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

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by Volume 01-05 (lit)


  in the ordinary manner, I became immediately aware of my peculiar

  deficiency, and threw the box at once down to my head. It took a

  pinch with great satisfaction, and smiled me an acknowledgement in

  return. Shortly afterward it made me a speech, which I could hear but

  indistinctly without ears. I gathered enough, however, to know that

  it was astonished at my wishing to remain alive under such

  circumstances. In the concluding sentences it quoted the noble words

  of Ariosto--

  Il pover hommy che non sera corty

  And have a combat tenty erry morty; thus comparing me to the hero

  who, in the heat of the combat, not perceiving that he was dead,

  continued to contest the battle with inextinguishable valor. There

  was nothing now to prevent my getting down from my elevation, and I

  did so. What it was that Pompey saw so very peculiar in my appearance

  I have never yet been able to find out. The fellow opened his mouth

  from ear to ear, and shut his two eyes as if he were endeavoring to

  crack nuts between the lids. Finally, throwing off his overcoat, he

  made one spring for the staircase and disappeared. I hurled after the

  scoundrel these vehement words of Demosthenes-

  Andrew O'Phlegethon, you really make haste to fly, and then turned to

  the darling of my heart, to the one-eyed! the shaggy-haired Diana.

  Alas! what a horrible vision affronted my eyes? Was that a rat I saw

  skulking into his hole? Are these the picked bones of the little

  angel who has been cruelly devoured by the monster? Ye gods! and what

  do I behold -- is that the departed spirit, the shade, the ghost, of

  my beloved puppy, which I perceive sitting with a grace so

  melancholy, in the corner? Hearken! for she speaks, and, heavens! it

  is in the German of Schiller-

  "Unt stubby duk, so stubby dun

  Duk she! duk she!" Alas! and are not her words too true?

  "And if I died, at least I died

  For thee -- for thee." Sweet creature! she too has sacrificed herself

  in my behalf. Dogless, niggerless, headless, what now remains for the

  unhappy Signora Psyche Zenobia? Alas -- nothing! I have done.

  ~~~ End of Text ~~~

  ======

  MYSTIFICATION

  Slid, if these be your "passados" and "montantes," I'll have none o'

  them.

  -- NED KNOWLES.

  THE BARON RITZNER VON JUNG was a noble Hungarian family, every member

  of which (at least as far back into antiquity as any certain records

  extend) was more or less remarkable for talent of some description --

  the majority for that species of grotesquerie in conception of which

  Tieck, a scion of the house, has given a vivid, although by no means

  the most vivid exemplifications. My acquaintance with Ritzner

  commenced at the magnificent Chateau Jung, into which a train of

  droll adventures, not to be made public, threw a place in his regard,

  and here, with somewhat more difficulty, a partial insight into his

  mental conformation. In later days this insight grew more clear, as

  the intimacy which had at first permitted it became more close; and

  when, after three years of the character of the Baron Ritzner von

  Jung.

  I remember the buzz of curiosity which his advent excited within the

  college precincts on the night of the twenty-fifth of June. I

  remember still more distinctly, that while he was pronounced by all

  parties at first sight "the most remarkable man in the world," no

  person made any attempt at accounting for his opinion. That he was

  unique appeared so undeniable, that it was deemed impertinent to

  inquire wherein the uniquity consisted. But, letting this matter pass

  for the present, I will merely observe that, from the first moment of

  his setting foot within the limits of the university, he began to

  exercise over the habits, manners, persons, purses, and propensities

  of the whole community which surrounded him, an influence the most

  extensive and despotic, yet at the same time the most indefinite and

  altogether unaccountable. Thus the brief period of his residence at

  the university forms an era in its annals, and is characterized by

  all classes of people appertaining to it or its dependencies as "that

  very extraordinary epoch forming the domination of the Baron Ritzner

  von Jung." then of no particular age, by which I mean that it was

  impossible to form a guess respecting his age by any data personally

  afforded. He might have been fifteen or fifty, and was twenty-one

  years and seven months. He was by no means a handsome man -- perhaps

  the reverse. The contour of his face was somewhat angular and harsh.

  His forehead was lofty and very fair; his nose a snub; his eyes

  large, heavy, glassy, and meaningless. About the mouth there was more

  to be observed. The lips were gently protruded, and rested the one

  upon the other, after such a fashion that it is impossible to

  conceive any, even the most complex, combination of human features,

  conveying so entirely, and so singly, the idea of unmitigated

  gravity, solemnity and repose.

  It will be perceived, no doubt, from what I have already said, that

  the Baron was one of those human anomalies now and then to be found,

  who make the science of mystification the study and the business of

  their lives. For this science a peculiar turn of mind gave him

  instinctively the cue, while his physical appearance afforded him

  unusual facilities for carrying his prospects into effect. I quaintly

  termed the domination of the Baron Ritzner von Jung, ever rightly

  entered into the mystery which overshadowed his character. I truly

  think that no person at the university, with the exception of myself,

  ever suspected him to be capable of a joke, verbal or practical: --

  the old bull-dog at the garden-gate would sooner have been accused,

  -- the ghost of Heraclitus, -- or the wig of the Emeritus Professor

  of Theology. This, too, when it was evident that the most egregious

  and unpardonable of all conceivable tricks, whimsicalities and

  buffooneries were brought about, if not directly by him, at least

  plainly through his intermediate agency or connivance. The beauty, if

  I may so call it, of his art mystifique, lay in that consummate

  ability (resulting from an almost intuitive knowledge of human

  nature, and a most wonderful self-possession,) by means of which he

  never failed to make it appear that the drolleries he was occupied in

  bringing to a point, arose partly in spite, and partly in consequence

  of the laudable efforts he was making for their prevention, and for

  the preservation of the good order and dignity of Alma Mater. The

  deep, the poignant, the overwhelming mortification, which upon each

  such failure of his praise worthy endeavors, would suffuse every

  lineament of his countenance, left not the slightest room for doubt

  of his sincerity in the bosoms of even his most skeptical companions.

  The adroitness, too, was no less worthy of observation by which he

  contrived to shift the sense of the grotesque from the creator to the

  created -- from his own person to the absurdities to which he had

&n
bsp; given rise. In no instance before that of which I speak, have I known

  the habitual mystific escape the natural consequence of his manoevres

  -- an attachment of the ludicrous to his own character and person.

  Continually enveloped in an atmosphere of whim, my friend appeared to

  live only for the severities of society; and not even his own

  household have for a moment associated other ideas than those of the

  rigid and august with the memory of the Baron Ritzner von Jung. the

  demon of the dolce far niente lay like an incubus upon the

  university. Nothing, at least, was done beyond eating and drinking

  and making merry. The apartments of the students were converted into

  so many pot-houses, and there was no pot-house of them all more

  famous or more frequented than that of the Baron. Our carousals here

  were many, and boisterous, and long, and never unfruitful of events.

  Upon one occasion we had protracted our sitting until nearly

  daybreak, and an unusual quantity of wine had been drunk. The company

  consisted of seven or eight individuals besides the Baron and myself.

  Most of these were young men of wealth, of high connection, of great

  family pride, and all alive with an exaggerated sense of honor. They

  abounded in the most ultra German opinions respecting the duello. To

  these Quixotic notions some recent Parisian publications, backed by

  three or four desperate and fatal conversation, during the greater

  part of the night, had run wild upon the all -- engrossing topic of

  the times. The Baron, who had been unusually silent and abstracted in

  the earlier portion of the evening, at length seemed to be aroused

  from his apathy, took a leading part in the discourse, and dwelt upon

  the benefits, and more especially upon the beauties, of the received

  code of etiquette in passages of arms with an ardor, an eloquence, an

  impressiveness, and an affectionateness of manner, which elicited the

  warmest enthusiasm from his hearers in general, and absolutely

  staggered even myself, who well knew him to be at heart a ridiculer

  of those very points for which he contended, and especially to hold

  the entire fanfaronade of duelling etiquette in the sovereign

  contempt which it deserves.

  Looking around me during a pause in the Baron's discourse (of which

  my readers may gather some faint idea when I say that it bore

  resemblance to the fervid, chanting, monotonous, yet musical sermonic

  manner of Coleridge), I perceived symptoms of even more than the

  general interest in the countenance of one of the party. This

  gentleman, whom I shall call Hermann, was an original in every

  respect -- except, perhaps, in the single particular that he was a

  very great fool. He contrived to bear, however, among a particular

  set at the university, a reputation for deep metaphysical thinking,

  and, I believe, for some logical talent. As a duellist he had

  acquired who had fallen at his hands; but they were many. He was a

  man of courage undoubtedly. But it was upon his minute acquaintance

  with the etiquette of the duello, and the nicety of his sense of

  honor, that he most especially prided himself. These things were a

  hobby which he rode to the death. To Ritzner, ever upon the lookout

  for the grotesque, his peculiarities had for a long time past

  afforded food for mystification. Of this, however, I was not aware;

  although, in the present instance, I saw clearly that something of a

  whimsical nature was upon the tapis with my friend, and that Hermann

  was its especial object.

  As the former proceeded in his discourse, or rather monologue I

  perceived the excitement of the latter momently increasing. At length

  he spoke; offering some objection to a point insisted upon by R., and

  giving his reasons in detail. To these the Baron replied at length

  (still maintaining his exaggerated tone of sentiment) and concluding,

  in what I thought very bad taste, with a sarcasm and a sneer. The

  hobby of Hermann now took the bit in his teeth. This I could discern

  by the studied hair-splitting farrago of his rejoinder. His last

  words I distinctly remember. "Your opinions, allow me to say, Baron

  von Jung, although in the main correct, are, in many nice points,

  discreditable to yourself and to the university of which you are a

  member. In a few respects they are even unworthy of serious

  refutation. I would say more than this, sir, were it not for the fear

  of giving you offence (here the speaker smiled blandly), I would say,

  sir, that your opinions are not the opinions to be expected from a

  gentleman."

  As Hermann completed this equivocal sentence, all eyes were turned

  upon the Baron. He became pale, then excessively red; then, dropping

  his pocket-handkerchief, stooped to recover it, when I caught a

  glimpse of his countenance, while it could be seen by no one else at

  the table. It was radiant with the quizzical expression which was its

  natural character, but which I had never seen it assume except when

  we were alone together, and when he unbent himself freely. In an

  instant afterward he stood erect, confronting Hermann; and so total

  an alteration of countenance in so short a period I certainly never

  saw before. For a moment I even fancied that I had misconceived him,

  and that he was in sober earnest. He appeared to be stifling with

  passion, and his face was cadaverously white. For a short time he

  remained silent, apparently striving to master his emotion. Having at

  length seemingly succeeded, he reached a decanter which stood near

  him, saying as he held it firmly clenched "The language you have

  thought proper to employ, Mynheer Hermann, in addressing yourself to

  me, is objectionable in so many particulars, that I have neither

  temper nor time for specification. That my opinions, however, are not

  the opinions to be expected from a gentleman, is an observation so

  directly offensive as to allow me but one line of conduct. Some

  courtesy, nevertheless, is due to the presence of this company, and

  to yourself, at this moment, as my guest. You will pardon me,

  therefore, if, upon this consideration, I deviate slightly from the

  general usage among gentlemen in similar cases of personal affront.

  You will forgive me for the moderate tax I shall make upon your

  imagination, and endeavor to consider, for an instant, the reflection

  of your person in yonder mirror as the living Mynheer Hermann

  himself. This being done, there will be no difficulty whatever. I

 

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