what you meant by "spirit," but now it seems only a
word --- such for instance as truth, beauty --- a quality, I mean.
P. Is not God immaterial?
V. There is no immateriality --- it is a mere word. That which is not matter, is not at
all --- unless qualities are things.
P. Is God, then, material?
V. No. [This reply startled me very much.]
P. What then is he?
V. [After a long pause, and mutteringly.] I see --- but it is a thing difficult to tell.
[Another long pause.] He is not spirit, for he exists. Nor is he matter, as you understand
it. But there are gradations of matter of which man knows nothing ; the grosser
impelling the finer, the finer pervading the grosser. The atmosphere, for example, impels
the electric principle, while the electric principle permeates the atmosphere. These
gradations of matter increase in rarity or fineness, until we arrive at a matter unparticled -- without particles --- indivisible --- one and here the law of impulsion and permeation is
modified. The ultimate, or unparticled matter, not only permeates all things but impels
all things --- and thus is all things within itself. This matter is God. What men attempt to
embody in the word "thought," is this matter in motion.
P. The metaphysicians maintain that all action is reducible to motion and thinking, and
that the latter is the origin of the former.
V. Yes; and I now see the confusion of idea. Motion is the action of mind --- not of
thinking. The unparticled matter, or God, in quiescence, is (as nearly as we can conceive
it) what men call mind. And the power of self-movement (equivalent in effect to human
volition) is, in the unparticled matter, the result of its unity and omni-prevalence; how I
know not, and now clearly see that I shall never know. But the unparticled matter, set in
motion by a law, or quality, existing within itself, is thinking.
P. Can you give me no more precise idea of what you term the unparticled matter?
V. The matters of which man is cognizant, escape the senses in gradation. We have,
for example, a metal, a piece of wood, a drop of water, the atmosphere, a gas, caloric,
electricity, the luminiferous ether. Now we call all these things matter, and embrace all
matter in one general definition ; but in spite of this, there can be no two ideas more
essentially distinct than that which we attach to a metal, and that which we attach to the
luminiferous ether. When we reach the latter, we feel an almost irresistible inclination to
class it with spirit, or with nihility. The only consideration which restrains us is our
conception of its atomic constitution ; and here, even, we have to seek aid from our
notion of an atom, as something possessing in infinite minuteness, solidity, palpability,
weight. Destroy the idea of the atomic constitution and we should no longer be able to
regard the ether as an entity, or at least as matter. For want of a better word we might
term it spirit. Take, now, a step beyond the luminiferous ether --- conceive a matter as
much more rare than the ether, as this ether is more rare than the metal, and we arrive at
once (in spite of all the school dogmas) at a unique mass --- an unparticled matter. For
although we may admit infinite littleness in the atoms themselves, the infinitude of
littleness in the spaces between them is an absurdity. There will be a point --- there will
be a degree of rarity, at which, if the atoms are sufficiently numerous, the interspaces
must vanish, and the mass absolutely coalesce. But the consideration of the atomic
constitution being now taken away, the nature of the mass inevitably glides into what we
conceive of spirit. It is clear, however, that it is as fully matter as before. The truth is, it
is impossible to conceive spirit, since it is impossible to imagine what is not. When we
flatter ourselves that we have formed its conception, we have merely deceived our
understanding by the consideration of infinitely rarified matter.
P. There seems to me an insurmountable objection to the idea of absolute
coalescence; --- and that is the very slight resistance experienced by the heavenly bodies
in their revolutions through space --- a resistance now ascertained, it is true, to exist in
some degree, but which is, nevertheless, so slight as to have been quite overlooked by the
sagacity even of Newton. We know that the resistance of bodies is, chiefly, in proportion
to their density. Absolute coalescence is absolute density. Where there are no
interspaces, there can be no yielding. An ether, absolutely dense, would put an infinitely
more effectual stop to the progress of a star than would an ether of adamant or of iron.
V. Your objection is answered with an ease which is nearly in the ratio of its apparent
unanswerability. --- As regards the progress of the star, it can make no difference
whether the star passes through the ether or the ether through it. There is no
astronomical error more unaccountable than that which reconciles the known retardation
of the comets with the idea of their passage through an ether: for, however rare this ether
be supposed, it would put a stop to all sidereal revolution in a very far briefer period than
has been admitted by those astronomers who have endeavored to slur over a point which
they found it impossible to comprehend. The retardation actually experienced is, on the
other hand, about that which might be expected from the friction of the ether in the
instantaneous passage through the orb. In the one case, the retarding force is momentary
and complete within itself --- in the other it is endlessly accumulative.
P. But in all this --- in this identification of mere matter with God --- is there nothing
of irreverence? [I was forced to repeat this question before the sleep-waker fully
comprehended my meaning.]
V. Can you say why matter should be less reverenced than mind ? But you forget that
the matter of which I speak is, in all respects, the very "mind" or "spirit" of the schools,
so far as regards its high capacities, and is, moreover, the "matter" of these schools at the
same time. God, with all the powers attributed to spirit, is but the perfection of matter.
P. You assert, then, that the unparticled matter, in motion, is thought ?
V. In general, this motion is the universal thought of the universal mind. This thought
creates. All created things are but the thoughts of God.
P. You say, "in general."
V. Yes. The universal mind is God. For new individualities, matter is necessary.
P. But you now speak of "mind" and "matter" as do the metaphysicians.
V. Yes --- to avoid confusion. When I say "mind," I mean the unparticled or ultimate
matter; by "matter," I intend all else.
P. You were saying that "for new individualities matter is necessary."
V. Yes; for mind, existing unincorporate, is merely God. To create individual,
thinking beings, it was necessary to incarnate portions of the divine mind. Thus man is
individualized. Divested of corporate investiture, he were God. Now, the particular
motion of the incarnated portions of the unparticled matter is the thought of man; as the
motion of the whole is that of God.
P. You say that divested of the body man will be God?
V. [After much hesitation.] I could not have said this; it is an absurdity.
P. [Referring to my notes.] You did say that "divested of corporate investiture man
were God."
V. And this is true. Man thus divested would be God --- would be unindividualized.
But he can never be thus divested --- at least never will be --- else we must imagine an
action of God returning upon itself --- a purposeless and futile action. Man is a creature.
Creatures are thoughts of God. It is the nature of thought to be irrevocable.
P. I do not comprehend. You say that man will never put off the body?
V. I say that he will never be bodiless.
P. Explain.
V. There are two bodies --- the rudimental and the complete ; corresponding with the
two conditions of the worm and the butterfly. What we call "death," is but the painful
metamorphosis. Our present incarnation is progressive, preparatory, temporary. Our
future is perfected, ultimate, immortal. The ultimate life is the full design.
P. But of the worm's metamorphosis we are palpably cognizant.
V. We, certainly --- but not the worm. The matter of which our rudimental body is
composed, is within the ken of the organs of that body; or, more distinctly, our
rudimental organs are adapted to the matter of which is formed the rudimental body; but
not to that of which the ultimate is composed. The ultimate body thus escapes our
rudimental senses, and we perceive only the shell which falls, in decaying, from the inner
form; not that inner form itself; but this inner form, as well as the shell, is appreciable
by those who have already acquired the ultimate life.
P. You have often said that the mesmeric state very nearly resembles death. How is
this?
V. When I say that it resembles death, I mean that it resembles the ultimate life; for
when I am entranced the senses of my rudimental life are in abeyance, and I perceive
external things directly, without organs, through a medium which I shall employ in the
ultimate, unorganized life.
P. Unorganized?
V. Yes; organs are contrivances by which the individual is brought into sensible relation
with particular classes and forms of matter, to the exclusion of other classes and forms.
The organs of man are adapted to his rudimental condition, and to that only; his ultimate
condition, being unorganized, is of unlimited comprehension in all points but one --- the
nature of the volition of God --- that is to say, the motion of the unparticled matter. You
will have a distinct idea of the ultimate body by conceiving it to be entire brain. This it is
not; but a conception of this nature will bring you near a comprehension of what it is. A
luminous body imparts vibration to the luminiferous ether. The vibrations generate
similar ones within the retina; these again communicate similar ones to the optic nerve.
The nerve conveys similar ones to the brain ; the brain, also, similar ones to the
unparticled matter which permeates it. The motion of this latter is thought, of which
perception is the first undulation. This is the mode by which the mind of the rudimental
life communicates with the external world ; and this external world is, to the rudimental
life, limited, through the idiosyncrasy of its organs. But in the ultimate, unorganized life,
the external world reaches the whole body, (which is of a substance having affinity to
brain, as I have said,) with no other intervention than that of an infinitely rarer ether than
even the luminiferous; and to this ether --- in unison with it --- the whole body vibrates,
setting in motion the unparticled matter which permeates it. It is to the absence of
idiosyncratic organs, therefore, that we must attribute the nearly unlimited perception of
the ultimate life. To rudimental beings, organs are the cages necessary to confine them
until fledged.
P. You speak of rudimental "beings." Are there other rudimental thinking beings than
man?
V. The multitudinous conglomeration of rare matter into nebulæ, planets, suns, and
other bodies which are neither nebulæ, suns, nor planets, is for the sole purpose of
supplying pabulum for the idiosyncrasy of the organs of an infinity of rudimental beings.
But for the necessity of the rudimental, prior to the ultimate life, there would have been
no bodies such as these. Each of these is tenanted by a distinct variety of organic,
rudimental, thinking creatures. In all, the organs vary with the features of the place
tenanted. At death, or metamorphosis, these creatures, enjoying the ultimate life --immortality --- and cognizant of all secrets but the one, act all things and pass everywhere
by mere volition: --- indwelling, not the stars, which to us seem the sole palpabilities, and
for the accommodation of which we blindly deem space created --- but that SPACE itself -- that infinity of which the truly substantive vastness swallows up the star-shadows -blotting them out as non-entities from the perception of the angels.
P. You say that "but for the necessity of the rudimental life" there would have been no
stars. But why this necessity?
V. In the inorganic life, as well as in the inorganic matter generally, there is nothing to
impede the action of one simple unique law --- the Divine Volition. With the view of
producing impediment, the organic life and matter (complex, substantial, and lawencumbered) were contrived.
P. But again --- why need this impediment have been produced?
V. The result of law inviolate is perfection --- right --- negative happiness. The result
of law violate is imperfection, wrong, positive pain. Through the impediments afforded
by the number, complexity, and substantiality of the laws of organic life and matter, the
violation of law is rendered, to a certain extent, practicable. Thus pain, which in the
inorganic life is impossible, is possible in the organic.
P. But to what good end is pain thus rendered possible?
V. All things are either good or bad by comparison. A sufficient analysis will show
that pleasure, in all cases, is but the contrast of pain. Positive pleasure is a mere idea. To
be happy at any one point we must have suffered at the same. Never to suffer would
have been never to have been blessed. But it has been shown that, in the inorganic life,
pain cannot be thus the necessity for the organic. The pain of the primitive life of Earth,
is the sole basis of the bliss of the ultimate life in Heaven.
P. Still, there is one of your expressions which I find it impossible to comprehend --"the truly substantive vastness of infinity."
V. This, probably, is because you have no sufficiently generic conception of the term
"substance" itself. We must not regard it as a quality, but as a sentiment: --- it is the
perception, in thinking beings, of the adaptation of matter to their organization. There are
many things on the Earth, which would be nihility to the inhabitants of Venus --- many
things visible and tangible in Venus, which we could not be brought to appreciate as
existing at all. But to the inorganic beings --- to the angels --- the whole of the
unparticled matter is substance, that is to say, the whole of what we term "space" is to
them the truest substantiality; --- the stars, meantime, through what we consider their
materiality, escaping the angelic sense, just in proportion as the unparticled matter,
through what we consider its immateriality, eludes the organic.
As the sleep-waker pronounced these latter words, in a feeble tone, I observed on his
countenance a singular expression, which somewhat alarmed me, and induced me to
awake him at once. No sooner had I done this, than, with a bright smile irradiating all his
features, he fell back upon his pillow and expired. I noticed that in less than a minute
afterward his corpse had all the stern rigidity of stone. His brow was of the coldness of
ice. Thus, ordinarily, should it have appeared, only after long pressure from Azrael's
hand. Had the sleep-waker, indeed, during the latter portion of his discourse, been
addressing me from out the region of the shadows?
Metzengerstein
Pestis eram vivus --- moriens tua mors ero
--- Martin Luther
HORROR and fatality have been stalking abroad in all ages. Why then give a date to this
story I have to tell? Let it suffice to say, that at the period of which I speak, there existed,
in the interior of Hungary, a settled although hidden belief in the doctrines of the
Metempsychosis. Of the doctrines themselves --- that is, of their falsity, or of their
probability --- I say nothing. I assert, however, that much of our incredulity --- as La
Bruyere says of all our unhappiness --- "vient de ne pouvoir être seuls." *
* Mercier, in "L'an deux mille quarte cents quarante," seriously maintains the doctrines of
Metempsychosis, and J. D'Israeli says that "no system is so simple and so little repugnant to the
understanding." Colonel Ethan Allen, the "Green Mountain Boy," is also said to have been a serious
metempsychosist.
But there are some points in the Hungarian superstition which were fast verging to
absurdity. They --- the Hungarians --- differed very essentially from their Eastern
authorities. For example, "The soul," said the former --- I give the words of an acute and
intelligent Parisian --- "ne demeure qu'une seul fois dans un corps sensible: au reste --un cheval, un chien, un homme meme, n'est que la ressemblance peu tangible de ces
animaux."
The families of Berlifitzing and Metzengerstein had been at variance for centuries.
Never before were two houses so illustrious, mutually embittered by hostility so deadly.
The origin of this enmity seems to be found in the words of an ancient prophecy --- "A
lofty name shall have a fearful fall when, as the rider over his horse, the mortality of
Metzengerstein shall triumph over the immortality of Berlifitzing."
To be sure the words themselves had little or no meaning. But more trivial causes have
given rise --- and that no long while ago --- to consequences equally eventful. Besides,
the estates, which were contiguous, had long exercised a rival influence in the affairs of a
busy government. Moreover, near neighbors are seldom friends; and the inhabitants of
the Castle Berlifitzing might look, from their lofty buttresses, into the very windows of
the palace Metzengerstein. Least of all had the more than feudal magnificence, thus
discovered, a tendency to allay the irritable feelings of the less ancient and less wealthy
Berlifitzings. What wonder then, that the words, however silly, of that prediction, should
have succeeded in setting and keeping at variance two families already predisposed to
quarrel by every instigation of hereditary jealousy? The prophecy seemed to imply --- if it
implied anything --- a final triumph on the part of the already more powerful house; and
was of course remembered with the more bitter animosity by the weaker and less
influential.
Wilhelm, Count Berlifitzing, although loftily descended, was, at the epoch of this
narrative, an infirm and doting old man, remarkable for nothing but an inordinate and
inveterate personal antipathy to the family of his rival, and so passionate a love of horses,
and of hunting, that neither bodily infirmity, great age, nor mental incapacity, prevented
his daily participation in the dangers of the chase.
Frederick, Baron Metzengerstein, was, on the other hand, not yet Mary, followed him
quickly after. Frederick was, at that time, in his fifteenth year. In a city, fifteen years are
no long period --- a child may be still a child in his third lustrum: but in a wilderness --in so magnificent a wilderness as that old principality, fifteen years have a far deeper
meaning.
From some peculiar circumstances attending the administration of his father, the young
Baron, at the decease of the former, entered immediately upon his vast possessions. Such
estates were seldom held before by a nobleman of Hungary. His castles were without
number. The chief in point of splendor and extent was the "Chateau Metzengerstein." The
boundary line of his dominions was never clearly defined; but his principal park
embraced a circuit of fifty miles.
Upon the succession of a proprietor so young, with a character so well known, to a
fortune so unparalleled, little speculation was afloat in regard to his probable course of
conduct. And, indeed, for the space of three days, the behavior of the heir out-Heroded
Herod, and fairly surpassed the expectations of his most enthusiastic admirers. Shameful
debaucheries --- flagrant treacheries --- unheard-of atrocities --- gave his trembling
vassals quickly to understand that no servile submission on their part --- no punctilios of
conscience on his own --- were thenceforward to prove any security against the
remorseless fangs of a petty Caligula. On the night of the fourth day, the stables of the
castle Berlifitzing were discovered to be on fire; and the unanimous opinion of the
neighborhood added the crime of the incendiary to the already hideous list of the Baron's
misdemeanors and enormities.
But during the tumult occasioned by this occurrence, the young nobleman himself sat
apparently buried in meditation, in a vast and desolate upper apartment of the family
palace of Metzengerstein. The rich although faded tapestry hangings which swung
gloomily upon the walls, represented the shadowy and majestic forms of a thousand
illustrious ancestors. Here, rich-ermined priests, and pontifical dignitaries, familiarly
seated with the autocrat and the sovereign, put a veto on the wishes of a temporal king, or
restrained with the fiat of papal supremacy the rebellious sceptre of the Arch-enemy.
There, the dark, tall statures of the Princes Metzengerstein --- their muscular war-coursers
plunging over the carcasses of fallen foes --- startled the steadiest nerves with their
vigorous expression; and here, again, the voluptuous and swan-like figures of the dames
of days gone by, floated away in the mazes of an unreal dance to the strains of imaginary
melody.
But as the Baron listened, or affected to listen, to the gradually increasing uproar in the
stables of Berlifitzing --- or perhaps pondered upon some more novel, some more decided
act of audacity --- his eyes were turned unwittingly to the figure of an enormous, and
unnaturally colored horse, represented in the tapestry as belonging to a Saracen ancestor
of the family of his rival. The horse itself, in the foreground of the design, stood
motionless and statue-like --- while farther back, its discomfited rider perished by the
dagger of a Metzengerstein.
On Frederick's lip arose a fiendish expression, as he became aware of the direction which
his glance had, without his consciousness, assumed. Yet he did not remove it. On the
contrary, he could by no means account for the overwhelming anxiety which appeared
falling like a pall upon his senses. It was with difficulty that he reconciled his dreamy and
incoherent feelings with the certainty of being awake. The longer he gazed the more
absorbing became the spell --- the more impossible did it appear that he could ever
withdraw his glance from the fascination of that tapestry. But the tumult without
becoming suddenly more violent, with a compulsory exertion he diverted his attention to
the glare of ruddy light thrown full by the flaming stables upon the windows of the
apartment.
The action, however, was but momentary, his gaze returned mechanically to the wall.
To his extreme horror and astonishment, the head of the gigantic steed had, in the
meantime, altered its position. The neck of the animal, before arched, as if in compassion,
over the prostrate body of its lord, was now extended, at full length, in the direction of the
Baron. The eyes, before invisible, now wore an energetic and human expression, while
they gleamed with a fiery and unusual red; and the distended lips of the apparently
enraged horse left in full view his gigantic and disgusting teeth.
Stupefied with terror, the young nobleman tottered to the door. As he threw it open, a
flash of red light, streaming far into the chamber, flung his shadow with a clear outline
against the quivering tapestry, and he shuddered to perceive that shadow --- as he
staggered awhile upon the threshold --- assuming the exact position, and precisely filling
up the contour, of the relentless and triumphant murderer of the Saracen Berlifitzing.
To lighten the depression of his spirits, the Baron hurried into the open air. At the
principal gate of the palace he encountered three equerries. With much difficulty, and at
the imminent peril of their lives, they were restraining the convulsive plunges of a
gigantic and fiery-colored horse.
"Whose horse? Where did you get him?" demanded the youth, in a querulous and
husky tone of voice, as he became instantly aware that the mysterious steed in the
tapestried chamber was the very counterpart of the furious animal before his eyes.
"He is your own property, sire," replied one of the equerries, "at least he is claimed by
no other owner. We caught him flying, all smoking and foaming with rage, from the
burning stables of the Castle Berlifitzing. Supposing him to have belonged to the old
Count's stud of foreign horses, we led him back as an estray. But the grooms there
disclaim any title to the creature; which is strange, since he bears evident marks of having
made a narrow escape from the flames.
"The letters W. V. B. are also branded very distinctly on his forehead," interrupted a
second equerry, "I supposed them, of course, to be the initials of Wilhelm Von
Berlifitzing --- but all at the castle are positive in denying any knowledge of the horse."
"Extremely singular!" said the young Baron, with a musing air, and apparently
unconscious of the meaning of his words. "He is, as you say, a remarkable horse --- a
prodigious horse! although, as you very justly observe, of a suspicious and untractable
character, let him be mine, however," he added, after a pause, "perhaps a rider like
Frederick of Metzengerstein, may tame even the devil from the stables of Berlifitzing."
"You are mistaken, my lord; the horse, as I think we mentioned, is not from the stables
of the Count. If such had been the case, we know our duty better than to bring him into
the presence of a noble of your family."
"True!" observed the Baron, dryly, and at that instant a page of the bedchamber came
from the palace with a heightened color, and a precipitate step. He whispered into his
master's ear an account of the sudden disappearance of a small portion of the tapestry, in
an apartment which he designated; entering, at the same time, into particulars of a minute
and circumstantial character; but from the low tone of voice in which these latter were
communicated, nothing escaped to gratify the excited curiosity of the equerries.
The young Frederick, during the conference, seemed agitated by a variety of emotions.
He soon, however, recovered his composure, and an expression of determined
malignancy settled upon his countenance, as he gave peremptory orders that a certain
chamber should be immediately locked up, and the key placed in his own possession.
"Have you heard of the unhappy death of the old hunter Berlifitzing?" said one of his
vassals to the Baron, as, after the departure of the page, the huge steed which that
nobleman had adopted as his own, plunged and curvetted, with redoubled fury, down the
long avenue which extended from the chateau to the stables of Metzengerstein.
"No!" said the Baron, turning abruptly toward the speaker, "dead! say you?"
"It is indeed true, my lord; and, to a noble of your name, will be, I imagine, no
unwelcome intelligence."
A rapid smile shot over the countenance of the listener. "How died he?"
"In his rash exertions to rescue a favorite portion of his hunting stud, he has himself
perished miserably in the flames."
"I-n-d-e-e-d-!" ejaculated the Baron, as if slowly and deliberately impressed with the
truth of some exciting idea.
"Indeed;" repeated the vassal.
"Shocking!" said the youth, calmly, and turned quietly into the chateau.
From this date a marked alteration took place in the outward demeanor of the dissolute
young Baron Frederick Von Metzengerstein. Indeed, his behavior disappointed every
expectation, and proved little in accordance with the views of many a manoeuvering
mamma; while his habits and manner, still less than formerly, offered any thing congenial
with those of the neighboring aristocracy. He was never to be seen beyond the limits of
his own domain, and, in this wide and social world, was utterly companionless --- unless,
indeed, that unnatural, impetuous, and fiery-colored horse, which he henceforward
continually bestrode, had any mysterious right to the title of his friend.
Numerous invitations on the part of the neighborhood for a long time, however,
periodically came in. "Will the Baron honor our festivals with his presence?" "Will the
Baron join us in a hunting of the boar?" --- "Metzengerstein does not hunt;"
"Metzengerstein will not attend," were the haughty and laconic answers.
These repeated insults were not to be endured by an imperious nobility. Such
invitations became less cordial --- less frequent --- in time they ceased altogether. The
widow of the unfortunate Count Berlifitzing was even heard to express a hope "that the
Baron might be at home when he did not wish to be at home, since he disdained the
company of his equals; and ride when he did not wish to ride, since he preferred the
society of a horse." This to be sure was a very silly explosion of hereditary pique; and
merely proved how singularly unmeaning our sayings are apt to become, when we desire
to be unusually energetic.
The charitable, nevertheless, attributed the alteration in the conduct of the young
nobleman to the natural sorrow of a son for the untimely loss of his parents --- forgetting,
however, his atrocious and reckless behavior during the short period immediately
succeeding that bereavement. Some there were, indeed, who suggested a too haughty idea
of self-consequence and dignity. Others again (among them may be mentioned the family
physician) did not hesitate in speaking of morbid melancholy, and hereditary ill-health;
while dark hints, of a more equivocal nature, were current among the multitude.
Indeed, the Baron's perverse attachment to his lately-acquired charger --- an attachment
which seemed to attain new strength from every fresh example of the animal's ferocious
and demon-like propensities --- at length became, in the eyes of all reasonable men, a
hideous and unnatural fervor. In the glare of noon --- at the dead hour of night --- in
sickness or in health --- in calm or in tempest --- the young Metzengerstein seemed
rivetted to the saddle of that colossal horse, whose intractable audacities so well accorded
with his own spirit.
There were circumstances, moreover, which coupled with late events, gave an
unearthly and portentous character to the mania of the rider, and to the capabilities of the
steed. The space passed over in a single leap had been accurately measured, and was
found to exceed, by an astounding difference, the wildest expectations of the most
imaginative. The Baron, besides, had no particular name for the animal, although all the
rest in his collection were distinguished by characteristic appellations. His stable, too,
was appointed at a distance from the rest; and with regard to grooming and other
necessary offices, none but the owner in person had ventured to officiate, or even to enter
the enclosure of that particular stall. It was also to be observed, that although the three
grooms, who had caught the steed as he fled from the conflagration at Berlifitzing, had
succeeded in arresting his course, by means of a chain-bridle and noose --- yet no one of
the three could with any certainty affirm that he had, during that dangerous struggle, or at
any period thereafter, actually placed his hand upon the body of the beast. Instances of
peculiar intelligence in the demeanor of a noble and high-spirited horse are not to be
supposed capable of exciting unreasonable attention --- especially among men who, daily
trained to the labors of the chase, might appear well acquainted with the sagacity of a
horse --- but there were certain circumstances which intruded themselves per force upon
the most skeptical and phlegmatic; and it is said there were times when the animal caused
the gaping crowd who stood around to recoil in horror from the deep and impressive
meaning of his terrible stamp --- times when the young Metzengerstein turned pale and
shrunk away from the rapid and searching expression of his earnest and human-looking
eye.
Among all the retinue of the Baron, however, none were found to doubt the ardor of
that extraordinary affection which existed on the part of the young nobleman for the fiery
qualities of his horse; at least, none but an insignificant and misshapen little page, whose
deformities were in everybody's way, and whose opinions were of the least possible
importance. He ( if his ideas are worth mentioning at all ) had the effrontery to assert that
his master never vaulted into the saddle without an unaccountable and almost
imperceptible shudder, and that, upon his return from every long-continued and habitual
ride, an expression of triumphant malignity distorted every muscle in his countenance.
One tempestuous night, Metzengerstein, awaking from a heavy slumber, descended
like a maniac from his chamber, and, mounting in hot haste, bounded away into the
mazes of the forest. An occurrence so common attracted no particular attention, but his
return was looked for with intense anxiety on the part of his domestics, when, after some
hours' absence, the stupendous and magnificent battlements of the Chateau
Metzengerstein, were discovered crackling and rocking to their very foundation, under
the influence of a dense and livid mass of ungovernable fire.
As the flames, when first seen, had already made so terrible a progress that all efforts
to save any portion of the building were evidently futile, the astonished neighborhood
stood idly around in silent and pathetic wonder. But a new and fearful object soon riveted
the attention of the multitude, and proved how much more intense is the excitement
wrought in the feelings of a crowd by the contemplation of human agony, than that
brought about by the most appalling spectacles of inanimate matter.
Up the long avenue of aged oaks which led from the forest to the main entrance of the
Chateau Metzengerstein, a steed, bearing an unbonneted and disordered rider, was seen
leaping with an impetuosity which outstripped the very Demon of the Tempest.
The career of the horseman was indisputably, on his own part, uncontrollable. The
agony of his countenance, the convulsive struggle of his frame, gave evidence of
superhuman exertion: but no sound, save a solitary shriek, escaped from his lacerated
lips, which were bitten through and through in the intensity of terror. One instant, and the
clattering of hoofs resounded sharply and shrilly above the roaring of the flames and the
shrieking of the winds --- another, and, clearing at a single plunge the gate-way and the
moat, the steed bounded far up the tottering staircases of the palace, and, with its rider,
disappeared amid the whirlwind of chaotic fire.
The fury of the tempest immediately died away, and a dead calm sullenly succeeded. A
white flame still enveloped the building like a shroud, and, streaming far away into the
quiet atmosphere, shot forth a glare of preternatural light; while a cloud of smoke settled
heavily over the battlements in the distinct colossal figure of --- a horse.
Morella
Itself, by itself, solely, one everlastingly, and single.
PLATO: Sympos.
WITH a feeling of deep yet most singular affection I regarded my friend Morella. Thrown
by accident into her society many years ago, my soul from our first meeting, burned with
fires it had never before known; but the fires were not of Eros, and bitter and tormenting
to my spirit was the gradual conviction that I could in no manner define their unusual
meaning or regulate their vague intensity. Yet we met; and fate bound us together at the
altar, and I never spoke of passion nor thought of love. She, however, shunned society,
and, attaching herself to me alone rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder; it is a
happiness to dream.
Morella's erudition was profound. As I hope to live, her talents were of no common
order --- her powers of mind were gigantic. I felt this, and, in many matters, became her
pupil. I soon, however, found that, perhaps on account of her Presburg education, she
placed before me a number of those mystical writings which are usually considered the
mere dross of the early German literature. These, for what reason I could not imagine,
were her favourite and constant study --- and that in process of time they became my
own, should be attributed to the simple but effectual influence of habit and example.
In all this, if I err not, my reason had little to do. My convictions, or I forget myself,
were in no manner acted upon by the ideal, nor was any tincture of the mysticism which I
read to be discovered, unless I am greatly mistaken, either in my deeds or in my thoughts.
Persuaded of this, I abandoned myself implicitly to the guidance of my wife, and entered
with an unflinching heart into the intricacies of her studies. And then --- then, when
poring over forbidden pages, I felt a forbidden spirit enkindling within me --- would
Morella place her cold hand upon my own, and rake up from the ashes of a dead
philosophy some low, singular words, whose strange meaning burned themselves in upon
my memory. And then, hour after hour, would I linger by her side, and dwell upon the
music of her voice, until at length its melody was tainted with terror, and there fell a
shadow upon my soul, and I grew pale, and shuddered inwardly at those too unearthly
tones. And thus, joy suddenly faded into horror, and the most beautiful became the most
hideous, as Hinnom became Gehenna.
It is unnecessary to state the exact character of those disquisitions which, growing out
of the volumes I have mentioned, formed, for so long a time, almost the sole conversation
of Morella and myself. By the learned in what might be termed theological morality they
will be readily conceived, and by the unlearned they would, at all events, be little
understood. The wild Pantheism of Fichte; the modified Paliggenedia of the
Pythagoreans; and, above all, the doctrines of Identity as urged by Schelling, were
generally the points of discussion presenting the most of beauty to the imaginative
Morella. That identity which is termed personal, Mr. Locke, I think, truly defines to
consist in the saneness of rational being. And since by person we understand an
intelligent essence having reason, and since there is a consciousness which always
accompanies thinking, it is this which makes us all to be that which we call ourselves,
thereby distinguishing us from other beings that think, and giving us our personal
identity. But the principium individuationis, the notion of that identity which at death is
or is not lost for ever, was to me, at all times, a consideration of intense interest; not more
from the perplexing and exciting nature of its consequences, than from the marked and
agitated manner in which Morella mentioned them.
But, indeed, the time had now arrived when the mystery of my wife's manner
oppressed me as a spell. I could no longer bear the touch of her wan fingers, nor the low
tone of her musical language, nor the lustre of her melancholy eyes. And she knew all
this, but did not upbraid; she seemed conscious of my weakness or my folly, and,
smiling, called it fate. She seemed also conscious of a cause, to me unknown, for the
gradual alienation of my regard; but she gave me no hint or token of its nature. Yet was
she woman, and pined away daily. In time the crimson spot settled steadily upon the
cheek, and the blue veins upon the pale forehead became prominent; and one instant my
nature melted into pity, but in, next I met the glance of her meaning eyes, and then my
soul sickened and became giddy with the giddiness of one who gazes downward into
some dreary and unfathomable abyss.
Shall I then say that I longed with an earnest and consuming desire for the moment of
Morella's decease? I did; but the fragile spirit clung to its tenement of clay for many days,
for many weeks and irksome months, until my tortured nerves obtained the mastery over
my mind, and I grew furious through delay, and, with the heart of a fiend, cursed the days
and the hours and the bitter moments, which seemed to lengthen and lengthen as her
gentle life declined, like shadows in the dying of the day.
But one autumnal evening, when the winds lay still in heaven, Morella called me to her
bedside. There was a dim mist over all the earth, and a warm glow upon the waters, and
amid the rich October leaves of the forest, a rainbow from the firmament had surely
fallen.
"It is a day of days," she said, as I approached; "a day of all days either to live or die. It
is a fair day for the sons of earth and life --- ah, more fair for the daughters of heaven and
death!"
I kissed her forehead, and she continued:
"I am dying, yet shall I live."
"Morella!"
"The days have never been when thou couldst love me --- but her whom in life thou
didst abhor, in death thou shalt adore."
"Morella!"
"I repeat I am dying. But within me is a pledge of that affection --- ah, how little! --which thou didst feel for me, Morella. And when my spirit departs shall the child live --thy child and mine, Morella's. But thy days shall be days of sorrow --- that sorrow which
is the most lasting of impressions, as the cypress is the most enduring of trees. For the
hours of thy happiness are over and joy is not gathered twice in a life, as the roses of
Paestum twice in a year. Thou shalt no longer, then, play the Teian with time, but, being
ignorant of the myrtle and the vine, thou shalt bear about with thee thy shroud on the
earth, as do the Moslemin at Mecca."
"Morella!" I cried, "Morella! how knowest thou this?" but she turned away her face upon
the pillow and a slight tremor coming over her limbs, she thus died, and I heard her voice
no more.
Yet, as she had foretold, her child, to which in dying she had given birth, which
breathed not until the mother breathed no more, her child, a daughter, lived. And she
grew strangely in stature and intellect, and was the perfect resemblance of her who had
departed, and I loved her with a love more fervent than I had believed it possible to feel
for any denizen of earth.
But, erelong the heaven of this pure affection became darkened, and gloom, and
horror, and grief swept over it in clouds. I said the child grew strangely in stature and
intelligence. Strange, indeed, was her rapid increase in bodily size, but terrible, oh!
terrible were the tumultuous thoughts which crowded upon me while watching the
development of her mental being. Could it be otherwise, when I daily discovered in the
conceptions of the child the adult powers and faculties of the woman? when the lessons
of experience fell from the lips of infancy? and when the wisdom or the passions of
maturity I found hourly gleaming from its full and speculative eye? When, I say, all this
became evident to my appalled senses, when I could no longer hide it from my soul, nor
throw it off from those perceptions which trembled to receive it, is it to be wondered at
that suspicions, of a nature fearful and exciting, crept in upon my spirit, or that my
thoughts fell back aghast upon the wild tales and thrilling theories of the entombed
Morella? I snatched from the scrutiny of the world a being whom destiny compelled me
to adore, and in the rigorous seclusion of my home, watched with an agonizing anxiety
over all which concerned the beloved.
And as years rolled away, and I gazed day after day upon her holy, and mild, and
eloquent face, and poured over her maturing form, day after day did I discover new
points of resemblance in the child to her mother, the melancholy and the dead. And
hourly grew darker these shadows of similitude, and more full, and more definite, and
more perplexing, and more hideously terrible in their aspect. For that her smile was like
her mother's I could bear; but then I shuddered at its too perfect identity, that her eyes
were like Morella's I could endure; but then they, too, often looked down into the depths
of my soul with Morella's own intense and bewildering meaning. And in the contour of
the high forehead, and in the ringlets of the silken hair, and in the wan fingers which
buried themselves therein, and in the sad musical tones of her speech, and above all ---
oh, above all, in the phrases and expressions of the dead on the lips of the loved and the
living, I found food for consuming thought and horror, for a worm that would not die.
Thus passed away two lustra of her life, and as yet my daughter remained nameless
upon the earth. "My child," and "my love," were the designations usually prompted by a
father's affection, and the rigid seclusion of her days precluded all other intercourse.
Morella's name died with her at her death. Of the mother I had never spoken to the
daughter, it was impossible to speak. Indeed, during the brief period of her existence, the
latter had received no impressions from the outward world, save such as might have been
afforded by the narrow limits of her privacy. But at length the ceremony of baptism
presented to my mind, in its unnerved and agitated condition, a present deliverance from
the terrors of my destiny. And at the baptismal font I hesitated for a name. And many
titles of the wise and beautiful, of old and modern times, of my own and foreign lands,
came thronging to my lips, with many, many fair titles of the gentle, and the happy, and
the good. What prompted me then to disturb the memory of the buried dead? What
demon urged me to breathe that sound, which in its very recollection was wont to make
ebb the purple blood in torrents from the temples to the heart? What fiend spoke from the
recesses of my soul, when amid those dim aisles, and in the silence of the night, I
whispered within the ears of the holy man the syllables --- Morella? What more than
fiend convulsed the features of my child, and overspread them with hues of death, as
starting at that scarcely audible sound, she turned her glassy eyes from the earth to
heaven, and falling prostrate on the black slabs of our ancestral vault, responded --- "I am
here!"
Distinct, coldly, calmly distinct, fell those few simple sounds within my ear, and
thence like molten lead rolled hissingly into my brain. Years --- years may pass away, but
the memory of that epoch never. Nor was I indeed ignorant of the flowers and the vine --but the hemlock and the cypress overshadowed me night and day. And I kept no
reckoning of time or place, and the stars of my fate faded from heaven, and therefore the
earth grew dark, and its figures passed by me like flitting shadows, and among them all I
beheld only --- Morella. The winds of the firmament breathed but one sound within my
ears, and the ripples upon the sea murmured evermore --- Morella. But she died; and with
my own hands I bore her to the tomb; and I laughed with a long and bitter laugh as I
found no traces of the first in the channel where I laid the second. --- Morella.
Ms. Found in a Bottle
Qui
n'a
plus
N'a plus rien á dissimuler.
qu'un
moment
á
vivre
Quinault --- Atys.
OF my country and of my family I have little to say. Ill usage and length of years have
driven me from the one, and estranged me from the other. Hereditary wealth afforded me
an education of no common order, and a contemplative turn of mind enabled me to
methodize the stores which early study very diligently garnered up. --- Beyond all things,
the study of the German moralists gave me great delight; not from any ill-advised
admiration of their eloquent madness, but from the ease with which my habits of rigid
thought enabled me to detect their falsities. I have often been reproached with the aridity
of my genius; a deficiency of imagination has been imputed to me as a crime; and the
Pyrrhonism of my opinions has at all times rendered me notorious. Indeed, a strong relish
for physical philosophy has, I fear, tinctured my mind with a very common error of this
age --- I mean the habit of referring occurrences, even the least susceptible of such
reference, to the principles of that science. Upon the whole, no person could be less liable
than myself to be led away from the severe precincts of truth by the ignes fatui of
superstition. I have thought proper to premise thus much, lest the incredible tale I have to
tell should be considered rather the raving of a crude imagination, than the positive
experience of a mind to which the reveries of fancy have been a dead letter and a nullity.
After many years spent in foreign travel, I sailed in the year 18 --- , from the port of
Batavia, in the rich and populous island of Java, on a voyage to the Archipelago islands. I
went as passenger --- having no other inducement than a kind of nervous restlessness
which haunted me as a fiend.
Our vessel was a beautiful ship of about four hundred tons, copper-fastened, and built
at Bombay of Malabar teak. She was freighted with cotton-wool and oil, from the
Lachadive islands. We had also on board coir, jaggeree, ghee, cocoa-nuts, and a few
cases of opium. The stowage was clumsily done, and the vessel consequently crank.
We got under way with a mere breath of wind, and for many days stood along the
eastern coast of Java, without any other incident to beguile the monotony of our course
than the occasional meeting with some of the small grabs of the Archipelago to which we
were bound.
One evening, leaning over the taffrail, I observed a very singular, isolated cloud, to the
N.W. It was remarkable, as well for its color, as from its being the first we had seen since
our departure from Batavia. I watched it attentively until sunset, when it spread all at
once to the eastward and westward, girting in the horizon with a narrow strip of vapor,
and looking like a long line of low beach. My notice was soon afterwards attracted by the
dusky-red appearance of the moon, and the peculiar character of the sea. The latter was
undergoing a rapid change, and the water seemed more than usually transparent.
Although I could distinctly see the bottom, yet, heaving the lead, I found the ship in
fifteen fathoms. The air now became intolerably hot, and was loaded with spiral
exhalations similar to those arising from heat iron. As night came on, every breath of
wind died away, an more entire calm it is impossible to conceive. The flame of a candle
burned upon the poop without the least perceptible motion, and a long hair, held between
the finger and thumb, hung without the possibility of detecting a vibration. However, as
the captain said he could perceive no indication of danger, and as we were drifting in
bodily to shore, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the anchor let go. No watch was set,
and the crew, consisting principally of Malays, stretched themselves deliberately upon
deck. I went below --- not without a full presentiment of evil. Indeed, every appearance
warranted me in apprehending a Simoom. I told the captain my fears; but he paid no
attention to what I said, and left me without deigning to give a reply. My uneasiness,
however, prevented me from sleeping, and about midnight I went upon deck. As I placed
my foot upon the upper step of the companion-ladder, I was startled by a loud, humming
noise, like that occasioned by the rapid revolution of a mill-wheel, and before I could
ascertain its meaning, I found the ship quivering to its centre. In the next instant, a
wilderness of foam hurled us upon our beam-ends, and, rushing over us fore and aft,
swept the entire decks from stem to stern.
The extreme fury of the blast proved, in a great measure, the salvation of the ship.
Although completely water-logged, yet, as her masts had gone by the board, she rose,
after a minute, heavily from the sea, and, staggering awhile beneath the immense pressure
of the tempest, finally righted.
By what miracle I escaped destruction, it is impossible to say. Stunned by the shock of
the water, I found myself, upon recovery, jammed in between the stern-post and rudder.
With great difficulty I gained my feet, and looking dizzily around, was, at first, struck
with the idea of our being among breakers; so terrific, beyond the wildest imagination,
was the whirlpool of mountainous and foaming ocean within which we were engulfed.
After a while, I heard the voice of an old Swede, who had shipped with us at the moment
of our leaving port. I hallooed to him with all my strength, and presently he came reeling
aft. We soon discovered that we were the sole survivors of the accident. All on deck, with
the exception of ourselves, had been swept overboard; the captain and mates must have
perished as they slept, for the cabins were deluged with water. Without assistance, we
could expect to do little for the security of the ship, and our exertions were at first
paralyzed by the momentary expectation of going down. Our cable had, of course, parted
like pack-thread, at the first breath of the hurricane, or we should have been
instantaneously overwhelmed. We scudded with frightful velocity before the sea, and the
water made clear breaches over us. The frame-work of our stern was shattered
excessively, and, in almost every respect, we had received considerable injury; but to our
extreme Joy we found the pumps unchoked, and that we had made no great shifting of
our ballast. The main fury of the blast had already blown over, and we apprehended little
danger from the violence of the wind; but we looked forward to its total cessation with
dismay; well believing, that, in our shattered condition, we should inevitably perish in the
tremendous swell which would ensue. But this very just apprehension seemed by no
means likely to be soon verified. For five entire days and nights --- during which our only
subsistence was a small quantity of jaggeree, procured with great difficulty from the
forecastle --- the hulk flew at a rate defying computation, before rapidly succeeding flaws
of wind, which, without equalling the first violence of the Simoom, were still more
terrific than any tempest I had before encountered. Our course for the first four days was,
with trifling variations, S.E. and by S.; and we must have run down the coast of New
Holland. On the fifth day the cold became extreme, although the wind had hauled round a
point more to the northward. The sun arose with a sickly yellow lustre, and clambered a
very few degrees above the horizon --- emitting no decisive light. There were no clouds
apparent, yet the wind was upon the increase, and blew with a fitful and unsteady fury.
About noon, as nearly as we could guess, our attention was again arrested by the
appearance of the sun. It gave out no light, properly so called, but a dull and sullen glow
without reflection, as if all its rays were polarized. Just before sinking within the turgid
sea, its central fires suddenly went out, as if hurriedly extinguished by some
unaccountable power. It was a dim, sliver-like rim, alone, as it rushed down the
unfathomable ocean.
We waited in vain for the arrival of the sixth day --- that day to me has not arrived --to the Swede, never did arrive. Thenceforward we were enshrouded in patchy darkness,
so that we could not have seen an object at twenty paces from the ship. Eternal night
continued to envelop us, all unrelieved by the phosphoric sea-brilliancy to which we had
been accustomed in the tropics. We observed too, that, although the tempest continued to
rage with unabated violence, there was no longer to be discovered the usual appearance
of surf, or foam, which had hitherto attended us. All around were horror, and thick
gloom, and a black sweltering desert of ebony. Superstitious terror crept by degrees into
the spirit of the old Swede, and my own soul was wrapped up in silent wonder. We
neglected all care of the ship, as worse than useless, and securing ourselves, as well as
possible, to the stump of the mizen-mast, looked out bitterly into the world of ocean. We
had no means of calculating time, nor could we form any guess of our situation. We
were, however, well aware of having made farther to the southward than any previous
navigators, and felt great amazement at not meeting with the usual impediments of ice. In
the meantime every moment threatened to be our last --- every mountainous billow
hurried to overwhelm us. The swell surpassed anything I had imagined possible, and that
we were not instantly buried is a miracle. My companion spoke of the lightness of our
cargo, and reminded me of the excellent qualities of our ship; but I could not help feeling
the utter hopelessness of hope itself, and prepared myself gloomily for that death which I
thought nothing could defer beyond an hour, as, with every knot of way the ship made,
the swelling of the black stupendous seas became more dismally appalling. At times we
gasped for breath at an elevation beyond the albatross --- at times became dizzy with the
velocity of our descent into some watery hell, where the air grew stagnant, and no sound
disturbed the slumbers of the kraken.
We were at the bottom of one of these abysses, when a quick scream from my companion
broke fearfully upon the night. "See! see!" cried he, shrieking in my ears, "Almighty
God! see! see!" As he spoke, I became aware of a dull, sullen glare of red light which
streamed down the sides of the vast chasm where we lay, and threw a fitful brilliancy
upon our deck. Casting my eyes upwards, I beheld a spectacle which froze the current of
my blood. At a terrific height directly above us, and upon the very verge of the
precipitous descent, hovered a gigantic ship of, perhaps, four thousand tons. Although
upreared upon the summit of a wave more than a hundred times her own altitude, her
apparent size exceeded that of any ship of the line or East Indiaman in existence. Her
huge hull was of a deep dingy black, unrelieved by any of the customary carvings of a
ship. A single row of brass cannon protruded from her open ports, and dashed from their
polished surfaces the fires of innumerable battle-lanterns, which swung to and fro about
her rigging. But what mainly inspired us with horror and astonishment, was that she bore
up under a press of sail in the very teeth of that supernatural sea, and of that ungovernable
hurricane. When we first discovered her, her bows were alone to be seen, as she rose
slowly from the dim and horrible gulf beyond her. For a moment of intense terror she
paused upon the giddy pinnacle, as if in contemplation of her own sublimity, then
trembled and tottered, and --- came down.
At this instant, I know not what sudden self-possession came over my spirit.
Staggering as far aft as I could, I awaited fearlessly the ruin that was to overwhelm. Our
own vessel was at length ceasing from her struggles, and sinking with her head to the sea.
The shock of the descending mass struck her, consequently, in that portion of her frame
which was already under water, and the inevitable result was to hurl me, with irresistible
violence, upon the rigging of the stranger.
As I fell, the ship hove in stays, and went about; and to the confusion ensuing I
attributed my escape from the notice of the crew. With little difficulty I made my way
unperceived to the main hatchway, which was partially open, and soon found an
opportunity of secreting myself in the hold. Why I did so I can hardly tell. An indefinite
sense of awe, which at first sight of the navigators of the ship had taken hold of my mind,
was perhaps the principle of my concealment. I was unwilling to trust myself with a race
of people who had offered, to the cursory glance I had taken, so many points of vague
novelty, doubt, and apprehension. I therefore thought proper to contrive a hiding-place in
the hold. This I did by removing a small portion of the shifting-boards, in such a manner
as to afford me a convenient retreat between the huge timbers of the ship.
I had scarcely completed my work, when a footstep in the hold forced me to make use
of it. A man passed by my place of concealment with a feeble and unsteady gait. I could
not see his face, but had an opportunity of observing his general appearance. There was
about it an evidence of great age and infirmity. His knees tottered beneath a load of years,
and his entire frame quivered under the burthen. He muttered to himself, in a low broken
tone, some words of a language which I could not understand, and groped in a corner
among a pile of singular-looking instruments, and decayed charts of navigation. His
manner was a wild mixture of the peevishness of second childhood, and the solemn
dignity of a God. He at length went on deck, and I saw him no more.
A feeling, for which I have no name, has taken possession of my soul --- a sensation
which will admit of no analysis, to which the lessons of bygone times are inadequate, and
for which I fear futurity itself will offer me no key. To a mind constituted like my own,
the latter consideration is an evil. I shall never --- I know that I shall never --- be satisfied
with regard to the nature of my conceptions. Yet it is not wonderful that these
conceptions are indefinite, since they have their origin in sources so utterly novel. A new
sense --- a new entity is added to my soul.
It is long since I first trod the deck of this terrible ship, and the rays of my destiny are, I
think, gathering to a focus. Incomprehensible men! Wrapped up in meditations of a kind
which I cannot divine, they pass me by unnoticed. Concealment is utter folly on my part,
for the people will not see. It was but just now that I passed directly before the eyes of the
mate; it was no long while ago that I ventured into the captain's own private cabin, and
took thence the materials with which I write, and have written. I shall from time to time
continue this Journal. It is true that I may not find an opportunity of transmitting it to the
world, but I will not fall to make the endeavor. At the last moment I will enclose the MS.
in a bottle, and cast it within the sea.
An incident has occurred which has given me new room for meditation. Are such
things the operation of ungoverned Chance? I had ventured upon deck and thrown myself
down, without attracting any notice, among a pile of ratlin-stuff and old sails in the
bottom of the yawl. While musing upon the singularity of my fate, I unwittingly daubed
with a tar-brush the edges of a neatly-folded studding-sail which lay near me on a barrel.
The studding-sail is now bent upon the ship, and the thoughtless touches of the brush are
spread out into the word DISCOVERY.
I have made many observations lately upon the structure of the vessel. Although well
armed, she is not, I think, a ship of war. Her rigging, build, and general equipment, all
negative a supposition of this kind. What she is not, I can easily perceive; what she is I
fear it is impossible to say. I know not how it is, but in scrutinizing her strange model and
singular cast of spars, her huge size and overgrown suits of canvas, her severely simple
bow and antiquated stern, there will occasionally flash across my mind a sensation of
familiar things, and there is always mixed up with such indistinct shadows of
recollection, an unaccountable memory of old foreign chronicles and ages long ago.
I have been looking at the timbers of the ship. She is built of a material to which I am a
stranger. There is a peculiar character about the wood which strikes me as rendering it
unfit for the purpose to which it has been applied. I mean its extreme porousness,
considered independently by the worm-eaten condition which is a consequence of
navigation in these seas, and apart from the rottenness attendant upon age. It will appear
perhaps an observation somewhat over-curious, but this wood would have every,
characteristic of Spanish oak, if Spanish oak were distended by any unnatural means.
In reading the above sentence a curious apothegm of an old weather-beaten Dutch
navigator comes full upon my recollection. "It is as sure," he was wont to say, when any
doubt was entertained of his veracity, "as sure as there is a sea where the ship itself will
grow in bulk like the living body of the seaman."
About an hour ago, I made bold to thrust myself among a group of the crew. They paid
me no manner of attention, and, although I stood in the very midst of them all, seemed
utterly unconscious of my presence. Like the one I had at first seen in the hold, they all
bore about them the marks of a hoary old age. Their knees trembled with infirmity; their
shoulders were bent double with decrepitude; their shrivelled skins rattled in the wind;
their voices were low, tremulous and broken; their eyes glistened with the rheum of
years; and their gray hairs streamed terribly in the tempest. Around them, on every part of
the deck, lay scattered mathematical instruments of the most quaint and obsolete
construction.
I mentioned some time ago the bending of a studding-sail. From that period the ship,
being thrown dead off the wind, has continued her terrific course due south, with every
rag of canvas packed upon her, from her trucks to her lower studding-sail booms, and
rolling every moment her top-gallant yard-arms into the most appalling hell of water
which it can enter into the mind of a man to imagine. I have just left the deck, where I
find it impossible to maintain a footing, although the crew seem to experience little
inconvenience. It appears to me a miracle of miracles that our enormous bulk is not
swallowed up at once and forever. We are surely doomed to hover continually upon the
brink of Eternity, without taking a final plunge into the abyss. From billows a thousand
times more stupendous than any I have ever seen, we glide away with the facility of the
arrowy sea-gull; and the colossal waters rear their heads above us like demons of the
deep, but like demons confined to simple threats and forbidden to destroy. I am led to
attribute these frequent escapes to the only natural cause which can account for such
effect. --- I must suppose the ship to be within the influence of some strong current, or
impetuous under-tow.
I have seen the captain face to face, and in his own cabin --- but, as I expected, he paid
me no attention. Although in his appearance there is, to a casual observer, nothing which
might bespeak him more or less than man-still a feeling of irrepressible reverence and
awe mingled with the sensation of wonder with which I regarded him. In stature he is
nearly my own height; that is, about five feet eight inches. He is of a well-knit and
compact frame of body, neither robust nor remarkably otherwise. But it is the singularity
of the expression which reigns upon the face --- it is the intense, the wonderful, the
thrilling evidence of old age, so utter, so extreme, which excites within my spirit a sense -- a sentiment ineffable. His forehead, although little wrinkled, seems to bear upon it the
stamp of a myriad of years. His gray hairs are records of the past, and his grayer eyes are
sybils of the future. The cabin floor was thickly strewn with strange, iron-clasped folios,
and mouldering instruments of science, and obsolete long-forgotten charts. His head was
bowed down upon his hands, and he pored, with a fiery unquiet eye, over a paper which I
took to be a commission, and which, at all events, bore the signature of a monarch. He
muttered to himself, as did the first seaman whom I saw in the hold, some low peevish
syllables of a foreign tongue, and although the speaker was close at my elbow, his voice
seemed to reach my ears from the distance of a mile.
The ship and all in it are imbued with the spirit of Eld. The crew glide to and fro like
the ghosts of buried centuries; their eyes have an eager and uneasy meaning; and when
their fingers fall athwart my path in the wild glare of the battle-lanterns, I feel as I have
never felt before, although I have been all my life a dealer in antiquities, and have
imbibed the shadows of fallen columns at Balbec, and Tadmor, and Persepolis, until my
very soul has become a ruin.
When I look around me I feel ashamed of my former apprehensions. If I trembled at
the blast which has hitherto attended us, shall I not stand aghast at a warring of wind and
ocean, to convey any idea of which the words tornado and simoom are trivial and
ineffective? All in the immediate vicinity of the ship is the blackness of eternal night, and
a chaos of foamless water; but, about a league on either side of us, may be seen,
indistinctly and at intervals, stupendous ramparts of ice, towering away into the desolate
sky, and looking like the walls of the universe.
As I imagined, the ship proves to be in a current; if that appellation can properly be
given to a tide which, howling and shrieking by the white ice, thunders on to the
southward with a velocity like the headlong dashing of a cataract.
To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I presume, utterly impossible; yet a
curiosity to penetrate the mysteries of these awful regions, predominates even over my
despair, and will reconcile me to the most hideous aspect of death. It is evident that we
are hurrying onwards to some exciting knowledge --- some never-to-be-imparted secret,
whose attainment is destruction. Perhaps this current leads us to the southern pole itself.
It must be confessed that a supposition apparently so wild has every probability in its
favor.
The crew pace the deck with unquiet and tremulous step; but there is upon their
countenances an expression more of the eagerness of hope than of the apathy of despair.
In the meantime the wind is still in our poop, and, as we carry a crowd of canvas, the
ship is at times lifted bodily from out the sea! Oh, horror upon horror! --- the ice opens
suddenly to the right, and to the left, and we are whirling dizzily, in immense concentric
circles, round and round the borders of a gigantic amphitheatre, the summit of whose
walls is lost in the darkness and the distance. But little time will be left me to ponder
upon my destiny --- the circles rapidly grow small --- we are plunging madly within the
grasp of the whirlpool --- and amid a roaring, and bellowing, and thundering of ocean and
of tempest, the ship is quivering, oh God! and --- going down.
NOTE. --- The "MS. Found in a Bottle," was originally published in 1831, and it was not until many years
afterwards that I became acquainted with the maps of Mercator, in which the ocean is represented as
rushing, by four mouths, into the (northern) Polar Gulf, to be absorbed into the bowels of the earth; the Pole
itself being represented by a black rock, towering to a prodigious height.
The Murders In The Rue Morgue
What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, although
puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture.
-- Sir Thomas Browne
THE mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, but little
susceptible of analysis. We appreciate them only in their effects. We know of them,
among other things, that they are always to their possessor, when inordinately possessed,
a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong man exults in his physical ability,
delighting in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that
moral activity which disentangles. He derives pleasure from even the most trivial
occupations bringing his talent into play. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of
hieroglyphics; exhibiting in his solutions of each a degree of acumen which appears to
the ordinary apprehension præternatural. His results, brought about by the very soul and
essence of method, have, in truth, the whole air of intuition.
The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invigorated by mathematical study, and
especially by that highest branch of it which, unjustly, and merely on account of its
retrograde operations, has been called, as if par excellence, analysis. Yet to calculate is
not in itself to analyze. A chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the
other. It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental character, is greatly
misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but simply prefacing a somewhat peculiar
narrative by observations very much at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to assert
that the higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully
tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by a the elaborate frivolity of chess.
In this latter, where the pieces have different and bizarre motions, with various and
variable values, what is only complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is
profound. The attention is here called powerfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an
oversight is committed resulting in injury or defeat. The possible moves being not only
manifold but involute, the chances of such oversights are multiplied; and in nine cases
out of ten it is the more concentrative rather than the more acute player who conquers. In
draughts, on the contrary, where the moves are unique and have but little variation, the
probabilities of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere attention being left
comparatively unemployed, what advantages are obtained by either party are obtained by
superior acumen. To be less abstract - Let us suppose a game of draughts where the
pieces are reduced to four kings, and where, of course, no oversight is to be expected. It
is obvious that here the victory can be decided (the players being at all equal) only by
some recherché movement, the result of some strong exertion of the intellect. Deprived
of ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent, identifies
himself therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus, at a glance, the sole methods
(sometime indeed absurdly simple ones) by which he may seduce into error or hurry into
miscalculation.
Whist has long been noted for its influence upon what is termed the calculating power;
and men of the highest order of intellect have been known to take an apparently
unaccountable delight in it, while eschewing chess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there is
nothing of a similar nature so greatly tasking the faculty of analysis. The best chessplayer in Christendom may be little more than the best player of chess; but proficiency in
whist implies capacity for success in all those more important undertakings where mind
struggles with mind. When I say proficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which
includes a comprehension of all the sources whence legitimate advantage may be
derived. These are not only manifold but multiform, and lie frequently among recesses of
thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinary understanding. To observe attentively is to
remember distinctly; and, so far, the concentrative chess-player will do very well at
whist; while the rules of Hoyle (themselves based upon the mere mechanism of the game)
are sufficiently and generally comprehensible. Thus to have a retentive memory, and to
proceed by "the book," are points commonly regarded as the sum total of good playing.
But it is in matters beyond the limits of mere rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced.
He makes, in silence, a host of observations and inferences. So, perhaps, do his
companions; and the difference in the extent of the information obtained, lies not so
much in the validity of the inference as in the quality of the observation. The necessary
knowledge is that of what to observe. Our player confines himself not at all; nor, because
the game is the object, does he reject deductions from things external to the game. He
examines the countenance of his partner, comparing it carefully with that of each of his
opponents. He considers the mode of assorting the cards in each hand; often counting
trump by trump, and honor by honor, through the glances bestowed by their holders upon
each. He notes every variation of face as the play progresses, gathering a fund of thought
from the differences in the expression of certainty, of surprise, of triumph, or of chagrin.
From the manner of gathering up a trick he judges whether the person taking it can make
another in the suit. He recognizes what is played through feint, by the air with which it is
thrown upon the table. A casual or inadvertent word; the accidental dropping or turning
of a card, with the accompanying anxiety or carelessness in regard to its concealment; the
counting of the tricks, with the order of their arrangement; embarrassment, hesitation,
eagerness or trepidation --- all afford, to his apparently intuitive perception, indications of
the true state of affairs. The first two or three rounds having been played, he is in full
possession of the contents of each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards with as
absolute a precision of purpose as if the rest of the party had turned outward the faces of
their own.
The analytical power should not be confounded with ample ingenuity; for while the
analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious man is often remarkably incapable of
analysis. The constructive or combining power, by which ingenuity is usually manifested,
and to which the phrenologists (I believe erroneously) have assigned a separate organ,
supposing it a primitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in those whose intellect
bordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general observation among writers
on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there exists a difference far greater,
indeed, than that between the fancy and the imagination, but of a character very strictly
analogous. It will be found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly
imaginative never otherwise than analytic.
The narrative which follows will appear to the reader somewhat in the light of a
commentary upon the propositions just advanced.
Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18 ---, I there became
acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young gentleman was of an
excellent - indeed of an illustrious family, but, by a variety of untoward events, had been
reduced to such poverty that the energy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he
ceased to bestir himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes. By
courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in his possession a small remnant of his
patrimony; and, upon the income arising from this, he managed, by means of a rigorous
economy, to procure the necessaries of life, without troubling himself about its
superfluities. Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained.
Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, where the accident
of our both being in search of the same very rare and very remarkable volume, brought us
into closer communion. We saw each other again and again. I was deeply interested in
the little family history which he detailed to me with all that candor which a Frenchman
indulges whenever mere self is his theme. I was astonished, too, at the vast extent of his
reading; and, above all, I felt my soul enkindled within me by the wild fervor, and the
vivid freshness of his imagination. Seeking in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that
the society of such a man would be to me a treasure beyond price; and this feeling I
frankly confided to him. It was at length arranged that we should live together during my
stay in the city; and as my worldly circumstances were somewhat less embarrassed than
his own, I was permitted to be at the expense of renting, and furnishing in a style which
suited the rather fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque
mansion, long deserted through superstitions into which we did not inquire, and tottering
to its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the Faubourg St. Germain.
Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been
regarded as madmen --- although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our
seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors. Indeed the locality of our retirement had
been carefully kept a secret from my own former associates; and it had been many years
since Dupin had ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within ourselves alone.
It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) to be enamored of the
Night for her own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving
myself up to his wild whims with a perfect abandon. The sable divinity would not herself
dwell with us always; but we could counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn of the
morning we closed all the messy shutters of our old building; lighting a couple of tapers
which, strongly perfumed, threw out only the ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of
these we then busied our souls in dreams --- reading, writing, or conversing, until warned
by the clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the streets arm
in arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and wide until a late hour,
seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous city, that infinity of mental
excitement which quiet observation can afford.
At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although from his rich ideality
I had been prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic ability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to
take an eager delight in its exercise --- if not exactly in its display --- and did not hesitate
to confess the pleasure thus derived. He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh, that
most men, in respect to himself, wore windows in their bosoms, and was wont to follow
up such assertions by direct and very startling proofs of his intimate knowledge of my
own. His manner at these moments was frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in
expression; while his voice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have
sounded petulantly but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the enunciation.
Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon the old philosophy of the
Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy of a double Dupin --- the creative and the
resolvent.
Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailing any mystery, or
penning any romance. What I have described in the Frenchman, was merely the result of
an excited, or perhaps of a diseased intelligence. But of the character of his remarks at the
periods in question an example will best convey the idea.
We were strolling one night down a long dirty street in the vicinity of the Palais Royal.
Being both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither of us had spoken a syllable for
fifteen minutes at least. All at once Dupin broke forth with these words:
"He is a very little fellow, that's true, and would do better for the Théâtre des
Variétés."
"There can be no doubt of that," I replied unwittingly, and not at first observing (so
much had I been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinary manner in which the speaker
had chimed in with my meditations. In an instant afterward I recollected myself, and my
astonishment was profound.
"Dupin," said I, gravely, "this is beyond my comprehension. I do not hesitate to say
that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. How was it possible you should
know I was thinking of --- ?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubt whether he
really knew of whom I thought.
"--- of Chantilly," said he, "why do you pause? You were remarking to yourself that
his diminutive figure unfitted him for tragedy."
This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections. Chantilly was a
quondam cobbler of the Rue St. Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, had attempted the rôle
of Xerxes, in Crébillon's tragedy so called, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for his
pains.
"Tell me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, "the method --- if method there is --- by
which you have been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter." In fact I was even more
startled than I would have been willing to express.
"It was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who brought you to the conclusion that the
mender of soles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes et id genus omne."
"The fruiterer! --- you astonish me --- I know no fruiterer whomsoever."
"The man who ran up against you as we entered the street --- it may have been fifteen
minutes ago."
I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head a large basket of
apples, had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we passed from the Rue C ---- into
the thoroughfare where we stood; but what this had to do with Chantilly I could not
possibly understand.
There was not a particle of charlâtanerie about Dupin. "I will explain," he said, "and
that you may comprehend all clearly, we will first retrace the course of your meditations,
from the moment in which I spoke to you until that of the rencontre with the fruiterer in
question. The larger links of the chain run thus --- Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols,
Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer."
There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives, amused themselves in
retracing the steps by which particular conclusions of their own minds have been
attained. The occupation is often full of interest and he who attempts it for the first time is
astonished by the apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between the startingpoint and the goal. What, then, must have been my amazement when I heard the
Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when I could not help acknowledging that
he had spoken the truth. He continued:
"We had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before leaving the Rue C ---. This was the last subject we discussed. As we crossed into this street, a fruiterer, with a
large basket upon his head, brushing quickly past us, thrust you upon a pile of paving
stones collected at a spot where the causeway is undergoing repair. You stepped upon
one of the loose fragments, slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appeared vexed or sulky,
muttered a few words, turned to look at the pile, and then proceeded in silence. I was not
particularly attentive to what you did; but observation has become with me, of late, a
species of necessity.
"You kept your eyes upon the ground --- glancing, with a petulant expression, at the
holes and ruts in the pavement (so that I saw you were still thinking of the stones) until
we reached the little alley called Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of
experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened
up, and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the word
'stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this species of pavement. I knew that you
could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to think of atomies, and thus
of the theories of Epicurus; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I
mentioned to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of that
noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I felt that you
could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great nebula in Orion, and I certainly
expected that you would do so. You did look up; and I was now assured that I had
correctly followed your steps. But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in
yesterday's 'Musée,' the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler s
change of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line about which we have
often conversed. I mean the line
Perdidit antiquum litera sonum.
I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion; and, from
certain pungencies connected with this explanation, I was aware that you could not have
forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fail to combine the two ideas of
Orion and Chantilly. That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile
which passed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you
had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw yourself up to your full height. I
was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I
interrupted your meditations to remark that as, in fact, be was a very little fellow --- that
Chantilly --- he would do better at the Théâtre des Variétés."
Not long after this, we were looking over an evening edition of the "Gazette des
Tribunaux," when the following paragraphs arrested our attention.
"EXTRAORDINARY MURDERS. --- This morning, about three o'clock, the inhabitants of
the Quartier St. Roch were aroused from sleep by a succession of terrific shrieks, issuing,
apparently, from the fourth story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in the sole
occupancy of one Madame L'Espanaye, and her daughter Mademoiselle Camille
L'Espanaye. After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to procure admission in
the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and eight or ten of the
neighbors entered accompanied by two gendarmes. By this time the cries had ceased; but,
as the party rushed up the first flight of stairs, two or more rough voices in angry
contention were distinguished and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house.
As the second landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased and everything
remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves and hurried from room to room.
Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth story, (the door of which, being
found locked, with the key inside, was forced open), a spectacle presented itself which
struck every one present not less with horror than with astonishment.
"The apartment was in the wildest disorder - the furniture broken and thrown about in
all directions. There was only one bedstead; and from this the bed had been removed, and
thrown into the middle of the floor. On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the
hearth were two or three long and thick tresses of gray human hair, also dabbled in blood,
and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the floor were found four
Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three large silver spoons, three smaller of métal d'Alger,
and two bags, containing nearly four thousand francs in gold. The drawers of a bureau,
which stood in one corner were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many
articles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under the bed (not under
the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the door. It had no contents beyond a few
old letters, and other papers of little consequence.
"Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantity of soot
being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in the chimney, and (horrible to
relate!) the; corpse of the daughter, head downward, was dragged therefrom; it having
been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite
warm. Upon examining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by the
violence with which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon the face were many
severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger nails,
as if the deceased had been throttled to death.
"After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without farther
discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the building,
where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt
to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated --the former so much so as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity.
"To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightest clew."
The next day's paper had these additional particulars.
"The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Many individuals have been examined in relation to
this most extraordinary and frightful affair. [The word 'affaire' has not yet, in France, that
levity of import which it conveys with us,] "but nothing whatever has transpired to throw
light upon it. We give below all the material testimony elicited.
"Pauline Dubourg, laundress, deposes that she has known both the deceased for three
years, having washed for them during that period. The old lady and her daughter seemed
on good terms - very affectionate towards each other. They were excellent pay. Could not
speak in regard to their mode or means of living. Believed that Madame L. told fortunes
for a living. Was reputed to have money put by. Never met any persons in the house
when she called for the clothes or took them home. Was sure that they had no servant in
employ. There appeared to be no furniture in any part of the building except in the fourth
story.
"Pierre Moreau, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of selling small
quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame L'Espanaye for nearly four years. Was born in
the neighborhood, and has always resided there. The deceased and her daughter had
occupied the house in which the corpses were found, for more than six years. It was
formerly occupied by a jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms to various persons. The
house was the property of Madame L. She became dissatisfied with the abuse of the
premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself, refusing to let any portion. The old
lady was childish. Witness had seen the daughter some five or six times during the six
years. The two lived an exceedingly retired life - were reputed to have money. Had heard
it said among the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes - did not believe it. Had never
seen any person enter the door except the old lady and her daughter, a porter once or
twice, and a physician some eight or ten times.
"Many other persons, neighbors, gave evidence to the same effect. No one was spoken
of as frequenting the house. It was not known whether there were any living connections
of Madame L. and her daughter. The shutters of the front windows were seldom opened.
Those in the rear were always closed, with the exception of the large back room, fourth
story. The house was a good house --- not very old.
"Isidore Muset, gendarme, deposes that he was called to the house about three o'clock
in the morning, and found some twenty or thirty persons at the gateway, endeavoring to
gain admittance. Forced it open, at length, with a bayonet - not with a crowbar. Had but
little difficulty in getting it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate, and
bolted neither at bottom not top. The shrieks were continued until the gate was forced and then suddenly ceased. They seemed to be screams of some person (or persons) in
great agony - were loud and drawn out, not short and quick. Witness led the way up
stairs. Upon reaching the first landing, heard two voices in loud and angry contention the one a gruff voice, the other much shriller - a very strange voice. Could distinguish
some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Was positive that it was not a
woman's voice. Could distinguish the words 'sacré' and 'diable.' The shrill voice was that
of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could
not make out what was said, but believed the language to be Spanish. The state of the
room and of the bodies was described by this witness as we described them yesterday.
"Henri Duval, a neighbor, and by trade a silver-smith, deposes that he was one of the
party who first entered the house. Corroborates the testimony of Musèt in general. As
soon as they forced an entrance, they reclosed the door, to keep out the crowd, which
collected very fast, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrill voice, this witness
thinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could not be sure that it was
a man's voice. It might have been a woman's. Was not acquainted with the Italian
language. Could not distinguish the words, but was convinced by the intonation that the
speaker was an Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both
frequently. Was sure that the shrill voice was not that of either of the deceased.
"--- Odenheimer, restaurateur. This witness volunteered his testimony. Not speaking
French, was examined through an interpreter. Is a native of Amsterdam. Was passing the
house at the time of the shrieks. They lasted for several minutes --- probably ten. They
were long and loud --- very awful and distressing. Was one of those who entered the
building. Corroborated the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the
shrill voice was that of a man - of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish the words uttered.
They were loud and quick - unequal --- spoken apparently in fear as well as in anger. The
voice was harsh - not so much shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff
voice said repeatedly 'sacré,' 'diable,' and once 'mon Dieu.'
"Jules Mignaud, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder
Mignaud. Madame L'Espanaye had some property. Had opened an account with his
banking house in the spring of the year - (eight years previously). Made frequent deposits
in small sums. Had checked for nothing until the third day before her death, when she
took out in person the sum of 4000 francs. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerk went
home with the money.
"Adolphe Le Bon, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day in question, about
noon, he accompanied Madame L'Espanaye to her residence with the 4000 francs, put up
in two bags. Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L. appeared and took from his
hands one of the bags, while the old lady relieved him of the other. He then bowed and
departed. Did not see any person in the street at the time. It is a bye-street --- very lonely.
"William Bird, tailor deposes that he was one of the party who entered the house. Is an
Englishman. Has lived in Paris two years. Was one of the first to ascend the stairs. Heard
the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out
several words, but cannot now remember all. Heard distinctly 'sacré' and 'mon Dieu.'
There was a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling - a scraping and
scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud --- louder than the gruff one. Is sure that it
was not the voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that of a German. Might have been a
woman's voice. Does not understand German.
"Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the door of the
chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was locked on the inside when
the party reached it. Every thing was perfectly silent --- no groans or noises of any kind.
Upon forcing the door no person was seen. The windows, both of the back and front
room, were down and firmly fastened from within. A door between the two rooms was
closed, but not locked. The door leading from the front room into the passage was locked,
with the key on the inside. A small room in the front of the house, on the fourth story, at
the head of the passage was open, the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old
beds, boxes, and so forth. These were carefully removed and searched. There was not an
inch of any portion of the house which was not carefully searched. Sweeps were sent up
and down the chimneys. The house was a four story one, with garrets (mansardes.) A
trap-door on the roof was nailed down very securely --- did not appear to have been
opened for years. The time elapsing between the hearing of the voices in contention and
the breaking open of the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses. Some made it
as short as three minutes --- some as long as five. The door was opened with difficulty.
"Alfonzo Garcio, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of
Spain. Was one of the party who entered the house. Did not proceed up stairs. Is nervous,
and was apprehensive of the consequences of agitation. Heard the voices in contention.
The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what was said. The shrill
voice was that of an Englishman --- is sure of this. Does not understand the English
language, but judges by the intonation.
"Alberto Montani, confectioner, deposes that he was among the first to ascend the stairs.
Heard the voices in question. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Distinguished
several words. The speaker appeared to be expostulating. Could not make out the words
of the shrill voice. Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian.
Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian. Never conversed with a native of
Russia.
"Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all the rooms on the
fourth story were too narrow to admit the passage of a human being. By 'sweeps' were
meant cylindrical sweeping brushes, such as are employed by those who clean chimneys.
These brushes were passed up and down every flue in the house. There is no back
passage by which any one could have descended while the party proceeded up stairs. The
body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was so firmly wedged in the chimney that it could not
be got down until four or five of the party united their strength.
"Paul Dumas, physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies about daybreak. They were both then lying on the sacking of the bedstead in the chamber where
Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse of the young lady was much bruised and
excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up the chimney would sufficiently account for
these appearances. The throat was greatly chafed. There were several deep scratches just
below the chin, together with a series of livid spots which were evidently the impression
of fingers. The face was fearfully discolored, and the eye-balls protruded. The tongue had
been partially bitten through. A large bruise was discovered upon the pit of the stomach,
produced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In the opinion of M. Dumas,
Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been throttled to death by some person or persons
unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly mutilated. All the bones of the right leg
and arm were more or less shattered. The left tibia much splintered, as well as all the ribs
of the left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and discolored. It was not possible to say
how the injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a broad bar of iron --- a
chair --- any large, heavy, and obtuse weapon would have produced such results, if
wielded by the hands of a very powerful man. No woman could have inflicted the blows
with any weapon. The head of the deceased, when seen by witness, was entirely
separated from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throat had evidently been
cut with some very sharp instrument --- probably with a razor.
"Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the bodies.
Corroborated the testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.
"Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although several other persons were
examined. A murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in all its particulars, was never
before committed in Paris --- if indeed a murder has been committed at all. The police are
entirely at fault --- an unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however,
the shadow of a clew apparent."
The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement still continued in
the Quartier St. Roch --- that the premises in question had been carefully re-searched, and
fresh examinations of witnesses instituted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, however,
mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned --- although nothing
appeared to criminate him, beyond the facts already detailed.
Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair --- at least so I judged
from his manner, for he made no comments. It was only after the announcement that Le
Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked me my opinion respecting the murders.
I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble mystery. I saw no
means by which it would be possible to trace the murderer.
"We must not judge of the means," said Dupin, "by this shell of an examination. The
Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but no more. There is no
method in their proceedings, beyond the method of the moment. They make a vast parade
of measures; but, not unfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objects proposed, as to
put us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain's calling for his robe-de-chambre --- pour mieux
entendre la musique. The results attained by them are not unfrequently surprising, but, for
the most part, are brought about by simple diligence and activity. When these qualities
are unavailing, their schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser and a
persevering man. But, without educated thought, he erred continually by the very
intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by holding the object too close. He
might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual clearness, but in so doing he,
necessarily, lost sight of the matter as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as being too
profound. Truth is not always in a well. In fact, as regards the more important knowledge,
I do believe that she is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek
her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found. The modes and sources of this
kind of error are well typified in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies. To look at a
star by glances --- to view it in a side-long way, by turning toward it the exterior portions
of the retina (more susceptible of feeble impressions of light than the interior), is to
behold the star distinctly --- is to have the best appreciation of its lustre --- a lustre which
grows dim just in proportion as we turn our vision fully upon it. A greater number of rays
actually fall upon the eye in the latter case, but, in the former, there is the more refined
capacity for comprehension. By undue profundity we perplex and enfeeble thought; and
it is possible to make even Venus herself vanish from the firmanent by a scrutiny too
sustained, too concentrated, or too direct.
"As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for ourselves, before we
make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry will afford us amusement," [I thought
this an odd term, so applied, but said nothing] "and, besides, Le Bon once rendered me a
service for which I am not ungrateful. We will go and see the premises with our own
eyes. I know G----, the Prefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty in obtaining the
necessary permission."
The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. This is one
of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue
St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon when we reached it; as this quarter is at a great
distance from that in which we resided. The house was readily found; for there were still
many persons gazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless curiosity, from the
opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian house, with a gateway, on one side
of which was a glazed watch-box, with a sliding panel in the window, indicating a loge
de concierge. Before going in we walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then,
again turning, passed in the rear of the building --- Dupin, meanwhile examining the
whole neighborhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention for which I
could see no possible object.
Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang, and, having
shown our credentials, were admitted by the agents in charge. We went up stairs --- into
the chamber where the body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been found, and where
both the deceased still lay. The disorders of the room had, as usual, been suffered to exist.
I saw nothing beyond what had been stated in the "Gazette des Tribunaux." Dupin
scrutinized every thing --- not excepting the bodies of the victims. We then went into the
other rooms, and into the yard; a gendarme accompanying us throughout. The
examination occupied us until dark, when we took our departure. On our way home my
companion stepped in for a moment at the office of one of the daily papers.
I have said that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that Je les ménagais: --- for
this phrase there is no English equivalent. It was his humor, now, to decline all
conversation on the subject of the murder, until about noon the next day. He then asked
me, suddenly, if I had observed any thing peculiar at the scene of the atrocity.
There was something in his manner of emphasizing the word "peculiar," which caused
me to shudder, without knowing why.
"No, nothing peculiar," I said; "nothing more, at least, than we both saw stated in the
paper."
"The 'Gazette,' " he replied, "has not entered, I fear, into the unusual horror of the
thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. It appears to me that this mystery is
considered insoluble, for the very reason which should cause it to be regarded as easy of
solution --- I mean for the outré character of its features. The police are confounded by
the seeming absence of motive --- not for the murder itself --- but for the atrocity of the
murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seeming impossibility of reconciling the voices
heard in contention, with the facts that no one was discovered up stairs but the
assassinated Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress without
the notice of the party ascending. The wild disorder of the room; the corpse thrust, with
the head downward, up the chimney; the frightful mutilation of the body of the old lady;
these considerations, with those just mentioned, and others which I need not mention,
have sufficed to paralyze the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted acumen,
of the government agents. They have fallen into the gross but common error of
confounding the unusual with the abstruse. But it is by these deviations from the plane of
the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if at all, in its search for the true. In investigations
such as we are now pursuing, it should not be so much asked 'what has occurred,' as 'what
has occurred that has never occurred before.' In fact, the facility with which I shall arrive,
or have arrived, at the solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio of its apparent
insolubility in the eyes of the police."
I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment.
"I am now awaiting," continued he, looking toward the door of our apartment --- "I am
now awaiting a person who, although perhaps not the perpetrator of these butcheries,
must have been in some measure implicated in their perpetration. Of the worst portion of
the crimes committed, it is probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am right in this
supposition; for upon it I build my expectation of reading the entire riddle. I look for the
man here --- in this room --- every moment. It is true that he may not arrive; but the
probability is that he will. Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here are
pistols; and we both know how to use them when occasion demands their use."
I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing what I heard, while Dupin
went on, very much as if in a soliloquy. I have already spoken of his abstract manner at
such times. His discourse was addressed to myself; but his voice, although by no means
loud, had that intonation which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a great
distance. His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall.
"That the voices heard in contention," he said, "by the party upon the stairs, were not
the voices of the women themselves, was fully proved by the evidence. This relieves us
of all doubt upon the question whether the old lady could have first destroyed the
daughter and afterward have committed suicide. I speak of this point chiefly for the sake
of method; for the strength of Madame L'Espanaye would have been utterly unequal to
the task of thrusting her daughter's corpse up the chimney as it was found; and the nature
of the wounds upon her own person entirely preclude the idea of self-destruction.
Murder, then, has been committed by some third party; and the voices of this third party
were those heard in contention. Let me now advert --- not to the whole testimony
respecting these voices --- but to what was peculiar in that testimony. Did you observe
any thing peculiar about it?"
I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff voice to be that
of a Frenchman, there was much disagreement in regard to the shrill, or, as one individual
termed it, the harsh voice.
"That was the evidence itself," said Dupin, "but it was not the peculiarity of the evidence.
You have observed nothing distinctive. Yet there was something to be observed. The
witnesses, as you remark, agreed about the gruff voice; they were here unanimous. But in
regard to the shrill voice, the peculiarity is --- not that they disagreed --- but that, while an
Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and a Frenchman attempted to describe
it, each one spoke of it as that of a foreigner. Each is sure that it was not the voice of one
of his own countrymen. Each likens it --- not to the voice of an individual of any nation
with whose language he is conversant --- but the converse. The Frenchman supposes it
the voice of a Spaniard, and 'might have distinguished some words had he been
acquainted with the Spanish.' The Dutchman maintains it to have been that of a
Frenchman; but we find it stated that 'not understanding French this witness was
examined through an interpreter.' The Englishman thinks it the voice of a German, and
'does not understand German.' The Spaniard 'is sure' that it was that of an Englishman,
but 'judges by the intonation' altogether, 'as he has no knowledge of the English.' The
Italian believes it the voice of a Russian, but 'has never conversed with a native of
Russia.' A second Frenchman differs, moreover, with the first, and is positive that the
voice was that of an Italian; but, not being cognizant of that tongue, is, like the Spaniard,
'convinced by the intonation.' Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have really
been, about which such testimony as this could have been elicited! --- in whose tones,
even, denizens of the five great divisions of Europe could recognize nothing familiar!
You will say that it might have been the voice of an Asiatic --- of an African. Neither
Asiatics nor Africans abound in Paris; but, without denying the inference, I will now
merely call your attention to three points. The voice is termed by one witness 'harsh
rather than shrill.' It is represented by two others to have been 'quick and unequal.' No
words --- no sounds resembling words --- were by any witness mentioned as
distinguishable.
"I know not," continued Dupin, "what impression I may have made, so far, upon your
own understanding; but I do not hesitate to say that legitimate deductions even from this
portion of the testimony --- the portion respecting the gruff and shrill voices --- are in
themselves sufficient to engender a suspicion which should give direction to all farther
progress in the investigation of the mystery. I said 'legitimate deductions'; but my
meaning is not thus fully expressed. I designed to imply that the deductions are the sole
proper ones, and that the suspicion arises inevitably from them as the single result. What
the suspicion is, however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear in mind that,
with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a definite form --- a certain tendency --to my inquiries in the chamber.
"Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What shall we first seek
here? The means of egress employed by the murderers. It is not too much to say that
neither of us believe in præternatural events. Madame and Mademoiselle L'Espanaye
were not destroyed by spirits. The doers of the deed were material, and escaped
materially. Then how? Fortunately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point,
and that mode must lead us to a definite decision. - Let us examine, each by each, the
possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins were in the room where
Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was found, or at least in the room adjoining, when the party
ascended the stairs. It is then only from these two apartments that we have to seek issues.
The police have laid bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in every
direction. No secret issues could have escaped their vigilance. But, not trusting to their
eyes, I examined with my own. There were, then, no secret issues. Both doors leading
from the rooms into the passage were securely locked, with the keys inside. Let us turn to
the chimneys. These, although of ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above the
hearths, will not admit, throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The impossibility
of egress, by means already stated, being thus absolute, we are reduced to the windows.
Through those of the front room no one could have escaped without notice from the
crowd in the street. The murderers must have passed, then, through those of the back
room. Now, brought to this conclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is not our
part, as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparent impossibilities. It is only left for us
to prove that these apparent 'impossibilities' are, in reality, not such.
"There are two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed by furniture, and
is wholly visible. The lower portion of the other is hidden from view by the head of the
unwieldy bedstead which is thrust close up against it. The former was found securely
fastened from within. It resisted the utmost force of those who endeavored to raise it. A
large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and a very stout nail was found
fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon examining the other window, a similar nail was
seen similarly fitted in it; and a vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failed also. The police
were now entirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions. And, therefore, it
was thought a matter of supererogation to withdraw the nails and open the windows.
"My own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so for the reason I have
just given --- because here it was, I knew, that all apparent impossibilities must be proved
to be not such in reality.
"I proceeded to think thus --- a posteriori. The murderers did escape from one of these
windows. This being so, they could not have refastened the sashes from the inside, as
they were found fastened; --- the consideration which put a stop, through its obviousness,
to the scrutiny of the police in this quarter. Yet the sashes were fastened. They must, then,
have the power of fastening themselves. There was no escape from this conclusion. I
stepped to the unobstructed casement, withdrew the nail with some difficulty and
attempted to raise the sash. It resisted all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A concealed
spring must, I now know, exist; and this corroboration of my idea convinced me that my
premises at least, were correct, however mysterious still appeared the circumstances
attending the nails. A careful search soon brought to light the hidden spring. I pressed it,
and, satisfied with the discovery, forbore to upraise the sash.
"I now replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. A person passing out through this
window might have reclosed it, and the spring would have caught - but the nail could not
have been replaced. The conclusion was plain, and again narrowed in the field of my
investigations. The assassins must have escaped through the other window. Supposing,
then, the springs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there must be found a
difference between the nails, or at least between the modes of their fixture. Getting upon
the sacking of the bedstead, I looked over the head-board minutely at the second
casement. Passing my hand down behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the
spring, which was, as I had supposed, identical in character with its neighbor. I now
looked at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently fitted in the same manner -- driven in nearly up to the head.
"You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must have misunderstood
the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I had not been once 'at fault.' The
scent had never for an instant been lost. There was no flaw in any link of the chain. I had
traced the secret to its ultimate result, --- and that result was the nail. It had, I say, in
every respect, the appearance of its fellow in the other window; but this fact was an
absolute nullity (conclusive us it might seem to be) when compared with the
consideration that here, at this point, terminated the clew. 'There must be something
wrong,' I said, 'about the nail.' I touched it; and the head, with about a quarter of an inch
of the shank, came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet-hole where
it had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its edges were incrusted with
rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the blow of a hammer, which had
partially imbedded, in the top of the bottom sash, the head portion of the nail. I now
carefully replaced this head portion in the indentation whence I had taken it, and the
resemblance to a perfect nail was complete --- the fissure was invisible. Pressing the
spring, I gently raised the sash for a few inches; the head went up with it, remaining firm
in its bed. I closed the window, and the semblance of the whole nail was again perfect.
"The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped through the window
which looked upon the bed. Dropping of its own accord upon his exit (or perhaps
purposely closed), it had become fastened by the spring; and it was the retention of this
spring which had been mistaken by the police for that of the nail, --- farther inquiry being
thus considered unnecessary.
"The next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point I had been satisfied
in my walk with you around the building. About five feet and a half from the casement in
question there runs a lightning-rod. From this rod it would have been impossible for any
one to reach the window itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, that the
shutters of the fourth story were of the peculiar kind called by Parisian carpenters
ferrades --- a kind rarely employed at the present day, but frequently seen upon very old
mansions at Lyons and Bordeaux. They are in the form of an ordinary door, (a single, not
a folding door) except that the lower half is latticed or worked in open trellis --- thus
affording an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance these shutters are fully
three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the rear of the house, they were both
about half open --- that is to say, they stood off at right angles from the wall. It is
probable that the police, as well as myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, if so,
in looking at these ferrades in the line of their breadth (as they must have done), they did
not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events, failed to take it into due
consideration. In fact, having once satisfied themselves that no egress could have been
made in this quarter, they would naturally bestow here a very cursory examination. It was
clear to me, however, that the shutter belonging to the window at the head of the bed,
would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet of the lightning-rod. It
was also evident that, by exertion of a very unusual degree of activity and courage, an
entrance into the window, from the rod, might have been thus effected. By reaching to
the distance of two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter open to its whole extent) a
robber might have taken a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, then, his hold
upon the rod, placing his feet securely against the wall, and springing boldly from it, he
might have swung the shutter so as to close it, and, if we imagine the window open at the
time, might even have swung himself into the room.
"I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a very unusual degree of
activity as requisite to success in so hazardous and so difficult a feat. It is my design to
show you, first, that the thing might possibly have been accomplished: --- but, secondly
and chiefly, I wish to impress upon your understanding the very extraordinary --- the
almost præternatural character of that agility which could have accomplished it.
"You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that 'to make out my case,' I
should rather undervalue, than insist upon a full estimation of the activity required in this
matter. This may be the practice in law, but it is not the usage of reason. My ultimate
object is only the truth. My immediate purpose is to lead you to place in juxtaposition,
that very unusual activity of which I have just spoken with that very peculiar shrill (or
harsh) and unequal voice, about whose nationality no two persons could be found to
agree, and in whose utterance no syllabification could be detected."
At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaning of Dupin flitted
over my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension without power to
comprehend --- as men, at times, find themselves upon the brink of remembrance without
being able, in the end, to remember. My friend went on with his discourse.
"You will see," he said, "that I have shifted the question from the mode of egress to that
of ingress. It was my design to convey the idea that both were effected in the same
manner, at the same point. Let us now revert to the interior of the room. Let us survey the
appearances here. The drawers of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many
articles of apparel still remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd. It is a mere
guess --- a very silly one --- and no more. How are we to know that the articles found in
the drawers were not all these drawers had originally contained? Madame L'Espanaye
and her daughter lived an exceedingly retired life --- saw no company - seldom went out -- had little use for numerous changes of habiliment. Those found were at least of as good
quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief had taken any, why did he
not take the best - why did he not take all? In a word, why did he abandon four thousand
francs in gold to encumber himself with a bundle of linen? The gold was abandoned.
Nearly the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, was discovered, in
bags, upon the floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from your thoughts the blundering
idea of motive, engendered in the brains of the police by that portion of the evidence
which speaks of money delivered at the door of the house. Coincidences ten times as
remarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murder committed within three days
upon the party receiving it), happen to all of us every hour of our lives, without attracting
even momentary notice. Coincidences, in general, are great stumbling-blocks in the way
of that class of thinkers who have been educated to know nothing of the theory of
probabilities --- that theory to which the most glorious objects of human research are
indebted for the most glorious of illustration. In the present instance, had the gold been
gone, the fact of its delivery three days before would have formed something more than a
coincidence. It would have been corroborative of this idea of motive. But, under the real
circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motive of this outrage, we must
also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have abandoned his gold and his
motive together.
"Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn your attention --- that
peculiar voice, that unusual agility, and that startling absence of motive in a murder so
singularly atrocious as this --- let us glance at the butchery itself. Here is a woman
strangled to death by manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward.
Ordinary assassins employ no such modes of murder as this. Least of all, do they thus
dispose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the corpse up the chimney, you will
admit that there was something excessively outré --- something altogether irreconcilable
with our common notions of human action, even when we suppose the actors the most
depraved of men. Think, too, how great must have been that strength which could have
thrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigor of several persons
was found barely sufficient to drag it down!
"Turn, now, to other indications of the employment of a vigor most marvellous. On the
hearth were thick tresses --- very thick tresses --- of gray human hair. These had been
torn out by the roots. You are aware of the great force necessary in tearing thus from the
head even twenty or thirty hairs together. You saw the locks in question as well as
myself. Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted with fragments of the flesh of the scalp
--- sure token of the prodigious power which had been exerted in uprooting perhaps half a
million of hairs at a time. The throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but the head
absolutely severed from the body: the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to
look at the brutal ferocity of these deeds. Of the bruises upon the body of Madame
L'Espanaye I do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutor Monsieur
Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; and so far
these gentlemen are very correct. The obtuse instrument was clearly the stone pavement
in the yard, upon which the victim had fallen from the window which looked in upon the
bed. This idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the same reason
that the breadth of the shutters escaped them --- because, by the affair of the nails, their
perceptions had been hermetically sealed against the possibility of the windows having
ever been opened at all.
"If now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflected upon the odd
disorder of the chamber, we have gone so far as to combine the ideas of an agility
astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocity brutal, a butchery without motive, a
grotesquerie in horror absolutely alien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the
ears of men of many nations, and devoid of all distinct or intelligible syllabification.
What result, then, has ensued? What impression have I made upon your fancy?"
I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. "A madman," I said, "has
done this deed --- some raving maniac, escaped from a neighboring Maison de Santé."
"In some respects," he replied, "your idea is not irrelevant. But the voices of madmen,
even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found to tally with that peculiar voice heard
upon the stairs. Madmen are of some nation, and their language, however incoherent in
its words, has always the coherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is
not such as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from the rigidly clutched
fingers of Madame L'Espanaye. Tell me what you can make of it."
"Dupin!" I said, completely unnerved; "this hair is most unusual --- this is no human
hair."
"I have not asserted that it is," said he; "but, before we decide this point, I wish you to
glance at the little sketch I have here traced upon this paper. It is a fac-simile drawing of
what has been described in one portion of the testimony as 'dark bruises, and deep
indentations of finger nails,' upon the throat of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and in another,
(by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne), as a 'series of livid spots, evidently the impression of
fingers.'
"You will perceive," continued my friend, spreading out the paper upon the table
before us, "that this drawing gives the idea of a firm and fixed hold. There is no slipping
apparent. Each finger has retained --- possibly until the death of the victim - the fearful
grasp by which it originally imbedded itself. Attempt, now, to place all your fingers, at
the same time, in the respective impressions as you see them."
I made the attempt in vain.
"We are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial," he said. "The paper is spread out
upon a plane surface; but the human throat is cylindrical. Here is a billet of wood, the
circumference of which is about that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try
the experiment again."
I did so; but the difficulty was even more obvious than before. "This," I said, "is the
mark of no human hand."
"Read now," replied Dupin, "this passage from Cuvier."
It was a minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of the large fulvous
Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. The gigantic stature, the prodigious strength
and activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of these mammalia are
sufficiently well known to all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once.
"The description of the digits," said I, as I made an end of reading, "is in exact
accordance with this drawing. I see that no animal but an Ourang-Outang, of the species
here mentioned, could have impressed the indentations as you have traced them. This tuft
of tawny hair, too, is identical in character with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannot
possibly comprehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. Besides, there were two
voices heard in contention, and one of them was unquestionably the voice of a
Frenchman."
"True; and you will remember an expression attributed almost unanimously, by the
evidence, to this voice, --- the expression, 'mon Dieu!' This, under the circumstances, has
been justly characterized by one of the witnesses (Montani, the confectioner,) as an
expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Upon these two words, therefore, I have
mainly built my hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A Frenchman was cognizant of the
murder. It is possible - indeed it is far more than probable - that he was innocent of all
participation in the bloody transactions which took place. The Ourang-Outang may have
escaped from him. He may have traced it to the chamber; but, under the agitating
circumstances which ensued, he could never have re-captured it. It is still at large. I will
not pursue these guesses - for I have no right to call them more - since the shades of
reflection upon which they are based are scarcely of sufficient depth to be appreciable by
my own intellect, and since I could not pretend to make them intelligible to the
understanding of another. We will call them guesses then, and speak of them as such. If
the Frenchman in question is indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, this
advertisement which I left last night, upon our return home, at the office of 'Le Monde,' (a
paper devoted to the shipping interest, and much sought by sailors), will bring him to our
residence."
He handed me a paper, and I read thus:
CAUGHT --- In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the morning of the - inst., (the morning
of the murder,) a very large, tawny Ourang-Outang of the Bornese species. The owner,
(who is ascertained to be a sailor, belonging to a Maltese vessel,) may have the animal
again, upon identifying it satisfactorily, and paying a few charges arising from its capture
and keeping. Call at No. ---- , Rue ----, Faubourg St. Germain - au troisiême."
"How was it possible," I asked, "that you should know the man to be a sailor, and
belonging to a Maltese vessel?"
"I do not know it," said Dupin. "I am not sure of it. Here, however, is a small piece of
ribbon, which from its form, and from its greasy appearance, has evidently been used in
tying the hair in one of those long queues of which sailors are so fond. Moreover, this
knot is one which few besides sailors can tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the
ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either of the
deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in my induction from this ribbon, that the
Frenchman was a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in
saying what I did in the advertisement. If I am in error, he will merely suppose that I have
been misled by some circumstance into which he will not take the trouble to inquire. But
if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizant although innocent of the murder, the
Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying to the advertisement --- about
demanding the Ourang-Outang. He will reason thus: --- 'I am innocent; I am poor; my
Ourang-Outang is of great value - to one in my circumstances a fortune of itself - why
should I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within my grasp. It was
found in the Bois de Boulogne - at a vast distance from the scene of that butchery. How
can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have done the deed? The police are at
fault - they have failed to procure the slightest clew. Should they even trace the animal, it
would be impossible to prove me cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on
account of that cognizance. Above all, I am known. The advertiser designates me as the
possessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limit his knowledge may extend. Should I
avoid claiming a property of so great value, which it is known that I possess, I will render
the animal at least, liable to suspicion. It is not my policy to attract attention either to
myself or to the beast. I will answer the advertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep
it close until this matter has blown over.' "
At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs.
"Be ready," said Dupin, "with your pistols, but neither use them nor show them until at
a signal from myself."
The front door of the house had been left open, and the visitor had entered, without
ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase. Now, however, he seemed to
hesitate. Presently we heard him descending. Dupin was moving quickly to the door,
when we again heard him coming up. He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up
with decision, and rapped at the door of our chamber.
"Come in," said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.
A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, --- a tall, stout, and muscular-looking
person, with a certain dare-devil expression of countenance, not altogether
unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden by whisker and
mustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed.
He bowed awkwardly, and bade us "good evening," in French accents, which, although
somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian origin.
"Sit down, my freind," said Dupin. "I suppose you have called about the OurangOutang. Upon my word, I almost envy you the possession of him; a remarkably fine, and
no doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you suppose him to be?"
The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some intolerable
burden, and then replied, in an assured tone:
"I have no way of telling --- but he can't be more than four or five years old. Have you
got him here?"
"Oh no, we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a livery stable in the
Rue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning. Of course you are prepared to
identify the property?"
"To be sure I am, sir."
"I shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin.
"I don't mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir," said the man.
"Couldn't expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward for the finding of the animal --- that
is to say, any thing in reason."
"Well," replied my friend, "that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me think! - what should
I have? Oh! I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You shall give me all the information
in your power about these murders in the Rue Morgue."
Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he
walked toward the door, locked it and put the key in his pocket. He then drew a pistol
from his bosom and placed it, without the least flurry, upon the table.
The sailor's face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation. He started to his
feet and grasped his cudgel, but the next moment he fell back into his seat, trembling
violently, and with the countenance of death itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him
from the bottom of my heart.
"My friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, "you are alarming yourself unnecessarily --you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the honor of a gentleman,
and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that you are
innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are
in some measure implicated in them. From what I have already said, you must know that
I have had means of information about this matter --- means of which you could never
have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have
avoided - nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even guilty of
robbery, when you might have robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You
have no reason for concealment. On the other hand, you are bound by every principle of
honor to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with that
crime of which you can point out the perpetrator."
The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, while Dupin uttered
these words; but his original boldness of bearing was all gone.
"So help me God," said he, after a brief pause, "I will tell you all I know about this
affair; --- but I do not expect you to believe one half I say --- I would be a fool indeed if I
did. Still, I am innocent, and I will make a clean breast if I die for it."
What he stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyage to the Indian
Archipelago. A party, of which he formed one, landed at Borneo, and passed into the
interior on an excursion of pleasure. Himself and a companion had captured the OurangOutang. This companion dying, the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After
great trouble, occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive during the home
voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely at his own residence in Paris, where,
not to attract toward himself the unpleasant curiosity of his neighbors, he kept it carefully
secluded, until such time as it should recover from a wound in the foot, received from a
splinter on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it.
Returning home from some sailors' frolic the night, or rather in the morning of the
murder, he found the beast occupying his own bed-room, into which it had broken from a
closet adjoining, where it had been, as was thought, securely confined. Razor in hand,
and fully lathered, it was sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of
shaving, in which it had no doubt previously watched its master through the key-hole of
the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weapon in the possession of an animal
so ferocious, and so well able to use it, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to
do. He had been accustomed, however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods,
by the use of a whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, the Ourang-Outang
sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and thence, through a
window, unfortunately open, into the street.
The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor still in hand, occasionally stopping
to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, until the latter had nearly come up with it. It
then again made off. In this manner the chase continued for a long time. The streets were
profoundly quiet, as it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. In passing down an alley
in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive's attention was arrested by a light gleaming
from the open window of Madame L'Espanaye's chamber, in the fourth story of her
house. Rushing to the building, it perceived the lightning rod, clambered up with
inconceivable agility, grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against the wall,
and, by its means, swung itself directly upon the headboard of the bed. The whole feat
did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again by the Ourang-Outang as it
entered the room.
The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He had strong hopes of
now recapturing the brute, as it could scarcely escape from the trap into which it had
ventured, except by the rod, where it might be intercepted as it came down. On the other
hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to what it might do in the house. This latter
reflection urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A lightning rod is ascended without
difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, when he had arrived as high as the window, which
lay far to his left, his career was stopped; the most that he could accomplish was to reach
over so as to obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearly fell
from his hold through excess of horror. Now it was that those hideous shrieks arose upon
the night, which had startled from slumber the inmates of the Rue Morgue. Madame
L'Espanaye and her daughter, habited in their night clothes, had apparently been occupied
in arranging some papers in the iron chest already mentioned, which had been wheeled
into the middle of the room. It was open, and its contents lay beside it on the floor. The
victims must have been sitting with their backs toward the window; and, from the time
elapsing between the ingress of the beast and the screams, it seems probable that it was
not immediately perceived. The flapping-to of the shutter would naturally have been
attributed to the wind.
As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame L'Espanaye by the
hair, (which was loose, as she had been combing it,) and was flourishing the razor about
her face, in imitation of the motions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate and
motionless; she had swooned. The screams and struggles of the old lady (during which
the hair was torn from her head) had the effect of changing the probably pacific purposes
of the Ourang-Outang into those of wrath. With one determined sweep of its muscular
arm it nearly severed her head from her body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into
phrensy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire from its eyes, it flew upon the body of the
girl, and imbedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp until she expired. Its
wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the head of the bed, over which the
face of its master, rigid with horror, was just discernible. The fury of the beast, who no
doubt bore still in mind the dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious of
having deserved punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody deeds, and
skipped about the chamber in an agony of nervous agitation; throwing down and breaking
the furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from the bedstead. In conclusion, it seized
first the corpse of the daughter, and thrust it up the chimney, as it was found; then that of
the old lady, which it immediately hurled through the window headlong.
As the ape approached the casement with its mutilated burden, the sailor shrank aghast
to the rod, and, rather gliding than clambering down it, hurried at once home - dreading
the consequences of the butchery, and gladly abandoning, in his terror, all solicitude
about the fate of the Ourang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase
were the Frenchman's exclamations of horror and affright, commingled with the fiendish
jabberings of the brute.
I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have escaped from the
chamber, by the rod, just before the break of the door. It must have closed the window as
it passed through it. It was subsequently caught by the owner himself, who obtained for it
a very large sum at the Jardin des Plantes. Le Don was instantly released, upon our
narration of the circumstances (with some comments from Dupin) at the bureau of the
Prefect of Police. This functionary, however well disposed to my friend, could not
altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn which affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge
in a sarcasm or two, about the propriety of every person minding his own business.
"Let him talk," said Dupin,, who had not thought it necessary to reply. "Let him
discourse; it will ease his conscience, I am satisfied with having defeated him in his own
castle. Nevertheless, that he failed in the solution of this mystery, is by no means that
matter for wonder which he supposes it; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat
too cunning to be profound. In his wisdom is no stamen. It is all head and no body, like
the pictures of the Goddess Laverna, --- or, at best, all head and shoulders, like a codfish.
But he is a good creature after all. I like him especially for one master stroke of cant, by
which he has attained his reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has 'de nier ce qui
est, et d'expliquer ce qui n'est pas.' " *
* Rousseau - Nouvelle Héloise.
The Mystery of Marie Roget
A SEQUEL TO "THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE."
There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the real ones. They rarely coincide. Men and
circumstances generally modify the ideal train of events, so that it seems imperfect, and its consequences
are equally imperfect. Thus with the Reformation; instead of Protestantism came Lutheranism.
- Novalis.2 Moral Ansichten.
THERE are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not occasionally
been startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the supernatural, by coincidences
of so seemingly marvellous a character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been
unable to receive them. Such sentiments --- for the half-credences of which I speak have
never the full force of thought --- such sentiments are seldom thoroughly stifled unless by
reference to the doctrine of chance, or, as it is technically termed, the Calculus of
Probabilities. Now this Calculus is, in its essence, purely mathematical; and thus we have
the anomaly of the most rigidly exact in science applied to the shadow and spirituality of
the most intangible in speculation.
1. Upon the original publication of "Marie Roget," the foot-notes now appended were considered
unnecessary; but the lapse of several years since the tragedy upon which the tale is based, renders it
expedient to give them, and also to say a few words in explanation of the general design. A young girl,
Mary Cecilia Rogers, was murdered in the vicinity of New York; and, although her death occasioned an
intense and long-enduring excitement, the mystery attending it had remained unsolved at the period when
the present paper was written and published (November, 1842). Herein, under pretence of relating the fate
of a Parisian grisette, the author has followed in minute detail, the essential, while merely paralleling the
inessential facts of the real murder of Mary Rogers. Thus all argument founded upon the fiction is
applicable to the truth: and the investigation of the truth was the object.
The "Mystery of Marie Roget" was composed at a distance from the scene of the atrocity, and with no
other means of investigation than the newspapers afforded. Thus much escaped the writer of which he
could have availed himself had he been upon the spot, and visited the localities. It may not be improper to
record, nevertheless, that the confessions of two persons, (one of them the Madame Deluc of the narrative)
made, at different periods, long subsequent to the publication, confirmed, in full, not only the general
conclusion, but absolutely all the chief hypothetical details by which that conclusion was attained.
2. The nom de plume of Von Hardenburg.
The extraordinary details which I am now called upon to make public, will be found to
form, as regards sequence of time, the primary branch of a series of scarcely intelligible
coincidences, whose secondary or concluding branch will be recognized by all readers in
the late murder of Mary Cecila Rogers, at New York.
When, in an article entitled "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," I endeavored, about a
year ago, to depict some very remarkable features in the mental character of my friend,
the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin, it did not occur to me that I should ever resume the
subject. This depicting of character constituted my design; and this design was
thoroughly fulfilled in the wild train of circumstances brought to instance Dupin's
idiosyncrasy. I might have adduced other examples, but I should have proven no more.
Late events, however, in their surprising development, have startled me into some farther
details, which will carry with them the air of extorted confession. Hearing what I have
lately heard, it would be indeed strange should I remain silent in regard to what I both
heard and saw so long ago.
Upon the winding up of the tragedy involved in the deaths of Madame L'Espanaye and
her daughter, the Chevalier dismissed the affair at once from his attention, and relapsed
into his old habits of moody reverie. Prone, at all times, to abstraction, I readily fell in
with his humor; and, continuing to occupy our chambers in the Faubourg Saint Germain,
we gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the
dull world around us into dreams.
But these dreams were not altogether uninterrupted. It may readily be supposed that the
part played by my friend, in the drama at the Rue Morgue, had not failed of its
impression upon the fancies of the Parisian police. With its emissaries, the name of Dupin
had grown into a household word. The simple character of those inductions by which he
had disentangled the mystery never having been explained even to the Prefect, or to any
other individual than myself, of course it is not surprising that the affair was regarded as
little less than miraculous, or that the Chevalier's analytical abilities acquired for him the
credit of intuition. His frankness would have led him to disabuse every inquirer of such
prejudice; but his indolent humor forbade all farther agitation of a topic whose interest to
himself had long ceased. It thus happened that he found himself the cynosure of the
political eyes; and the cases were not few in which attempt was made to engage his
services at the Prefecture. One of the most remarkable instances was that of the murder of
a young girl named Marie Rogêt.
This event occurred about two years after the atrocity in the Rue Morgue. Marie,
whose Christian and family name will at once arrest attention from their resemblance to
those of the unfortunate "cigar- girl," was the only daughter of the widow Estelle Rogêt.
The father had died during the child's infancy, and from the period of his death, until
within eighteen months before the assassination which forms the subject of our narrative,
the mother and daughter had dwelt together in the Rue Pavée Saint Andrée;3 Madame
there keeping a pension, assisted by Marie. Affairs went on thus until the latter had
attained her twenty-second year, when her great beauty attracted the notice of a perfumer,
who occupied one of the shops in the basement of the Palais Royal, and whose custom
lay chiefly among the desperate adventurers infesting that neighborhood. Monsieur Le
Blanc4 was not unaware of the advantages to be derived from the attendance of the fair
Marie in his perfumery; and his liberal proposals were accepted eagerly by the girl,
although with somewhat more of hesitation by Madame.
3.
4. Anderson.
Nassau
Street.
The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realized, and his rooms soon became notorious
through the charms of the sprightly grisette. She had been in his employ about a year,
when her admirers were thrown info confusion by her sudden disappearance from the
shop. Monsieur Le Blanc was unable to account for her absence, and Madame Rogêt was
distracted with anxiety and terror. The public papers immediately took up the theme, and
the police were upon the point of making serious investigations, when, one fine morning,
after the lapse of a week, Marie, in good health, but with a somewhat saddened air, made
her re-appearance at her usual counter in the perfumery. All inquiry, except that of a
private character, was of course immediately hushed. Monsieur Le Blanc professed total
ignorance, as before. Marie, with Madame, replied to all questions, that the last week had
been spent at the house of a relation in the country. Thus the affair died away, and was
generally forgotten; for the girl, ostensibly to relieve herself from the impertinence of
curiosity, soon bade a final adieu to the perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother's
residence in the Rue Pavée Saint Andrée.
It was about five months after this return home, that her friends were alarmed by her
sudden disappearance for the second time. Three days elapsed, and nothing was heard of
her. On the fourth her corpse was found floating in the Seine,5 near the shore which is
opposite the Quartier of the Rue Saint Andree, and at a point not very far distant from the
secluded neighborhood of the Barrière du Roule.6
5.
6. Weehawken.
The
Hudson.
The atrocity of this murder, (for it was at once evident that murder had been
committed,) the youth and beauty of the victim, and, above all, her previous notoriety,
conspired to produce intense excitement in the minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can call
to mind no similar occurrence producing so general and so intense an effect. For several
weeks, in the discussion of this one absorbing theme, even the momentous political topics
of the day were forgotten. The Prefect made unusual exertions; and the powers of the
whole Parisian police were, of course, tasked to the utmost extent.
Upon the first discovery of the corpse, it was not supposed that the murderer would be
able to elude, for more than a very brief period, the inquisition which was immediately
set on foot. It was not until the expiration of a week that it was deemed necessary to offer
a reward; and even then this reward was limited to a thousand francs. In the mean time
the investigation proceeded with vigor, if not always with judgment, and numerous
individuals were examined to no purpose; while, owing to the continual absence of all
clue to the mystery, the popular excitement greatly increased. At the end of the tenth day
it was thought advisable to double the sum originally proposed; and, at length, the second
week having elapsed without leading to any discoveries, and the prejudice which always
exists in Paris against the Police having given vent to itself in several serious émeutes, the
Prefect took it upon himself to offer the sum of twenty thousand francs "for the
conviction of the assassin," or, if more than one should prove to have been implicated,
"for the conviction of any one of the assassins." In the proclamation setting forth this
reward, a full pardon was promised to any accomplice who should come forward in
evidence against his fellow; and to the whole was appended, wherever it appeared, the
private placard of a committee of citizens, offering ten thousand francs, in addition to the
amount proposed by the Prefecture. The entire reward thus stood at no less than thirty
thousand francs, which will be regarded as an extraordinary sum when we consider the
humble condition of the girl, and the great frequency, in large cities, of such atrocities as
the one described.
No one doubted now that the mystery of this murder would be immediately brought to
light. But although, in one or two instances, arrests were made which promised
elucidation, yet nothing was elicited which could implicate the parties suspected; and
they were discharged forthwith. Strange as it may appear, the third week from the
discovery of the body had passed, and passed without any light being thrown upon the
subject, before even a rumor of the events which had so agitated the public mind, reached
the ears of Dupin and myself. Engaged in researches which absorbed our whole attention,
it had been nearly a month since either of us had gone abroad, or received a visitor, or
more than glanced at the leading political articles in one of the daily papers. The first
intelligence of the murder was brought us by G ----, in person. He called upon us early in
the afternoon of the thirteenth of July, 18 ---, and remained with us until late in the night.
He had been piqued by the failure of all his endeavors to ferret out the assassins. His
reputation --- so he said with a peculiarly Parisian air --- was at stake. Even his honor was
concerned. The eyes of the public were upon him; and there was really no sacrifice which
he would not be willing to make for the development of the mystery. He concluded a
somewhat droll speech with a compliment upon what he was pleased to term the tact of
Dupin, and made him a direct, and certainly a liberal proposition, the precise nature of
which I do not feel myself at liberty to disclose, but which has no bearing upon the proper
subject of my narrative.
The compliment my friend rebutted as best he could, but the proposition he accepted at
once, although its advantages were altogether provisional. This point being settled, the
Prefect broke forth at once into explanations of his own views, interspersing them with
long comments upon the evidence; of which latter we were not yet in possession. He
discoursed much, and beyond doubt, learnedly; while I hazarded an occasional
suggestion as the night wore drowsily away. Dupin, sitting steadily in his accustomed
arm-chair, was the embodiment of respectful attention. He wore spectacles, during the
whole interview; and an occasional signal glance beneath their green glasses, sufficed to
convince me that he slept not the less soundly, because silently, throughout the seven or
eight leaden-footed hours which immediately preceded the departure of the Prefect.
In the morning, I procured, at the Prefecture, a full report of all the evidence elicited,
and, at the various newspaper offices, a copy of every paper in which, from first to last,
had been published any decisive information in regard to this sad affair. Freed from all
that was positively disproved, this mass of information stood thus:
Marie Rogêt left the residence of her mother, in the Rue Pavée St. Andrée, about nine
o'clock in the morning of Sunday June the twenty-second, 18 ---. In going out, she gave
notice to a Monsieur Jacques St. Eustache,7 and to him only, of her intent intention to
spend the day with an aunt who resided in the Rue des Drômes. The Rue des Drômes is a
short and narrow but populous thoroughfare, not far from the banks of the river, and at a
distance of some two miles, in the most direct course possible, from the pension of
Madame Rogêt. St. Eustache was the accepted suitor of Marie, and lodged, as well as
took his meals, at the pension. He was to have gone for his betrothed at dusk, and to have
escorted her home. In the afternoon, however, it came on to rain heavily; and, supposing
that she would remain all night at her aunt's, (as she had done under similar
circumstances before,) he did not think it necessary to keep his promise. As night drew
on, Madame Rogêt (who was an infirm old lady, seventy years of age,) was heard to
express a fear "that she should never see Marie again;" but this observation attracted little
attention at the time.
7. Payne.
On Monday, it was ascertained that the girl had not been to the Rue des Drômes; and
when the day elapsed without tidings of her, a tardy search was instituted at several
points in the city, and its environs. It was not, however until the fourth day from the
period of disappearance that any thing satisfactory was ascertained respecting her. On
this day, (Wednesday, the twenty-fifth of June,) a Monsieur Beauvais,8 who, with a
friend, had been making inquiries for Marie near the Barrière du Roule, on the shore of
the Seine which is opposite the Rue Pavée St. Andrée, was informed that a corpse had
just been towed ashore by some fishermen, who had found it floating in the river. Upon
seeing the body, Beauvais, after some hesitation, identified it as that of the perfumerygirl. His friend recognized it more promptly.
8. Crommelin.
The face was suffused with dark blood, some of which issued from the mouth. No
foam was seen, as in the case of the merely drowned. There was no discoloration in the
cellular tissue. About the throat were bruises and impressions of fingers. The arms were
bent over on the chest and were rigid. The right hand was clenched; the left partially
open. On the left wrist were two circular excoriations, apparently the effect of ropes, or of
a rope in more than one volution. A part of the right wrist, also, was much chafed, as well
as the back throughout its extent, but more especially at the shoulder-blades. In bringing
the body to the shore the fishermen had attached to it a rope; but none of the excoriations
had been effected by this. The flesh of the neck was much swollen. There were no cuts
apparent, or bruises which appeared the effect of blows. A piece of lace was found tied so
tightly around the neck as to be hidden from sight; it was completely buried in the flesh,
and was fasted by a knot which lay just under the left ear. This alone would have sufficed
to produce death. The medical testimony spoke confidently of the virtuous character of
the deceased. She had been subjected, it said, to brutal violence. The corpse was in such
condition when found, that there could have been no difficulty in its recognition by
friends.
The dress was much torn and otherwise disordered. In the outer garment, a slip, about a
foot wide, had been torn upward from the bottom hem to the waist, but not torn off. It
was wound three times around the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the back. The
dress immediately beneath the frock was of fine muslin; and from this a slip eighteen
inches wide had been torn entirely out --- torn very evenly and with great care. It was
found around her neck, fitting loosely, and secured with a hard knot. Over this muslin slip
and the slip of lace, the strings of a bonnet were attached; the bonnet being appended.
The knot by which the strings of the bonnet were fastened, was not a lady's, but a slip or
sailor's knot.
After the recognition of the corpse, it was not, as usual, taken to the Morgue, (this
formality being superfluous,) but hastily interred not far front the spot at which it was
brought ashore. Through the exertions of Beauvais, the matter was industriously hushed
up, as far as possible; and several days had elapsed before any public emotion resulted. A
weekly paper,9 however, at length took up the theme; the corpse was disinterred, and a reexamination instituted; but nothing was elicited beyond what has been already noted. The
clothes, however, were now submitted to the mother and friends of the deceased, and
fully identified as those worn by the girl upon leaving home.
Meantime, the excitement increased hourly. Several individuals were arrested and
discharged. St. Eustache fell especially under suspicion; and he failed, at first, to give an
intelligible account of his whereabouts during the Sunday on which Marie left home.
Subsequently, however, he submitted to Monsieur G----, affidavits, accounting
satisfactorily for every hour of the day in question. As time passed and no discovery
ensued, a thousand contradictory rumors were circulated, and journalists busied
themselves in suggestions. Among these, the one which attracted the most notice, was the
idea that Marie Rogêt still lived --- that the corpse found in the Seine was that of some
other unfortunate. It will be proper that I submit to the reader some passages which
embody the suggestion alluded to. These passages are literal translations from L'Etoile,10
a paper conducted, in general, with much ability.
9.
The
New
York
10. The New York "Brother Jonathan," edited by H. Hastings Weld, Esq.
"Mercury."
"Mademoiselle Rogêt left her mother's house on Sunday morning, June the twentysecond, 18 ---, with the ostensible purpose of going to see her aunt, or some other
connexion, in the Rue des Drômes. From that hour, nobody is proved to have seen her.
There is no trace or tidings of her at all. . . . There has no person, whatever, come
forward, so far, who saw her at all, on that day, after she left her mother's door. . . . Now,
though we have no evidence that Marie Rogêt was in the land of the living after nine
o'clock on Sunday, June the twenty-second, we have proof that, up to that hour, she was
alive. On Wednesday noon, at twelve, a female body was discovered afloat on the shore
of the Barrière de Roule. This was, even if we presume that Marie Rogêt was thrown into
the river within three hours after she left her mother's house, only three days from the
time she left her home --- three days to an hour. But it is folly to suppose that the murder,
if murder was committed on her body, could have been consummated soon enough to
have enabled her murderers to throw the body into the river before midnight. Those who
are guilty of such horrid crimes, choose darkness rather the; light . . . . Thus we see that if
the body found in the river was that of Marie Rogêt, it could only have been in the water
two and a half days, or three at the outside. All experience has shown that drowned
bodies, or bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by violence, require from
six to ten days for decomposition to take place to bring them to the top of the water. Even
where a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises before at least five or six days'
immersion, it sinks again, if let alone. Now, we ask, what was there in this cave to cause
a departure from the ordinary course of nature? . . . If the body had been kept in its
mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, some trace would be found on shore of the
murderers. It is a doubtful point, also, whether the body would be so soon afloat, even
were it thrown in after having been dead two days. And, furthermore, it is exceedingly
improbable that any villains who had committed such a murder as is here supposed,
would have throw the body in without weight to sink it, when such a precaution could
have so easily been taken."
The editor here proceeds to argue that the body must have been in the water "not three
days merely, but, at least, five times three days," because it was so far decomposed that
Beauvais had great difficulty in recognizing it. This latter point, however, was fully
disproved. I continue the translation:
"What, then, are the facts on which M. Beauvais says that he has no doubt the body
was that of Marie Rogêt? He ripped up the gown sleeve, and says he found marks which
satisfied him of the identity. The public generally supposed those marks to have consisted
of some description of scars. He rubbed the arm and found hair upon it --- something as
indefinite, we think, as can readily be imagined --- as little conclusive as finding an arm
in the sleeve. M. Beauvais did not return that night, but sent word to Madame Rogêt, at
seven o'clock, on Wednesday evening, that an investigation was still in progress
respecting her daughter. If we allow that Madame Rogêt, from her age and grief, could
not go over, (which is allowing a great deal), there certainly must have been some one
who would have thought it worth while to go over and attend the investigation, if they
thought the body was that of Marie. Nobody went over. There was nothing said or heard
about the matter in the Rue Pavée St. Andrée, that reached even the occupants of the
same building. M. St. Eustache, the lover and intended husband of Marie, who boarded in
her mother's house, deposes that he did not hear of the discovery of the body of his
intended until the next morning, when M. Beauvais came into his chamber and told him
of it. For an item of news like this, it strikes us it was very coolly received."
In this way the journal endeavored to create the impression of an apathy on the part of
the relatives of Marie, inconsistent with the supposition that these relatives believed the
corpse to be hers. Its insinuations amount to this: - that Marie, with the connivance of her
friends, had absented herself from the city for reasons involving a charge against her
chastity; and that these friends, upon the discovery of a corpse in the Seine, somewhat
resembling that of the girl, had availed themselves of the opportunity to impress press the
public with the belief of her death. But L'Etoile was again over-hasty. It was distinctly
proved that no apathy, such as was imagined, existed; that the old lady was exceedingly
feeble, and so agitated as to be unable to attend to any duty, that St. Eustache, so far from
receiving the news coolly, was distracted with grief, and bore himself so frantically, that
M. Beauvais prevailed upon a friend and relative to take charge of him, and prevent his
attending the examination at the disinterment. Moreover, although it was stated by
L'Etoile, that the corpse was re-interred at the public expense --- that an advantageous
offer of private sculpture was absolutely declined by the family - and that no member of
the family attended the ceremonial: --- although, I say, all this was asserted by L'Etoile in
furtherance of the impression it designed to convey --- yet all this was satisfactorily
disproved. In a subsequent number of the paper, an attempt was made to throw suspicion
upon Beauvais himself. The editor says:
"Now, then, a change comes over the matter. We are told that on one occasion, while a
Madame B---- was at Madame Rogêt's house, M. Beauvais, who was going out, told her
that a gendarme was expected there, and she, Madame B., must not say anything to the
gendarme until he returned, but let the matter be for him. . . . In the present posture of
affairs, M. Beauvais appears to have the whole matter looked up in his head. A single
step cannot be taken without M. Beauvais; for, go which way you will, you run against
him. . . . For some reason, he determined that nobody shall have any thing to do with the
proceedings but himself, and he has elbowed the male relatives out of the way, according
to their representations, in a very singular manner. He seems to have been very much
averse to permitting the relatives to see the body."
By the following fact, some color was given to the suspicion thus thrown upon
Beauvais. A visitor at his office, a few days prior to the girl's disappearance, and during
the absence of its occupant, had observed a rose in the key-hole of the door, and the name
"Marie" inscribed upon a slate which hung near at hand.
The general impression, so far as we were enabled to glean it from the newspapers,
seemed to be, that Marie had been the victim of a gang of desperadoes --- that by these
she had been borne across the river, maltreated and murdered. Le Commerciel,11
however, a print of extensive influence, was earnest in combating this popular idea. I
quote a passage or two from its columns:
11. New York "Journal of Commerce."
"We are persuaded that pursuit has hitherto been on a false scent, so far as it has been
directed to the Barrière du Roule. It is impossible that a person so well known to
thousands as this young woman was, should have passed three blocks without some one
having seen her; and any one who saw her would have remembered it, for she interested
all who knew her. It was when the streets were full of people, when she went out. . . . It is
impossible that she could have gone to the Barrière du Roule, or to the Rue des Drômes,
without being recognized by a dozen persons; yet no one has come forward who saw her
outside of her mother's door, and there is no evidence, except the testimony concerning
her expressed intentions, that she did go out at all. Her gown was torn, bound round her,
and tied; and by that the body was carried as a bundle. If the murder had been committed
at the Barrière du Roule, there would have been no necessity for any such arrangement.
The fact that the body was found floating near the Barrière, is no proof as to where it was
thrown into the water. . . . . A piece of one of the unfortunate girl's petticoats, two feet
long and one foot wide, was torn out and tied under her chin around the back of her head,
probably to prevent screams. This was done by fellows who had no pockethandkerchief."
A day or two before the Prefect called upon us, however, some important information
reached the police, which seemed to overthrow, at least, the chief portion of Le
Commerciel's argument. Two small boys, sons of a Madame Deluc, while roaming
among the woods near the Barrière du Roule, chanced to penetrate a close thicket, within
which were three or four large stones, forming a kind of seat, with a back and footstool.
On the upper stone lay a white petticoat; on the second a silk scarf. A parasol, gloves, and
a pocket-handkerchief were also here found. The handkerchief bore the name "Marie
Rogêt." Fragments of dress were discovered on the brambles around. The earth was
trampled, the bushes were broken, and there was every evidence of a struggle. Between
the thicket and the river, the fences were found taken down, and the ground bore
evidence of some heavy burthen having been dragged along it.
A weekly paper, Le Soleil,12 had the following comments upon this discovery -comments which merely echoed the sentiment of the whole Parisian press:
12. Philadelphia "Saturday Evening Post," edited by C. I. Peterson, Esq.
"The things had all evidently been there at least three or four weeks; they were all
mildewed down hard with the action of the rain and stuck together from mildew. The
grass had grown around and over some of them. The silk on the parasol was strong, but
the threads of it were run together within. The upper part, where it had been doubled and
folded, was all mildewed and rotten, and tore on its being opened. . . . . The pieces of her
frock torn out by the bushes were about three inches wide and six inches long. One part
was the hem of the frock, and it had been mended; the other piece was part of the skirt,
not the hem. They looked like strips torn off, and were on the thorn bush, about a foot
from the ground. . . . . There can be no doubt, therefore, that the spot of this appalling
outrage has been discovered."
Consequent upon this discovery, new evidence appeared. Madame Deluc testified that
she keeps a roadside inn not far from the bank of the river, opposite the Barrière du
Roule. The neighborhood is secluded --- particularly so. It is the usual Sunday resort of
blackguards from the city, who cross the river in boats. About three o'clock, in the
afternoon of the Sunday in question, a young girl arrived at the inn, accompanied by a
young man of dark complexion. The two remained here for some time. On their
departure, they took the road to some thick woods in the vicinity. Madame Deluc's
attention was called to the dress worn by the girl, on account of its resemblance to one
worn by a deceased relative. A scarf was particularly noticed. Soon after the departure of
the couple, a gang of miscreants made their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and
drank without making payment, followed in the route of the young man and girl, returned
to the inn about dusk, and re-crossed the river as if in great haste.
It was soon after dark, upon this same evening, that Madame Deluc, as well as her
eldest son, heard the screams of a female in the vicinity of the inn. The screams were
violent but brief. Madame D. recognized not only the scarf which was found in the
thicket, but the dress which was discovered upon the corpse. An omnibus driver,
Valence,13 now also testified that he saw Marie Rogêt cross a ferry on the Seine, on the
Sunday in question, in company with a young man of dark complexion. He, Valence,
knew Marie, and could not be mistaken in her identity. The articles found in the thicket
were fully identified by the relatives of Marie.
13. Adam
The items of evidence and information thus collected by myself, from the newspapers,
at the suggestion of Dupin, embraced only one more point --- but this was a point of
seemingly vast consequence. It appears that, immediately after the discovery of the
clothes as above described, the lifeless, or nearly lifeless body of St. Eustache, Marie's
betrothed, was found in the vicinity of what all now supposed the scene of the outrage. A
phial labelled "laudanum," and emptied, was found near him. His breath gave evidence of
the poison. He died without speaking. Upon his person was found a letter, briefly stating
his love for Marie, with his design of self- destruction.
"I need scarcely tell you," said Dupin, as he finished the perusal of my notes, "that this is
a far more intricate case than that of the Rue Morgue; from which it differs in one
important respect. This is an ordinary, although an atrocious instance of crime. There is
nothing peculiarly outré about it. You will observe that, for this reason, the mystery has
been considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have been considered difficult, of
solution. Thus; at first, it was thought unnecessary to offer a reward. The myrmidons of
G--- were able at once to comprehend how and why such an atrocity might have been
committed. They could picture to their imaginations a mode --- many modes --- and a
motive --- many motives; and because it was not impossible that either of these numerous
modes and motives could have been the actual one, they have taken it for granted that one
of them must. But the case with which these variable fancies were entertained, and the
very plausibility which each assumed, should have been understood as indicative rather
of the difficulties than of the facilities which must attend elucidation. I have before
observed that it is by prominences above the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels her
way, if at all, in her search for the true, and that the proper question in cases such as this,
is not so much 'what has occurred?' as 'what has occurred that has never occurred before?'
In the investigations at the house of Madame L'Espanaye,14 the agents of G---- were
discouraged and confounded by that very unusualness which, to a properly regulated
intellect, would have afforded the surest omen of success; while this same intellect might
have been plunged in despair at the ordinary character of all that met the eye in the case
of the perfumery-girl, and yet told of nothing but easy triumph to the functionaries of the
Prefecture.
14. See "Murders in the Rue Morgue."
"In the case of Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter there was, even at the beginning
of our investigation, no doubt that murder had been committed. The idea of suicide was
excluded at once. Here, too, we are freed, at the commencement, from all supposition of
self- murder. The body found at the Barrière du Roule, was found under such
circumstances as to leave us no room for embarrassment upon this important point. But it
has been suggested that the corpse discovered, is not that of the Marie Rogêt for the
conviction of whose assassin, or assassins, the reward is offered, and respecting whom,
solely, our agreement has been arranged with the Prefect. We both know this gentleman
well. It will not do to trust him too far. If, dating our inquiries from the body found, and
thence tracing a murderer, we yet discover this body to be that of some other individual
than Marie; or, if starting from the living Marie, we find her, yet find her unassassinated -- in either case we lose our labor; since it is Monsieur G---- with whom we have to deal.
For our own purpose, therefore, if not for the purpose of justice, it is indispensable that
our first step should be the determination of the identity of the corpse with the Marie
Rogêt who is missing.
"With the public the arguments of L'Etoile have had weight; and that the journal itself
is convinced of their importance would appear from the manner in which it commences
one of its essays upon the subject --- 'Several of the morning papers of the day,' it says,
'speak of the conclusive article in Monday's Etoile.' To me, this article appears conclusive
of little beyond the zeal of its inditer. We should bear in mind that, in general, it is the
object of our newspapers rather to create a sensation --- to make a point - than to further
the cause of truth. The latter end is only pursued when it seems coincident with the
former. The print which merely falls in with ordinary opinion (however well founded this
opinion may be) earns for itself no credit with the mob. The mass of the people regard as
profound only him who suggests pungent contradictions of the general idea. In
ratiocination, not less than in literature, it is the epigram which is the most immediately
and the most universally appreciated. In both, it is of the lowest order of merit.
"What I mean to say is, that it is the mingled epigram and melodrama of the idea, that
Marie Rogêt still lives, rather than any true plausibility in this idea, which have suggested
it to L'Etoile, and secured it a favorable reception with the public. Let us examine the
heads of this journal's argument; endeavoring to avoid the incoherence with which it is
originally set forth.
"The first aim of the writer is to show, from the brevity of the interval between Marie's
disappearance and the finding of the floating corpse, that this corpse cannot be that of
Marie. The reduction of this interval to its smallest possible dimension, becomes thus, at
once, an object with the reasoner. In the rash pursuit of this object, he rushes into mere
assumption at the outset. 'It is folly to suppose,' he says, 'that the murder, if murder was
committed on her body, could have been consummated soon enough to have enabled her
murderers to throw the body into the river before midnight.' We demand at once, and
very naturally, why? Why is it folly to suppose that the murder was committed within five
minutes after the girl's quitting her mother's house? Why is it folly to suppose that the
murder was committed at any given period of the day? There have been assassinations at
all hours. But, had the murder taken place at any moment between nine o'clock in the
morning of Sunday, and a quarter before midnight, there would still have been time
enough ''to throw the body into the river before midnight.' This assumption, then,
amounts precisely to this --- that the murder was not committed on Sunday at all --- and,
if we allow L'Etoile to assume this, we may permit it any liberties whatever. The
paragraph beginning 'It is folly to suppose that the murder, etc.,' however it appears as
printed in L'Etoile, may be imagined to have existed actually thus in the brain of its
inditer: 'It is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder was committed on the body,
could have been committed soon enough to have enabled her murderers to throw the
body into the river before midnight; it is folly, we say, to suppose all this, and to suppose
at the same time, (as we are resolved to suppose,) that the body was not thrown in until
after midnight' -- a sentence sufficiently inconsequential in itself, but not so utterly
preposterous as the one printed.
"Were it my purpose," continued Dupin, "merely to make out a case against this passage
of L'Etoile's argument, I might safely leave it where it is. It is not, however, with L'Etoile
that we have to do, but with the truth. The sentence in question has but one meaning, as it
stands; and this meaning I have fairly stated: but it is material that we go behind the mere
words, for an idea which these words have obviously intended, and failed to convey. It
was the design of the journalist to say that, at whatever period of the day or night of
Sunday this murder was committed, it was improbable that the assassins would have
ventured to bear