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diff --git a/2694-h/2694-h.htm b/2694-h/2694-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..affbe72 --- /dev/null +++ b/2694-h/2694-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1970 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of I and My Chimney, by Herman Melville</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of I and My Chimney, by Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: I and My Chimney</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July, 2001 [eBook #2694]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 28, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Stephan J. Macaluso</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I AND MY CHIMNEY ***</div> + +<h1>I and My Chimney</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Herman Melville</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +I and my chimney, two grey-headed old smokers, reside in the country. We are, I +may say, old settlers here; particularly my old chimney, which settles more and +more every day. +</p> + +<p> +Though I always say, <i>I and my chimney</i>, as Cardinal Wolsey used to say, +“<i>I and my King</i>,” yet this egotistic way of speaking, wherein +I take precedence of my chimney, is hardly borne out by the facts; in +everything, except the above phrase, my chimney taking precedence of me. +</p> + +<p> +Within thirty feet of the turf-sided road, my chimney—a huge, corpulent +old Harry VIII of a chimney—rises full in front of me and all my +possessions. Standing well up a hillside, my chimney, like Lord Rosse’s +monster telescope, swung vertical to hit the meridian moon, is the first object +to greet the approaching traveler’s eye, nor is it the last which the sun +salutes. My chimney, too, is before me in receiving the first-fruits of the +seasons. The snow is on its head ere on my hat; and every spring, as in a +hollow beech tree, the first swallows build their nests in it. +</p> + +<p> +But it is within doors that the pre-eminence of my chimney is most manifest. +When in the rear room, set apart for that object, I stand to receive my guests +(who, by the way call more, I suspect, to see my chimney than me) I then stand, +not so much before, as, strictly speaking, behind my chimney, which is, indeed, +the true host. Not that I demur. In the presence of my betters, I hope I know +my place. +</p> + +<p> +From this habitual precedence of my chimney over me, some even think that I +have got into a sad rearward way altogether; in short, from standing behind my +old-fashioned chimney so much, I have got to be quite behind the age too, as +well as running behindhand in everything else. But to tell the truth, I never +was a very forward old fellow, nor what my farming neighbors call a forehanded +one. Indeed, those rumors about my behindhandedness are so far correct, that I +have an odd sauntering way with me sometimes of going about with my hands +behind my back. As for my belonging to the rear-guard in general, certain it +is, I bring up the rear of my chimney—which, by the way, is this moment before +me—and that, too, both in fancy and fact. In brief, my chimney is my superior; +my superior by I know not how many heads and shoulders; my superior, too, in +that humbly bowing over with shovel and tongs, I much minister to it; yet never +does it minister, or incline over to me; but, if anything, in its settlings, +rather leans the other way. +</p> + +<p> +My chimney is grand seignior here—the one great domineering object, not +more of the landscape, than of the house; all the rest of which house, in each +architectural arrangement, as may shortly appear, is, in the most marked +manner, accommodated, not to my wants, but to my chimney’s, which, among +other things, has the centre of the house to himself, leaving but the odd holes +and corners to me. +</p> + +<p> +But I and my chimney must explain; and as we are both rather obese, we may have +to expatiate. +</p> + +<p> +In those houses which are strictly double houses—that is, where the hall +is in the middle—the fireplaces usually are on opposite sides; so that +while one member of the household is warming himself at a fire built into a +recess of the north wall, say another member, the former’s own brother, +perhaps, may be holding his feet to the blaze before a hearth in the south +wall—the two thus fairly sitting back to back. Is this well? Be it put to +any man who has a proper fraternal feeling. Has it not a sort of sulky +appearance? But very probably this style of chimney building originated with +some architect afflicted with a quarrelsome family. +</p> + +<p> +Then again, almost every modern fireplace has its separate flue—separate +throughout, from hearth to chimney-top. At least such an arrangement is deemed +desirable. Does not this look egotistical, selfish? But still more, all these +separate flues, instead of having independent masonry establishments of their +own, or instead of being grouped together in one federal stock in the middle of +the house—instead of this, I say, each flue is surreptitiously +honey-combed into the walls; so that these last are here and there, or indeed +almost anywhere, treacherously hollow, and, in consequence, more or less weak. +Of course, the main reason of this style of chimney building is to economize +room. In cities, where lots are sold by the inch, small space is to spare for a +chimney constructed on magnanimous principles; and, as with most thin men, who +are generally tall, so with such houses, what is lacking in breadth, must be +made up in height. This remark holds true even with regard to many very stylish +abodes, built by the most stylish of gentlemen. And yet, when that stylish +gentleman, Louis le Grand of France, would build a palace for his lady, friend, +Madame de Maintenon, he built it but one story high—in fact in the +cottage style. But then, how uncommonly quadrangular, spacious, and +broad—horizontal acres, not vertical ones. Such is the palace, which, in +all its one-storied magnificence of Languedoc marble, in the garden of +Versailles, still remains to this day. Any man can buy a square foot of land +and plant a liberty-pole on it; but it takes a king to set apart whole acres +for a grand Trianon. +</p> + +<p> +But nowadays it is different; and furthermore, what originated in a necessity +has been mounted into a vaunt. In towns there is large rivalry in building tall +houses. If one gentleman builds his house four stories high, and another +gentleman comes next door and builds five stories high, then the former, not to +be looked down upon that way, immediately sends for his architect and claps a +fifth and a sixth story on top of his previous four. And, not till the +gentleman has achieved his aspiration, not till he has stolen over the way by +twilight and observed how his sixth story soars beyond his neighbor’s +fifth—not till then does he retire to his rest with satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +Such folks, it seems to me, need mountains for neighbors, to take this emulous +conceit of soaring out of them. +</p> + +<p> +If, considering that mine is a very wide house, and by no means lofty, aught in +the above may appear like interested pleading, as if I did but fold myself +about in the cloak of a general proposition, cunningly to tickle my individual +vanity beneath it, such misconception must vanish upon my frankly conceding, +that land adjoining my alder swamp was sold last month for ten dollars an acre, +and thought a rash purchase at that; so that for wide houses hereabouts there +is plenty of room, and cheap. Indeed so cheap—dirt cheap—is the +soil, that our elms thrust out their roots in it, and hang their great boughs +over it, in the most lavish and reckless way. Almost all our crops, too, are +sown broadcast, even peas and turnips. A farmer among us, who should go about +his twenty-acre field, poking his finger into it here and there, and dropping +down a mustard seed, would be thought a penurious, narrow-minded husbandman. +The dandelions in the river-meadows, and the forget-me-nots along the mountain +roads, you see at once they are put to no economy in space. Some seasons, too, +our rye comes up here and there a spear, sole and single like a church-spire. +It doesn’t care to crowd itself where it knows there is such a deal of +room. The world is wide, the world is all before us, says the rye. Weeds, too, +it is amazing how they spread. No such thing as arresting them—some of +our pastures being a sort of Alsatia for the weeds. As for the grass, every +spring it is like Kossuth’s rising of what he calls the peoples. +Mountains, too, a regular camp-meeting of them. For the same reason, the same +all-sufficiency of room, our shadows march and countermarch, going through +their various drills and masterly evolutions, like the old imperial guard on +the Champs de Mars. As for the hills, especially where the roads cross them the +supervisors of our various towns have given notice to all concerned, that they +can come and dig them down and cart them off, and never a cent to pay, no more +than for the privilege of picking blackberries. The stranger who is buried +here, what liberal-hearted landed proprietor among us grudges him his six feet +of rocky pasture? +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, cheap, after all, as our land is, and much as it is trodden under +foot, I, for one, am proud of it for what it bears; and chiefly for its three +great lions—the Great Oak, Ogg Mountain, and my chimney. +</p> + +<p> +Most houses, here, are but one and a half stories high; few exceed two. That in +which I and my chimney dwell, is in width nearly twice its height, from sill to +eaves—which accounts for the magnitude of its main content—besides +showing that in this house, as in this country at large, there is abundance of +space, and to spare, for both of us. +</p> + +<p> +The frame of the old house is of wood—which but the more sets forth the +solidity of the chimney, which is of brick. And as the great wrought nails, +binding the clapboards, are unknown in these degenerate days, so are the huge +bricks in the chimney walls. The architect of the chimney must have had the +pyramid of Cheops before him; for, after that famous structure, it seems +modeled, only its rate of decrease towards the summit is considerably less, and +it is truncated. From the exact middle of the mansion it soars from the cellar, +right up through each successive floor, till, four feet square, it breaks water +from the ridge-pole of the roof, like an anvil-headed whale, through the crest +of a billow. Most people, though, liken it, in that part, to a razeed +observatory, masoned up. +</p> + +<p> +The reason for its peculiar appearance above the roof touches upon rather +delicate ground. How shall I reveal that, forasmuch as many years ago the +original gable roof of the old house had become very leaky, a temporary +proprietor hired a band of woodmen, with their huge, cross-cut saws, and went +to sawing the old gable roof clean off. Off it went, with all its birds’ +nests, and dormer windows. It was replaced with a modern roof, more fit for a +railway wood-house than an old country gentleman’s abode. This +operation—razeeing the structure some fifteen feet—was, in effect +upon the chimney, something like the falling of the great spring tides. It left +uncommon low water all about the chimney—to abate which appearance, the +same person now proceeds to slice fifteen feet off the chimney itself, actually +beheading my royal old chimney—a regicidal act, which, were it not for +the palliating fact that he was a poulterer by trade, and, therefore, hardened +to such neck-wringings, should send that former proprietor down to posterity in +the same cart with Cromwell. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to its pyramidal shape, the reduction of the chimney inordinately widened +its razeed summit. Inordinately, I say, but only in the estimation of such as +have no eye to the picturesque. What care I, if, unaware that my chimney, as a +free citizen of this free land, stands upon an independent basis of its own, +people passing it, wonder how such a brick-kiln, as they call it, is supported +upon mere joists and rafters? What care I? I will give a traveler a cup of +switchel, if he want it; but am I bound to supply him with a sweet taste? Men +of cultivated minds see, in my old house and chimney, a goodly old +elephant-and-castle. +</p> + +<p> +All feeling hearts will sympathize with me in what I am now about to add. The +surgical operation, above referred to, necessarily brought into the open air a +part of the chimney previously under cover, and intended to remain so, and, +therefore, not built of what are called weather-bricks. In consequence, the +chimney, though of a vigorous constitution, suffered not a little, from so +naked an exposure; and, unable to acclimate itself, ere long began to +fail—showing blotchy symptoms akin to those in measles. Whereupon +travelers, passing my way, would wag their heads, laughing; “See that wax +nose—how it melts off!” But what cared I? The same travelers would +travel across the sea to view Kenilworth peeling away, and for a very good +reason: that of all artists of the picturesque, decay wears the palm—I +would say, the ivy. In fact, I’ve often thought that the proper place for +my old chimney is ivied old England. +</p> + +<p> +In vain my wife—with what probable ulterior intent will, ere long, +appear—solemnly warned me, that unless something were done, and speedily, +we should be burnt to the ground, owing to the holes crumbling through the +aforesaid blotchy parts, where the chimney joined the roof. “Wife,” +said I, “far better that my house should burn down, than that my chimney +should be pulled down, though but a few feet. They call it a wax nose; very +good; not for me to tweak the nose of my superior.” But at last the man +who has a mortgage on the house dropped me a note, reminding me that, if my +chimney was allowed to stand in that invalid condition, my policy of insurance +would be void. This was a sort of hint not to be neglected. All the world over, +the picturesque yields to the pocketesque. The mortgagor cared not, but the +mortgagee did. +</p> + +<p> +So another operation was performed. The wax nose was taken off, and a new one +fitted on. Unfortunately for the expression—being put up by a squint-eyed +mason, who, at the time, had a bad stitch in the same side—the new nose +stands a little awry, in the same direction. +</p> + +<p> +Of one thing, however, I am proud. The horizontal dimensions of the new part +are unreduced. +</p> + +<p> +Large as the chimney appears upon the roof, that is nothing to its spaciousness +below. At its base in the cellar, it is precisely twelve feet square; and hence +covers precisely one hundred and forty-four superficial feet. What an +appropriation of terra firma for a chimney, and what a huge load for this +earth! In fact, it was only because I and my chimney formed no part of his +ancient burden, that that stout peddler, Atlas of old, was enabled to stand up +so bravely under his pack. The dimensions given may, perhaps, seem fabulous. +But, like those stones at Gilgal, which Joshua set up for a memorial of having +passed over Jordan, does not my chimney remain, even unto this day? +</p> + +<p> +Very often I go down into my cellar, and attentively survey that vast square of +masonry. I stand long, and ponder over, and wonder at it. It has a druidical +look, away down in the umbrageous cellar there whose numerous vaulted passages, +and far glens of gloom, resemble the dark, damp depths of primeval woods. So +strongly did this conceit steal over me, so deeply was I penetrated with wonder +at the chimney, that one day—when I was a little out of my mind, I now +think—getting a spade from the garden, I set to work, digging round the +foundation, especially at the corners thereof, obscurely prompted by dreams of +striking upon some old, earthen-worn memorial of that by-gone day, when, into +all this gloom, the light of heaven entered, as the masons laid the +foundation-stones, peradventure sweltering under an August sun, or pelted by a +March storm. Plying my blunted spade, how vexed was I by that ungracious +interruption of a neighbor who, calling to see me upon some business, and being +informed that I was below said I need not be troubled to come up, but he would +go down to me; and so, without ceremony, and without my having been forewarned, +suddenly discovered me, digging in my cellar. +</p> + +<p> +“Gold digging, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, sir,” answered I, starting, “I was +merely—ahem!—merely—I say I was merely digging-round my +chimney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, loosening the soil, to make it grow. Your chimney, sir, you regard +as too small, I suppose; needing further development, especially at the +top?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir!” said I, throwing down the spade, “do not be personal. +I and my chimney—” +</p> + +<p> +“Personal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I look upon this chimney less as a pile of masonry than as a +personage. It is the king of the house. I am but a suffered and inferior +subject.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, I would permit no gibes to be cast at either myself or my chimney; and +never again did my visitor refer to it in my hearing, without coupling some +compliment with the mention. It well deserves a respectful consideration. There +it stands, solitary and alone—not a council—of ten flues, but, like +his sacred majesty of Russia, a unit of an autocrat. +</p> + +<p> +Even to me, its dimensions, at times, seem incredible. It does not look so +big—no, not even in the cellar. By the mere eye, its magnitude can be but +imperfectly comprehended, because only one side can be received at one time; +and said side can only present twelve feet, linear measure. But then, each +other side also is twelve feet long; and the whole obviously forms a square and +twelve times twelve is one hundred and forty-four. And so, an adequate +conception of the magnitude of this chimney is only to be got at by a sort of +process in the higher mathematics by a method somewhat akin to those whereby +the surprising distances of fixed stars are computed. +</p> + +<p> +It need hardly be said, that the walls of my house are entirely free from +fireplaces. These all congregate in the middle—in the one grand central +chimney, upon all four sides of which are hearths—two tiers of +hearths—so that when, in the various chambers, my family and guests are +warming themselves of a cold winter’s night, just before retiring, then, +though at the time they may not be thinking so, all their faces mutually look +towards each other, yea, all their feet point to one centre; and, when they go +to sleep in their beds, they all sleep round one warm chimney, like so many +Iroquois Indians, in the woods, round their one heap of embers. And just as the +Indians’ fire serves, not only to keep them comfortable, but also to keep +off wolves, and other savage monsters, so my chimney, by its obvious smoke at +top, keeps off prowling burglars from the towns—for what burglar or +murderer would dare break into an abode from whose chimney issues such a +continual smoke—betokening that if the inmates are not stirring, at least +fires are, and in case of an alarm, candles may readily be lighted, to say +nothing of muskets. +</p> + +<p> +But stately as is the chimney—yea, grand high altar as it is, right +worthy for the celebration of high mass before the Pope of Rome, and all his +cardinals—yet what is there perfect in this world? Caius Julius Caesar, +had he not been so inordinately great, they say that Brutus, Cassius, Antony, +and the rest, had been greater. My chimney, were it not so mighty in its +magnitude, my chambers had been larger. How often has my wife ruefully told me, +that my chimney, like the English aristocracy, casts a contracting shade all +round it. She avers that endless domestic inconveniences arise—more +particularly from the chimney’s stubborn central locality. The grand +objection with her is, that it stands midway in the place where a fine +entrance-hall ought to be. In truth, there is no hall whatever to the +house—nothing but a sort of square landing-place, as you enter from the +wide front door. A roomy enough landing-place, I admit, but not attaining to +the dignity of a hall. Now, as the front door is precisely in the middle of the +front of the house, inwards it faces the chimney. In fact, the opposite wall of +the landing-place is formed solely by the chimney; and hence-owing to the +gradual tapering of the chimney—is a little less than twelve feet in +width. Climbing the chimney in this part, is the principal +staircase—which, by three abrupt turns, and three minor landing-places, +mounts to the second floor, where, over the front door, runs a sort of narrow +gallery, something less than twelve feet long, leading to chambers on either +hand. This gallery, of course, is railed; and so, looking down upon the stairs, +and all those landing-places together, with the main one at bottom, resembles +not a little a balcony for musicians, in some jolly old abode, in times +Elizabethan. Shall I tell a weakness? I cherish the cobwebs there, and many a +time arrest Biddy in the act of brushing them with her broom, and have many a +quarrel with my wife and daughters about it. +</p> + +<p> +Now the ceiling, so to speak, of the place where you enter the house, that +ceiling is, in fact, the ceiling of the second floor, not the first. The two +floors are made one here; so that ascending this turning stairs, you seem going +up into a kind of soaring tower, or lighthouse. At the second landing, midway +up the chimney, is a mysterious door, entering to a mysterious closet; and here +I keep mysterious cordials, of a choice, mysterious flavor, made so by the +constant nurturing and subtle ripening of the chimney’s gentle heat, +distilled through that warm mass of masonry. Better for wines is it than +voyages to the Indias; my chimney itself a tropic. A chair by my chimney in a +November day is as good for an invalid as a long season spent in Cuba. Often I +think how grapes might ripen against my chimney. How my wife’s geraniums +bud there! Bud in December. Her eggs, too—can’t keep them near the +chimney, on account of the hatching. Ah, a warm heart has my chimney. +</p> + +<p> +How often my wife was at me about that projected grand entrance-hall of hers, +which was to be knocked clean through the chimney, from one end of the house to +the other, and astonish all guests by its generous amplitude. “But, +wife,” said I, “the chimney—consider the chimney: if you +demolish the foundation, what is to support the superstructure?” +“Oh, that will rest on the second floor.” The truth is, women know +next to nothing about the realities of architecture. However, my wife still +talked of running her entries and partitions. She spent many long nights +elaborating her plans; in imagination building her boasted hall through the +chimney, as though its high mightiness were a mere spear of sorrel-top. At +last, I gently reminded her that, little as she might fancy it, the chimney was +a fact—a sober, substantial fact, which, in all her plannings, it would +be well to take into full consideration. But this was not of much avail. +</p> + +<p> +And here, respectfully craving her permission, I must say a few words about +this enterprising wife of mine. Though in years nearly old as myself, in spirit +she is young as my little sorrel mare, Trigger, that threw me last fall. What +is extraordinary, though she comes of a rheumatic family, she is straight as a +pine, never has any aches; while for me with the sciatica, I am sometimes as +crippled up as any old apple-tree. But she has not so much as a toothache. As +for her hearing—let me enter the house in my dusty boots, and she away up +in the attic. And for her sight—Biddy, the housemaid, tells other +people’s housemaids, that her mistress will spy a spot on the dresser +straight through the pewter platter, put up on purpose to hide it. Her +faculties are alert as her limbs and her senses. No danger of my spouse dying +of torpor. The longest night in the year I’ve known her lie awake, +planning her campaign for the morrow. She is a natural projector. The maxim, +“Whatever is, is right,” is not hers. Her maxim is, Whatever is, is +wrong; and what is more, must be altered; and what is still more, must be +altered right away. Dreadful maxim for the wife of a dozy old dreamer like me, +who dote on seventh days as days of rest, and out of a sabbatical horror of +industry, will, on a week day, go out of my road a quarter of a mile, to avoid +the sight of a man at work. +</p> + +<p> +That matches are made in heaven, may be, but my wife would have been just the +wife for Peter the Great, or Peter the Piper. How she would have set in order +that huge littered empire of the one, and with indefatigable painstaking picked +the peck of pickled peppers for the other. +</p> + +<p> +But the most wonderful thing is, my wife never thinks of her end. Her youthful +incredulity, as to the plain theory, and still plainer fact of death, hardly +seems Christian. Advanced in years, as she knows she must be, my wife seems to +think that she is to teem on, and be inexhaustible forever. She doesn’t +believe in old age. At that strange promise in the plain of Mamre, my old wife, +unlike old Abraham’s, would not have jeeringly laughed within herself. +</p> + +<p> +Judge how to me, who, sitting in the comfortable shadow of my chimney, smoking +my comfortable pipe, with ashes not unwelcome at my feet, and ashes not +unwelcome all but in my mouth; and who am thus in a comfortable sort of not +unwelcome, though, indeed, ashy enough way, reminded of the ultimate exhaustion +even of the most fiery life; judge how to me this unwarrantable vitality in my +wife must come, sometimes, it is true, with a moral and a calm, but oftener +with a breeze and a ruffle. +</p> + +<p> +If the doctrine be true, that in wedlock contraries attract, by how cogent a +fatality must I have been drawn to my wife! While spicily impatient of present +and past, like a glass of ginger-beer she overflows with her schemes; and, with +like energy as she puts down her foot, puts down her preserves and her pickles, +and lives with them in a continual future; or ever full of expectations both +from time and space, is ever restless for newspapers, and ravenous for letters. +Content with the years that are gone, taking no thought for the morrow, and +looking for no new thing from any person or quarter whatever, I have not a +single scheme or expectation on earth, save in unequal resistance of the undue +encroachment of hers. +</p> + +<p> +Old myself, I take to oldness in things; for that cause mainly loving old +Montaigne, and old cheese, and old wine; and eschewing young people, hot rolls, +new books, and early potatoes and very fond of my old claw-footed chair, and +old club-footed Deacon White, my neighbor, and that still nigher old neighbor, +my betwisted old grape-vine, that of a summer evening leans in his elbow for +cosy company at my window-sill, while I, within doors, lean over mine to meet +his; and above all, high above all, am fond of my high-mantled old chimney. But +she, out of the infatuate juvenility of hers, takes to nothing but newness; for +that cause mainly, loving new cider in autumn, and in spring, as if she were +own daughter of Nebuchadnezzar, fairly raving after all sorts of salads and +spinages, and more particularly green cucumbers (though all the time nature +rebukes such unsuitable young hankerings in so elderly a person, by never +permitting such things to agree with her), and has an itch after +recently-discovered fine prospects (so no graveyard be in the background), and +also after Swedenborgianism, and the Spirit Rapping philosophy, with other new +views, alike in things natural and unnatural; and immortally hopeful, is +forever making new flower-beds even on the north side of the house where the +bleak mountain wind would scarce allow the wiry weed called hard-hack to gain a +thorough footing; and on the road-side sets out mere pipe-stems of young elms; +though there is no hope of any shade from them, except over the ruins of her +great granddaughter’s gravestones; and won’t wear caps, but plaits +her gray hair; and takes the Ladies’ Magazine for the fashions; and +always buys her new almanac a month before the new year; and rises at dawn; and +to the warmest sunset turns a cold shoulder; and still goes on at odd hours +with her new course of history, and her French, and her music; and likes a +young company; and offers to ride young colts; and sets out young suckers in +the orchard; and has a spite against my elbowed old grape-vine, and my +club-footed old neighbor, and my claw-footed old chair, and above all, high +above all, would fain persecute, unto death, my high-mantled old chimney. By +what perverse magic, I a thousand times think, does such a very autumnal old +lady have such a very vernal young soul? When I would remonstrate at times, she +spins round on me with, “Oh, don’t you grumble, old man (she always +calls me old man), it’s I, young I, that keep you from stagnating.” +Well, I suppose it is so. Yea, after all, these things are well ordered. My +wife, as one of her poor relations, good soul, intimates, is the salt of the +earth, and none the less the salt of my sea, which otherwise were unwholesome. +She is its monsoon, too, blowing a brisk gale over it, in the one steady +direction of my chimney. +</p> + +<p> +Not insensible of her superior energies, my wife has frequently made me +propositions to take upon herself all the responsibilities of my affairs. She +is desirous that, domestically, I should abdicate; that, renouncing further +rule, like the venerable Charles V, I should retire into some sort of +monastery. But indeed, the chimney excepted, I have little authority to lay +down. By my wife’s ingenious application of the principle that certain +things belong of right to female jurisdiction, I find myself, through my easy +compliances, insensibly stripped by degrees of one masculine prerogative after +another. In a dream I go about my fields, a sort of lazy, happy-go-lucky, +good-for-nothing, loafing old Lear. Only by some sudden revelation am I +reminded who is over me; as year before last, one day seeing in one corner of +the premises fresh deposits of mysterious boards and timbers, the oddity of the +incident at length begat serious meditation. “Wife,” said I, +“whose boards and timbers are those I see near the orchard there? Do you +know anything about them, wife? Who put them there? You know I do not like the +neighbors to use my land that way, they should ask permission first.” +</p> + +<p> +She regarded me with a pitying smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, old man, don’t you know I am building a new barn? +Didn’t you know that, old man?” +</p> + +<p> +This is the poor old lady that was accusing me of tyrannizing over her. +</p> + +<p> +To return now to the chimney. Upon being assured of the futility of her +proposed hall, so long as the obstacle remained, for a time my wife was for a +modified project. But I could never exactly comprehend it. As far as I could +see through it, it seemed to involve the general idea of a sort of irregular +archway, or elbowed tunnel, which was to penetrate the chimney at some +convenient point under the staircase, and carefully avoiding dangerous contact +with the fireplaces, and particularly steering clear of the great interior +flue, was to conduct the enterprising traveler from the front door all the way +into the dining-room in the remote rear of the mansion. Doubtless it was a bold +stroke of genius, that plan of hers, and so was Nero’s when he schemed +his grand canal through the Isthmus of Corinth. Nor will I take oath, that, had +her project been accomplished, then, by help of lights hung at judicious +intervals through the tunnel, some Belzoni or other might have succeeded in +future ages in penetrating through the masonry, and actually emerging into the +dining-room, and once there, it would have been inhospitable treatment of such +a traveler to have denied him a recruiting meal. +</p> + +<p> +But my bustling wife did not restrict her objections, nor in the end confine +her proposed alterations to the first floor. Her ambition was of the mounting +order. She ascended with her schemes to the second floor, and so to the attic. +Perhaps there was some small ground for her discontent with things as they +were. The truth is, there was no regular passage-way up-stairs or down, unless +we again except that little orchestra-gallery before mentioned. And all this +was owing to the chimney, which my gamesome spouse seemed despitefully to +regard as the bully of the house. On all its four sides, nearly all the +chambers sidled up to the chimney for the benefit of a fireplace. The chimney +would not go to them; they must needs go to it. The consequence was, almost +every room, like a philosophical system, was in itself an entry, or passage-way +to other rooms, and systems of rooms—a whole suite of entries, in fact. +Going through the house, you seem to be forever going somewhere, and getting +nowhere. It is like losing one’s self in the woods; round and round the +chimney you go, and if you arrive at all, it is just where you started, and so +you begin again, and again get nowhere. Indeed—though I say it not in the +way of faultfinding at all—never was there so labyrinthine an abode. +Guests will tarry with me several weeks and every now and then, be anew +astonished at some unforeseen apartment. +</p> + +<p> +The puzzling nature of the mansion, resulting from the chimney, is peculiarly +noticeable in the dining-room, which has no less than nine doors, opening in +all directions, and into all sorts of places. A stranger for the first time +entering this dining-room, and naturally taking no special heed at what door he +entered, will, upon rising to depart, commit the strangest blunders. Such, for +instance, as opening the first door that comes handy, and finding himself +stealing up-stairs by the back passage. Shutting that door, he will proceed to +another, and be aghast at the cellar yawning at his feet. Trying a third, he +surprises the housemaid at her work. In the end, no more relying on his own +unaided efforts, he procures a trusty guide in some passing person, and in good +time successfully emerges. Perhaps as curious a blunder as any, was that of a +certain stylish young gentleman, a great exquisite, in whose judicious eyes my +daughter Anna had found especial favor. He called upon the young lady one +evening, and found her alone in the dining-room at her needlework. He stayed +rather late; and after abundance of superfine discourse, all the while +retaining his hat and cane, made his profuse adieus, and with repeated graceful +bows proceeded to depart, after the fashion of courtiers from the Queen, and by +so doing, opening a door at random, with one hand placed behind, very +effectually succeeded in backing himself into a dark pantry, where he carefully +shut himself up, wondering there was no light in the entry. After several +strange noises as of a cat among the crockery, he reappeared through the same +door, looking uncommonly crestfallen, and, with a deeply embarrassed air, +requested my daughter to designate at which of the nine he should find exit. +When the mischievous Anna told me the story, she said it was surprising how +unaffected and matter-of-fact the young gentleman’s manner was after his +reappearance. He was more candid than ever, to be sure; having inadvertently +thrust his white kids into an open drawer of Havana sugar, under the +impression, probably, that being what they call “a sweet fellow,” his route +might possibly lie in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +Another inconvenience resulting from the chimney is, the bewilderment of a +guest in gaining his chamber, many strange doors lying between him and it. To +direct him by finger-posts would look rather queer; and just as queer in him to +be knocking at every door on his route, like London’s city guest, the +king, at Temple-Bar. +</p> + +<p> +Now, of all these things and many, many more, my family continually complained. +At last my wife came out with her sweeping proposition—in toto to abolish +the chimney. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” said I, “abolish the chimney? To take out the +backbone of anything, wife, is a hazardous affair. Spines out of backs, and +chimneys out of houses, are not to be taken like frosted lead pipes from the +ground. Besides,” added I, “the chimney is the one grand permanence +of this abode. If undisturbed by innovators, then in future ages, when all the +house shall have crumbled from it, this chimney will still survive—a +Bunker Hill monument. No, no, wife, I can’t abolish my backbone.” +</p> + +<p> +So said I then. But who is sure of himself, especially an old man, with both +wife and daughters ever at his elbow and ear? In time, I was persuaded to think +a little better of it; in short, to take the matter into preliminary +consideration. At length it came to pass that a master-mason—a rough sort +of architect—one Mr. Scribe, was summoned to a conference. I formally +introduced him to my chimney. A previous introduction from my wife had +introduced him to myself. He had been not a little employed by that lady, in +preparing plans and estimates for some of her extensive operations in drainage. +Having, with much ado, extorted from my spouse the promise that she would leave +us to an unmolested survey, I began by leading Mr. Scribe down to the root of +the matter, in the cellar. Lamp in hand, I descended; for though up-stairs it +was noon, below it was night. +</p> + +<p> +We seemed in the pyramids; and I, with one hand holding my lamp over head, and +with the other pointing out, in the obscurity, the hoar mass of the chimney, +seemed some Arab guide, showing the cobwebbed mausoleum of the great god Apis. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a most remarkable structure, sir,” said the master-mason, +after long contemplating it in silence, “a most remarkable structure, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said I complacently, “every one says so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But large as it appears above the roof, I would not have inferred the +magnitude of this foundation, sir,” eyeing it critically. +</p> + +<p> +Then taking out his rule, he measured it. +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve feet square; one hundred and forty-four square feet! Sir, this +house would appear to have been built simply for the accommodation of your +chimney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my chimney and me. Tell me candidly, now,” I added, +“would you have such a famous chimney abolished?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t have it in a house of mine, sir, for a gift,” was +the reply. “It’s a losing affair altogether, sir. Do you know, sir, +that in retaining this chimney, you are losing, not only one hundred and +forty-four square feet of good ground, but likewise a considerable interest +upon a considerable principal?” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, sir!” said he, taking a bit of red chalk from his pocket, +and figuring against a whitewashed wall, “twenty times eight is so and +so; then forty-two times thirty—nine is so and so—ain’t it, +sir? Well, add those together, and subtract this here, then that makes so and +so,” still chalking away. +</p> + +<p> +To be brief, after no small ciphering, Mr. Scribe informed me that my chimney +contained, I am ashamed to say how many thousand and odd valuable bricks. +</p> + +<p> +“No more,” said I fidgeting. “Pray now, let us have a look +above.” +</p> + +<p> +In that upper zone we made two more circumnavigations for the first and second +floors. That done, we stood together at the foot of the stairway by the front +door; my hand upon the knob, and Mr. Scribe hat in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir,” said he, a sort of feeling his way, and, to help +himself, fumbling with his hat, “well, sir, I think it can be +done.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, pray, Mr. Scribe; <i>what</i> can be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your chimney, sir; it can without rashness be removed, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will think of it, too, Mr. Scribe,” said I, turning the knob and +bowing him towards the open space without, “I will <i>think</i> of it, +sir; it demands consideration; much obliged to ye; good morning, Mr. +Scribe.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all arranged, then,” cried my wife with great glee, bursting +from the nighest room. +</p> + +<p> +“When will they begin?” demanded my daughter Julia. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow?” asked Anna. +</p> + +<p> +“Patience, patience, my dears,” said I, “such a big chimney +is not to be abolished in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Next morning it began again. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember the chimney,” said my wife. “Wife,” said +I, “it is never out of my house and never out of my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“But when is Mr. Scribe to begin to pull it down?” asked Anna. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-day, Anna,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>When</i>, then?” demanded Julia, in alarm. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if this chimney of mine was, for size, a sort of belfry, for ding-donging +at me about it, my wife and daughters were a sort of bells, always chiming +together, or taking up each other’s melodies at every pause, my wife the +key-clapper of all. A very sweet ringing, and pealing, and chiming, I confess; +but then, the most silvery of bells may, sometimes, dismally toll, as well as +merrily play. And as touching the subject in question, it became so now. +Perceiving a strange relapse of opposition in me, wife and daughters began a +soft and dirge-like, melancholy tolling over it. +</p> + +<p> +At length my wife, getting much excited, declared to me, with pointed finger, +that so long as that chimney stood, she should regard it as the monument of +what she called my broken pledge. But finding this did not answer, the next +day, she gave me to understand that either she or the chimney must quit the +house. +</p> + +<p> +Finding matters coming to such a pass, I and my pipe philosophized over them +awhile, and finally concluded between us, that little as our hearts went with +the plan, yet for peace’ sake, I might write out the chimney’s +death-warrant, and, while my hand was in, scratch a note to Mr. Scribe. +</p> + +<p> +Considering that I, and my chimney, and my pipe, from having been so much +together, were three great cronies, the facility with which my pipe consented +to a project so fatal to the goodliest of our trio; or rather, the way in which +I and my pipe, in secret, conspired together, as it were, against our +unsuspicious old comrade—this may seem rather strange, if not suggestive +of sad reflections upon us two. But, indeed, we, sons of clay, that is my pipe +and I, are no whit better than the rest. Far from us, indeed, to have +volunteered the betrayal of our crony. We are of a peaceable nature, too. But +that love of peace it was which made us false to a mutual friend, as soon as +his cause demanded a vigorous vindication. But I rejoice to add, that better +and braver thoughts soon returned, as will now briefly be set forth. +</p> + +<p> +To my note, Mr. Scribe replied in person. +</p> + +<p> +Once more we made a survey, mainly now with a view to a pecuniary estimate. +</p> + +<p> +“I will do it for five hundred dollars,” said Mr. Scribe at last, +again hat in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Mr. Scribe, I will think of it,” replied I, again +bowing him to the door. +</p> + +<p> +Not unvexed by this, for the second time, unexpected response, again he +withdrew, and from my wife, and daughters again burst the old exclamations. +</p> + +<p> +The truth is, resolve how I would, at the last pinch I and my chimney could +not be parted. +</p> + +<p> +“So Holofernes will have his way, never mind whose heart breaks for +it,” said my wife next morning, at breakfast, in that half-didactic, +half-reproachful way of hers, which is harder to bear than her most energetic +assault. Holofernes, too, is with her a pet name for any fell domestic despot. +So, whenever, against her most ambitious innovations, those which saw me quite +across the grain, I, as in the present instance, stand with however little +steadfastness on the defence, she is sure to call me Holofernes, and ten to one +takes the first opportunity to read aloud, with a suppressed emphasis, of an +evening, the first newspaper paragraph about some tyrannic day-laborer, who, +after being for many years the Caligula of his family, ends by beating his +long-suffering spouse to death, with a garret door wrenched off its hinges, and +then, pitching his little innocents out of the window, suicidally turns inward +towards the broken wall scored with the butcher’s and baker’s +bills, and so rushes headlong to his dreadful account. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, for a few days, not a little to my surprise, I heard no further +reproaches. An intense calm pervaded my wife, but beneath which, as in the sea, +there was no knowing what portentous movements might be going on. She +frequently went abroad, and in a direction which I thought not unsuspicious; +namely, in the direction of New Petra, a griffin-like house of wood and stucco, +in the highest style of ornamental art, graced with four chimneys in the form +of erect dragons spouting smoke from their nostrils; the elegant modern +residence of Mr. Scribe, which he had built for the purpose of a standing +advertisement, not more of his taste as an architect, than his solidity as a +master-mason. +</p> + +<p> +At last, smoking my pipe one morning, I heard a rap at the door, and my wife, +with an air unusually quiet for her brought me a note. As I have no +correspondents except Solomon, with whom, in his sentiments, at least, I +entirely correspond, the note occasioned me some little surprise, which was not +diminished upon reading the following:— +</p> + +<p class="right"> +N<small>EW</small> P<small>ETRA</small>, April 1st. +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p> +S<small>IR</small>—During my last examination of your chimney, possibly +you may have noted that I frequently applied my rule to it in a manner +apparently unnecessary. Possibly also, at the same time, you might have +observed in me more or less of perplexity, to which, however, I refrained from +giving any verbal expression. +</p> + +<p> +I now feel it obligatory upon me to inform you of what was then but a dim +suspicion, and as such would have been unwise to give utterance to, but which +now, from various subsequent calculations assuming no little probability, it +may be important that you should not remain in further ignorance of. +</p> + +<p> +It is my solemn duty to warn you, sir, that there is architectural cause to +conjecture that somewhere concealed in your chimney is a reserved space, +hermetically closed, in short, a secret chamber, or rather closet. How long it +has been there, it is for me impossible to say. What it contains is hid, with +itself, in darkness. But probably a secret closet would not have been contrived +except for some extraordinary object, whether for the concealment of treasure, +or what other purpose, may be left to those better acquainted with the history +of the house to guess. +</p> + +<p> +But enough: in making this disclosure, sir, my conscience is eased. Whatever +step you choose to take upon it, is of course a matter of indifference to me; +though, I confess, as respects the character of the closet, I cannot but share +in a natural curiosity. Trusting that you may be guided aright, in determining +whether it is Christian-like knowingly to reside in a house, hidden in which is +a secret closet, +</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +I remain, <br/> +With much respect, <br/> +Yours very humbly, <br/> +H<small>IRAM</small> S<small>CRIBE</small>. +</p> + +<p> +My first thought upon reading this note was, not of the alleged mystery of +manner to which, at the outset, it alluded-for none such had I at all observed +in the master-mason during his surveys—but of my late kinsman, Captain +Julian Dacres, long a ship-master and merchant in the Indian trade, who, about +thirty years ago, and at the ripe age of ninety, died a bachelor, and in this +very house, which he had built. He was supposed to have retired into this +country with a large fortune. But to the general surprise, after being at great +cost in building himself this mansion, he settled down into a sedate, reserved, +and inexpensive old age, which by the neighbors was thought all the better for +his heirs: but lo! upon opening the will, his property was found to consist but +of the house and grounds, and some ten thousand dollars in stocks; but the +place, being found heavily mortgaged, was in consequence sold. Gossip had its +day, and left the grass quietly to creep over the captain’s grave, where +he still slumbers in a privacy as unmolested as if the billows of the Indian +Ocean, instead of the billows of inland verdure, rolled over him. Still, I +remembered long ago, hearing strange solutions whispered by the country people +for the mystery involving his will, and, by reflex, himself; and that, too, as +well in conscience as purse. But people who could circulate the report (which +they did), that Captain Julian Dacres had, in his day, been a Borneo pirate, +surely were not worthy of credence in their collateral notions. It is queer +what wild whimsies of rumors will, like toadstools, spring up about any +eccentric stranger, who, settling down among a rustic population, keeps quietly +to himself. With some, inoffensiveness would seem a prime cause of offense. But +what chiefly had led me to scout at these rumors, particularly as referring to +concealed treasure, was the circumstance, that the stranger (the same who +razeed the roof and the chimney) into whose hands the estate had passed on my +kinsman’s death, was of that sort of character, that had there been the +least ground for those reports, he would speedily have tested them, by tearing +down and rummaging the walls. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the note of Mr. Scribe, so strangely recalling the memory of my +kinsman, very naturally chimed in with what had been mysterious, or at least +unexplained, about him; vague flashings of ingots united in my mind with vague +gleamings of skulls. But the first cool thought soon dismissed such chimeras; +and, with a calm smile, I turned towards my wife, who, meantime, had been +sitting nearby, impatient enough, I dare say, to know who could have taken it +into his head to write me a letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, old man,” said she, “who is it from, and what is it +about?” +</p> + +<p> +“Read it, wife,” said I, handing it. +</p> + +<p> +Read it she did, and then—such an explosion! I will not pretend to describe her +emotions, or repeat her expressions. Enough that my daughters were quickly +called in to share the excitement. Although they had never before dreamed of +such a revelation as Mr. Scribe’s; yet upon the first suggestion they +instinctively saw the extreme likelihood of it. In corroboration, they cited +first my kinsman, and second, my chimney; alleging that the profound mystery +involving the former, and the equally profound masonry involving the latter, +though both acknowledged facts, were alike preposterous on any other +supposition than the secret closet. +</p> + +<p> +But all this time I was quietly thinking to myself: Could it be hidden from me +that my credulity in this instance would operate very favorably to a certain +plan of theirs? How to get to the secret closet, or how to have any certainty +about it at all, without making such fell work with the chimney as to render +its set destruction superfluous? That my wife wished to get rid of the chimney, +it needed no reflection to show; and that Mr. Scribe, for all his pretended +disinterestedness, was not opposed to pocketing five hundred dollars by the +operation, seemed equally evident. That my wife had, in secret, laid heads +together with Mr. Scribe, I at present refrain from affirming. But when I +consider her enmity against my chimney, and the steadiness with which at the +last she is wont to carry out her schemes, if by hook or by crook she can, +especially after having been once baffled, why, I scarcely knew at what step of +hers to be surprised. +</p> + +<p> +Of one thing only was I resolved, that I and my chimney should not budge. +</p> + +<p> +In vain all protests. Next morning I went out into the road, where I had +noticed a diabolical-looking old gander, that, for its doughty exploits in the +way of scratching into forbidden inclosures, had been rewarded by its master +with a portentous, four-pronged, wooden decoration, in the shape of a collar of +the Order of the Garotte. This gander I cornered and rummaging out its stiffest +quill, plucked it, took it home, and making a stiff pen, inscribed the +following stiff note: +</p> + +<p class="right"> +C<small>HIMNEY</small> S<small>IDE</small>, April 2. +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p> +<i>Mr. Scribe.</i> +</p> + +<p> +S<small>IR</small>:—For your conjecture, we return you our joint thanks +and compliments, and beg leave to assure you, that +</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +We shall remain, <br/> +Very faithfully, <br/> +The same, <br/> +I <small>AND MY</small> C<small>HIMNEY</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, for this epistle we had to endure some pretty sharp raps. But having +at last explicitly understood from me that Mr. Scribe’s note had not altered my +mind one jot, my wife, to move me, among other things said, that if she +remembered aright, there was a statute placing the keeping in private houses of +secret closets on the same unlawful footing with the keeping of gunpowder. But +it had no effect. +</p> + +<p> +A few days after, my spouse changed her key. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly midnight, and all were in bed but ourselves, who sat up, one in +each chimney-corner; she, needles in hand, indefatigably knitting a sock; I, +pipe in mouth, indolently weaving my vapors. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of the first of the chill nights in autumn. There was a fire on the +hearth, burning low. The air without was torpid and heavy; the wood, by an +oversight, of the sort called soggy. +</p> + +<p> +“Do look at the chimney,” she began; “can’t you see +that something must be in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, wife. Truly there is smoke in the chimney, as in Mr. Scribe’s +note.” +</p> + +<p> +“Smoke? Yes, indeed, and in my eyes, too. How you two wicked old sinners +do smoke!—this wicked old chimney and you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wife,” said I, “I and my chimney like to have a quiet smoke +together, it is true, but we don’t like to be called names.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, dear old man,” said she, softening down, and a little +shifting the subject, “when you think of that old kinsman of yours, you +<i>know</i> there must be a secret closet in this chimney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Secret ash-hole, wife, why don’t you have it? Yes, I dare say +there is a secret ash-hole in the chimney; for where do all the ashes go to +that we drop down the queer hole yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know where they go to; I’ve been there almost as many times as +the cat.” +</p> + +<p> +“What devil, wife, prompted you to crawl into the ash-hole? Don’t +you know that St. Dunstan’s devil emerged from the ash-hole? You will get +your death one of these days, exploring all about as you do. But supposing +there be a secret closet, what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“What then? why what should be in a secret closet but—” +</p> + +<p> +“Dry bones, wife,” broke in I with a puff, while the sociable old +chimney broke in with another. +</p> + +<p> +“There again! Oh, how this wretched old chimney smokes,” wiping her +eyes with her handkerchief. “I’ve no doubt the reason it smokes so +is, because that secret closet interferes with the flue. Do see, too, how the +jambs here keep settling; and it’s down hill all the way from the door to +this hearth. This horrid old chimney will fall on our heads yet; depend upon +it, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, wife, I do depend on it; yes indeed, I place every dependence on my +chimney. As for its settling, I like it. I, too, am settling, you know, in my +gait. I and my chimney are settling together, and shall keep settling, too, +till, as in a great feather-bed, we shall both have settled away clean out of +sight. But this secret oven; I mean, secret closet of yours, wife; where +exactly do you suppose that secret closet is?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is for Mr. Scribe to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“But suppose he cannot say exactly; what, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then he can prove, I am sure, that it must be somewhere or other in +this horrid old chimney.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if he can’t prove that; what, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then, old man,” with a stately air, “I shall say little +more about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed, wife,” returned I, knocking my pipe-bowl against the jamb, +“and now, to-morrow, I will for a third time send for Mr. Scribe. Wife, +the sciatica takes me; be so good as to put this pipe on the mantel.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you get the step-ladder for me, I will. This shocking old chimney, +this abominable old-fashioned old chimney’s mantels are so high, I +can’t reach them.” +</p> + +<p> +No opportunity, however trivial, was overlooked for a subordinate fling at the +pile. +</p> + +<p> +Here, by way of introduction, it should be mentioned, that besides the +fireplaces all round it, the chimney was, in the most haphazard way, excavated +on each floor for certain curious out-of-the-way cupboards and closets, of all +sorts and sizes, clinging here and there, like nests in the crotches of some +old oak. On the second floor these closets were by far the most irregular and +numerous. And yet this should hardly have been so, since the theory of the +chimney was, that it pyramidically diminished as it ascended. The abridgment of +its square on the roof was obvious enough; and it was supposed that the +reduction must be methodically graduated from bottom to top. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Scribe,” said I when, the next day, with an eager aspect, that +individual again came, “my object in sending for you this morning is, not +to arrange for the demolition of my chimney, nor to have any particular +conversation about it, but simply to allow you every reasonable facility for +verifying, if you can, the conjecture communicated in your note.” +</p> + +<p> +Though in secret not a little crestfallen, it may be, by my phlegmatic +reception, so different from what he had looked for; with much apparent +alacrity he commenced the survey; throwing open the cupboards on the first +floor, and peering into the closets on the second; measuring one within, and +then comparing that measurement with the measurement without. Removing the +fireboards, he would gaze up the flues. But no sign of the hidden work yet. +</p> + +<p> +Now, on the second floor the rooms were the most rambling conceivable. They, as +it were, dovetailed into each other. They were of all shapes; not one +mathematically square room among them all—a peculiarity which by the +master-mason had not been unobserved. With a significant, not to say portentous +expression, he took a circuit of the chimney, measuring the area of each room +around it; then going down stairs, and out of doors, he measured the entire +ground area; then compared the sum total of all the areas of all the rooms on +the second floor with the ground area; then, returning to me in no small +excitement, announced that there was a difference of no less than two hundred +and odd square feet—room enough, in all conscience, for a secret closet. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mr. Scribe,” said I, stroking my chin, “have you +allowed for the walls, both main and sectional? They take up some space, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I had forgotten that,” tapping his forehead; +“but,” still ciphering on his paper, “that will not make up +the deficiency.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mr. Scribe, have you allowed for the recesses of so many fireplaces +on a floor, and for the fire-walls, and the flues; in short, Mr. Scribe, have +you allowed for the legitimate chimney itself—some one hundred and +forty-four square feet or thereabouts, Mr. Scribe?” +</p> + +<p> +“How unaccountable. That slipped my mind, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did it, indeed, Mr. Scribe?” +</p> + +<p> +He faltered a little, and burst forth with, “But we must now allow one +hundred and forty-four square feet for the legitimate chimney. My position is, +that within those undue limits the secret closet is contained.” +</p> + +<p> +I eyed him in silence a moment; then spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“Your survey is concluded, Mr. Scribe; be so good now as to lay your +finger upon the exact part of the chimney wall where you believe this secret +closet to be; or would a witch-hazel wand assist you, Mr. Scribe?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Sir, but a crowbar would,” he, with temper, rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +Here, now, thought I to myself, the cat leaps out of the bag. I looked at him +with a calm glance, under which he seemed somewhat uneasy. More than ever now I +suspected a plot. I remembered what my wife had said about abiding by the +decision of Mr. Scribe. In a bland way, I resolved to buy up the decision of +Mr. Scribe. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said I, “really, I am much obliged to you for this +survey. It has quite set my mind at rest. And no doubt you, too, Mr. Scribe, +must feel much relieved. Sir,” I added, “you have made three visits +to the chimney. With a business man, time is money. Here are fifty dollars, Mr. +Scribe. Nay, take it. You have earned it. Your opinion is worth it. And by the +way,”—as he modestly received the money—“have you any +objections to give me a—a—little certificate—something, say, +like a steamboat certificate, certifying that you, a competent surveyor, have +surveyed my chimney, and found no reason to believe any unsoundness; in short, +any—any secret closet in it. Would you be so kind, Mr. Scribe?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, but, sir,” stammered he with honest hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, here are pen and paper,” said I, with entire assurance. +</p> + +<p> +Enough. +</p> + +<p> +That evening I had the certificate framed and hung over the dining-room +fireplace, trusting that the continual sight of it would forever put at rest at +once the dreams and stratagems of my household. +</p> + +<p> +But, no. Inveterately bent upon the extirpation of that noble old chimney, +still to this day my wife goes about it, with my daughter Anna’s +geological hammer, tapping the wall all over, and then holding her ear against +it, as I have seen the physicians of life insurance companies tap a man’s +chest, and then incline over for the echo. Sometimes of nights she almost +frightens one, going about on this phantom errand, and still following the +sepulchral response of the chimney, round and round, as if it were leading her +to the threshold of the secret closet. +</p> + +<p> +“How hollow it sounds,” she will hollowly cry. “Yes, I +declare,” with an emphatic tap, “there is a secret closet here. +Here, in this very spot. Hark! How hollow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Psha! wife, of course it is hollow. Who ever heard of a solid +chimney?” But nothing avails. And my daughters take after, not me, but +their mother. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes all three abandon the theory of the secret closet and return to the +genuine ground of attack—the unsightliness of so cumbrous a pile, with +comments upon the great addition of room to be gained by its demolition, and +the fine effect of the projected grand hall, and the convenience resulting from +the collateral running in one direction and another of their various +partitions. Not more ruthlessly did the Three Powers partition away poor +Poland, than my wife and daughters would fain partition away my chimney. +</p> + +<p> +But seeing that, despite all, I and my chimney still smoke our pipes, my wife +reoccupies the ground of the secret closet, enlarging upon what wonders are +there, and what a shame it is, not to seek it out and explore it. +</p> + +<p> +“Wife,” said I, upon one of these occasions, “why speak more +of that secret closet, when there before you hangs contrary testimony of a +master mason, elected by yourself to decide. Besides, even if there were a +secret closet, secret it should remain, and secret it shall. Yes, wife, here +for once I must say my say. Infinite sad mischief has resulted from the profane +bursting open of secret recesses. Though standing in the heart of this house, +though hitherto we have all nestled about it, unsuspicious of aught hidden +within, this chimney may or may not have a secret closet. But if it have, it is +my kinsman’s. To break into that wall, would be to break into his breast. +And that wall-breaking wish of Momus I account the wish of a churchrobbing +gossip and knave. Yes, wife, a vile eavesdropping varlet was Momus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Moses? Mumps? Stuff with your mumps and your Moses!” +</p> + +<p> +The truth is, my wife, like all the rest of the world, cares not a fig for my +philosophical jabber. In dearth of other philosophical companionship, I and my +chimney have to smoke and philosophize together. And sitting up so late as we +do at it, a mighty smoke it is that we two smoky old philosophers make. +</p> + +<p> +But my spouse, who likes the smoke of my tobacco as little as she does that of +the soot, carries on her war against both. I live in continual dread lest, like +the golden bowl, the pipes of me and my chimney shall yet be broken. To stay +that mad project of my wife’s, naught answers. Or, rather, she herself is +incessantly answering, incessantly besetting me with her terrible alacrity for +improvement, which is a softer name for destruction. Scarce a day I do not find +her with her tape-measure, measuring for her grand hall, while Anna holds a +yardstick on one side, and Julia looks approvingly on from the other. +Mysterious intimations appear in the nearest village paper, signed +“Claude,” to the effect that a certain structure, standing on a +certain hill, is a sad blemish to an otherwise lovely landscape. Anonymous +letters arrive, threatening me with I know not what, unless I remove my +chimney. Is it my wife, too, or who, that sets up the neighbors to badgering me +on the same subject, and hinting to me that my chimney, like a huge elm, +absorbs all moisture from my garden? At night, also, my wife will start as from +sleep, professing to hear ghostly noises from the secret closet. Assailed on +all sides, and in all ways, small peace have I and my chimney. +</p> + +<p> +Were it not for the baggage, we would together pack up, and remove from the +country. +</p> + +<p> +What narrow escapes have been ours! Once I found in a drawer a whole portfolio +of plans and estimates. Another time, upon returning after a day’s absence, I +discovered my wife standing before the chimney in earnest conversation with a +person whom I at once recognized as a meddlesome architectural reformer, who, +because he had no gift for putting up anything, was ever intent upon pulling +them down; in various parts of the country having prevailed upon half-witted +old folks to destroy their old-fashioned houses, particularly the chimneys. +</p> + +<p> +But worst of all was, that time I unexpectedly returned at early morning from a +visit to the city, and upon approaching the house, narrowly escaped three +brickbats which fell, from high aloft, at my feet. Glancing up, what was my +horror to see three savages, in blue jean overalls, in the very act of +commencing the long-threatened attack. Aye, indeed, thinking of those three +brickbats, I and my chimney have had narrow escapes. +</p> + +<p> +It is now some seven years since I have stirred from home. My city friends all +wonder why I don’t come to see them, as in former times. They think I am +getting sour and unsocial. Some say that I have become a sort of mossy old +misanthrope, while all the time the fact is, I am simply standing guard over my +mossy old chimney; for it is resolved between me and my chimney, that I and my +chimney will never surrender. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I AND MY CHIMNEY ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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