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

Home > Other > Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe > Page 128
Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe Page 128

by Volume 01-05 (lit)


  (sometimes called the "Poughkeepsie Seer") of an odd-looking 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

  {this paragraph not in the volume--ED}

  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 a
ir 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 savans. 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 savans 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 savans 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 savans 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

 

‹ Prev