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Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe

Page 113

by Volume 01-05 (lit)


  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

  pre-eminent 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 mantel-pieces 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 scape-grace 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.

  ~~~ End of Text ~~~

  ======

  LIONIZING

  -------- all people went

  Upon their ten toes in wild wonderment.

  --_ 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?"

&n
bsp; "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 manoeuvre.

  "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 Turgot, Price,

  Priestly, Condorcet, De Stael, 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 pre-existent 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,

 

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