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Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 [1840], Tales of the grotesque and arabesque, volume 2 (Lea & Blanchard, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf320v2].
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p320-265 TALES OF THE GROTESQUE AND ARABESQUE. — EPIMANES.

Chacun a ses vertus.

Crebillon's Xerxes.

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

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 embollishment. 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

-- 006 --

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

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
name 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, most especially,
Verus and Valens,) spent here the greater part of

-- 007 --

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their time. But I perceive we have arrived at the
city itself. Let us ascend this battlement, and throw
our eyes around 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 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 beheld 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 I, 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 unfortunately the year of our
Lord eighteen hundred and thirty-nine, we should be
deprived of this extraordinary spectacle. In the
nineteenth century Antioch is—that is, 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 will have removed his residence
to Damascus. This is well. I see you profit

-- 008 --

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by my advice, and are making the most of your
time in inspecting the premises—in


—satisfying your eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That most renown this city.
I beg pardon—I had forgotten that Shakspeare will
not flourish for nearly 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 overpowering 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 a 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.

-- 009 --

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

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 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

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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
more 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 dominion—
but then the devouring of a man-at-arms, or the
throtling of a consecrated bull, are circumstances
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 the 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.

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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—and 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.

-- 012 --

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Mille, mille, mille,
Mille, mille, mille,
Decollavimus, unus homo!
Mille, mille, mille, mille, decollavimus!
Mille, mille, mille!
Vivat qui mille mille occidit!
Tantum vini habet nemo
Quantum sanguinis effudit!1

Which may be thus paraphrased:


A thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
We, with one warrior, have slain!
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
Sing a thousand over again!
Soho!—let us sing
Long life to our king,
Who knocked over a thousand so fine!
Soho!—let us roar,
He has given us more
Red gallons of gore
Than all Syria can furnish of wine!

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?—do not behold
him—cannot say that I perceive him.

-- 013 --

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

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! Beast, 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 camelopard is no other than
Antiochus Epiphanes, Antiochus the Illustrious, King
of Syria, and the most potent of 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 a 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 upon all fours! His tail, you
perceive, is held aloft by his two principal

-- 014 --

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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 to the hippodrome,
whither he is proceeding, and listen to the song of
triumph which he is commencing:


Who is king but Epiphanes?
Say—do you know?
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Bravo—bravo!
There is none but Epiphanes,
No—there is none:
So tear down the temples,
And put out the sun!
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Say—do you know?
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Bravo—bravo!

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

-- 015 --

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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 this commotion. It has turned out as I
have been anticipating. The singular appearance
of the camelopard with 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, and running for
his life. His courtiers have left him in the lurch,
and his concubines have let fall his tail. '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 Camelopards!' Heavens!
what a power of speed thou art displaying! What

-- 016 --

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a capacity for leg-bail thou art developing! Run,
Prince! Bravo, Epiphanes! Well done, Camelopard!
Glorious Antiochus! He runs!—he moves!—he
flies! Like a shell 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 who 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

-- 017 --

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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
foot race—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.

eaf320v2.11. Flavius Vopiscus says that the hymn which is 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.

-- --

[figure description] Blank Leaf.[end figure description]

-- 019 --

p320-279 SIOPE. A FABLE. [IN THE MANNER OF THE PSYCHOLOGICAL AUTOBIOGRAPHISTS. ]

&rbEgr;υδουσιν δ&aposgr;ορ&egvgr;ων κορυφαι τε και φαραγγες Πρωνος τε και χαραδραι&colgr;

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

Listen to me,” said the Demon, as he placed
his hand upon my head. “There is a spot upon this
accursed earth which thou hast never yet beheld
And if by any chance thou hast beheld it, it must
have been in one of those vigorous dreams which
come like the simoon upon the brain of the sleeper
who hath lain down to sleep among the forbidden
sunbeams—among the sunbeams, I say, which slide
from off the solemn columns of the melancholy temples
in the wilderness. The region of which I speak is a
dreary region in Libya, by the borders of the river
Zaire. And there is no quiet there, nor silence.

“The waters of the river have a saffron and sickly
hue—and they flow not onwards to the sea, but
palpitate forever and forever beneath the red eye of

-- 020 --

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the sun with a tumultuous and convulsive motion.
For many miles on either side of the river's oozy bed
is a pale desert of gigantic water-lilies. They sigh
one unto the other in that solitude, and stretch
towards the heaven their long ghastly necks, and nod
to and fro their everlasting heads. And there is an
indistinct murmur which cometh out from among
them like the rushing of subterrene water. And they
sigh one unto the other.

“But there is a boundary to their realm—the
boundary of the dark, horrible, lofty forest. There,
like the waves about the Hebrides, the low underwood
is agitated continually. But there is no wind
throughout the heaven. And the tall primeval trees
rock eternally hither and thither with a crashing and
mighty sound. And from their high summits, one by
one, drop everlasting dews. And at the roots strange
poisonous flowers lie writhing in perturbed slumber.
And overhead, with a rustling and loud noise, the
gray clouds rush westwardly forever, until they roll,
a cataract, over the fiery wall of the horizon. But
there is no wind throughout the heaven. And by the
shores of the river Zaire there is neither quiet nor
silence.

“It was night, and the rain fell; and, falling, it
was rain, but, having fallen, it was blood. And I
stood in the morass among the tall lilies, and the rain
fell upon my head—and the lilies sighed one unto the
other in the solemnity of their desolation.

“And, all at once, the moon arose through the
thin ghastly mist, and was crimson in color. And

-- 021 --

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mine eyes fell upon a huge gray rock which stood
by the shore of the river, and was litten by the light
of the moon. And the rock was gray, and ghastly,
and tall,—and the rock was gray. Upon its front
were characters engraven in the stone; and I walked
through the morass of water-lilies, until I came close
unto the shore, that I might read the characters upon
the stone. But I could not decypher the characters.
And I was going back into the morass, when the
moon shone with a fuller red, and I turned and looked
again upon the rock, and upon the characters—and
the characters were DESOLATION.

“And I looked upwards, and there stood a man
upon the summit of the rock, and I hid myself among
the water-lilies that I might discover the actions of
the man. And the man was tall and stately in form,
and was wrapped up from his shoulders to his feet
in the toga of old Rome. And the outlines of his
figure were indistinct—but his features were the
features of a deity; for the mantle of the night, and
of the mist, and of the moon, and of the dew, had
left uncovered the features of his face. And his brow
was lofty with thought, and his eye wild with care;
and, in the few furrows upon his cheek I read the
fables of sorrow, and weariness, and disgust with
mankind, and a longing after solitude.

“And the man sat down upon the rock, and leaned
his head upon his hand, and looked out upon the desolation.
He looked down into the low unquiet
shrubbery, and up into the tall primeval trees, and
up higher at the rustling heaven, and into the crimson

-- 022 --

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moon. And I lay close within shelter of the lilies,
and observed the actions of the man. And the man
trembled in the solitude—but the night waned and
he sat upon the rock.

“And the man turned his attention from the heaven,
and looked out upon the dreary river Zaire, and upon
the yellow ghastly waters, and upon the pale legions
of the water-lilies. And the man listened to the
sighs of the water-lilies, and to the murmur that came
up from among them. And I lay close within my
covert and observed the actions of the man. And the
man trembled in the solitude—but the night waned
and he sat upon the rock.

“Then I went down into the recesses of the
morass, and waded afar in among the wilderness of
the lilies, and called unto the hippopotami which
dwelt among the fens in the recesses of the morass.
And the hippopotami heard my call, and came, with
the behemoth, unto the foot of the rock, and roared
loudly and fearfully beneath the moon. And I lay
close within my covert and observed the actions of
the man. And the man trembled in the solitude—
but the night waned and he sat upon the rock.

“Then I cursed the elements with the curse of
tumult; and a frightful tempest gathered in the
heaven where before there had been no wind. And
the heaven became livid with the violence of the
tempest—and the rain beat upon the head of the
man—and the floods of the river came down—and
the river was tormented into foam—and the water-lilies
shrieked within their beds—and the forest

-- 023 --

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crumbled before the wind—and the thunder rolled,—
and the lightning fell—and the rock rocked to
its foundation. And I lay close within my covert
and observed the actions of the man. And the man
trembled in the solitude—but the night waned and
he sat upon the rock.

“Then I grew angry and cursed, with the curse of
silence, the river, and the lilies, and the wind, and
the forest, and the heaven, and the thunder, and the
sighs of the water-lilies. And they became accursed
and were still. And the moon ceased to totter in its
pathway up the heaven—and the thunder died away—
and the lightning did not flash—and the clouds
hung motionless—and the waters sunk to their level
and remained—and the trees ceased to rock—and
the water-lilies sighed no more—and the murmur
was heard no longer from among them, nor any
shadow of sound throughout the vast illimitable desert.
And I looked upon the characters of the rock, and
they were changed—and the characters were
SILENCE.

“And mine eyes fell upon the countenance of the
man, and his countenance was wan with terror. And,
hurriedly, he raised his head from his hand, and stood
forth upon the rock, and listened. But there was no
voice throughout the vast illimitable desert, and the
characters upon the rock were SILENCE. And the
man shuddered, and turned his face away, and fled
afar off, and I beheld him no more.”

* * * * * * * *

-- 024 --

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Now there are fine tales in the volumes of the
Magi—in the iron-bound, melancholy volumes of the
Magi. Therein, I say, are glorious histories of the
Heaven, and of the Earth, and of the mighty Sea—
and of the Genii that over-ruled the sea, and the earth,
and the lofty heaven. There was much lore too in
the sayings which were said by the sybils; and holy,
holy things were heard of old by the dim leaves that
trembled around Dodona—but, as Allah liveth, that
fable which the Demon told me as he sat by my side
in the shadow of the tomb, I hold to be the most
wonderful of all! And as the Demon made an end
of his story, he fell back within the cavity of the
tomb and laughed. And I could not laugh with the
Demon, and he cursed me because I could not laugh.
And the lynx which dwelleth forever in the tomb,
came out therefrom, and lay down at the feet of the
Demon, and looked at him steadily in the face.

-- 025 --

HANS PHAALL. 2

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

By late accounts from Rotterdam that city seems
to be in a high state of philosophical excitement.
Indeed phenomena have there occurred of a nature
so completely unexpected, so entirely novel, so utterly
at variance with preconceived opinions, as to leave
no doubt on my mind that long ere this all Europe
is in an uproar, all physics in a ferment, all dynamics
and astronomy together by the ears.

It appears that on the—day of—,(I am not
positive about the date,) a vast crowd of people, for

-- 026 --

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

purposes not specifically mentioned, were assembled
in the great square of the Exchange in the well-conditioned
city of Rotterdam. The day was warm—
unusually so for the season—there was hardly a
breath of air stirring, and the multitude were in no
bad humor at being now and then besprinkled with
friendly showers of momentary duration. These
occasionally fell from large white masses of cloud
which chequered in a fitful manner the blue vault of
the firmament. Nevertheless about noon a slight but
remarkable agitation became apparent in the assembly;
the clattering of ten thousand tongues succeeded;
and in an instant afterwards ten thousand faces were
upturned towards the heavens, ten thousand pipes
descended simultaneously from the corners of ten
thousand mouths, and a shout which could be compared
to nothing but the roaring of Niagara resounded
long, loud, and furiously, through all the environs of
Rotterdam.

The origin of this hubbub soon became sufficiently
evident. From behind the huge bulk of one of those
sharply-defined masses of cloud already mentioned,
was seen slowly to emerge into an open area of blue
space, a queer, heterogeneous, but apparently solid
body or substance, so oddly shaped, so whimsically
put together, as not to be in any manner comprehended,
and never to be sufficiently admired, by the
host of sturdy burghers who stood open-mouthed
below. What could it be? In the name of all the
vrows and devils in Rotterdam, what could it possibly
portend? No one knew—no one could imagine—

-- 027 --

p320-287 [figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

no one, not even the burgomaster Mynheer Superbus
Von Underduk, had the slightest clue by which to
unravel the mystery; so, as nothing more reasonable
could be done, every one to a man replaced his pipe
carefully in the left corner of his mouth, and, cocking
up his right eye towards the phenomenon, puffed,
paused, waddled about, and grunted significantly—
then waddled back, grunted, paused, and finally—
puffed again.

In the meantime, however, lower and still lower
towards the goodly city, came the object of so much
curiosity, and the cause of so much smoke. In a
very few minutes it arrived near enough to be accurately
discerned. It appeared to be—yes! it was
undoubtedly a species of balloon; but surely no such
balloon had ever been seen in Rotterdam before.
For who, let me ask, ever heard of a balloon entirely
manufactured of dirty newspapers? No man in
Holland certainly—yet here under the very noses
of the people, or rather, so to speak, at some distance
above their noses, was the identical thing in question,
and composed, I have it on the best authority, of the
precise material which no one had ever known to be
used for a similar purpose. It was an egregious insult
to the good sense of the burghers of Rotterdam.
As to the shape of the phenomenon it was even still
more reprehensible, being little or nothing better than
a huge foolscap turned upside down. And this
similitude was by no means lessened, when, upon
nearer inspection, there was perceived a large tassel
depending from its apex, and around the upper rim

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[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

or base of the cone a circle of little instruments, resembling
sheep-bells, which kept up a continual
tinkling to the tune of Betty Martin. But still worse.
Suspended by blue ribbands to the end of this fantastic
machine, there hung by way of car an enormous
drab beaver hat, with a brim superlatively broad, and
a hemispherical crown with a black band and a silver
buckle. It is, however, somewhat remarkable,
that many citizens of Rotterdam swore to having
seen the same hat repeatedly before; and indeed the
whole assembly seemed to regard it with eyes of familiarity,
while the vrow Grettel Phaall, upon sight
of it, uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise, and
declared it to be the identical hat of her good man
himself. Now this was a circumstance the more to
be observed, as Phaall, with three companions, had
actually disappeared from Rotterdam about five
years before, in a very sudden and unaccountable
manner, and up to the date of this narrative all
attempts had failed of obtaining any intelligence concerning
them whatsoever. To be sure, some bones
which were thought to be human, and mixed up with
a quantity of odd-looking rubbish, had been lately
discovered in a retired situation to the east of Rotterdam;
and some people went so far as to imagine
that in this spot a foul murder had been committed,
and that the sufferers were in all probability Hans
Phaall and his associates. But to return.

The balloon, for such no doubt it was, had now
descended to within a hundred feet of the earth,
allowing the crowd below a sufficiently distinct view

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[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

of the person of its occupant. This was in truth a
very droll little somebody. He could not have been
more than two feet in height—but this altitude, little
as it was, would have been enough to destroy his
equilibrium, and tilt him over the edge of his tiny car,
but for the intervention of a circular rim reaching as
high as the breast, and rigged on to the cords of the
balloon. The body of the little man was more than
proportionally broad, giving to his entire figure a
rotundity highly absurd. His feet, of course, could
not be seen at all, although a horny substance of
suspicious nature was occasionally protruded through
a rent in the bottom of the car, or, to speak more
properly, in the top of the hat. His hands were
enormously large. His hair was extremely gray,
and collected into a cue behind. His nose was prodigiously
long, crooked and inflammatory—his eyes
full, brilliant, and acute—his chin and cheeks,
although wrinkled with age, were broad, puffy, and
double—but of ears of any kind or character, there
was not a semblance to be discovered upon any portion
of his head. This odd little gentleman was
dressed in a loose surtout of sky-blue satin, with tight
breeches to match, fastened with silver buckles at
the knees. His vest was of some bright yellow
material; a white taffety cap was set jauntily on one
side of his head; and, to complete his equipment, a
blood-red silk handkerchief enveloped his throat, and
fell down, in a dainty manner, upon his bosom, in a
fantastic bow-knot of supereminent dimensions.

Having descended, as I said before, to about one

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[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

hundred feet from the surface of the earth, the little
old gentleman was suddenly seized with a fit of trepidation,
and appeared altogether disinclined to make
any nearer approach to terra firma. Throwing out,
therefore, a quantity of sand from a canvass bag,
which he lifted with great difficulty, he became stationary
in an instant. He then proceeded, in a
hurried and agitated manner, to extract from a side-pocket
of his surtout a large morocco pocket-book.
This he poised suspiciously in his hand—then eyed
it with an air of extreme surprise, and was evidently
astonished at its weight. He at length opened it,
and drawing therefrom a huge letter sealed with red
sealing-wax and tied carefully with red tape, let it
fall precisely at the feet of the burgomaster Superbus
Von Underduk. His Excellency stooped to take it
up. But the aeronaut, still greatly discomposed, and
having apparently no farther business to detain him
in Rotterdam, began at this moment to make busy
preparations for departure; and, it being necessary
to discharge a portion of ballast to enable him to
reascend, the half dozen bags of sand which he threw
out, one after another, without taking the trouble to
empty their contents, tumbled, every one of them,
most unfortunately, upon the back of the burgomaster,
and rolled him over and over no less than one-and-twenty
times, in the face of every man in Rotterdam.
It is not to be supposed, however, that the great
Underduk suffered this impertinence on the part of
the little old man to pass off with impunity. It is
said, on the contrary, that, during the period of each

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[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

and every one of his one-and-twenty circumvolutions,
he emitted no less than one-and-twenty distinct and
furious whiffs from his pipe, to which he held fast the
whole time with all his might, and to which he
intends holding fast until the day of his death.

In the meantime the balloon arose like a lark, and,
soaring far away above the city, at length drifted
quietly behind a cloud similar to that from which it
had so oddly emerged, and was thus lost forever to
the wondering eyes of the good citizens of Rotterdam.
All attention was now directed to the letter,
whose descent and the consequences attending thereupon
had proved so fatally subversive of both person
and personal dignity, to his Excellency the illustrious
Burgomaster Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk.
That functionary, however, had not failed, during his
circumgyratory movement, to bestow a thought upon
the important object of securing the packet in question,
which was seen, upon inspection, to have fallen
into the most proper hands, being actually directed
to himself and Professor Rub-a-dub, in their official
capacities of President and Vice-President of the
Rotterdam College of Astronomy. It was accordingly
opened by those dignitaries upon the spot, and
found to contain the following extraordinary and
indeed very serious communication.

To their Excellencies Von Underduk and Rub-a-dub,
President and Vice-President of the States' College
of Astronomers in the city of Rotterdam.

Your Excellencies may perhaps be able to

-- 032 --

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

remember an humble artizan by name Hans Phaall, and by
occupation a mender of bellows, who, with three
others, disappeared from Rotterdam, about five years
ago, in a manner which must have been considered
by all parties at once sudden, and extremely unaccountable.
If, however, it so please your Excellencies,
I, the writer of this communication, am the
identical Hans Phaall himself. It is well known to
most of my fellow citizens, that for the period of
forty years, I continued to occupy the little square
brick building at the head of the alley called Sauer-kraut,
and in which I resided at the time of my disappearance.
My ancestors have also resided therein
time out of mind, they, as well as myself, steadily
following the respectable and indeed lucrative profession
of mending of bellows. For, to speak the
truth, until of late years that the heads of all the
people have been set agog with the troubles and
politics, no better business than my own could an
honest citizen of Rotterdam either desire or deserve.
Credit was good, employment was never wanting,
and on all hands there was no lack of either money
or good will. But, as I was saying, we soon began
to feel the terrible effects of liberty, and long speeches,
and radicalism, and all that sort of thing. People
who were formerly the very best customers in the
world had now not a moment of time to think of us
at all. They had, so they said, as much as they
could do to read about the revolutions, and keep up
with the march of intellect, and the spirit of the age.
If a fire wanted fanning it could readily be fanned

-- 033 --

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

with a newspaper; and, as the government grew
weaker, I have no doubt that leather and iron acquired
durability in proportion, for in a very short time
there was not a pair of bellows in all Rotterdam that
ever stood in need of a stitch or required the assistance
of a hammer. This was a state of things not
to be endured. I soon grew as poor as a rat, and,
having a wife and children to provide for, my burdens
at length became intolerable, and I spent hour after
hour in reflecting upon the speediest and most convenient
method of putting an end to my life. Duns,
in the meantime, left me little leisure for contemplation.
My house was literally besieged from morning till
night, so that I began to rave, and foam, and fret like
a caged tiger against the bars of his enclosure.
There were three fellows in particular, who worried
me beyond endurance, keeping watch continually
about my door, and threatening me with the utmost
severity of the law. Upon these three I internally
vowed the bitterest revenge, if ever I should be so
happy as to get them within my clutches, and I
believe nothing in the world but the pleasure of this
anticipation prevented me from putting my plan of
suicide into immediate execution, by blowing my
brains out with a blunderbuss. I thought it best,
however, to dissemble my wrath, and to treat them
with promises and fair words, until, by some good
turn of fate, an opportunity of vengeance should be
afforded me.

One day, having given my creditors the slip, and
feeling more than usually dejected, I continued for a

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[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

long time to wander about the most obscure streets
without any object whatever, until at length I chanced
to stumble against the corner of a bookseller's stall.
Seeing a chair close at hand, for the use of customers,
I threw myself doggedly into it, and hardly knowing
why, opened the pages of the first volume which
came within my reach. It proved to be a small
pamphlet treatise on Speculative Astronomy, written
either by Professor Encke of Berlin, or by a Frenchman
of somewhat similar name. I had some little
tincture of information on matters of this nature, and
soon became more and more absorbed in the contents
of the book, reading it actually through twice before
I awoke, as it were, to a recollection of what was
passing around me. By this time it began to grow
dark, and I directed my steps towards home. But
the treatise had made an indelible impression on my
mind, and as I sauntered along the dusky streets, I
revolved carefully over in my memory the wild and
sometimes unintelligible reasonings of the writer.
There were some particular passages which affected
my imagination in a powerful and extraordinary
manner. The longer I meditated upon these, the more
intense grew the interest which had been excited
within me. The limited nature of my education in
general, and more especially my ignorance on subjects
connected with natural philosophy, so far from rendering
me diffident of my own ability to comprehend
what I had read, or inducing me to mistrust the many
vague notions which had arisen in consequence,
merely served as a farther stimulus to imagination;

-- 035 --

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

and I was vain enough, or perhaps reasonable enough,
to doubt whether those crude ideas which, arising in
ill-regulated minds, have all the appearance, may not
often in effect possess also the force—the reality—
and other inherent properties of instinct or intuition;
and whether, to proceed a step farther, profundity
itself might not, in matters of a purely speculative
nature, be detected as a legitimate source of falsity
and error. In other words, I believed, and still do
believe, that truth is frequently, of its own essence,
superficial, and that, in many cases, the depth lies
more in the abysses where we seek her, than in the
actual situations wherein she may be found. Nature
herself seemed to afford me corroboration of these
ideas. In the contemplation of the heavenly bodies
it struck me forcibly that I could not distinguish a
star with nearly as much precision, when I gazed
upon it with earnest, direct, and undeviating attention,
as when I suffered my eye only to glance in its
vicinity alone. I was not, of course, at that time
aware that this apparent paradox was occasioned by
the centre of the visual area being less susceptible of
feeble impressions of light than the exterior portions
of the retina. This knowledge, and some of another
kind, came afterwards in the course of an eventful
period of five years, during which I have dropped
the prejudices of my former humble situation in life,
and forgotten the bellows-mender in far different occupations.
But at the epoch of which I speak, the
analogy which the casual observation of a star offered
to the conclusions I had already drawn, struck

-- 036 --

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

me with the force of positive confirmation, and I
then finally made up my mind to the course which I
afterwards pursued.

It was late when I reached home, and I went immediately
to bed. My mind, however, was too
much occupied to sleep, and I lay the whole night
buried in meditation. Arising early in the morning,
and contriving again to escape the vigilance of
my creditors, I repaired eagerly to the bookseller's
stall, and laid out what little ready money I possessed,
in the purchase of some volumes of Mechanics and
Practical Astronomy. Having arrived at home
safely with these, I devoted every spare moment to
their perusal, and soon made such proficiency in
studies of this nature as I thought sufficient for the
execution of my plan. In the intervals of this period
I made every endeavor to conciliate the three creditors
who had given me so much annoyance. In
this I finally succeeded—partly by selling enough
of my household furniture to satisfy a moiety of their
claim, and partly by a promise of paying the balance
upon completion of a little project which I told them
I had in view, and for assistance in which I solicited
their services. By these means—for they were
ignorant men—I found little difficulty in gaining
them over to my purpose.

Matters being thus arranged, I contrived, by the
aid of my wife, and with the greatest secrecy and
caution, to dispose of what property I had remaining,
and to borrow, in small sums, under various
pretences, and without paying any attention to my

-- 037 --

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

future means of repayment, no inconsiderable quantity
of ready money. With the means thus accruing I
proceeded to purchase at intervals, cambric muslin,
very fine, in pieces of twelve yards each—twine—
a lot of the varnish of caoutchouc—a large and
deep basket of wicker-work, made to order—and
several other articles necessary in the construction
and equipment of a balloon of extraordinary dimensions.
This I directed my wife to make up as soon
as possible, and gave her all requisite information as
to the particular method of proceeding. In the
meantime I worked up the twine into a net-work of
sufficient dimensions; rigged it with a hoop and the
necessary cords; bought a quadrant, a compass, a
spy-glass, a common barometer with some important
modifications, and two astronomical instruments not
so generally known. I then took opportunities of
conveying by night, to a retired situation east of
Rotterdam, five iron-bound casks, to contain about
fifty gallons each, and one of a larger size—six
tinned ware tubes, three inches in diameter, properly
shaped, and ten feet in length—a quantity of a particular
metallic substance or semi-metal
which I shall
not name—and a dozen demi-johns of a very common
acid
. The gas to be formed from these latter
materials is a gas never yet generated by any other
person than myself—or at least never applied to
any similar purpose. The secret I would make no
difficulty in disclosing, but that it of right belongs to
a citizen of Nantz in France, by whom it was conditionally
communicated to myself. The same

-- 038 --

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

individual submitted to me, without being at all aware
of my intentions, a method of constructing balloons
from the membrane of a certain animal, through
which substance any escape of gas was nearly an
impossibility. I found it however altogether too
expensive, and was not sure, upon the whole, whether
cambric muslin with a coating of gum caoutchouc
was not equally as good. I mention this circumstance,
because I think it probable that hereafter the
individual in question may attempt a balloon ascension
with the novel gas and material I have spoken
of, and I do not wish to deprive him of the honor of
a very singular invention.

On the spot which I intended each of the smaller
casks to occupy respectively during the inflation of
the balloon, I privately dug a hole two feet deep—
the holes forming in this manner a circle of twentyfive
feet in diameter. In the centre of this circle,
being the station designed for the large cask, I also
dug a hole three feet in depth. In each of the five
smaller holes, I deposited a canister containing fifty
pounds, and in the larger one a keg holding one
hundred and fifty pounds of cannon powder. These—
the keg and the canisters—I connected in a
proper manner with covered trains; and having let
into one of the canisters the end of about four feet
of slow-match, I covered up the hole, and placed the
cask over it, leaving the other end of the match protruding
about an inch, and barely visible beyond the

-- 039 --

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

cask. I then filled up the remaining holes, and
placed the barrels over them in their destined situation.

Besides the articles above enumerated, I conveyed
to the depôt, and there secreted, one of M. Grimm's
improvements upon the apparatus for condensation
of the atmospheric air. I found this machine, however,
to require considerable alteration before it could
be adapted to the purposes to which I intended
making it applicable. But with severe labor, and
unremitting perseverance, I at length met with entire
success in all my preparations. My balloon was
soon completed. It would contain more than forty
thousand cubic feet of gas; would take me up, I
calculated, easily, with all my implements, and, if I
managed rightly, with one hundred and seventy-five
pounds of ballast into the bargain. It had received
three coats of varnish, and I found the cambric
muslin to answer all the purposes of silk itself—
quite as strong and a good deal less expensive.

Everything being now ready, I exacted from my
wife an oath of secrecy in relation to all my actions
from the day of my first visit to the bookseller's
stall, and, promising, on my part, to return as soon
as circumstances would admit, I gave her all the
money I had left, and bade her farewell. Indeed I
had little fear on her account. She was what people
call a notable woman, and could manage matters in
the world without my assistance. I believe, to tell
the truth, she always looked upon me as an idle
body, a mere make-weight, good for nothing but

-- 040 --

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

building castles in the air, and was rather glad to
get rid of me. It was a dark night when I bade her
good bye, and, taking with me, as aids-de-camp, the
three creditors who had given me so much trouble,
we carried the balloon, with the car and accoutrements,
by a roundabout way, to the station where
the other articles were deposited. We there found
them all unmolested, and I proceeded immediately
to business.

It was the first of April. The night, as I said
before, was dark—there was not a star to be seen,
and a drizzling rain, falling at intervals, rendered us
very uncomfortable. But my chief anxiety was
concerning my balloon, which in spite of the varnish
with which it was defended, began to grow rather
heavy with the moisture: my powder also was liable
to damage. I therefore kept my three duns working
with great diligence, pounding down ice around
the central cask, and stirring the acid in the others.
They did not cease, however, importuning me with
questions as to what I intended to do with all this
apparatus, and expressed much dissatisfaction at the
terrible labor I made them undergo. They could
not perceive, so they said, what good was likely to
result from their getting wet to the skin merely to
take a part in such horrible incantations. I began
to get uneasy, and worked away with all my might—
for I verily believe the idiots supposed that I had
entered into a compact with the devil, and that, in
short, what I was now doing was nothing better
than it should be. I was, therefore, in great fear of

-- 041 --

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

their leaving me altogether. I contrived, however,
to pacify them by promises of immediate payment
as soon as I could bring the present business to a
termination. To these speeches they gave of course
their own interpretation—fancying, no doubt, that
at all events I should come into possession of vast
quantities of ready money; and provided I paid them
all I owed, and a trifle more, in consideration of
their services, I dare say they cared very little what
became of either my soul or my carcass.

In about four hours and a half I found the balloon
sufficiently inflated. I attached the car, therefore,
and put all my implements in it—not forgetting the
condensing apparatus, a copious supply of water,
and a large quantity of provisions, such as pemmican,
in which much nutriment is contained in
comparatively little bulk. I also secured in the car
a pair of pigeons and a cat. It was now nearly
daybreak, and I thought it high time to take my
departure. Dropping a lighted cigar on the ground,
as if by accident, I took the opportunity, in stooping
to pick it up, of igniting privately the piece of slow
match, whose end, as I said before, protruded a very
little beyond the lower rim of one of the smaller
casks. This manœuvre was totally unperceived on
the part of the three duns, and, jumping into the car,
I immediately cut the single cord which held me to
the earth, and was pleased to find that I shot upwards,
rapidly carrying with all ease one hundred
and seventy-five pounds of leaden ballast, and able
to have carried up as many more.

-- 042 --

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

Scarcely, however, had I attained the height of
fifty yards, when, roaring and rumbling up after me
in the most horrible and tumultuous manner, came
so dense a hurricane of fire, and smoke, and sulphur,
and legs, and arms, and gravel, and burning wood,
and blazing metal, that my very heart sunk within
me, and I fell down in the bottom of the car, trembling
with unmitigated terror. Indeed I now perceived
that I had entirely overdone the business, and
that the main consequences of the shock were yet to
be experienced. Accordingly, in less than a second,
I felt all the blood in my body rushing to my temples,
and, immediately thereupon, a concussion, which I
shall never forget, burst abruptly through the night,
and seemed to rip the very firmament asunder.
When I afterwards had time for reflection, I did not
fail to attribute the extreme violence of the explosion,
as regarded myself, to its proper cause—my situation
directly above it, and in the exact line of its
greatest power. But at the time I thought only of
preserving my life. The balloon at first collapsed—
then furiously expanded—then whirled round and
round with horrible velocity—and finally, reeling
and staggering like a drunken man, hurled me with
great force over the rim of the car, and left me
dangling, at a terrific height, with my head downwards,
and my face outwards from the balloon, by
a piece of slender cord about three feet in length,
which hung accidentally through a crevice near the
bottom of the wicker-work, and in which, as I fell,
my left foot became most providentially entangled.

-- 043 --

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

It is impossible—utterly impossible—to form any
adequate idea of the horror of my situation. I
gasped convulsively for breath—a shudder resembling
a fit of the ague agitated every nerve and
muscle in my frame—I felt my eyes starting from
their sockets—a horrible nausea overwhelmed me—
and at length I fainted away.

How long I remained in this state, it is impossible
to say. It must, however, have been no inconsiderable
time, for when I partially recovered the
sense of existence, I found the day breaking, and
the balloon at a prodigious height over a wilderness
of ocean, and not a trace of land to be discovered
far and wide within the limits of the vast horizon.
My sensations, however, upon thus recovering, were
by no means so rife with agony as might have been
anticipated. Indeed there was much of incipient
madness in the calm survey which I began to take
of my situation. I drew up to my eyes each of my
hands, one after the other, and wondered what occurrence
could have given rise to the swelling of the
veins, and the horrible blackness of the finger nails.
I afterwards carefully examined my head, shaking
it repeatedly, and feeling it with minute attention,
until I succeeded in satisfying myself that it was not—
as I had more than half suspected—larger than
my balloon. Then, in a knowing manner, I felt in
both my breeches pockets, and missing therefrom a
set of tablets and a tooth-pick case, I endeavored to
account for their disappearance, and, not being able
to do so, felt inexpressibly chagrined. It now

-- 044 --

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

occurred to me that I suffered great uneasiness in the
joint of my left ankle, and a dim consciousness of
my situation began to glimmer through my mind.
But, strange to say! I was neither astonished nor
horror-stricken. If I felt any emotion at all, it was
a kind of chuckling satisfaction at the cleverness I
was about to display in extricating myself from this
dilemma; and I never, for a moment, looked upon
my ultimate safety as a question susceptible of doubt.
For a few minutes I remained wrapped in the profoundest
meditation. I have a distinct recollection
of frequently compressing my lips, putting my fore-finger,
to the side of my nose, and making use of
other gesticulations and grimaces common to men
who, at ease in their arm-chairs, meditate upon
matters of intricacy or importance. Having, as I
thought, sufficiently collected my ideas, I now, with
great caution and deliberation, put my hands behind
my back, and unfastened the large iron buckle which
belonged to the waistband of my inexpressibles.
This buckle had three teeth, which, being somewhat
rusty, turned with great difficulty upon their axis.
I brought them however, after some trouble, at right
angles to the body of the buckle, and was glad to
find them remain firm in that position. Holding the
instrument thus obtained within my teeth, I now
proceeded to untie the knot of my cravat. I had to
rest several times before I could accomplish this
manœuvre—but it was at length accomplished.
To one end of the cravat I then made fast the
buckle, and the other end I tied, for greater security,

-- 045 --

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

tightly around my wrist. Drawing now my body
upwards, with a prodigious exertion of muscular
force, I succeeded, at the very first trial, in throwing
the buckle over the car, and entangling it, as I had
anticipated, in the circular rim of the wicker-work.

My body was now inclined towards the side of
the car, at an angle of about forty-five degrees—
but it must not be understood that I was therefore
only forty-five degrees below the perpendicular.
So far from it, I still lay nearly level with the plane
of the horizon—for the change of situation which I
had acquired, had forced the bottom of the car considerably
outwards from my position, which was
accordingly one of the most imminent and deadly
peril. It should be remembered, however, that when
I fell, in the first instance, from the car, if I had
fallen with my face turned towards the balloon,
instead of turned outwardly from it as it actually
was—or if, in the second place, the cord by which
I was suspended had chanced to hang over the
upper edge, instead of through a crevice near the
bottom of the car,—I say it may readily be conceived
that, in either of these supposed cases, I
should have been unable to accomplish even as much
as I had now accomplished, and the wonderful adventures
of Hans Phaal would have been utterly
lost to posterity. I had therefore every reason to
be grateful—although, in point of fact, I was still
too stupid to be anything at all, and hung for, I suppose,
a quarter of an hour, in that extraordinary
manner, without making the slightest farther

-- 046 --

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

exertion whatsoever, and in a singularly tranquil state
of idiotic enjoyment. But this feeling did not fail to
die rapidly away, and thereunto succeeded horror,
and dismay, and a chilling sense of utter helplessness
and ruin. In fact, the blood so long accumulating
in the vessels of my head and throat, and
which had hitherto buoyed up my spirits with madness
and delirium, had now begun to retire within
their proper channels, and the distinctness which
was thus added to my perception of the danger,
merely served to deprive me of the self-possession
and courage to encounter it. But this weakness
was, luckily for me, of no very long duration. In
good time came to my rescue the spirit of despair,
and with frantic cries and convulsive struggles, I
jerked my way bodily upwards, till, at length, clutching
with a vice-like grip the long-desired rim, I
writhed my person over it, and fell headlong and
shuddering within the car.

It was not until some time afterwards that I recovered
myself sufficiently to attend to the ordinary
cares of the balloon. I then, however, examined it
with attention, and found it, to my great relief, uninjured.
My implements were all safe, and I had,
fortunately, lost neither ballast nor provisions. Indeed,
I had so well secured them in their places, that
such an accident was entirely out of the question.
Looking at my watch, I found it six o'clock. I was
still rapidly ascending, and my barometer showed a
present altitude of three and three-quarter miles.
Immediately beneath me in the ocean, lay a small

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[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

black object, slightly oblong in shape, seemingly
about the size, and in every way bearing a great
resemblance to one of those childish toys called a
domino. Bringing my spy-glass to bear upon it, I
plainly discerned it to be a British ninety-four gun
ship, close-hauled, and pitching heavily in the sea
with her head to the W.S.W. Besides this ship, I
saw nothing but the ocean and the sky, and the
sun, which had long arisen.

It is now high time that I should explain to your
Excellencies the object of my perilous voyage.
Your Excellencies will bear in mind, that distressed
circumstances in Rotterdam had at length driven
me to the resolution of committing suicide. It was
not, however, that to life itself I had any positive
disgust—but that I was harassed beyond endurance
by the adventitious miseries attending my situation.
In this state of mind—wishing to live, yet wearied
with life—the treatise at the stall of the bookseller
opened a resource to my imagination. I then
finally made up my mind. I determined to depart,
yet live—to leave the world, yet continue to exist—
in short, to drop enigmas, I resolved, let what
would ensue, to force a passage—if I could—to the
moon. Now, lest I should be supposed more of a
madman than I actually am, I will detail, as well as
I am able, the considerations which led me to believe
that an achievement of this nature, although without
doubt difficult, and incontestably full of danger, was
not absolutely, to a bold spirit, beyond the confines
of the possible.

-- 048 --

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

The moon's actual distance from the earth was
the first thing to be attended to. Now, the mean or
average interval between the centres of the two
planets is 59.9643 of the earth's equatorial radii, or
only about 237000 miles. I say the mean or average
interval. But it must be borne in mind, that the
form of the moon's orbit being an elipse of eccentricity
amounting to no less than 0.05484 of the
major semi-axis of the elipse itself, and the earth's
centre being situated in its focus, if I could, in any
manner, contrive to meet the moon, as it were, in
its perigee, the above-mentioned distance would be
materially diminished. But to say nothing, at
present, of this possibility, it was very certain, that
at all events, from the 237000 miles I should have to
deduct the radius of the earth, say 4000, and the
radius of the moon, say 1080, in all 5080, leaving an
actual interval to be traversed, under average circumstances,
of 231920 miles. Now this, I reflected,
was no very extraordinary distance. Travelling on
land has been repeatedly accomplished at the rate of
thirty miles per hour, and indeed a much greater
speed may be anticipated. But even at this velocity,
it would take me no more than 322 days to reach
the surface of the moon. There were, however,
many particulars inducing me to believe that my
average rate of travelling might possibly very much
exceed that of thirty miles per hour, and, as these
considerations did not fail to make a deep impression
upon my mind, I will mention them more fully
hereafter.

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[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

The next point to be regarded was a matter of
far greater importance. From indications afforded
by the barometer, we find that, in ascensions from
the surface of the earth, we have, at the height of
1000 feet, left below us about one-thirtieth of the
entire mass of atmospheric air—that at 10600, we
have ascended through nearly one-third—and that
at 18000, which is not far from the elevation of
Cotopaxi, we have surmounted one-half of the
material, or, at all events, one-half the ponderable
body of air incumbent upon our globe. It is also
calculated, that at an altitude not exceeding the
hundredth part of the earth's diameter—that is, not
exceeding eighty miles—the rarefaction would be
so excessive, that animal life could, in no manner,
be sustained, and moreover, that the most delicate
means we possess of ascertaining the presence of the
atmosphere, would be inadequate to assure us of its
existence. But I did not fail to perceive that these
latter calculations are founded altogether on our
experimental knowledge of the properties of air, and
the mechanical laws regulating its dilation and compression
in what may be called, comparatively speaking,
the immediate vicinity of the earth itself; and,
at the same time, it is taken for granted, that animal
life is, and must be, essentially incapable of modification
at any given unattainable distance from the
surface. Now, all such reasoning, and from such
data, must of course be simply analogical. The
greatest height ever reached by man, was that of
25000 feet, attained in the aeronautic expedition of

-- 050 --

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

Messieurs Gay-Lussac and Biot. This is a moderate
altitude, even when compared with the eighty miles
in question; and I could not help thinking that the
subject admitted room for doubt, and great latitude
for speculation.

But, in point of fact, an ascension being made to
any stated altitude, the ponderable quantity of air
surmounted in any farther ascension, is by no means
in proportion to the additional height ascended, (as
may be plainly seen from what has been stated
before,) but in a ratio constantly decreasing. It is
therefore evident that, ascend as high as we may,
we cannot, literally speaking, arrive at a limit
beyond which no atmosphere is to be found. It
must exist, I argued—it may exist in a state of infinite
rarefaction.

On the other hand, I was aware that arguments
have not been wanting to prove the existence of a
real and definite limit to the atmosphere, beyond
which there is absolutely no air whatsoever. But a
circumstance which has been left out of view by
those who contend for such a limit, seemed to me,
although no positive refutation of their creed, still a
point worthy very serious investigation. On comparing
the intervals between the successive arrivals of
Encke's comet at its perihelion, after giving credit,
in the most exact manner, for all the disturbances or
perturbations due to the attractions of the planets, it
appears that the periods are gradually diminishing—
that is to say—the major axis of the comet's elipse
is growing shorter, in a slow but perfectly regular

-- 051 --

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

decrease. Now, this is precisely what ought to be
the case, if we suppose a resistance experienced by
the comet from an extremely rare ethereal medium
pervading the regions of its orbit. For it is evident
that such a medium must, in retarding its velocity,
increase its centripetal, by weakening its centrifugal
force. In other words, the sun's attraction would
be constantly attaining greater power, and the comet
would be drawn nearer at every revolution. Indeed,
there is no other way of accounting for the variation
in question. But again. The real diameter of the same
comet's nebulosity, is observed to contract rapidly
as it approaches the sun, and dilate with equal
rapidity in its departure towards its aphelion. Was
I not justifiable in supposing, with M. Valz, that this
apparent condensation of volume has its origin in
the compression of the same ethereal medium I have
spoken of before, and which is only denser in proportion
to its solar vicinity? The lenticular-shaped
phenomenon, also, called the zodiacal light, was a
matter worthy of attention. This radiance, so apparent
in the tropics, and which cannot be mistaken
for any meteoric lustre, extends from the horizon
obliquely upwards, and follows generally the direction
of the sun's equator. It appeared to me evidently in
the nature of a rare atmosphere extending from the
sun outwards, beyond the orbit of Venus at least,
and I believed indefinitely farther.3 Indeed, this

-- 052 --

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

medium I could not suppose confined to the path of
the comet's elipse, or the immediate neighborhood
of the sun. It was easy, on the contrary, to imagine
it pervading the entire regions of our planetary system,
condensed into what we call atmosphere at the
planets themselves, and in some of them modified by
considerations, so to speak, purely geological.

Having adopted this view of the subject, I had
little further hesitation. Granting that on my passage
I should meet with atmosphere essentially the same
as at the surface of the earth, I conceived that, by
means of the very ingenious apparatus of M. Grimm,
I should readily be enabled to condense it in sufficient
quantities for the purpose of respiration. This would
remove the chief obstacle in a journey to the moon.
I had indeed spent some money and great labor in
adapting the apparatus to the purposes intended, and
I confidently looked forward to its successful application,
if I could manage to complete the voyage
within any reasonable period. This brings me back
to the rate at which it might be possible to travel.

It is true that balloons, in the first stage of their
ascensions from the earth, are known to rise with a
velocity comparatively moderate. Now, the power
of elevation lies altogether in the superior lightness
of the gas in the balloon, compared with the atmospheric
air; and, at first sight, it does not appear
probable that, as the balloon acquires altitude, and
consequently arrives successively in atmospheric
strata of densities rapidly diminishing—I say, it does
not appear at all reasonable that, in this its progress

-- 053 --

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

upwards, the original velocity should be accelerated.
On the other hand, I was not aware that, in any
recorded ascension, a diminution was apparent in the
absolute rate of ascent—although such should have
been the case, if on account of nothing else, on
account of the escape of gas through balloons illconstructed,
and varnished with no better material
than the ordinary varnish. It seemed, therefore,
that the effect of such an escape was only sufficient
to counterbalance the effect of some accelerating
power. I now considered, that provided in my
passage I found the medium I had imagined, and
provided it should prove to be actually and essentially
what we denominate atmospheric air, it could make
comparatively little difference at what extreme state
of rarefaction I should discover it—that is to say,
in regard to my power of ascending—for the gas in
the balloon would not only be itself subject to a rarefaction
partially similar, (in proportion to the occurrence
of which, I could suffer an escape of so much as
would be requisite to prevent explosion,) but, being
what it was,
would still, at all events, continue
specifically lighter than any compound whatever of
mere nitrogen and oxygen. In the meantime the
force of gravitation would be constantly diminishing,
in proportion to the squares of the distances, and
thus, with a velocity prodigiously accelerating, I
should at length arrive in those distant regions where
the power of the earth's attraction would be superseded
by the moon's. In accordance with these
ideas, I did not think it worth while to encumber

-- 054 --

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

myself with more provisions than would be sufficient
for a period of forty days.

There was still, however, another difficulty which
occasioned me some little disquietude. It has been
observed, that in balloon ascensions to any considerable
height, besides the pain attending respiration,
great uneasiness is experienced about the head and
body, often accompanied with bleeding at the nose,
and other symptoms of an alarming kind, and growing
more and more inconvenient in proportion to the
altitude attained.4 This was a reflection of a nature
somewhat startling. Was it not probable that these
symptoms would increase indefinitely, or at least until
terminated by death itself? I finally thought not.
Their origin was to be looked for in the progressive
removal of the customary atmospheric pressure upon
the surface of the body, and consequent distention of
the superficial blood-vessels—not in any positive
disorganization of the animal system, as in the case
of difficulty in breathing, where the atmospheric
density is chemically insufficient for the purpose of a
due renovation of blood in a ventricle of the heart.
Unless for default of this renovation, I could see no
reason, therefore, why life could not be sustained
even in a vacuum—for the expansion and compression
of chest, commonly called breathing, is

-- 055 --

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

action purely muscular, and the cause, not the effect,
of respiration. In a word, I conceived that, as the
body should become habituated to the want of
atmospheric pressure, these sensations of pain would
gradually diminish, and to endure them while they
continued, I relied strongly upon the iron hardihood
of my constitution.

Thus, may it please your Excellencies, I have
detailed some, though by no means all the considerations
which led me to form the project of a lunar
voyage. I shall now proceed to lay before you the
result of an attempt so apparently audacious in conception,
and, at all events, so utterly unparalleled in
the annals of human kind.

Having attained the altitude before mentioned, that
is to say, three miles and three-quarters, I threw out
from the car a quantity of feathers, and found that I
still ascended with sufficient rapidity—there was,
therefore, no necessity for discharging any ballast.
I was glad of this, for I wished to retain with me as
much weight as I could carry, for reasons which
will be explained in the sequel. I as yet suffered no
bodily inconvenience, breathing with great freedom,
and feeling no pain whatever in the head. The cat
was lying very demurely upon my coat, which I had
taken off, and eyeing the pigeons with an air of
nonchalance. These latter being tied by the leg, to
prevent their escape, were busily employed in picking
up some grains of rice scattered for them in the bottom
of the car.

At twenty minutes past six o'clock, the barometer
showed an elevation of 26,400 feet, or five miles to a

-- 056 --

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

fraction. The prospect seemed unbounded. Indeed,
it is very easily calculated by means of spherical
geometry, what a great extent of the earth's area I
beheld. The convex surface of any segment of a
sphere is, to the entire surface of the sphere itself, as
the versed sine of the segment is to the diameter of
the sphere. Now, in my case, the versed sine—that
is to say, the thickness of the segment beneath me,
was about equal to my elevation, or the elevation of
the point of sight above the surface. “As five miles,
then, to eight thousand,” would express the proportion
of the earth's area seen by me. In other words, I
beheld as much as a sixteen-hundredth part of the
whole surface of the globe. The sea appeared
unruffled as a mirror, although, by means of the spyglass,
I could perceive it to be in a state of violent
agitation. The ship was no longer visible, having
drifted away, apparently, to the eastward. I now
began to experience, at intervals, severe pain in the
head, especially about the ears—still, however,
breathing with tolerable freedom. The cat and
pigeons seemed to suffer no inconvenience whatsoever.

At twenty minutes before seven, the balloon entered
within a long series of dense cloud, which put me to
great trouble, by damaging my condensing apparatus,
and wetting me to the skin. This was, to be sure, a
singular rencontre, for I had not believed it possible
that a cloud of this nature could be sustained at so,
great an elevation. I thought it best, however, to
throw out two five-pound pieces of ballast, reserving
still a weight of one hundred and sixty-five pounds.

-- 057 --

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

Upon so doing, I soon rose above the difficulty, and
perceived immediately, that I had obtained a great
increase in my rate of ascent. In a few seconds
after my leaving the cloud, a flash of vivid lightning
shot from one end of it to the other, and caused it to
kindle up, throughout its vast extent, like a mass of
ignited and glowing charcoal. This, it must be
remembered, was in the broad light of day. No
fancy may picture the sublimity which might have
been exhibited by a similar phenomenon taking place
amid the darkness of the night. Hell itself might
then have found a fitting image. Even as it was,
my hair stood on end, while I gazed afar down within
the yawning abysses, letting imagination descend, as
it were, and stalk about in the strange vaulted halls,
and ruddy gulfs, and red ghastly chasms of the hideous
and unfathomable fire. I had indeed made a narrow
escape. Had the balloon remained a very short while
longer within the cloud—that is to say—had not
the inconvenience of getting wet determined me to
discharge the ballast, inevitable ruin would have
been the consequence. Such perils, although little
considered, are perhaps the greatest which must be
encountered in balloons. I had by this time, however,
attained too great an elevation to be any longer
uneasy on this head.

I was now rising rapidly, and by seven o'clock
the barometer indicated an altitude of no less than
nine miles and a half. I began to find great difficulty
in drawing my breath. My head too was excessively
painful; and, having felt for some time a moisture

-- 058 --

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

about my cheeks, I at length discovered it to be
blood, which was oozing quite fast from the drums
of my ears. My eyes, also, gave me great uneasiness.
Upon passing the hand over them they seemed to
have protruded from their sockets in no inconsiderable
degree, and all objects in the car, and even the
balloon itself, appeared distorted to my vision. These
symptoms were more than I had expected, and occasioned
me some alarm. At this juncture, very
imprudently, and without consideration, I threw out
from the car three five-pound pieces of ballast. The
accelerated rate of ascent thus obtained carried me
too rapidly, and without sufficient gradation, into a
highly rarefied stratum of the atmosphere, and the
result had nearly proved fatal to my expedition and
to myself. I was suddenly seized with a spasm
which lasted for better than five minutes, and even
when this, in a measure, ceased, I could catch my
breath only at long intervals, and in a gasping manner—
bleeding all the while copiously at the nose
and ears, and even slightly at the eyes. The pigeons
appeared distressed in the extreme, and struggled to
escape; while the cat mewed piteously, and, with her
tongue hanging out of her mouth, staggered to and
fro in the car as if under the influence of poison. I
now too late discovered the great rashness I had
been guilty of in discharging the ballast, and my
agitation was excessive. I anticipated nothing less
than death, and death in a few minutes. The physical
suffering I underwent contributed also to render
me nearly incapable of making any exertion for the

-- 059 --

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

preservation of my life. I had indeed, little power of
reflection left, and the violence of the pain in my
head seemed to be greatly on the increase. Thus I
found that my senses would shortly give way altogether,
and I had already clutched one of the valve
ropes with the view of attempting a descent, when
the recollection of the trick I had played the three
creditors, and the inevitable consequences to myself,
should I return to Rotterdam, operated to deter me
for the moment. I lay down in the bottom of the
car, and endeavored to collect my faculties. In this
I so far succeeded as to determine upon the experiment
of losing blood. Having no lancet, however, I
was constrained to perform the operation in the best
manner I was able, and finally succeeded in opening
a vein in my right arm, with the blade of my pen-knife.
The blood had hardly commenced flowing
when I experienced a sensible relief, and by the time
I had lost about half a moderate basin full, most of
the worst symptoms had abandoned me entirely. I
nevertheless did not think it expedient to attempt
getting on my feet immediately; but, having tied up
my arm as well as I could, I lay still for about a
quarter of an hour. At the end of this time I arose,
and found myself freer from absolute pain of any
kind than I had been during the last hour and a
quarter of my ascension. The difficulty of breathing,
however, was diminished in a very slight
degree, and I found that it would soon be positively
necessary to make use of my condenser. In the
meantime looking towards the cat, who was again

-- 060 --

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

snugly stowed away upon my coat, I discovered, to
my infinite surprise, that she had taken the opportunity
of my indisposition to bring into light a litter of three
little kittens. This was an addition to the number of
passengers on my part altogether unexpected; but I
was pleased at the occurrence. It would afford me
a chance of bringing to a kind of test the truth of a
surmise, which, more than anything else, had
influenced me in attempting this ascension. I had
imagined that the habitual endurance of the atmospheric
pressure at the surface of the earth was the
cause, or nearly so, of the pain attending animal
existence at a distance above the surface. Should
the kittens be found to suffer uneasiness in an equal
degree with their mother,
I must consider my theory
in fault, but a failure to do so I should look upon as
a strong confirmation of my idea.

By eight o'clock I had actually attained an elevation
of seventeen miles above the surface of the earth.
Thus it seemed to me evident that my rate of ascent
was not only on the increase, but that the progression
would have been apparent in a slight degree even
had I not discharged the ballast which I did. The
pains in my head and ears returned, at intervals,
with violence, and I still continued to bleed occasionally
at the nose: but, upon the whole, I suffered
much less than might have been expected. I breathed,
however, at every moment, with more and more
difficulty, and each inhalation was attended with a
troublesome spasmodic action of the chest. I now
unpacked the condensing apparatus, and got it ready

-- 061 --

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

for immediate use. The view of the earth, at this
period of my ascension, was beautiful indeed. To
the westward, the northward, and the southward, as
far as I could see, lay a boundless sheet of apparently
unruffled ocean, which every moment gained a deeper
and a deeper tint of blue, and began already to
assume a slight appearance of convexity. At a vast
distance to the eastward, although perfectly discernible,
extended the islands of Great Britain, the entire
Atlantic coasts of France and Spain, with a small
portion of the northern part of the continent of Africa.
Of individual edifices not a trace could be discovered,
and the proudest cities of mankind had utterly faded
away from the face of the earth. From the rock of
Gibraltar, now dwindled into a dim speck, the dark
Mediterranean sea, dotted with shining islands as the
heaven is dotted with stars, spread itself out to the
eastward as far as my vision extended, until its
entire mass of waters seemed at length to tumble
headlong over the abyss of the horizon, and I found
myself listening on tiptoe for the echoes of the mighty
cataract. Overhead, the sky was of a jetty black,
and the stars were brilliantly visible.

The pigeons about this time seeming to undergo
much suffering, I determined upon giving them their
liberty. I first untied one of them—a beautiful
gray-mottled pigeon—and placed him upon the rim
of the wicker-work. He appeared extremely uneasy,
looking anxiously around him, fluttering his wings,
and making a loud cooing noise—but could not be
persuaded to trust himself from off the car. I took

-- 062 --

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

him up at last, and threw him to about half-a-dozen
yards from the balloon. He made, however, no
attempt to descend as I had expected, but struggled
with great vehemence to get back, uttering at the
same time very shrill and piercing cries. He at
length succeeded in regaining his former station on
the rim—but had hardly done so when his head
dropped upon his breast, and he fell dead within the
car. The other one did- not prove so unfortunate.
To prevent his following the example of his companion,
and accomplishing a return, I threw him
downwards with all my force, and was pleased to
find him continue his descent, with great velocity,
making use of his wings with ease, and in a perfectly
natural manner. In a very short time he was out of
sight, and I have no doubt he reached home in
safety. Puss, who seemed in a great measure recovered
from her illness, now made a hearty meal of
the dead bird, and then went to sleep with much
apparent satisfaction. Her kittens were quite lively,
and so far evinced not the slightest sign of any
uneasiness whatever.

At a quarter-past eight, being able no longer to
draw breath at all without the most intolerable pain,
I proceeded, forthwith, to adjust around the car the
apparatus belonging to the condenser. This apparatus
will require some little explanation, and your
Excellencies will please to bear in mind that my
object, in the first place, was to surround myself
and car entirely with a barricade against the highly
rarefied atmosphere in which I was existing—with
the intention of introducing within this barricade, by

-- 063 --

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

means of my condenser, a quantity of this same atmosphere
sufficiently condensed for the purposes of
respiration. With this object in view I had prepared
a very strong, perfectly air-tight, but flexible gumelastic
bag. In this bag, which was of sufficient
dimensions, the entire car was in a manner placed.
That is to say, it (the bag) was drawn over the
whole bottom of the car—up its sides—and so on,
along the outside of the ropes, to the upper rim or
hoop where the net-work is attached. Having pulled
the bag up in this way, and formed a complete enclosure
on all sides, and at bottom, it was now
necessary to fasten up its top or mouth, by passing
its material over the hoop of the net-work—in other
words between the net-work and the hoop. But if
the net-work was separated from the hoop to admit
this passage, what was to sustain the car in the
meantime? Now the net-work was not permanently
fastened to the hoop, but attached by a series of
running loops or nooses. I therefore undid only a
few of these loops at one time, leaving the car suspended
by the remainder. Having thus inserted a
portion of the cloth forming the upper part of the
bag, I refastened the loops—not to the hoop, for
that would have been impossible, since the cloth now
intervened,—but to a series of large buttons, affixed
to the cloth itself, about three feet below the mouth
of the bag—the intervals between the buttons having
been made to correspond to the intervals between
the loops. This done, a few more of the
loops were unfastened from the rim, a farther portion

-- 064 --

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

of the cloth introduced, and the disengaged loops
then connected with their proper buttons. In this
way it was possible to insert the whole upper part
of the bag between the net-work and the hoop. It
is evident that the hoop would now drop down within
the car, while the whole weight of the car itself,
with all its contents, would be held up merely by the
strength of the buttons. This, at first sight, would
seem an inadequate dependence, but it was by no
means so, for the buttons were not only very strong
in themselves, but so close together that a very
slight portion of the whole weight was supported by
any one of them. Indeed, had the car and contents
been three times heavier than they were, I should not
have been at all uneasy. I now raised up the hoop
again within the covering of gum-elastic, and propped
it at nearly its former height by means of three
light poles prepared for the occasion. This was
done, of course, to keep the bag distended at the top,
and to preserve the lower part of the net-work in its
proper situation. All that now remained was to
fasten up the mouth of the enclosure; and this was
readily accomplished by gathering the folds of the
material together, and twisting them up very tightly
on the inside by means of a kind of stationary tourniquet.

In the sides of the covering thus adjusted round
the car, had been inserted three circular panes of
thick but clear glass, through which I could see
without difficulty around me in every horizontal
direction. In that portion of the cloth forming the

-- 065 --

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

bottom, was likewise a fourth window, of the same
kind, and corresponding with a small aperture in the
floor of the car itself. This enabled me to see perpendicularly
down, but having found it impossible to
place any similar contrivance overhead, on account
of the peculiar manner of closing up the opening
there, and the consequent wrinkles in the cloth, I
could expect to see no objects situated directly in my
zenith. This, of course, was a matter of little consequence—
for, had I even been able to place a
window at top, the balloon itself would have prevented
my making any use of it.

About a foot below one of the side windows was
a circular opening eight inches in diameter, and
fitted with a brass rim adapted in its inner edge to
the windings of a screw. In this rim was screwed
the large tube of the condenser, the body of the
machine being, of course, within the chamber of
gum-elastic. Through this tube a quantity of the
rare atmosphere circumjacent being drawn by means
of a vacuum created in the body of the machine,
was thence discharged in a state of condensation to
mingle with the thin air already in the chamber.
This operation, being repeated several times, at
length filled the chamber with atmosphere proper for
all the purposes of respiration. But in so confined a
space it would in a short time necessarily become
foul, and unfit for use from frequent contact with the
lungs. It was then ejected by a small valve at the
bottom of the car—the dense air readily sinking
into the thinner atmosphere below. To avoid the

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[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

inconvenience of making a total vacuum at any
moment within the chamber, this purification was
never accomplished all at once, but in a gradual
manner,—the valve being opened only for a few
seconds, then closed again, until one or two strokes
from the pump of the condenser had supplied the
place of the atmosphere ejected. For the sake of
experiment I had put the cat and kittens in a small
basket, and suspended it outside the car to a button
at the bottom, close by the valve, through which I
could feed them at any moment when necessary. I
did this at some little risk, and before closing the
mouth of the chamber, by reaching under the car
with one of the poles before-mentioned to which a
hook had been attached.

By the time I had fully completed these arrangements
and filled the chamber as explained, it wanted
only ten minutes of nine o'clock. During the whole
period of my being thus employed I endured the
most terrible distress from difficulty of respiration,
and bitterly did I repent the negligence, or rather
fool-hardiness, of which I had been guilty in putting
off to the very last moment a matter of so much
importance. But having at length accomplished it,
I soon began to reap the benefit of my invention.
Once again I breathed with perfect freedom and
ease—and indeed why should I not? I was also
agreeably surprised to find myself, in a great measure,
relieved from the violent pains which had hitherto
tormented me. A slight headache, accompanied with
a sensation of fulness or distention about the wrists,

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[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

the ankles, and the throat, was nearly all of which I
had now to complain. Thus it seemed evident that
a greater part of the uneasiness attending the removal
of atmospheric pressure had actually worn off,
as I had expected, and that much of the pain endured
for the last two hours should have been
attributed altogether to the effects of a deficient respiration.

At twenty minutes before nine o'clock—that is
to say—a short time prior to my closing up the
mouth of the chamber, the mercury attained its limit,
or ran down, in the barometer, which, as I mentioned
before, was one of an extended construction.
It then indicated an altitude on my part of 132000
feet, or five-and-twenty miles, and I consequently
surveyed at that time an extent of the earth's area
amounting to no less than the three-hundred-and-twentieth
part of its entire superficies. At nine
o'clock I had again entirely lost sight of land to the
eastward, but not before I became fully aware that
the balloon was drifting rapidly to the N.N.W. The
convexity of the ocean beneath me was very evident
indeed—although my view was often interrupted
by the masses of cloud which floated to and fro. I
observed now that even the lightest vapors never
rose to more than ten miles above the level of the
sea.

At half-past nine I tried the experiment of throwing
out a handful of feathers through the valve.
They did not float as I had expected—but dropped
down perpendicularly, like a bullet, en masse, and

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[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

with the greatest velocity—being out of sight in a
very few seconds. I did not at first know what to
make of this extraordinary phenomenon: not being
able to believe that my rate of ascent had, of a
sudden, met with so prodigious an acceleration.
But it soon occurred to me that the atmosphere was
now far too rare to sustain even the feathers—that
they actually fell, as they appeared to do, with great
rapidity—and that I had been surprised by the
united velocities of their descent and my own elevation.

By ten o'clock I found that I had very little to
occupy my immediate attention. Affairs went on
swimmingly, and I believed the balloon to be going
upwards with a speed increasing momently, although
I had no longer any means of ascertaining
the progression of the increase. I suffered no pain
or uneasiness of any kind, and enjoyed better spirits
than I had at any period since my departure from
Rotterdam, busying myself now in examining the
state of my various apparatus, and now in regenerating
the atmosphere within the chamber. This latter
point I determined to attend to at regular intervals
of forty minutes, more on account of the preservation
of my health, than from so frequent a renovation
being absolutely necessary. In the meanwhile I
could not help making anticipations. Fancy revelled
in the wild and dreamy regions of the moon. Imagination,
feeling herself for once unshackled,
roamed at will among the ever-changing wonders
of a shadowy and unstable land. Now there were

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hoary and time-honored forests, and craggy precipices,
and waterfalls tumbling with a loud noise into
abysses without a bottom. Then I came suddenly
into still noonday solitudes where no wind of heaven
ever intruded, and where vast meadows of poppies,
and slender, lily-looking flowers spread themselves
out a weary distance, all silent and motionless forever.
Then again I journeyed far down away into
another country where it was all one dim and vague
lake, with a boundary-line of clouds. And out of
this melancholy water arose a forest of tall eastern
trees, like a wilderness of dreams. And I bore in
mind that the shadows of the trees which fell upon
the lake remained not on the surface where they
fell—but sunk slowly and steadily down, and commingled
with the waves, while from the trunks of
the trees other shadows were continually coming
out, and taking the place of their brothers thus entombed.
“This, then,” I said thoughtfully, “is the
very reason why the waters of this lake grow blacker
with age, and more melancholy as the hours run
on.” But fancies such as these were not the sole
possessors of my brain. Horrors of a nature most
stern and most appalling would too frequently obtrude
themselves upon my mind, and shake the
innermost depths of my soul with the bare supposition
of their possibility. Yet I would not suffer my
thoughts for any length of time to dwell upon these
latter speculations, rightly judging the real and palpable
dangers of the voyage sufficient for my undivided
attention.

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[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

At five o'clock P.M., being engaged in regenerating
the atmosphere within the chamber, I took that
opportunity of observing the cat and kittens through
the valve. The cat herself appeared to suffer again
very much, and I had no hesitation in attributing her
uneasiness chiefly to a difficulty in breathing—but
my experiment with the kittens had resulted very
strangely. I had expected of course to see them
betray a sense of pain, although in a less degree than
their mother; and this would have been sufficient to
confirm my opinion concerning the habitual endurance
of atmospheric pressure. But I was not prepared to
find them, upon close examination, evidently enjoying
a high degree of health, breathing with the greatest
ease and perfect regularity, and evincing not the
slightest sign of any uneasiness whatever. I could
only account for all this by extending my theory, and
supposing that the highly rarefied atmosphere around
might perhaps not be, as I had taken for granted,
chemically insufficient for the purposes of life, and
that a person born in such a medium might possibly
be unaware of any inconvenience attending its inhalation,
while, upon removal to the denser strata near
the earth, he might endure tortures of a similar nature
to those I had so lately experienced. It has since
been to me a matter of deep regret that an awkward
accident at this time occasioned me the loss of my
little family of cats, and deprived me of the insight
into this matter which a continued experiment might
have afforded. In passing my hand through the valve
with a cup of water for the old puss, the sleeve of my

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[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

shirt became entangled in the loop which sustained
the basket, and thus, in a moment, loosened it from
the button. Had the whole actually vanished into
air it could not have shot from my sight in a more
abrupt and instantaneous manner. Positively there
could not have intervened the tenth part of a second
between the disengagement of the basket and its absolute
and total disappearance with all that it contained.
My good wishes followed it to the earth, but,
of course, I had no hope that either cat or kittens
would over live to tell the tale of their misfortune.

At six o'clock I perceived a great portion of the
earth's visible area to the eastward involved in thick
shadow, which continued to advance with great
rapidity until, at five minutes before seven, the whole
surface in view was enveloped in the darkness of
night. It was not, however, until long after this time
that the rays of the setting sun ceased to illumine the
balloon; and this circumstance, although of course
fully anticipated, did not fail to give me an infinite
deal of pleasure. It was evident that, in the morning,
I should behold the rising luminary many hours at
least before the citizens of Rotterdam, in spite of their
situation so much farther to the eastward, and thus,
day after day, in proportion to the height ascended,
would I enjoy the light of the sun for a longer and a
longer period. I now determined to keep a journal
of my passage, reckoning the days from one to
twenty-four hours continuously, without taking into
consideration the intervals of darkness.

At ten o'clock, feeling sleepy, I determined to lie

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[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

down for the rest of the night—but here a difficulty
presented itself, which, obvious as it may appear, had
totally escaped my attention up to the very moment
of which I am now speaking. If I went to sleep as
I proposed, how could the atmosphere in the chamber
be regenerated in the interim? To breathe it for
more than an hour, at the farthest, would be a matter
of impossibility; or if even this term could be extended
to an hour and a quarter, the most ruinous
consequences might ensue. The consideration of
this dilemma gave me no little disquietude, and it will
hardly be believed that, after the dangers I had
undergone, I should look upon this business in so serious
a light, as to give up all hope of accomplishing
my ultimate design, and finally make up my mind to
the necessity of a descent. But this hesitation was
only momentary. I reflected that man is the veriest
slave of custom—and that many points in the routine
of his existence are deemed essentially important,
which are only so at all by his having rendered them
habitual. It was very certain that I could not do
without sleep—but I might easily bring myself to
feel no inconvenience from being awakened at regular
intervals of an hour during the whole period of my
repose. It would require but five minutes at most,
to regenerate the atmosphere in the fullest manner,
and the only real difficulty was to contrive a method
of arousing myself at the proper moment for so doing.
But this was a question which, I am willing to confess,
occasioned me no little trouble in its solution. To be
sure, I had heard of the student who, to prevent his

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[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

falling asleep over his books, held in one hand a ball
of copper, the din of whose descent into a basin of
the same metal on the floor beside his chair, served
effectually to startle him up, if, at any moment, he
should be overcome with drowsiness. My own case,
however, was very different indeed, and left me no
room for any similar idea—for I did not wish to keep
awake, but to be aroused from slumber at regular intervals
of time. I at length hit upon the following
expedient, which, simple as it may seem, was hailed
by me, at the moment of discovery, as an invention
fully equal to that of the telescope, the steam-engine,
or the art of printing itself.

It is necessary to premise that the balloon, at the
elevation now attained, continued its course upwards
with an even and undeviating ascent, and the car
consequently followed with a steadiness so perfect
that it would have been impossible to detect in it the
slightest vacillation whatever. This circumstance
favored me greatly in the project I now determined
to adopt. My supply of water had been put on board
in kegs containing five gallons each, and ranged
very securely around the interior of the car. I unfastened
one of these—took two ropes, and tied them
tightly across the rim of the wicker-work from one
side to the other, placing them about a foot apart
and parallel, so as to form a kind of shelf, upon which
I placed the keg and steadied it in a horizontal position.
About eight inches immediately below these
ropes, and four feet from the bottom of the car, I
fastened another shelf—but made of thin plank,

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[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

being the only similar piece of wood I had. Upon
this latter shelf, and exactly beneath one of the rims
of the keg a small earthen pitcher was deposited. I
now bored a hole in the end of the keg over the
pitcher, and fitted in a plug of soft wood, cut in a
tapering or conical shape. This plug I pushed in or
pulled out, as might happen, until, after a few experiments,
it arrived at that exact degree of tightness, at
which the water, oozing from the hole, and falling into
the pitcher below, should fill the latter to the brim in
the period of sixty minutes. This, of course, was a
matter briefly and easily ascertained by noticing the
proportion of the pitcher filled in any given time.
Having arranged all this, the rest of the plan is obvious.
My bed was so contrived upon the floor of
the car, as to bring my head, in lying down, immediately
below the mouth of the pitcher. It was evident,
that, at the expiration of an hour, the pitcher,
getting full, would be forced to run over, and to run
over at the mouth, which was somewhat lower than
the rim. It was also evident, that the water, thus
falling from a height of better than four feet, could
not do otherwise than fall upon my face, and that
the sure consequence would be, to waken me up
instantaneously, even from the soundest slumber in the
world.

It was fully eleven by the time I had completed
these arrangements, and I immediately betook myself
to bed with full confidence in the efficiency of my
invention. Nor in this matter was I disappointed.
Punctually every sixty minutes was I aroused by my

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[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

trusty chronometer, when, having emptied the pitcher
into the bung-hole of the keg, and performed the duties
of the condenser, I retired again to bed. These
regular interruptions to my slumber caused me even
less discomfort than I had anticipated, and when I
finally arose for the day it was seven o'clock, and
the sun had attained many degrees above the line of
my horizon.

April 3d. I found the balloon at an immense
height indeed, and the earth's apparent convexity
increased in a material degree. Below me in the
ocean lay a cluster of black specks, which undoubtedly
were islands. Far away to the northward I perceived
a thin, white, and exceedingly brilliant line or
streak on the edge of the horizon, and I had no hesitation
in supposing it to be the southern disk of the
ices of the Polar sea. My curiosity was greatly
excited, for I had hopes of passing on much farther
to the north, and might possibly, at some period, find
myself placed directly above the Pole itself. I now
lamented that my great elevation would, in this case,
prevent my taking as accurate a survey as I could
wish. Much however might be ascertained. Nothing
else of an extraordinary nature occurred during
the day. My apparatus all continued in good order,
and the balloon still ascended without any perceptible
vacillation. The cold was intense, and obliged me
to wrap up closely in an overcoat. When darkness
came over the earth, I betook myself to bed, although
it was for many hours afterwards broad daylight all
around my immediate situation. The water-clock

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[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

was punctual in its duty, and I slept until next morning
soundly—with the exception of the periodical
interruption.

April 4th. Arose in good health and spirits, and
was astonished at the singular change which had
taken place in the appearance of the sea. It had lost,
in a great measure, the deep tint of blue it had hitherto
worn, being now of a grayish-white, and of a lustre
dazzling to the eye. The islands were no longer
visible—whether they had passed down the horizon
to the south-east, or whether my increasing elevation
had left them out of sight, it is impossible to say. I
was inclined however, to the latter opinion. The
rim of ice to the northward, was growing more and
more apparent. Cold by no means so intense. Nothing
of importance occurred, and I passed the day
in reading—having taken care to supply myself with
books.

April 5th. Beheld the singular phenomenon of
the sun rising while nearly the whole visible surface
of the earth continued to be involved in darkness.
In time, however, the light spread itself over all, and
I again saw the line of ice to the northward. It was
now very distinct, and appeared of a much darker
hue than the waters of the ocean. I was evidently
aproaching it, and with great rapidity. Fancied I
could again distinguish a strip of land to the eastward—
and one also to the westward—but could not be
certain. Weather moderate. Nothing of any consequence
happened during the day. Went early to
bed.

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[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

April 6th. Was surprised at finding the rim of
ice at a very moderate distance, and an immense field
of the same material stretching away off to the horizon
in the north. It was evident that if the balloon held
its present course, it would soon arrive above the
Frozen Ocean, and I had now little doubt of ultimately
seeing the Pole. During the whole of the day I
continued to near the ice. Towards night the limits
of my horizon very suddenly and materially increased,
owing undoubtedly to the earth's form being that of
an oblate spheroid, and my arriving above the flattened
regions in the vicinity of the Arctic circle.
When darkness at length overtook me I went to bed
in great anxiety, fearing to pass over the object of so
much curiosity when I should have no opportunity of
observing it.

April 7th. Arose early, and, to my great joy, at
length beheld what there could be no hesitation in
supposing the northern Pole itself. It was there, beyond
a doubt, and immediately beneath my feet—
but, alas! I had now ascended to so vast a distance
that nothing could with accuracy be discerned. Indeed,
to judge from the progression of the numbers
indicating my various altitudes respectively at different
periods, between six A.M. on the second of April, and
twenty minutes before nine A.M. of the same day, (at
which time the barometer ran down,) it might be
fairly inferred that the balloon had now, at four
o'clock in the morning of April the seventh, reached
a height of not less certainly than 7254 miles above
the surface of the sea. This elevation may appear

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[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

immense, but the estimate upon which it is calculated
gave a result in all probability far inferior to the truth.
At all events I undoubtedly beheld the whole of the
earth's major diameter—the entire northern hemisphere
lay beneath me like a chart orthographically
projected—and the great circle of the equator itself
formed the boundary line of my horizon. Your Excellencies
may, however, readily imagine that the
confined regions hitherto unexplored within the limits
of the Arctic circle, although situated directly beneath
me, and therefore seen without any appearance of
being foreshortened, were still, in themselves, comparatively
too diminutive, and at too great a distance
from the point of sight to admit of any very accurate
examination. Nevertheless what could be seen was
of a nature singular and exciting. Northwardly from
that huge rim before mentioned, and which, with slight
qualification, may be called the limit of human discovery
in these regions, one unbroken, or nearly unbroken
sheet of ice continues to extend. In the first
few degrees of this its progress, its surface is very
sensibly flattened—farther on depressed into a plane—
and finally, becoming not a little concave, it terminates
at the Pole itself in a circular centre, sharply
defined, whose apparent diameter subtended at the
balloon an angle of about sixty-five seconds, and
whose dusky hue, varying in intensity, was, at all
times darker than any other spot upon the visible
hemisphere, and occasionally deepened into the most
absolute and impenetrable blackness. Farther than
this little could be ascertained. By twelve o'clock

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[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

the circular centre had materially decreased in circumference,
and by seven P.M. I lost sight of it entirely—
the balloon passing over the western limb of the
ice, and floating away rapidly in the direction of the
equator.

April 8th. Found a sensible diminution in the
earth's apparent diameter, besides a material alteration
in its general color and appearance. The whole
visible area partook in different degrees of a tint of
pale yellow, and in some portions had acquired a
brilliancy even painful to the eye. My view downwards
was also considerably impeded by the dense
atmosphere in the vicinity of the surface being loaded
with clouds, between whose masses I could only now
and then obtain a glimpse of the earth itself. This
difficulty of direct vision had troubled me more or less
for the last forty-eight hours—but my present enormous
elevation brought closer together, as it were,
the floating bodies of vapor, and the inconvenience
became, of course, more and more palpable in proportion
to my ascent. Nevertheless I could easily
perceive that the balloon now hovered above the
range of great lakes in the continent of North America,
and was holding a course due south which
would soon bring me to the tropics. This circumstance
did not fail to give me the most heartfelt
satisfaction, and I hailed it as a happy omen of ultimate
success. Indeed the direction I had hitherto
taken had filled me with uneasiness; for it was evident
that, had I continued it much longer, there would
have been no possibility of my arriving at the moon

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[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

at all, whose orbit is inclined to the ecliptic at only
the small angle of 5 ° 8′ 48″.

April 9th. To-day, the earth's diameter was
greatly diminished, and the color of the surface assumed
hourly a deeper tint of yellow. The balloon
kept steadily on her course to the southward, and
arrived at nine P.M. over the northern edge of the
Mexican Gulf.

April 10th. I was suddenly aroused from slumber,
about five o'clock this morning, by a loud, crackling,
and terrific sound, for which I could in no manner
account. It was of very brief duration, but, while it
lasted, resembled nothing in the world of which I had
any previous experience. It is needless to say that
I became excessively alarmed, having, in the first
instance, attributed the noise to the bursting of the
balloon. I examined all my apparatus, however,
with great attention, and could discover nothing out
of order. Spent a great part of the day in meditating
upon an occurrence so extraordinary, but could find
no means whatever of accounting for it. Went to
bed dissatisfied, and in a state of great anxiety and
agitation.

April 11th. Found a startling diminution in the
apparent diameter of the earth, and a considerable
increase, now observable for the first time, in that of
the moon itself, which wanted only a few days of
being full. It now required long and excessive labor
to condense within the chamber sufficient atmospheric
air for the sustenance of life.

April 12th. A singular alteration took place in

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[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

regard to the direction of the balloon, and although
fully anticipated, afforded me the most unequivocal
delight. Having reached, in its former course, about
the twentieth parallel of southern latitude, it turned
off suddenly at an acute angle to the eastward, and
thus proceeded throughout the day, keeping nearly,
if not altogether, in the exact plane of the lunar elipse.
What was worthy of remark, a very perceptible vacillation
in the car was a consequence of this change of
route—a vacillation which prevailed, in a more or
less degree, for a period of many hours.

April 13th. Was again very much alarmed by a
repetition of the loud crackling noise which terrified
me on the tenth. Thought long upon the subject,
but was unable to form any satisfactory conclusion.
Great decrease in the earth's apparent diameter,
which now subtended from the balloon an angle
of very little more than twenty-five degrees. The
moon could not be seen at all, being nearly in my
zenith. I still continued in the plane of the elipse,
but made little progress to the eastward.

April 14th. Extremely rapid decrease in the
diameter of the earth. To-day I became strongly
impressed with the idea, that the balloon was now
actually running up the line of apsides to the point of
perigee—in other words, holding the direct course
which would bring it immediately to the moon in
that part of its orbit the nearest to the earth. The
moon itself was directly over-head, and consequently
hidden from my view. Great and long continued

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[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

labor necessary for the condensation of the atmosphere.

April 15th. Not even the outlines of continents
and seas could now be traced upon the earth with
anything approaching to distinctness. About twelve
o'clock I became aware, for the third time, of that
unearthly and appalling sound which had so astonished
me before. It now, however, continued for some
moments and gathered horrible intensity as it continued.
At length, while stupified and terror-stricken
I stood in expectation of I know not what hideous
destruction, the car vibrated with excessive violence,
and a gigantic and flaming mass of some material
which I could not distinguish, came with a voice of
a thousand thunders, roaring and booming by the
balloon. When my fears and astonishment had in
some degree subsided, I had little difficulty in supposing
it to be some mighty volcanic fragment ejected
from that world to which I was so rapidly approaching,
and, in all probability, one of that singular class
of substances occasionally picked up on the earth
and termed meteoric stones for want of a better
appellation.

April 16th. To-day, looking upwards as well I
could, through each of the side windows alternately,
I beheld, to my great delight, a very small portion of
the moon's disk protruding, as it were, on all sides
beyond the huge circumference of the balloon. My
agitation was extreme—for I had now little doubt
of soon reaching the end of my perilous voyage. Indeed
the labor now required by the condenser had

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[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

increased to a most oppressive degree, and allowed
me scarcely any respite from exertion. Sleep was
a matter nearly out of the question. I became quite
ill, and my frame trembled with exhaustion. It was
impossible that human nature could endure this state
of intense suffering much longer. During the now
brief interval of darkness a meteoric stone again
passed in my vicinity, and the frequency of these
phenomena began to occasion me much anxiety and
apprehension.

April 17th. This morning proved an epoch in
my voyage. It will be remembered that, on the
thirteenth, the earth subtended an angular breadth of
twenty-five degrees. On the fourteenth, this had
greatly diminished—on the fifteenth, a still more
rapid decrease was observable—and on retiring for
the night of the sixteenth I had noticed an angle of
no more than about seven degrees and fifteen minutes.
What, therefore, must have been my amazement on
awakening from a brief and disturbed slumber on the
morning of this day, the seventeenth, at finding the
surface beneath me so suddenly and wonderfully
augmented in volume as to subtend no less than
thirty-nine degrees in apparent angular diameter! I
was thunderstruck. No words—no earthly expression
can give any adequate idea of the extreme—
the absolute horror and astonishment with which I
was seized, possessed, and altogether overwhelmed.
My knees tottered beneath me—my teeth chattered—
my hair started up on end. “The balloon then
had actually burst”—these were the first tumultuous

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[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

ideas which hurried through my mind—“the balloon
had positively burst. I was falling—falling—
falling—with the most intense, the most impetuous,
the most unparalleled velocity. To judge from the
immense distance already so quickly passed over, it
could not be more than ten minutes, at the farthest,
before I should meet the surface of the earth, and be
hurled into annihilation.” But at length reflection
came to my relief. I paused—I considered—and
I began to doubt. The matter was impossible. I
could not in any reason have so rapidly come down.
Besides, although I was evidently approaching the
surface below me, it was with a speed by no means
commensurate with the velocity I had at first so horribly
conceived. This consideration served to calm
the perturbation of my mind, and I finally succeeded
in regarding the phenomenon in its proper point of
view. In fact amazement must have fairly deprived
me of my senses when I could not see the vast difference,
in appearance, between the surface below
me, and the surface of my mother earth. The latter
was indeed over my head, and completely hidden by
the balloon, while the moon—the moon itself in all
its glory—lay beneath me, and at my feet.

The stupor and surprise produced in my mind by
this extraordinary change in the posture of affairs
was perhaps, after all, that part of the adventure least
susceptible of explanation. For the bouleversement
in itself was not only natural and inevitable, but had
been long actually anticipated as a circumstance to
be expected whenever I should arrive at that exact

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[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

point of my voyage where the attraction of the planet
should be superseded by the attraction of the satellite—
or, more precisely, where the gravitation of the
balloon towards the earth should be less powerful
than its gravitation towards the moon. To be sure
I arose from a sound slumber, with all my senses in
confusion, to the contemplation of a very startling
phenomenon, and one which, although expected, was
not expected at the moment. The revolution itself
must, of course, have taken place in an easy and
gradual manner, and it is by no means clear that,
had I even been awake at the time of the occurrence,
I should have been made aware of it by any internal
evidence of an inversion—that is to say by any inconvenience
or disarrangement either about my person
or about my apparatus.

It is almost needless to say that upon coming to a
due sense of my situation, and emerging from the
terror which had absorbed every faculty of my soul,
my attention was, in the first place, wholly directed
to the contemplation of the general physical appearance
of the moon. It lay beneath me like a chart,
and although I judged it to be still at no inconsiderable
distance, the indentures of its surface were defined
to my vision with a most striking and altogether unaccountable
distinctness. The entire absence of
ocean or sea, and indeed of any lake or river, or
body of water whatsoever, struck me, at the first
glance, as the most extraordinary feature in its
geological condition. Yet, strange to say! I beheld
vast level regions of a character decidedly alluvial

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[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

—although by far the greater portion of the hemisphere
in sight was covered with innumerable volcanic
mountains, conical in shape, and having more the appearance
of artificial than of natural protuberances.
The highest among them does not exceed three and
three-quarter miles in perpendicular elevation—but
a map of the volcanic districts of the Campi Phlegr
æi would afford to your Excellencies a better idea
of their general surface than any unworthy description
I might think proper to attempt. The greater
part of them were in a state of evident eruption, and
gave me fearfully to understand their fury and their
power by the repeated thunders of the miscalled
meteoric stones which now rushed upwards by the
balloon with a frequency more and more appalling.

April 18th. To-day I found an enormous increase
in the moon's apparent bulk, and the evidently accelerated
velocity of my descent began to fill me with
alarm. It will be remembered that, in the earliest
stage of my speculations upon the possibility of a
passage to the moon, the existence in its vicinity of
an atmosphere dense in proportion to the bulk of the
planet had entered largely into my calculations—
this too in spite of many theories to the contrary,
and, it may be added, in spite of a general disbelief
in the existence of any lunar atmosphere at all.
But, in addition to what I have already urged in
regard to Encke's comet and the zodiacal light, I
had been strengthened in my opinion by certain observations
of Mr. Schroeter, of Lilienthal. He observed
the moon, when two days and a half old, in

-- 087 --

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

the evening soon after sunset, before the dark part
was visible, and continued to watch it until it became
visible. The two cusps appeared tapering in a very
sharp faint prolongation, each exhibiting its farthest
extremity faintly illuminated by the solar rays, before
any part of the dark hemisphere was visible. Soon
afterwards, the whole dark limb became illuminated.
This prolongation of the cusps beyond the semicircle,
I thought, must have arisen from the refraction of the
sun's rays by the moon's atmosphere. I computed,
also, the height of the atmosphere (which could refract
light enough into its dark hemisphere, to produce
a twilight more luminous than the light reflected
from the earth when the moon is about 32 ° from the
new) to be 1356 Paris feet; in this view, I supposed
the greatest height capable of refracting the solar ray,
to be 5376 feet. My ideas upon this topic had also
received confirmation by a passage in the 82d volume
of the Philosophical Transactions, in which it is
stated that at an occultation of Jupiter's satellites, the
third disappeared after having been about 1″ or 2″
of time indistinct, and the fourth became indiscernible
near the limb.5

-- 088 --

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

Upon the resistance, or more properly, upon the
support of an atmosphere, existing in the state of
density imagined, I had, of course, entirely depended
for the safety of my ultimate descent. Should I then,
after all, prove to have been mistaken, I had in consequence
nothing better to expect as a finale to my
adventure than being dashed into atoms against the
rugged surface of the satellite. And indeed I had
now every reason to be terrified. My distance from
the moon was comparatively trifling, while the labor
required by the condenser was diminished not at all,
and I could discover no indication whatever of a decreasing
rarity in the air.

April 19th. This morning, to my great joy, about
nine o'clock, the surface of the moon being frightfully
near, and my apprehensions excited to the utmost,
the pump of my condenser at length gave evident
tokens of an alteration in the atmosphere. By ten I
had reason to believe its density considerably increased.
By eleven very little labor was necessary
at the apparatus—and at twelve o'clock, with some
hesitation, I ventured to unscrew the tourniquet,

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when, finding no inconvenience from having done so,
I finally threw open the gum-elastic chamber, and
unrigged it from around the car. As might have
been expected, spasms and violent headache were the
immediate consequence of an experiment so precipitate
and full of danger. But these and other difficulties
attending respiration, as they were by no
means so great as to put me in peril of my life, I determined
to endure as I best could, in consideration
of my leaving them behind me momently in my
approach to the denser strata near the moon. This
approach, however, was still impetuous in the extreme;
and it soon became alarmingly certain that,
although I had probably not been deceived in the expectation
of an atmosphere dense in proportion to the
mass of the satellite, still I had been wrong in supposing
this density, even at the surface, at all adequate
to the support of the great weight contained in
the car of my balloon. Yet this should have been
the case, and in an equal degree as at the surface of
the earth, the actual gravity of bodies at either planet
being supposed in the ratio of their atmospheric condensation.
That it was not the case however my precipitous
downfall gave testimony enough—why it
was not so, can only be explained by a reference to
those possible geological disturbances to which I have
formerly alluded. At all events I was now close
upon the planet, and coming down with the most
terrible impetuosity. I lost not a moment accordingly
in throwing overboard first my ballast, then
my water-kegs, then my condensing apparatus and

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[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

gum-elastic chamber, and finally every individual
article within the car. But it was all to no purpose.
I still fell with horrible rapidity, and was now not
more than half a mile at farthest from the surface.
As a last resource, therefore, having got rid of my
coat, hat, and boots, I cut loose from the balloon the
car itself,
which was of no inconsiderable weight,
and thus, clinging with both hands to the hoop of the
net-work, I had barely time to observe that the whole
country as far as the eye could reach was thickly interspersed
with diminutive habitations, ere I tumbled
headlong into the very heart of a fantastical-looking
city, and into the middle of a vast crowd of ugly
little people, who none of them uttered a single
syllable, or gave themselves the least trouble to render
me assistance, but stood, like a parcel of idiots, grinning
in a ludicrous manner, and eyeing me and my
balloon askant with their arms set a-kimbo. I turned
from them in contempt, and gazing upwards at the
earth so lately left, and left perhaps forever, beheld
it like a huge, dull, copper shield, about two degrees
in diameter, fixed immoveably in the heavens overhead,
and tipped on one of its edges with a crescent
border of the most brilliant gold. No traces of land
or water could be discovered, and the whole was
clouded with variable spots, and belted with tropical
and equatorial zones.

Thus, may it please your Excellencies, after a
series of great anxieties, unheard of dangers, and
unparalleled escapes, I had, at length, on the nineteenth
day of my departure from Rotterdam, arrived

-- 091 --

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

in safety at the conclusion of a voyage undoubtedly
the most extraordinary, and the most momentous,
ever accomplished, undertaken, or conceived by any
denizen of earth. But my adventures yet remain to
be related. And indeed your Excellencies may well
imagine that after a residence of five years upon a
planet not only deeply interesting in its own peculiar
character, but rendered doubly so by its intimate
connection, in capacity of satellite, with the world
inhabited by man, I may have intelligence for the
private ear of the States' College of Astronomers of
far more importance than the details, however wonderful,
of the mere voyage which so happily concluded.
This is, in fact, the case. I have much—
very much which it would give me the greatest
pleasure to communicate. I have much to say of
the climate of the planet—of its wonderful alternations
of heat and cold—of unmitigated and burning
sunshine for one fortnight, and more than polar
frigidity for the next—of a constant transfer of
moisture, by distillation like that in vacuo, from
the point beneath the sun to the point the farthest
from it—of a variable zone of running water—of
the people themselves—of their manners, customs,
and political institutions—of their peculiar physical
construction—of their ugliness—of their want of
ears, those useless appendages in an atmosphere so
peculiarly modified—of their consequent ignorance
of the use and properties of speech—of their substitute
for speech in a singular method of

-- 092 --

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

intercommunication—of the incomprehensible connection
between each particular individual in the moon, with
some particular individual on the earth—a connection
analogous with, and depending upon that of the
orbs of the planet and the satellite, and by means of
which the lives and destinies of the inhabitants of the
one are interwoven with the lives and destinies of
the inhabitants of the other—and above all, if it so
please your Excellencies, above all of those dark and
hideous mysteries which lie in the outer regions of
the moon—regions which, owing to the almost
miraculous accordance of the satellite's rotation on
its own axis with its sidereal revolution about the
earth, have never yet been turned, and, by God's
mercy, never shall be turned, to the scrutiny of the
telescopes of man. All this, and more—much more—
would I most willingly detail. But to be brief, I
must have my reward. I am pining for a return to
my family and to my home: and as the price of any
farther communications on my part—in consideration
of the light which I have it in my power to
throw upon many very important branches of physical
and metaphysical science—I must solicit,
through the influence of your honorable body, a
pardon for the crime of which I have been guilty in
the death of the creditors upon my departure from
Rotterdam. This, then, is the object of the present
paper. Its bearer, an inhabitant of the moon, whom
I have prevailed upon, and properly instructed, to be
my messenger to the earth, will await your

-- 093 --

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

Excellencies' pleasure, and return to me with the pardon
in question, if it can, in any manner, be obtained.

I have the honor to be, &c., your Excellencies'
very humble servant,

HANS PHAALL.

Upon finishing the perusal of this very extraordinary
document, Professor Rub-a-dub, it is said,
dropped his pipe upon the ground in the extremity of
his surprise, and Mynheer Superbus Von Underduik
having taken off his spectacles, wiped them, and deposited
them in his pocket, so far forgot both himself
and his dignity, as to turn round three times upon
his heel in the quintessence of astonishment and admiration.
There was no doubt about the matter—
the pardon should be obtained. So at least swore,
with a round oath, Professor Rub-a-dub, and so
finally thought the illustrious Von Underduk, as he
took the arm of his brother in science, and without
saying a word, began to make the best of his way
home to deliberate upon the measures to be adopted.
Having reached the door, however, of the burgomaster's
dwelling, the professor ventured to suggest
that as the messenger had thought proper to disappear—
no doubt frightened to death by the savage
appearance of the burghers of Rotterdam—the
pardon would be of little use, as no one but a man
of the moon would undertake a voyage to so horrible
a distance. To the truth of this observation the
burgomaster assented, and the matter was therefore
at an end. Not so, however, rumors and speculations.
The letter, having been published, gave rise

-- 094 --

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

to a variety of gossip and opinion. Some of the
over-wise even made themselves ridiculous by decrying
the whole business as nothing better than a hoax.
But hoax, with these sort of people, is, I believe, a
general term for all matters above their comprehension.
For my part I cannot conceive upon what
data they have founded such an accusation. Let us
see what they say:

Imprimis. That certain wags in Rotterdam have
certain especial antipathies to certain burgomasters
and astronomers.

Don't understand at all.

Secondly. That an odd little dwarf and bottle
conjurer, both of whose ears, for some misdemeanor,
have been cut off close to his head, has been missing
for several days from the neighboring city of Bruges.

Well—what of that?

Thirdly. That the newspapers which were stuck
all over the little balloon were newspapers of Holland,
and therefore could not have been made in the
moon. They were dirty papers—very dirty—and
Gluck, the printer, would take his bible oath to their
having been printed in Rotterdam.

He was mistaken—undoubtedly—mistaken.

Fourthly. That Hans Phaall himself, the drunken
villain, and the three very idle gentlemen styled his
creditors, were all seen, no longer than two or three
days ago, in a tippling house in the suburbs, having
just returned, with money in their pockets, from a
trip beyond the sea.

Don't believe it—don't believe a word of it.

-- 095 --

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

Lastly. That it is an opinion very generally received,
or which ought to be generally received, that
the College of Astronomers in the city of Rotterdam—
as well as all other colleges in all other parts of
the world—not to mention colleges and astronomers
in general—are, to say the least of the matter,
not a whit better, nor greater, nor wiser than they
ought to be.

eaf320v2.22. The zodiacal light is probably what the ancients called
Trabes. Emicant Trabes quos docos vocant.—Pliny lib. 2,
p. 26.
eaf320v2.3

3. Since the original publication of Hans Phaall I find that
Mr. Green, of Nassan-balloon notoriety, and other late aeronauts,
deny the assertions of Humboldt, in this respect, and
speak of a decreasing inconvenience—precisely in accordance
with the theory here urged in a mere spirit of banter.

eaf320v2.4

4. Hevelius writes that he has several times found, in skies
perfectly clear, when even stars of the sixth and seventh magnitude
were conspicuous, that, at the same altitude of the moon,
at the same elongation from the earth, and with one and the
same excellent telescope, the moon and its maculæ did not appear
equally lucid at all times. From the circumstances of the
observation, it is evident that the cause of this phenomenon is
not either in our air, in the tube, in the moon, or in the eye of
the spectator, but must be looked for in something (an atmosphere?)
existing about the moon.

Cassini frequently observed Saturn, Jupiter, and the fixed stars,
when approaching the moon to occultation, to have their circular
figure changed into an oval one, and, in other occultations, he
found no alteration of figure at all. Hence it might be supposed
that at some times and not at others, there is a dense matter encompassing
the moon wherein the rays of the stars are refracted.

eaf320v2.55. There is, strictly speaking, but little similarity between
this sketchy trifle and the very celebrated and very beautiful
“Moon-story” of Mr. Locke—but as both have the character
of hoaxes, (although the one is in a tone of banter, the other of
downright earnest,) and as both hoaxes are on the same subject,
the moon—the author of “Hans Phaall” thinks it necessary
to say, in self-defence, that his own jen-d'esprit was published,
in the Southern Literary Messenger, about three weeks previously
to the appearance of Mr. L.'s, in the New York “Sun.” Fancying
a similarity which does not really exist, some of the New
York papers copied Hans Phaall, and collated it with the Hoax—
with the view of detecting the writer of the one in the
writer of the other.

-- --

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-- 097 --

p320-357 A TALE OF JERUSALEM.

Intensos rigidam in frontem ascendere canos
Passus erat—

LucanDe Catone.

—a bristly bore.

Translation.

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

Let us hurry to the walls”—said Abel-Phittim
to Buzi-Ben-Levi, and Simeon the Pharisee, on the
tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the year of the
world three thousand nine hundred and forty-one—
“let us hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of
Benjamin, which is in the city of David, and overlooking
the camp of the uncircumcised—for it is the
last hour of the fourth watch, being sunrise; and the
idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey,
should be awaiting us with the lambs for the sacrifices.”

Simeon, Abel-Phittim, and Buzi-Ben-Levi were the
Gizbarim, or sub-collectors of the offering, in the
holy city of Jerusalem.

“Verily”—replied the Pharisee—“let us hasten:
for this generosity in the heathen is unwonted; and

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[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

fickle-mindedness has ever been an attribute of the
worshippers of Baal.”

“That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is
as true as the Pentateuch”—said Buzi-Ben-Levi—
“but that is only towards the people of Adonai.
When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved
wanting to their own interest? Methinks it is no
great stretch of generosity to allow us lambs for the
altar of the Lord, receiving in lieu thereof thirty
silver shekels per head!”

“Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi”—replied
Abel-Phittim—“that the Roman Pompey, who is now
impiously besieging the city of the Most High, has
no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus purchased
for the altar, to the sustenance of the body,
rather than of the spirit.”

“Now, by the five corners of my beard”—shouted
the Pharisee, who belonged to the sect called The
Dashers (that little knot of saints whose manner of
dashing and lacerating the feet against the pavement
was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees—
a stumbling-block to less gifted perambulators)—
“by the five corners of that beard which as
a priest I am forbidden to shave!—have we lived
to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous
upstart of Rome shall accuse us of appropriating to
the appetites of the flesh the most holy and consecrated
elements? Have we lived to see the day
when”—

“Let us not question the motives of the Philistine”—
interrupted Abel-Phittim—“for to-day we

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[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

profit for the first time by his avarice or by his generosity.
But rather let us hurry to the ramparts, lest
offerings should be wanting for that altar whose fire
the rains of heaven cannot extinguish—and whose
pillars of smoke no tempest can turn aside.”

That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarim
now hastened, and which bore the name of its
architect King David, was esteemed the most strongly
fortified district of Jerusalem—being situated upon
the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here a broad, deep,
circumvallatory trench—hewn from the solid rock—
was defended by a wall of great strength erected
upon its inner edge. This wall was adorned, at
regular interspaces, by square towers of white
marble—the lowest sixty—the highest one hundred
and twenty cubits in height. But in the vicinity of
the gate of Benjamin the wall arose by no means immediately
from the margin of the fosse. On the contrary,
between the level of the ditch and the basement
of the rampart, sprang up a perpendicular cliff of two
hundred and fifty cubits—forming part of the precipitous
Mount Moriah. So that when Simeon and his
associates arrived on the summit of the tower called
Adoni-Bezek—the loftiest of all the turrets around
about Jerusalem, and the usual place of conference
with the besieging army—they looked down upon
the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling,
by many feet, that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and,
by several, that of the Temple of Belus.

“Verily”—sighed the Pharisee, as he peered
dizzily over the precipice—“the uncircumcised are

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[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

as the sands by the sea-shore—as the locusts in the
wilderness! The valley of The King hath become
the valley of Adommin.”

“And yet”—added Ben-Levi—“thou canst not
point me out a Philistine—no, not one—from Aleph
to Tau—from the wilderness to the battlements—
who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!”

“Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!”—
here shouted a Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough
voice, which appeared to issue from the regions of
Pluto—“lower away the basket with that accursed
coin which it has broken the jaw of a noble Roman
to pronounce! Is it thus you evince your gratitude
to our master Pompeius, who, in his condescension,
has thought fit to listen to your idolatrous importunities?
The god Phœbus, who is a true god, has
been charioted for an hour—and were you not to
be on the ramparts by sunrise? Ædepol! do you
think that we, the conquerors of the world, have
nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls
of every kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth?
Lower away! I say—and see that your trumpery
be bright in color, and just in weight!”

“El Elohim!”—ejaculated the Pharisee, as the
discordant tones of the centurion rattled up the crags
of the precipice, and fainted away against the
Temple—El Elohim!—who is the god Phœbus?—
whom doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi!
who art read in the laws of the Gentiles,
and hast sojourned among them who dabble with the
Teraphim!—is it Nergal of whom the idolator

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[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

speaketh?—or Ashimah?—or Nibhaz?—or Tartak?—
or Adramalech?—or Anamalech?—or Succoth-Benoth?—
or Dagon?—or Belial?—or Ball-Perith?—
or Baal-Peor?—or Baal-Zebub?”

“Verily, it is neither—but beware how thou
lettest the rope slip too rapidly through thy fingers—
for should the wicker-work chance to hang on the
projection of yonder crag, there will be a woful outpouring
of the holy things of the sanctuary.”

By the assistance of some rudely-constructed machinery,
the heavily-laden basket was now lowered
carefully down among the multitude—and, from the
giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen crowding
confusedly around it—but, owing to the vast height
and the prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their
operations could be obtained.

A half-hour had already elapsed.

“We shall be too late”—sighed the Pharisee, as,
at the expiration of this period, he looked over into
the abyss—“we shall be too late—we shall be
turned out of office by the Katholim.”

“No more”—responded Abel-Phittim—“no more
shall we feast upon the fat of the land—no longer
shall our beards be odorous with frankincense—
our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple.”

“Raca!”—swore Ben-Levi—“Raca!—do they
mean to defraud us of the purchase-money?—or,
Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of the
tabernacle?”

“They have given the signal at last”—cried the
Pharisee—“they have given the signal at last!—

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pull away, Abel-Phittim!—and thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi,
pull away!—for verily the Philistines have either
still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened
their hearts to place therein a beast of good weight!”
And the Gizbarim pulled away, while their burthen
swung heavily upwards through the still increasing
mist.

* * * * * * * *

“Booshoh he!”—as, at the conclusion of an hour,
some object at the extremity of the rope became indistinctly
visible—“Booshoh he!”—was the exclamation
which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi.

“Booshoh he!—for shame!—it is a ram from
the thickets of Engedi, and as rugged as the valley
of Jehosaphat!”

“It is a firstling of the flock,”—said Abel-Phittim—
“I know him by the bleating of his lips, and the
innocent folding of his limbs. His eyes are more
beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral—and his
flesh is like the honey of Hebron.”

“It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan”—
said the Pharisee—“the heathen have dealt
wonderfully with us—let us raise up our voices in a
psalm—let us give thanks on the shawm and on the
psaltery—on the harp and on the huggab—on the
cythern and on the sackbut.”

It was not until the basket had arrived within a
few feet of the Gizbarim, that a low grunt betrayed
to their perception a hog of no common size.

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[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

“Now El Emanu!”—slowly, and with upturned
eyes ejaculated the trio, as, letting go their hold, the
emancipated porker tumbled headlong among the
Philistines—“El Emanu!—God be with us!—it
is the unutterable flesh!”

“Let me no longer,” said the Pharisee, wrapping
his cloak around him and departing within the city—
“let me no longer be called Simeon, which signifieth,
'he who listens'—but rather Boanerges, 'the son of
Thunder.' ”

-- --

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-- 105 --

p320-365 VON JUNG.

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

My friend, the Baron Ritzner Von Jung, was of 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 some vivid, although by no
means the most vivid exemplifications. My acquaintance
with him—with Ritzner—commenced at the
magnificent Chateau Jung, into which a train of
droll adventures, not to be made public, threw me
par hazard during the summer months of the year
18—. Here it was I obtained 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 separation, we met at G—n,
I knew all that it was necessary to know 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

-- 106 --

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

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 this
opinion. That he was unique appeared so undeniable,
it was deemed not pertinent 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, moral feelings, and physical
propensities of the whole community which surrounded
him, an influence the most extensive and absolutely
despotic, yet at the same time the most indefinitive
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 Vong Jung.”

I have seen—and be it here borne in mind that
gentlemen still living in Gotham who have been with
myself witness of these things will have full recollection
of the passages to which I now merely allude—
I have seen, then, the most outrageously preposterous
of events brought about by the most intangible
and apparently inadequate of means. I have seen—
what, indeed, have I not seen? I have seen Villanova,
the danseuse, lecturing in the chair of National
Law, and I have seen D—, P—, T—,
and Von C—, all enraptured with her profundity.

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I have seen the protector, the consul, and the whole
faculty aghast at the convolutions of a weathercock.
I have seen Sontag received with hisses, and a
hurdy-gurdy with sighs. I have seen an ox-cart,
with oxen, on the summit of the Rotunda. I have
seen all the pigs of G—n in periwigs, and all her
cows in canonicals. I have seen fifteen hundred
vociferous cats in the steeple of St. P—. I have
seen the college chapel bombarded—I have seen the
college ramparts most distressingly placarded—I
have seen the whole world by the ears—I have seen
old Wertemuller in tears—and, more than all, I have
seen such events come to be regarded as the most
reasonable, commendable, and inevitable things in
creation, through the silent, yet all-pervading and
magical influence of the dominator Baron Ritzner
Von Jung.

Upon the Baron's advent to G—n, he sought me
out in my apartments. He was 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. In stature
he was about five feet eight inches. He was by no
means a handsome man—perhaps rather 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 fashion that

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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. My readers have thus the
physical baron before them. What I shall add respecting
those mental peculiarities to which I have as yet
only partially adverted, will be told in my own words—
for I find that, in speaking of my friend, I have
been falling unwittingly into one of the many odd
literary mannerisms of the dominator Baron Ritzner
Von Jung.

It will be perceived, no doubt, from what I have
already said, that the Baron was neither more nor
less than 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 projects into effect.
I firmly believe that no student at G—n, during
that renowned epoch so 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,

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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 mysti&longs;ique lay in that consummate ability
(resulting from an almost intuitive knowledge of
human nature, and the 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 praiseworthy 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 sceptical 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 given
rise. How this difficult point was accomplished I
have become fully aware by means of a long course
of observation on the oddities of my friend, and by
means of frequent dissertations on the subject from
himself; but upon this matter I cannot dilate. In
no instance, however, before that of which I speak,
have I known the habitual mystific escape the natural
consequence of his manœuvres, an attachment of the
ludicrous to his own character and person. Continually
enveloped in an atmosphere of whim, my

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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.

To enter fully into the labyrinths of the Baron's
finesse, or even to follow him in that droll career of
practical mystification which gave him so wonderful
an ascendency over the mad spirits of G—n, would
lead me to a far greater length than I have prescribed
to myself in this article. I may dwell upon these
topics hereafter, and then not in petto. I am well
aware that in tracing minutely and deliberately to
their almost magical results the operations of an
intellect like that of Ritzner, wherein an hereditary
and cultivated taste for the bizarre was allied with
an intuitive acumen in regard to the every-day impulses
of the heart—an untrodden field would be
found to lie open before me, rich in novelty and vigor,
of emotion and incident, and abounding in rare food
for both speculation and analysis. But this, I have
already said, could not be accomplished in little space.
Moreover, the Baron is still living in Belgium, and it
is not without the limits of the possible that his eye
may rest upon what I am now writing. I shall be
careful, therefore, not to disclose, at least thus and
here, the mental machinery which he has a pleasure,
however whimsical, in keeping concealed. An anecdote
at random, however, may convey some idea of
the spirit of his practice. The method varied ad infinitum;
and in this well-sustained variety lay chiefly

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the secret of that unsuspectedness with which his
multifarious operations were conducted.

During the epoch of the domination it really appeared
that the demon of the dolce far niente lay
like an incubus upon the university. Nothing was
done, at least, 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 your humble servant, and the Baron
Ritzner Von Jung—for it must be understood that
we were chums. 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 connexion, 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 Quixottic notions some recent Parisian
publications, backed by three or four desperate
and fatal rencontres at G—n, had given new
vigor and impulse; and thus the 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,

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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, if I may so speak, 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 one
of the greatest asses in all Christendom. 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. His
personal appearance was so peculiar that I feel confident
my outline of him will be recognised at once
by all who have been in company with the model.
He was one of the tallest men I have ever seen, being
full six feet and a half. His proportions were singularly
mal-apropos. His legs were brief, bowed,
and very slender; while above them arose a trunk

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worthy of the Farnesian Hercules. His shoulders,
nevertheless, were round, his neck long although
thick, and a general stoop forward gave him a
slouching air. His head was of colossal dimensions,
and overshadowed by a dense mass of straight raven
hair, two huge locks of which, stiffly plastered with
pomatum, extended with a lachrymose air down the
temples, and partially over the cheek bones—a
fashion which of late days has wormed itself (the
wonder is that it has not arrived here before) into
the good graces of the denizens of the United States.
But the face itself was the chief oddity. The upper
region was finely proportioned, and gave indication
of the loftiest species of intellect. The forehead was
massive and broad, the organs of ideality over the
temples, as well as those of causality, comparison,
and eventuality, which betray themselves above the
os frontis, being so astonishingly developed as to
attract the instant notice of every person who saw
him. The eyes were full, brilliant, beaming with
what might be mistaken for intelligence, and well
relieved by the short, straight, picturesque-looking
eyebrow, which is perhaps one of the surest indications
of general ability. The aquiline nose, too, was
superb; certainly nothing more magnificent was ever
beheld, nothing more delicate nor more exquisitely
modelled. All these things were well enough, as I
have said; it was the inferior portions of the visage
which abounded in deformity, and which gave the
lie instanter to the tittle-tattle of the superior. The
upper lip (a huge lip in length) had the appearance

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of being swollen as by the sting of a bee, and was
rendered still more atrocious by a little spot of very
black mustachio immediately beneath the nose. The
under lip, apparently disgusted with the gross obesity
of its fellow, seemed bent upon resembling it as little
as might be, and getting as far removed from it as
possible. It was accordingly very curt and thin,
hanging back as if utterly ashamed of being seen;
while the chin, retreating still an inch or two farther,
might have been taken for—anything in the universe
but a chin.

In this abrupt transition, or rather descent, in
regard to character, from the upper to the lower regions
of the face, an analogy was preserved between
the face itself and the body at large, whose peculiar
construction I have spoken of before. The result of
the entire conformation was, that opinions directly
conflicting were daily entertained in respect to the
personal appearance of Hermann. Erect, he was
absolutely hideous, and seemed to be, what in fact
he really was, a fool. At table, with his hands covering
the lower part of his visage, (an attitude of deep
meditation which he much affected,) truly I never
witnessed a more impressive tableau than his general
appearance presented. As a duellist he had acquired
great renown, even at G—n. I forget the precise
number of victims 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.

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These things were a hobby which he rode to the
death. To Ritzner, ever upon the look-out for the
grotesque, his peculiarities, bodily and mental, 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 chum,
and that Hermann was its especial object.

As the former proceeded in his discourse, or rather
monologue, I perceived the excitement of Hermann
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 very
pale, then excessively red, then, dropping his

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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 afterwards he stood erect, confronting
Hermann, and so total an alteration of countenance
in so short a period I certainly never witnessed
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 the present 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

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consider, for an instant, the reflection of your person in
younder mirror as the living Mynheer Hermann himself.
This being done there will be no difficulty
whatever. I shall discharge this decanter of wine at
your image in yonder mirror, and thus fulfil all the
spirit, if not the exact letter, of resentment for your
insult, while the necessity of physical violence to your
real person will be obviated,” With these words he
hurled the decanter full of wine furiously against the
mirror which hung directly opposite Hermann,
striking the reflection of his person with great precision,
and of course shattering the glass into fragments.
The whole company at once started to their
feet, and, with the exception of myself and Ritzner,
took their hats for departure. As Hermann went
out, the Baron whispered me that I should follow him
and make an offer of my services. To this I agreed,
not knowing precisely what to make of so ridiculous
a piece of business.

The duellist accepted my aid with his usual stiff,
and ultra-recherché air, and taking my arm, led me
to his apartment. I could hardly forbear laughing
in his face while he proceeded to discuss with the
profoundest gravity what he termed “the refinedly
peculiar character” of the insult he had received.
After a tiresome harangue in his ordinary style, he
took down from his book-shelves a number of musty
volumes on the subject of the duello, and entertained
me for a long time with their contents; reading
aloud, and commenting earnestly as he read. I can
just remember the titles of some of the works. There

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was the “Ordonnance of Philip le Bel on Single
Combat;” the “Theatre of Honor” by Favyn; and
a treatise “On the Permission of Duels” by Andigiuer.
He displayed, also, with much pomposity,
Brantome's “Memoirs of Duels,” published at
Cologne, in 1666, in the types of Elzevir—a precious
and unique vellum-paper volume, with a fine
margin, and bound by Derôme. But he requested
my attention particularly, and with an air of mysterious
sagacity, to a thick octavo, written in barbarous
Latin by one Hedelin a Frenchman, and
having the quaint title, “Duelli Lex scripta, et non,
aliterque
.
” From this he read me one of the drollest
chapters in the world concerning “(Injuriœ per applicationem,
per constructionem, et per se,
” about
half of which, he averred, was strictly applicable to
his own “refinedly peculiar” case, although not
one syllable of the whole matter could I understand
for the life of me. Having finished the chapter he
closed the book, and demanded what I thought necessary
to be done. I replied that I had entire confidence
in his superior delicacy of feeling, and would
abide by what he proposed. With this answer he
seemed flattered, and sat down to write a note to
the Baron. It ran thus:

Sir,

My friend, Mr. P—, will hand you this note. I
find it incumbent upon me to request, at your earliest
convenience, an explanation of this evening's occurrences
at your chambers. In the event of your

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declining this request, Mr. P. will be happy to arrange
with any friend whom you may appoint, the steps
preliminary to a meeting.

With sentiments of perfect respect,
Your most humble servant,
Johan Hermann.

To the Baron Ritzner Von Jung.
August 18th, 18—.”

Not knowing what better to do, I called upon
Ritzner with this epistle. He bowed as I presented
it, and, with a grave countenance, motioned me to
a seat. He then said that he was aware of the contents
of the note, and that he did not wish to peruse
it. With this, to my great astonishment, he repeated
the letter nearly verbatim, handing me, at the same
time, an already written reply. This, which ran
as follows, I carried to Hermann:

Sir,

Through our common friend, Mr. P., I have received
your note of this evening. Upon due reflection
I frankly admit the propriety of the explanation
you suggest. This being admitted, I still find great
difficulty, (owing to the refinedly peculiar nature of
our disagreement, and of the personal affront offered
on my part,) in so wording what I have to say by
way of apology, as to meet all the minute exigencies,
and, as it were, all the variable shadows of the case.
I have great reliance, however, on that extreme
delicacy of discrimination, in matters appertaining to

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the rules of etiquette, for which you have been so
long so pre-eminently distinguished. With perfect
certainty, therefore, of being comprehended, I beg
leave, in lieu of offering any sentiments of my own,
to refer you to the opinions of the Sieur Hedelin, as
set forth in the ninth paragraph of the chapter on
'Injuriœ per applicationem, per constructionem, et
per se
” in his “Duelli Lex scripta, et non, aliterque.'
The nicety of your discernment in all the matters here
treated of will be sufficient, I am assured, to convince
you that the mere circumstance of my referring
you
to this admirable passage ought to satisfy
your request, as a man of honor, for explanation.

With sentiments of profound respect,
Your most obedient servant,

Von Jung.
The Herr Johan Hermann.
August 18th, 18—.”

Hermann commenced the perusal of this epistle with
a scowl, which, however, was converted into a smile
of the most ludicrous self-complacency as he came to
the rigmarole about Injuriœ per applicationem, per
constructionem, et per se
.
Having finished reading.
he begged me, with the blandest of all possible airs,
to be seated while he made reference to the treatise
in question. Turning to the passage specified, he
read it with great care to himself, then closed the
book, and desired me, in my character of confidential
acquaintance, to express to the Baron Von Jung his
exalted sense of his chivalrous behaviour, and, in that

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of second, to assure him that the explanation offered
was of the fullest, the most honorable, and the most
unequivocally satisfactory nature. Somewhat amazed
at all this, I made my retreat to the Baron. He
seemed to receive Hermann's amicable letter as a
matter of course, and, after a few words of general
conversation, went to an inner room and brought out
the everlasting treatise “Duelli Lex scripta, et non,
aliterque
.
” He handed me the volume and asked
me to look over some portion of it. I did so, but to
little purpose, not being able to gather the least particle
of definite meaning. He then took the book
himself, and read me a chapter aloud. To my surprise
what he read proved to be a most horribly
absurd account of a duel between two baboons.
He now explained the mystery, showing that the
volume, as it appeared Primâ facie, was written upon
the plan of the nonsense verses of Du Bartas; that is
to say, the language was ingeniously framed so as to
present to the ear all the outward signs of intelligibility,
and even of profound analysis, while in fact
not a shadow of meaning existed, except in insulated
sentences. The key to the whole was found in leaving
out every second and third word alternately, when
there appeared a series of ludicrous quizzes upon
single combat as practised in modern times.

The Baron afterwards informed me that he had
purposely thrown the treatise in Hermann's way two
or three weeks before the adventure, and that he was
satisfied from the general tenor of his conversation
that he had studied it with the deepest attention, and

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firmly believed it to be a work of unusual profundity.
Upon this hint he proceeded. Hermann would have
died a thousand deaths rather than acknowledge his
inability to understand any and everything in the universe
that had ever been written about the duello.

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p320-383 LOSS OF BREATH.

O breathe not, &c.

Moore's Melodies.

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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. Salmanezer, as we have it in the holy
writings, lay three year 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
Aristæus declares upon his honor as a gentleman,
opened at last her gates to Psammitticus, 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

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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,” &c., are often enough repeated in common
conversation; but it had never occurred to me
that the terrible accident of which I speak could
bonâ 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,
at any time, entirely deserted me. In my most ungovernable
moods I still retain a sense of propriety,
et le chemin des passions me conduit—as Rousseau
says it did him—à la philosophie veritable.

Although I could not at first precisely ascertain
to what degree the occurrence had affected me, I
unhesitatingly determined to conceal at all events
the matter from my wife until farther 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

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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 phantom 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 selfmurder
as the most decided of atrocities, while the
tabby cat purred strenuously upon the rug, and the

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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 footstep 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.” 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. 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 billetsdoux
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

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uneasiness. That Mrs. Lack-o'Breath should admire
any thing 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 lath-like 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.
Lack-o'Breath? It is by logic similar to this that
true philosophy is enabled to set misfortune at defiance.
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 (I had a remarkably
sweet breath) of Hewitt's “Seraphic and Highly-Scented
Extract of Heaven or 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

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and the happy. I was not long in hesitation. Being
naturally quick, I committed to memory the
entire tragedies of—,and—. I had the good
fortune to recollect that in the accentuation of these
dramas, or at least of such portion of them as is
allotted to their heroes, the tones of voice in which I
found myself deficient were altogether unnecessary,
and that 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 tragedies—
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 straight-jacket—but, good God! they
never suspected me of having lost my breath.

Having at length put my affairs in order, I took

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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 the blush the roarings
of a Phalarian bull. 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 evidencing the truth of
his suggestion.

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Thereupon 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
their determination to endure tamely no such impositions
for the future, and to proceed no farther
with any such carcases 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 five-and-twenty dollars.

The purchaser took me to his apartments and
commenced operations immediately. Having, however,
cut off my ears, 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, however, of his suspicions with regard to
my existence proving ultimately correct, he, in the

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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 fulfilment, I could
not help feeling deeply interested. It was a source
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 further 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

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could have spoken had not my mouth been tied up
by the pocket-handkerchief. Consoling myself with
this reflection, I was mentally repeating some passages
of the—, 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 à la Catalani, and alighting opposite
one another on my visage, betook themselves
to unseemly and 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—a dress 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

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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. W—, who was an acute fellow,
perceived his opportunity. Leaping up 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
opinion that the rascal (meaning W—) was
after making his escape, (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.
My convulsions were said to be extraordinary.
Several gentlemen swooned, and some ladies were
carried home in hysterics. Pinxit, too, availed himself
of the opportunity to retouch, from a sketch
taken upon the spot, his admirable painting of the
“Marsyas flayed alive.”

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I will endeavor to depict my sensations upon the
gallows. 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
wrote a treatise upon drunkenness.

Die I certainly did not. The sudden jerk given to
my neck upon the falling of the drop, merely proved
a corrective to the unfortunate twist afforded me by
the gentleman in the coach. Although my body certainly
was, I had, alas! no breath to be suspended;
and but for the chafing of the rope, the pressure of
the knot under my ear, and the rapid determination
of blood to the brain, I should, I dare say, have experienced
very little inconvenience.

The latter feeling, however, grew momently
more painful. I heard my heart beating with violence—
the veins in my hands and wrists swelled
nearly to bursting—my temples throbbed tempestuously—
and I felt that my eyes were starting from
their sockets. Yet when I say that in spite of all
this my sensations were not absolutely intolerable, I
will not be believed.

There were noises in my ears—first like the
tolling of huge bells—then like the beating of a thousand
drums—then, lastly, like the low, sullen murmurs
of the sea. But these noises were very far from
disagreeable.

Although, too, the powers of my mind were confused
and distorted, yet I was—strange to say!—
well aware of such confusion and distortion. I could,
with unerring promptitude determine at will in what

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particulars my sensations were correct—and in
what particulars I wandered from the path. I could
even feel with accuracy how far—to what very
point,
such wanderings had misguided me, but still
without the power of correcting my deviations. I
took besides, at the same time, a wild delight in analyzing
my conceptions.*

Memory, which, of all other faculties, should have
first taken its departure, seemed on the contrary to
have been endowed with quadrupled power. Each
incident of my past life flitted before me like a shadow.
There was not a brick in the building where I was
born—not a dog-leaf in the primer I had thumbed
over when a child—not a tree in the forest where I
hunted when a boy—not a street in the cities I had
traversed when a man—that I did not at that time
most palpably behold. I could repeat to myself entire
lines, passages, chapters, books, from the studies
of my earlier days; and while, I dare say, the
crowd around me were blind with horror, or
aghast with awe, I was alternately with Æschylus, a
demi-god, or with Aristophanes, a frog.

* * * * * * * *

A dreamy delight now took hold upon my spirit,
and I imagined that I had been eating opium, or
feasting upon the hashish of the old assassins. But

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glimpses of pure, unadulterated reason—during
which I was still buoyed up by the hope of finally escaping
that death which hovered like a vulture above
me—were still caught occasionally by my soul.

By some unusual pressure of the rope against my
face, a portion of the cap was chafed away, and I
found to my astonishment that my powers of vision
were not altogether destroyed. A sea of waving
heads rolled around me. In the intensity of my delight
I eyed them with feelings of the deepest commiseration,
and blessed, as I looked upon the haggard
assembly, the superior benignity of my proper stars.

I now reasoned, rapidly I believe—profoundly I
am sure—upon principles of common law—propriety
of that law especially, for which I hung—absurdities
in political economy which till then I had
never been able to acknowledge—dogmas in the old
Aristotelians now generally denied, but not the less
intrinsically true—detestable school formulæ in
Bourdon, in Garnier, in Lacroix—synonymes in
Crabbe—lunar-lunatic theories in St. Pierre—falsities
in the Pelham novels—beauties in Vivian Grey—
more than beauties in Vivian Grey—profundity
in Vivian Grey—genius in Vivian Grey—everything
in Vivian Grey.

Then came like a flood, Coleridge, Kant, Fitche,
and Pantheism—then like a deluge, the Academie,
Pergola, La Scala, San Carlo, Paul, Albert, Noblet,
Ronzi Vestris, Fanny Bias, and Taglioni.

* * * * * * * *

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A rapid change was now taking place in my sensations.
The last shadows of connection flitted away
from my meditations. A storm—a tempest of ideas,
vast, novel, and soul-stirring, bore my spirit like a
feather afar off. Confusion crowded upon confusion
like a wave upon a wave. In a very short time
Schelling himself would have been satisfied with my
entire loss of self-identity. The crowd became a
mass of mere abstraction.

About this period I became aware of a heavy fall
and shock—but, although the concussion jarred
throughout my frame, I had not the slightest idea of
its having been sustained in my own proper person;
and thought of it as of an incident peculiar to some
other existence—an idiosyncrasy belonging to some
other Ens.

It was at this moment—as I afterwards discovered—
that having been suspended for the full term of
execution, it was thought proper to remove my body
from the gallows—this the more especially as the
real culprit had now been retaken and recognised.

Much sympathy was now exercised in my behalf—
and as no one in the city appeared to identify my
body, it was ordered that I should be interred in the
public sepulchre early in the following morning. I
lay, in the meantime, without sign of life—although
from the moment, I suppose, when the rope
was loosened from my neck, a dim consciousness of
my situation oppressed me like the night-mare.

I was laid out in a chamber sufficiently small, and
very much encumbered with furniture—yet to me it

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appeared of a size to contain the universe. I have
never before or since, in body or in mind, suffered
half so much agony as from that single idea. Strange!
that the simple conception of abstract magnitude—
of infinity—should have been accompanied with
pain. Yet so it was. “With how vast a difference,”
said I, “in life and in death—in time and in eternity—
here and hereafter, shall our merest sensations be
imbodied!”

The day died away, and I was aware that it was
growing dark—yet the same terrible conceit still
overwhelmed me. Nor was it confined to the boundaries
of the apartment—it extended, although in a
more definite manner, to all objects, and, perhaps I
will not be understood in saying that it extended also
to all sentiments. My fingers as they lay cold,
clammy, stiff, and pressing helplessly one against
another, were, in my imagination, swelled to a size
according with the proportions of the Antœus. Every
portion of my frame betook of their enormity. The
pieces of money—I well remember—which being
placed upon my eyelids, failed to keep them effectually
closed, seemed huge, interminable chariot-wheels of
the Olympia, or of the Sun.

Yet it is very singular that I experienced no sense
of weight—of gravity. On the contrary I was put
to much inconvenience by that buoyancy—that
tantalizing difficulty of keeping down, which is felt
by the swimmer in deep water. Amid the tumult of
my terrors I laughed with a hearty internal laugh to
think what incongruity there would be—could I arise

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and walk—between the elasticity of my motion, and
the mountain of my form.

* * * * * * * *

The night came—and with it a new crowd of
horrors. The consciousness of my approaching interment
began to assume new distinctness, and consistency—
yet never for one moment did I imagine
that I was not actually dead.

“This then”—I mentally ejaculated—“this
darkness which is palpable, and oppresses with a
sense of suffocation—this—this—is indeed death.
This is death—this is death the terrible—death the
holy. This is the death undergone by Regulus—
and equally by Seneca. Thus—thus, too, shall I
always remain—always—always remain. Reason
is folly, and philosophy a lie. No one will know my
sensations, my horror—my despair. Yet will men
still persist in reasoning, and philosophizing, and
making themselves fools. There is, I find, no hereafter
but this. This—this—this—is the only
eternity!—and what, O Baalzebub!—what an
eternity!—to lie in this vast—this awful void—a
hideous, vague, and unmeaning anomaly—motionless,
yet wishing for motion—powerless, yet longing
for power—forever, forever, and forever!”

But the morning broke at length—and with its
misty and gloomy dawn arrived in triple horror the
paraphernalia of the grave. Then—and not till
then—was I fully sensible of the fearful fate

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hanging over me. The phantasms of the night had faded
away with its shadows, and the actual terrors of the
yawning tomb left me no heart for the bug-bear
speculations of transcendentalism.

I have before mentioned that my eyes were but
imperfectly closed—yet as I could not move them
in any degree, those objects alone which crossed the
direct line of vision were within the sphere of my
comprehension. But across that line of vision spectral
and stealthy figures were continually flitting, like the
ghosts of Banquo. They were making hurried preparations
for my interment. First came the coffin
which they placed quietly by my side. Then the undertaker
with attendants and a screw-driver. Then
a stout man whom I could distinctly see and who
took hold of my feet—while one whom I could only
feel lifted me by the head and shoulders. Together
they placed me in the coffin, and drawing the shroud
up over my face proceeded to fasten down the lid.
One of the screws, missing its proper direction, was
screwed by the carelessness of the undertaker deep—
deep—down into my shoulder. A convulsive
shudder ran throughout my frame. With what
horror, with what sickening of heart did I reflect
that one minute sooner a similar manifestation of
life, would, in all probability, have prevented my
inhumation. But alas! it was now too late, and
hope died away within my bosom as I felt myself
lifted upon the shoulders of men—carried down the
stairway—and thrust within the hearse.

During the brief passage to the cemetery my

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sensations, which for some time had been lethargic and
dull, assumed, all at once, a degree of intense and
unnatural vivacity for which I can in no manner
account. I could distinctly hear the restling of the
plumes—the whispers of the attendants—the solemn
breathings of the horses of death. Confined as I
was in that narrow and strict embrace, I could feel
the quicker or slower movement of the procession—
the restlessness of the driver—the windings of
the road as it led us to the right or to the left. I
could distinguish the peculiar odor of the coffin—
the sharp acid smell of the steel screws. I could see
the texture of the shroud as it lay close against my
face; and was even conscious of the rapid variations
in light and shade which the flapping to and fro of
the sable hangings occasioned within the body of
the vehicle.

In a short time, however, we arrived at the place
of sepulture, and I felt myself deposited within the
tomb. The entrance was secured—they 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. Sullenly
I lay at length, the quick among the dead—Anacharsis
inter Scythas
.

From what I overheard early in the morning, I
was led to believe that the occasions when the vault
was made use of were of very rare occurrence. It

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was probable that many months might elapse before
the doors of the tomb would be again unbarred—
and even should I survive until that period, what
means could I have more than at present, of making
known my situation or of escaping from the coffin?
I resigned myself, therefore, with much tranquillity
to my fate, and fell, after many hours, into a deep
and deathlike sleep.

How long I remained thus is to me a mystery.
When I awoke my limbs were no longer cramped
with the cramp of death—I was no longer without
the power of motion. A very slight exertion was
sufficient to force off the lid of my prison—for the
dampness of the atmosphere had already occasioned
decay in the wood-work around the screws.

My steps as I groped around the sides of my habitation
were, however, feeble and uncertain, and I
felt all the gnawings of hunger with the pains of intolerable
thirst. Yet, as time passed away, it is
strange that I experienced little uneasiness from these
scourges of the earth, in comparisons with the more
terrible visitations of the fiend Ennui. Stranger
still were the resources by which I endeavored to
banish him from my presence.

The sepulchre was large and subdivided into many
compartments, and I busied myself in examining the
peculiarities of their construction. I determined the
length and breadth of my abode. I counted and
recounted the stones of the masonry. But there
were other methods by which I endeavored to
lighten the tedium of my hours. Feeling my way

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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 reflected, 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 towards the right, and
three towards the left. His studies have been confined
to the poetry of Crabbe. He can have had no
idea of the wonders 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 died miserably in attempting to smoke

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a cigar. His was a case in which I feel 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,” said I—“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 fore-finger to his nose, and, causing
him to assume a sitting position upon the ground,
held, him thus, at the length of my arm, while I continued
my soliloquy.

—“Entitled,” I repeated, “to no earthly commiseration.
Who indeed would think of compassionating
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 went early to
college and studied pneumatics. He then came
home—talked eternally—and played upon the
French-horn. He patronized the bag-pipes. Captain
Barclay, who walked against Time, would not walk
against him. Windham and Allbreath were his favorite
writers. He died gloriously while inhaling gas—
levique flatu corrumpitur, like the fama pudicitiae in Hieronymus.6 He was indubitably a”—

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“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 his jaws—how can you, Mr.
Lack-o'Breath, 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 anything—whata vast 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 one's 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—
would'nt give me a chance for a word—could'nt
get in a syllable edgeways—attacked, consequently,
with epilepsis—Blab made his escape—damn all

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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 extravagant joy with
which I became gradually convinced that the breath
so fortunately caught by the gentleman—whom I
soon recognised as my neighbor Windenough—
was, in fact, the identical expiration mislaid by myself
in the conversation with my wife. Time—
place—and incidental 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 precise 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

-- 147 --

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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 double-winded 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.

-- 148 --

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Preliminaries being at length arranged, my acquaintance
delivered me the respiration—for which—
having carefully examined it—I gave him afterwards
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 all 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 same time involving the interests of a third
party whose 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 efficiently 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 an ultra 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.

-- 149 --

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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 be neither 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 the life of that philosopher—
advised the erection of a shrine and temple—
“to the proper God.”

eaf320v2.6

6. The general reader will, I dare say, recognise, in these sensations
of Mr. Lack-o'Breath, much of the absurd metaphysicianism
of the redoubted Schelling.

Tenera res in feminis fama pudicitiae et quasi flos pulcherrimus,
cito ad levem marcessit auram, levique flatu corrumpitur—
maxime, &c.
Hieronymus ad Salvinam.

-- --

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-- 151 --

p320-411 METZENGERSTEIN.

Pestis eram vivus—moriens tua mors ero.

Martin Luther.

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

Horror and fatality have been stalking abroad in
all ages. Why then give a date to the 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 Bruyére says of all our unhappiness—
vient de ne puvoir etre seuls.

But there were 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'un seul fois
dans un corps sensible: au reste—un cheval, un

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chien, un homme même, 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. Indeed, at the era of this history,
it was observed by an old crone of haggard and
sinister appearance, that “fire and water might sooner
mingle than a Berlifitzing clasp the hand of a Metzengerstein.”
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, like 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
Berlifitizing might look, from their lofty buttresses,
into the very windows of the Chateau Metzengerstein.
Least of all was the more than feudal magnificence
thus discovered calculated 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

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—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
on the side of the weaker and less influential.

Wilhelm, Count Berlifitzing, although honorably
and 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 of age. His father, the Minister
G—, died young. His mother, the Lady Mary,
followed 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.

The beautiful Lady Mary! How could she die?—
and of consumption! But it is a path I have prayed
to follow. I would wish all I love to perish of that
gentle disease. How glorious! to depart in the heyday
of the young blood—the heart all passion—the
imagination all fire—amid the remembrances of happier
days—in the fall of the year—and so be buried
up forever in the gorgeous autumnal leaves!

Thus died the Lady Mary. The young Baron
Frederick stood without a living relative by the coffin

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of his dead mother. He placed his hand upon her
placid forehead. No shudder came over his delicate
frame—no sigh from his flinty bosom. Heartless,
self-willed and impetuous from his childhood, he had
reached the age of which I speak through a career
of unfeeling, wanton, and reckless dissipation; and a
barrier had long since arisen in the channel of all holy
thoughts and gentle recollections.

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—of these 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 and
bloody fangs of a petty Caligula. On the night of

-- 155 --

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

the fourth day, the stables of the castle Berlifitzing
were discovered to be on fire: and the unanimous
opinion of the neighborhood instantaneously 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
dignitaties, 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 Princess Metzengerstein—
their muscular war-coursers plunging over the carcass
of a fallen foe—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 became unwittingly rivetted to the figure of an
enormous, and unnaturally colored horse, represented
in the tapestry as belonging to a Saracen ancestor of

-- 156 --

[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

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 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 shroud 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 kind of compulsory and
desperate 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.

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Stupified 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 chateau he encountered three equerries. With
much difficulty, and at the imminent peril of their
lives, they were restraining the unnatural and 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

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[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

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 were the case, we know our duty
better than to bring him into the presence of a noble
of your family.”

“True!” observed the Baron drily—and at that
instant a page of the bed-chamber came from the
chateau with a heightened color, and precipitate step.
He whispered into his master's ear an account of the
miraculous and 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,

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[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]

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 affair of the page, the huge and
mysterious steed which that nobleman had adopted
as his own, plunged and curvetted, with redoubled
and supernatural fury, down the long avenue which
extended from the chateau to the stables of Metzengerstein.

“No!”—said the Baron, turning abruptly towards
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 of a peculiar and unintelligible meaning
shot over the beautiful 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.

-- 160 --

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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 man
œuvring mamma—while his habits and manners,
still less than formerly, offered anything 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

-- 161 --

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

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
whom 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—in
moonlight or in shadow—the young Metzengerstein
seemed rivetted to the saddle of that colossal horse,
whose intractable audacities so well accorded with
the spirit of his own.

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

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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 extensive 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
horse 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 steed 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 silent
horror from the deep and impressive meaning of his
terrible stamp—times when the young Metzengerstein
turned pale and shrunk away from the rapid

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[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

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 every body'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 and oppressive slumber, descended like
a maniac from his chamber, and mounting in great
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 hour's 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

-- 164 --

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

portion of the building were evidently futile, the astonished
neighborhood stood idly around in silent and apathetic
wonder. But a new and fearful object soon
rivetted 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 out-stripped the very Demon of the Tempest,
and extorted from every stupified beholder the ejaculation—
“horrible!”

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 stair-cases 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

-- 165 --

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

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.

-- --

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-- 167 --

p320-427 BERENICE.

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is
multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon like the
rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that
arch, as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching
the wide horizon like 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. I have a tale to tell in
its own essence rife with horror—I would suppress
it were it not a record more of feelings than of
facts.

My baptismal name is Egæus—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

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[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

of the chief saloon—in the tapestries of the dormitories—
in the chiseling 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 aërial 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

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[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

wonderful what stagnation there fell upon the springs
of my life—wonderful how total an inversion took
place in the character of my common thoughts. 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 her 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,

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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 was 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 meantime
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, aggravated
in its symptoms by the immoderate use of opium, assumed
finally a monomaniac character of a novel and
extraordinary form—hourly and momently gaining
vigor—and at length obtaining over me the most
singular and incomprehensible ascendency. This
monomania—if I must so term it—consisted in a
morbid irritability of the nerves immediately affecting
those properties of the mind in metaphysical science
termed the attentive. It is more than probable that I
am not understood—but I fear that it is indeed 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

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powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied
and, as it were, buried themselves, in the contemplation
of even the most common objects of the universe.

To muse for long unwearied hours with my attention
rivetted to some frivolous device upon 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 in a state 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

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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, so to speak, 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 Cœlius Secundus Curio
de amplitudine beati regni Dei”—St. Austin's great
work, the “City of God”—and Tertullian “de Carne
Christi,
” in which the unintelligible sentence “Mortuus
est Dei filius; credibile est quia ineptum est:

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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 fearful
alteration produced by her unhappy malady, in the
moral condition of Berenice, would afford me many
objects for the exercise of that intense and morbid
meditation whose nature I have been at some trouble
in explaining, yet such was not by any means 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 fail 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,
and in the singular and most appalling distortion of
her personal identity.

During the brightest days of her unparalleled

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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 trellissed shadows of the forest
at noon-day—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—earthly—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 knew 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,
7 I sat, and sat, as I thought, alone, in the inner
apartment of the library. But uplifting my eyes Berenice
stood before me.

Was it my own excited imagination—or the
misty influence of the atmosphere—or the uncertain

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twilight of the chamber—or the gray draperies
which fell around her figure—that caused it to loom
up in so unnatural a degree? 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, and with my eyes rivetted
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 golden hair fell partially
over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with
ringlets now black as the raven's wing, and jarring
discordantly, in their fantastic character, with the
reigning melancholy of the countenance. The eyes
were lifeless, and lustreless, and I shrunk involuntarily
from their glassy stare to the 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!

* * * * * * * *

The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking

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up, I found 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 upon their surface—not a shade
on their enamel—not a line in their configuration—
not an indenture in their edges—but what that
brief 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 every
where, 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. 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—and 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 Mad'selle

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Sallé it has been said, “que tous ses pas etaient des
sentiments
,” and of Berenice I more seriously believed
que tous ses dents etaient des idées.

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 ascendency as, with the
most vivid and hideous distinctness, it floated about
amid the changing lights and shadows of the chamber.
At length there broke forcibly in upon my dreams a
wild 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 hurriedly from my seat, and, throwing
open one of the doors of the library, saw standing
out in the antechamber a servant maiden, all in tears;
and she told me that Berenice was—no more. Seized
with an epileptic fit she had fallen dead 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.

With a heart full of grief, yet reluctantly, and oppressed
with awe, I made my way to the bed-chamber
of the departed. The room was large, and very
dark, and at every step within its gloomy precincts
I encountered the paraphernalia of the grave. The
coffin, so a menial told me, lay surrounded by the
curtains of yonder bed, and in that coffin, he

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whisperingly assured me, was all that remained of Berenice.
Who was it asked me would I not look upon the
corpse? I had seen the lips of no one move, yet the
question had been demanded, and the echo of the
syllables still lingered in the room. It was impossible
to refuse; and with a sense of suffocation I dragged
myself to the side of the bed. Gently I uplifted the
sable draperies of the curtains. As I let them fall
they descended upon my shoulders, and shutting me
thus out from the living, enclosed me in the strictest
communion with the deceased. The very atmosphere
was redolent of death. The peculiar smell of the
coffin sickened me! and I fancied a deleterious odor
was already exhaling from the body. I would have
given worlds to escape—to fly from the pernicious
influence of mortality—to breathe once again the pure
air of the eternal heavens. But I had no longer the
power to move—my knees tottered beneath me—
and I remained rooted to the spot, and gazing upon
the frightful length of the rigid body as it lay outstretched
in the dark coffin without a lid.

God of heaven!—was it possible? Was it my
brain that reeled—or was it indeed the finger of the
enshrouded dead that stirred in the white cerement
that bound it? Frozen with unutterable awe I slowly
raised my eyes to the countenance of the corpse.
There had been a band around the jaws, but, I know
not how, it was broken asunder. The livid lips
were wreathed into a species of smile, and, through
the enveloping gloom, once again there glared upon
me in too palpable reality, the white and glistening,

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and ghastly teeth of Berenice. I sprang convulsively
from the bed, and, uttering no word, rushed forth a
maniac from that apartment of triple horror, and
mystery, and death.

* * * * * * * *

I found myself again 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 had
intervened I had no positive, at least no definite comprehension.
But its memory was rife with horror—
horror more horrible from being vague, and terror
more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page
in the record of my existence, written all over with
dim, and hideous, and unintelligible recollections. I
strived to decypher 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? And the echoes of the chamber
answered me “what was it?”

On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it
lay a little box of ebony. It was a box of no remarkable
character, and I had seen it frequently before,
it being the property of the family physician;
but how came it there upon my table, and why did I

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shudder in regarding it? These were things 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 words 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
congeal 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 discovered upon its margin—a body enshrouded,
yet still breathing, still palpitating, still alive!

He pointed to my garments—they were muddy
and clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he took me
gently by the hand—but 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 ebony box that lay upon
it. But I could not force it open, and in my tremor

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it slipped from out of 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 many white and glistening substances
that were scattered to and fro about the
floor.

eaf320v2.77.

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.

-- --

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-- 183 --

p320-443 WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING.

[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]

It's on my wisiting cards sure enough (and it's
them that's all o' pink satin paper) that inny gintleman
that plases may behould the intheristhing words,
“Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronit, 39 Southampton
Row, Russel Square, Parrish o' Bloomsbury.” And
shud ye be wanting to diskiver who is the pink of
purliteness quite, and the laider of the hot tun in the
houl city o'London—why it's jist meself. And faith
that same is no wonder at all at all, so be plased to
stop curling your nose, for every inch o' the six wakes
that I've been a gintleman, and left aff wid the bogthrothing
to take up wid the Barronissy, it's Pathrick
that's been living like a houly imperor, and gitting
the iddication and the graces. Och! and would'nt it
be a blessed thing for your sperrits if ye cud lay your
two peepers jist, upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
Barronitt, when he is all riddy drissed for the hopperer,
or stipping into the Brisky for the drive into
the Hyde Park. But it's the iligant big figgur that I
have, for the reason o' which all the ladies fall in love
wid me. Isn't it my own swate self now that'll

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missure the six fut, and the three inches more nor that
in me stockings, and that am excadingly will proportioned
all over to match? And is it really more
than the three fut and a bit that there is, inny how,
of the little ould furrener Frinchman that lives jist over
the way, and that's a oggling and a goggling the houl
day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purty widdy Misthress
Tracle that's my own nixt door neighbor,
(God bliss her) and most particuller frind and acquaintance?
You percave the little spalpeen is summat
down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in a
sling; and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that
I'm going to give you the good rason.

The thruth of the houl matter is jist simple enough;
for the very first day that I com'd from Connaught,
and showd my swate little silf in the strait to the
widdy, who was looking through the windy, it was
a gone case althegither wid the heart o' the purty
Misthress Tracle. I percaved it, ye see, all at once,
and no mistake, and that's God's thruth. First of all
it was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thin she threw
open her two peepers to the itmost, and thin it was a
little gould spy-glass that she clapped tight to one o'
them, and divil may burn me if it didn't spake to me
as plain as a peeper cud spake, and says it, through
the spy-glass—“Och! the tip o' the mornin to ye,
Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, mavourneen;
and it's a nate gintleman that ye are, sure enough, and
it's meself and me fortin jist that'll be at yur sarvice,
dear, inny time o' day at all at all for the asking.” And
it's not meself ye wud have to be bate in the

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purliteness; so I made her a bow that wud have broken yur
heart althegither to behould, and thin I pulled aff me
hat with a flourish, and thin I winked at her hard
wid both eyes, as much as to say—“Thrue for you,
yer a swate little crature, Mrs. Tracle, me darlint,
and I wish I may be drownthed dead in a bog, if its
not meself, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, that'll
make a houl bushel o' the to yur leddy-ship, in
the twinkling o' the eye of a Londonderry purraty.”

And it was the nixt mornin, sure enough, jist as I
was making up me mind whither it wouldn't be the
purlite thing to sind a bit o' writing to the widdy by
way of a love-litter, when up cum'd the delivery
sarvant wid an illigant card, and he tould me that the
name on it (for I niver cud rade the copper-plate
printing on account of being lift handed) was all about
Mounseer, the Count, A Goose, Look-aisy, Maiter-di-dauns,
and that the houl o' the divilish lingo was the
spalpeeny long name of the little ould furrener Frinchman
as lived over the way.

And jist wid that in cum'd the little willain himself,
and thin he made me a broth of a bow, and thin he
said he had ounly taken the liberty of doing me the
honor, of the giving me a call, and thin he went on
to palaver at a great rate, and divil the bit did I
comprehind what he wud be afther the tilling me at
all at all, excipting and saving that he said “pully
wou, woolly wou,” and tould me, among a bushel o'
lies, bad luck to him, that he was mad for the love
o' my widdy Misthress Tracle, and that my widdy
Mrs. Tracle had a puncheon for him.

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At the hearin of this, ye may swear, though, I was
as mad as a grasshopper, but I remimbered that I
was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, and that it
wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger git the
upper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the
matter and kipt dark, and got quite sociable wid the
little chap, and afther a while what did he do but
ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, saying he
wud give me the feshionable introduction to her
leddyship.

“Is it there ye are?” said I thin to meself—“and
its thrue for you Pathrick that ye're the fortunnittest
mortal in life. We'll soon see now whither its your
swate silf, dear, or whither its little Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns,
that Misthress Tracle is head and ears in
the love wid.”

Wid that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door,
and ye may well say it was an illigant place—so it
was. There was a carpet all over the floor, and in
one corner there was a forty-pinny and a jews-harp
and the divil knows what ilse, and in another corner
was a sofy—the beautifullest thing in all natur—
and sittin on the sofy, sure enough there was the
swate little angel, Misthress Tracle.

“The tip o' the morning to ye,” says I—“Mrs.
Tracle”—and then I made sich an iligant obaysance
that it wud ha quite althegither bewildered the brain
o' ye.

“Wully woo, pully woo, plump in the mud,” says
the little furrenner Frinchman—“and sure enough
Mrs. Tracle, says he, that he did—“isn't this

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gintleman here jist his riverence Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
Barronitt, and isn't he althegither and entirely
the most purticular frind and acquaintance that I
have in the houl world?”

And wid that the widdy, she gits up from the sofy,
and makes the swatest curtchy nor iver was seen;
and thin down she gits agin like an angel; and thin,
by the powers, it was that little spalpeen Mounseer
Maiter-di-dauns that plumped his self right down by
the right side of her. Och hon! I ixpicted the two
eyes o' me wud ha cum'd out of my head on the spot,
I was so dispirate mad! Howiver—“Bait who!”
says I, after a while. “Is it there ye are, Mounseer
Maiter-di-dauns?” and so down I plumped on the
lift side of her leddyship, to be aven wid the willain.
Botheration! it wud ha done your heart good to percave
the illigant double wink that I gived her jist
thin right in the face wid both eyes.

But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned
to suspict me at all at all, and disperate hard it was
he made the love to her leddyship. “Woully wou”
says he—“Pully wou” says he—“Plump in the
mud.”

“That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen,”
thinks I—and I talked as hard and as fast as
I could all the while, and troth it was meself jist that
divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, by
rason of the illigant conversation that I kipt up wid
her all about the swate bogs of Connaught. And by
and by she giv'd me sich a swate smile, from one
ind of her mouth to the other, that it made me as

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[figure description] Page 188.[end figure description]

bould as a pig, and I jist took hould of the ind of her
little finger in the most dillikittest manner in natur,
looking at her all the while out o' the whites of my
eyes.

And thin ounly to percave the cuteness of the
swate angel, for no sooner did she obsarve that I was
afther the squazing of her flipper, than she up wid it
in a jiffy, and put it away behind her back, jist as
much as to say—“Now thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
there's a bitther chance for ye, mavourneen, for
its not althegither the gentaal thing to be afther the
squazing of my flipper right full in the sight of that
little furrenner Frinchman, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns.”

Wid that I giv'd her a big wink jist to say—“lit
Sir Pathrick alone for the likes o' them thricks”—
and thin I wint aisy to work, and you'd have died
wid the divarsion to behould how cliverly I slipped
my right arm betwane the back o' the sofy, and the
back of her leddyship, and there, sure enough, I found
a swate little flipper all a waiting to say—“the tip
o' the mornin to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
Barronit.” And wasn't it meself, sure, that jist giv'd
the laste little bit of a squaze in the world, all in
the way of a commincement, and not to be too
rough wid her leddyship? and och, botheration,
wasn't it the gentaalest and delikittest of all the little
squazes that I got in return? “Blood and thunder,
Sir Pathrick, mavourneen” thinks I to meself, “faith
it's jist the mother's son of you, and nobody else at
all at all, that's the handsommest and the fortunittest

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young bogthrotter that ever cum'd out of Connaught!”
And wid that I giv'd the flipper a big squaze—
and a big squaze it was, by the powers, that her leddyship
giv'd to me back. But it wud ha split the
seven sides of you wid the laffin to behould, jist thin
all at once, the concated behaviour of Mounseer
Maiter-di-dauns. The likes o' rich a jabbering, and
a smirking, and a parly-wouing as he begin'd wid
her leddyship, niver was known before upon arth;
and divil may burn me if it wasn't my own very two
peepers that cotch'd him tipping her the wink out of
one eye. Och hon! if it wasn't meself thin that
was as mad as a Kilkenny cat I shud like to be tould
who it was!

“Let me infarm you, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns,”
said I, as purlit as iver ye seed, “that it's not the
gintaal thing at all at all, and not for the likes o' you
inny how, to be after the oggling and a goggling at
her leddyship in that fashion—and jist wid that such
another squaze as it was I giv'd her flipper, all as
much as to say—“isn't it Sir Pathrick now, my
jewel, that'll be able to the proticting o' you, my
darlint?”—and thin there cum'd another squaze back,
all by way of the answer—“Thrue for you, Sir
Pathrick,” it said as plain as iver a squaze said in the
world—“Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen,
and it's a proper nate gintleman ye are—that God's
thruth”—and wid that she opened her two beautiful
peepers till I belaved they wud ha com'd out of her
head althegither and intirely, and she looked first as

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mad as a cat at Mounseer Frog, and thin as smiling
as all out o' doors at meself.

“Thin,” says he, the willian, “Och hon! and a
woolly-wou, pully-wou,” and thin wid that he shoved
up his two shoulders, till the divil the bit of his head
was to be diskivered, and thin he let down the two
corners of his purraty-trap, and thin not the bit more
of the satisfaction could I git out o' the spalpeen.

Belave me, my jewel, it was Sir Pathrick that was
unrasonable mad thin, sure enough, and the more by
token that he kept on wid his winking and blinking
at the widdy; and the widdy she kept on wid the
squazing of my flipper, as much as to say—“At him
again Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, mavourneen,” so I
jist ripped out wid a big oath, and says I, sure
enough—

“Ye little spalpeeny frog of a bog-throtting son of
a bloody-noun!”—and jist thin what d'ye think it was
that her leddyship did? Troth she jumped up from
the sofy as if she was bit, and made aff through the
door, while I turned my head round afther her, in a
complate bewilderment and botheration, and followed
her wid me two peepers. You percave I had a rason
of my own for the knowing that she couldn't git
down the stairs althegither and intirely—for I knew
very well that I had hould of her hand, for divil the
bit had I iver lit it go. And says I—

“Isn't it the laste little bit of a mistake in the world
that ye've been afther the making, yer leddyship?
Come back now, that's a darlint, and I'll give ye yur

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flipper.” But aff she wint down the stairs like a shot,
and then I turned round to the little French furrenner.
Och hon! if it wasn't his spalpeeny little flipper that
I had hould of in my own—why thin—thin it was'nt—
that's all.

Maybe it wasn't meself that jist died then outright
wid the laffin, to behould the little chap when he found
out that it wasn't the widdy at all that he had hould
of, but only Sir Pathrick O'Grandison. The ould
divil himself niver behild such a long face as he pet
on! As for Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, it
wasn't for the likes of his riverence to be afther the
minding a thrifle of a mistake. Ye may jist say,
though—for its God's thruth—that afore I lift hould
of the flipper of the spalpeen, (which was not till
afther her leddyship's futmen had kicked us both down
the stairs,) I gived it such a nate little broth of a
squaze, as made it all up into raspberry jam.

“Wouly-wou”—says he—“pully-wou”—says
he—“Cot tam!”

And that's jist the thruth of the rason why he wears
his lift hand in a sling.

-- --

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-- 193 --

p320-453 THE VISIONARY.

Stay for me there! I will not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale.
[Exequy on the death of his wife, by Henry King, Bishop of
Chichester.]

[figure description] Page 193.[end figure description]

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

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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
demon of romance, who 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

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all at once that deep gloom into a livid and supernatural
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 the young hyacinth. A snowy-white
and gauze-like drapery seemed to be nearly
the sole covering to her delicate form—but the

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mid-summer and midnight air was hot, sullen, and still,
and no motion—no shadow of 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? You 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 wo which
is close at hand.

Many steps above the Marchesa, and within the
arch of the water-gate, stood in full dress, the Satyrlike
figure of Mentoni himself. He was occasionally
occupied in thrumming a guitar, and seemed ennuied
to the very death, as at intervals he gave directions
for the recovery of his child. Stupified 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

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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—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 own Acanthus,
are “soft and almost liquid.” Yes! tears are

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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 Venitian 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

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within the palace, and the stranger, whom I now
recognised, 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 glossy, black hair, from which a forehead,
rather low than otherwise, 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

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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—I wish to be perfectly understood—
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, mirror-like, 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 piles of gloomy, yet fantastic
grandeur, 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 sick 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 far more than imperial magnificence
which burned and blazed around.

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Although, as I say, the sun had arisen, yet the
room was still brilliantly lighted up. I judged 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 unseen origin undoubtedly lay in the
recesses of the crimson trelliss work which tapestried
the ceiling. The senses were oppressed by mingled
and conflicting perfumes, reeking up from strange
convolute censers, which seemed actually endued
with a monstrous vitality, as their particolored fires
writhed up and down, and around about their extravagant
proportions. 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

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cloth of Chili gold. Here then had the hand of genius
been at work. A chaos—a wilderness of beauty
lay before me. A sense of dreamy and incoherent
grandeur took possession of my soul, and I remained
within the door-way speechless.

Ha! ha! ha!—ha! ha! ha!—laughed the proprietor,
motioning me to a seat, 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, my dear sir, 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 there is a long list of characters who
came to the same magnificent end, in the Absurdities
of Ravisius Textor. 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
aaem. They are undoubtedly part of teaaema. Now
at Sparta were a thousand temples and shrines to a

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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—“in the present instance 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, who has been admitted within the
mysteries of these imperial precincts.”

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 Cimabué, and from
Cimabué to the present hour. Many are chosen, as
you see, with little deference to the opinions of Virtû.
They are all, however, fitting tapestry for a chamber
such as this. Here too, are some chéf d'œuvres of

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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 Pietà?

“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 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. 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 Michæl Angelo was by no means original in
his couplet—


'Non ha!'ottimo artista alcun concetto
Chèun marmo solo in se non circunscriva.' ”

* * * * * * * *

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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 esentially
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 deree
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 visiter, or to sounds which must have
had existence in his imagination alone.

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It was during one of these reveries or pauses of aparent
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
lines, written in a hand so very different from the peculiar
characters of my acquaintance, that I had
some difficulty in recognising it as his own.



Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed around about with flowers;
And the flowers—they all were mine.
But the dream—it could not last;
And the star of Hope did rise
But to be overcast.
A voice from out the Future cries
“Onward!”—while o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies,
Mute, motionless, aghast!

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For alas!—alas!—with me
Ambition—all—is o'er.
“No more—no more—no more,”
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore,)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my hours are trances;
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams,
In what ethereal dances,
By what Italian streams.
Alas! for that accursed time
They bore thee o'er the billow,
From Love to titled age and crime,
And an unholy pillow—
From me, and from our misty clime,
Where weeps the silver willow.

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—but not, however, so effectually, as to
conceal the word from a scrutinizing eye. I say
this occasioned me no little amazement; for I well

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remember that, in a former conversation with my
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 porrait
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
downwards to a curiously fashioned vase. One small,
fairy foot, alone visible, barely touched the earth—

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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 is up
There like a Roman statue! He will stand
Till Death hath made him marble!”

“Come!” he said at length, turning towards a
table of richly enamelled and massive silver, upon
which were a few goblets fantastically stained, toether
with two large Etruscan vases, fashioned in
the same extraordinary model as that in the foreround
of the portrait, and filled with what I suposed
to be Johannisberger. “Come!” he said abruptly,
“let us drink! It is early—but let us
drink—It is indeed early,” he continued thoughtfully
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 the
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 sucession
several goblets of the wine.

“To dream,” he continued, resuming the tone of
his desultory conversation, as he held up to the rich

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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 stretching upon carpets of gold. Yet
the effect is incongruous to the timid alone. Prorieties
of place, and especially of time, are the bugears
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.” Thus saying, he conessed
the power of the wine, and 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 l—poisoned!—poisoned! Oh beautiful—
h beautiful Aphrodite!”

Bewildered, I flew to the ottoman, and endeavored
to arouse the sleeper to a sense of the startling

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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 conciousness
of the entire and terrible truth flashed sudenly
over my soul.

-- --

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p320-473 THE CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION.

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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, to-morrow, I will myself induct you into the
full joys and wonders of your novel existence.

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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 overburthened
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

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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.

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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

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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, and these 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 it
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
colour. 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

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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 its
harmless passage 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

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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
brain. It had taken, with inconceivable rapidity,

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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, 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

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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 its 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 immoveably 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

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overwhelmed. For a short 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 great 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
great Heaven of pure knowledge have no name.
Thus ended all.

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p320-483 APPENDIX.

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In a note to the title of the story called “Hans Phaal,” I
made allusion to the “moon-hoax” of Mr. Locke. As a great
many more persons were actually gulled by this jeu d'esprit
than would be willing to acknowledge the fact, it may here
afford some little amusement to show why no one should have
been deceived—to point out those particulars of the story
which should have been sufficient to establish its real character.
Indeed, however rich the imagination displayed in this ingenious
fiction, it wanted much of the force which might have
been given it by a more scrupulous attention to general analogy
and physical truth. That the public were misled, even for an
instant, merely proves the gross ignorance which is so generally
prevalent upon subjects of an astronomical nature.

The moon's distance from the earth is, in round numbers,
240,000 miles. If we desire to ascertain how near, apparently,
a lens would bring the satellite, (or any distant object,) we, of
course, have but to divide the distance by the magnifying
power of the glass. Mr. L. makes his lens have a magnifying
power of 42,000 times. By this divide 240,000 (the moon's
real distance), and we have five miles and five-sevenths, as the
apparent distance. No animal at all could be seen so far; much
less the minute points particularised in the story. Mr. L.
speaks about Sir John Herschell's perceiving flowers (the Papaver
rheas, &c.), and even detecting the color and the shape
of the eyes of small birds. Shortly before, too, he has

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himself observed that the lens would not render perceptible objects
of less than eighteen inches in diameter; but even this,
as I have said, is giving the glass by far too great power. It
may be observed, en passant, that his prodigious glass is said
to have been moulded at the glass-house of Messrs. Hartley and
Grant in Dumbarton; but Messrs. H. and G.'s establishment
had ceased operations for many years previous to the publication
of the hoax.

On page 13, pamphlet edition, speaking of “a hairy veil”
over the eyes of a species of bison, the author says—“It immediately
occurred to the acute mind of Dr. Herschell that this
was a providential contrivance to protect the eyes of the animal
from the great extremes of light and darkness to which all the
inhabitants of our side of the moon are periodically subjected.”
But this cannot be thought a very “acute” observation of the
Doctor's. The inhabitants of our side of the moon have, evidently,
no darkness at all; so there can be nothing of the
“extremes” mentioned. In the absence of the sun they have a
light from the earth equal to that of thirteen full moons.

The topography throughout, even when professing to accord
with Blunt's Lunar Chart, is entirely at variance with that or
any other lunar chart, and even grossly at variance with itself.
The points of the compass, too, are in inextricable confusion—
the writer appearing to be ignorant that, on a lunar map, these
are not in accordance with terrestrial points; the east being to
the left, &c.

Deceived, perhaps, by the vague titles, Mare Nubium, Mare
Tranquillitatis, Mare Fœcunditatis
, &c., given to the dark spots
by former astronomers, Mr. L. has entered into long details
regarding oceans and other large bodies of water in the moon;
whereas there is no astronomical point more positively ascertained
than that no such bodies exist there. In examining the
boundary between light and darkness (in a crescent or gibbous
moon) where this boundary crosses any of the dark places, the
line of division is found to be rough and jagged—but were
these dark places liquid, it would evidently be even.

The description of the wings of the man-bat, on page 21, is

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but a literal copy of Peter Wilkins' account of the wings of his
flying islanders. This simple fact should have induced suspicion,
at least, it might be thought.

On page 23, we have the following. “What a prodigious
influence must our thirteen times larger globe have exercised
upon this satellite when an embryo in the womb of time, the
passive subject of chemical affinity!” This is very fine—but
it should be observed that no astronomer would have made such
remark, especially to any Journal of Science—for the earth,
in the sense intended, is not only 13, but 49 times larger than
the moon. A similar objection applies to the whole of the concluding
pages, where, by way of introduction to some discoveries
in Saturn, the philosophical correspondent enters into
a minute schoolboy account of that planet—this to the Edinburgh
Journal of Science!

But there is one point, in particular, which should have discovered
the fiction. Let us imagine the power actually possessed
of seeing animals upon the moon's surface—what
would first arrest the attention of an observer from the earth?
Certainly neither their shape, size, nor any other such peculiarity,
so soon as their remarkable situation. They would appear to
be walking with heels up and head down, in the manner of flies
on a ceiling. The real observer would have uttered an instant
ejaculation of surprise (however prepared by previous knowledge)
at the singularity of their position; the fictitious observer
has not even mentioned the subject at all, but speaks of seeing
the entire bodies of such creatures, when it is demonstrable
that he could have seen only the diameter of their heads!

It might as well be remarked, in conclusion, that the size,
and particularly the powers of the man-bats (for example, their
ability to fly in so rare an atmosphere—if indeed the moon have
any)—with most of the other fancies in regard to animal and
vegetable existence, are at variance, generally, with all analogical
reasoning on these themes; and that analogy here will
often amount to conclusive demonstration. It is, perhaps,
scarcely necessary to add, that all the suggestions attributed to
Brewster and Herschell, in the beginning of the article, about

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“a transfusion of artificial light through the focal object of
vision,” &c., &c., belong to that species of figurative writing
which comes, most properly, under the denomination of rigmarole.

I have lately read a singular and somewhat ingenious little
book, whose title page runs thus—“L'Homme dans la lvne,
ou le Voyage Chimerique fait au Monde de la Lvne, nouuellement
decouuert par Dominique Gonzales, Aduanturier Espagnol,
autremèt dit le Courier volant. Mis en notre langve par J. B. D.
A. Paris, chez François Piot, pres la Fontaine de Saint Benoist.
Et chez J. Goignard, au premier pilier de la grand' salle du
Palais, proche les Consultations, MDCXLVIII.”
pp. 176.

The writer professes to have translated his work from the
English of one Mister D'Avisson (Davidson?) although there
is a terrible ambiguity in the statement. “I'en ai eu,” says he,
“l'original de Monsieur D'Avisson, medecin des mieux versez
qui soient aujourd'huy dans la cònoissance des Belles Lettres,
et sur tout de la Philosophie Naturelle. Je lui ai cette obligation
entre les autres, de m'auoir non seulement mis en main ce
Livre en anglois, mais encore le Manuscrit du Sieur Thomas
D'Anan, gentilhomme Eccossois, recommandable pour sa vertu,
sur la version duquel j'advoue que j'ay tiré le plan de la
mienne.”

After some irrelevant adventures, much in the manner of Gil
Blas, and which occupy the first thirty pages, the author relates
that, being ill during a sea-voyage, the crew abandoned him,
together with a negro servant, on the island St. Helena. To
increase the chances of obtaining food, the two separate, and
live as far apart as possible. This brings about a training of
birds, to serve the purpose of carrier-pigeons between them.
By-and-by these are taught to carry parcels of some weight—
and this weight is gradually increased. At length the idea is
entertained of uniting the force of a great number of the birds,
with a view to raising the author himself. A machine is contrived
for the purpose, and we have a minute description of it,
which is materially helped out by a steel engraving. Here we
perceive the Signor Gonzales, with point ruffles and a huge

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periwig, seated astride something which resembles very closely
a broomstick, and borne aloft by a multitude of wild swans
(ganzas) who have strings reaching from their tails to the
machine.

The main event detailed in the Signor's narrative depends
upon a very important fact, of which the reader is kept in
ignorance until near the end of the book. The ganzas, with
whom he had become so familiar, were not really denizens of
St. Helena, but of the moon. Thence it had been their custom,
time out of mind, to migrate annually to some portion of the earth.
In proper season, of course, they would return home; and the author
happening, one day, to require their services for a short voyage,
is unexpectedly carried straight up, and in a very brief period
arrives at the satellite. Here he finds, among other odd things,
that the people enjoy extreme happiness; that they have no
law; that they die without pain; that they range from ten to
thirty feet in height; that they live five thousand years; that they
have an emperor called Irdonozur; and that they can jump
sixty feet high, when, being out of the gravitating influence,
they fly about with fans.

I cannot forbear giving a specimen of the general philosophy
of the volume.

“I must now declare to you,” says the Signor Gonzales,
“the nature of the place in which I found myself. All the
clouds were beneath my feet, or, if you please, spread between
me and the earth. As to the stars, since there was no night
where I was, they always had the same appearance; not brilliant,
as usual, but pale, and very nearly like the moon of a
morning. But few of them were visible, and these ten times
larger (as well as I could judge) than they seem to the inhabitants
of the earth. The moon, which wanted two days of
being full, was of a terrible bigness.

“I must not forget here, that the stars appeared only on that
side of the globe turned towards the moon, and that the closer
they were to it the larger they seemed. I have also to inform
you that, whether it was calm weather or stormy, I found myself
always immediately between the moon and the earth.

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was convinced of this for two reasons—because my birds always
flew in a straight line; and because, whenever we attempted
to rest, we were carried insensibly around the globe of the earth.
For I admit the opinion of Copernicus, who maintains that it
never ceases to revolve from the east to the west, not upon the
poles of the Equinoctial, commonly called the poles of the world,
but upon those of the Zodiac—a question of which I propose
to speak more at length hereafter, when I shall have leisure to
refresh my memory in regard to the astrology which I learned
at Salamanca when young, and have since forgotten.”

Notwithstanding the blunder italicised, which 'is no doubt a
mere lapsus linguæ, the book is not without some claim to attention,
as affording a näïve specimen of the current astronomical
notions of the time. One of these assumed, that the “gravitating
power” extended but a short distance from the earth's
surface—and, accordingly, we find our voyager “carried insensibly
around the globe,” &c.

THE END.
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Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 [1840], Tales of the grotesque and arabesque, volume 2 (Lea & Blanchard, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf320v2].
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