diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:56:21 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:56:21 -0700 |
| commit | 6246a9bc06b533da0ac403e3e73ccc943251686e (patch) | |
| tree | c3d59e6dce2134f28f8999b2ad2008092770580c /31754-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '31754-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 31754-h/31754-h.htm | 12569 |
1 files changed, 12569 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/31754-h/31754-h.htm b/31754-h/31754-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7a7d73 --- /dev/null +++ b/31754-h/31754-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12569 @@ +<!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" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Devil Lore, by Maximilian J. Rudwin + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; + clear: both; + font-family: "Garamond", Times, serif;} + + h2 {margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + + h4 {padding-top: 1em;} + + hr {width: 20%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + height: 1px; + border: 0; + background-color: black; + color: black;} + + table {margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto;} + + td.lal {text-align: left; + padding-top: 1em; + padding-left: 1.5em; + text-indent: -1.5em;} + + td.ral {text-align: right; + vertical-align: top; + padding-left: 2em; + padding-top: 1em;} + + body{margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + + p.ni {text-indent: 0em;} + + p.dedication {font-size: 110%; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + line-height: 150%; + padding-top: 4em; + padding-bottom: 4em;} + + p.publisher {margin-top: 4em; + text-align: center; + line-height: 150%; + margin-bottom: 3em; + text-indent: 0em;} + + p.ads {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: -1em; + margin-left: 1em;} + + div.list1 {width: 50%; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + margin-bottom: 4em;} + + div.list2 {width: 35%; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + margin-bottom: 2em; + border: solid black 1px; + padding: 1em 1em 1em 1em;} + + div.list2 p {padding-left: 1em; + text-indent: -1em;} + + div.tpage {font-family: "Garamond", Times, serif;} + + div.tpage h2 {margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 4em;} + + img {border-style: none; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + + ul {list-style: none; + line-height: 150%;} + + sup {vertical-align: baseline; + font-size: 90%; + position: relative; + top: -.4em;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: 0ex; + text-indent: 0em; + font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif;} + + a:link {text-decoration: none; + color: #104E8B; + background-color: inherit;} + + a:visited {text-decoration: none; + color: #8B0000; + background-color: inherit;} + + a:hover {text-decoration: underline;} + + a:active {text-decoration: underline;} + + .sidenote {width: 5em; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: normal; + text-align: center; + float: right; + margin-right: -6em; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-left: 6px; + border: 1px solid silver;} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 90%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + + .bbox {border: solid black 2px; + width: 10em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + padding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;} + + div.bbox p {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .figleft {float: left; + clear: left; + padding: 0em; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .figright {float: right; + clear: right; + padding: 0em; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .footnotes {border: dotted 1px; + border-color: silver; + padding-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 2em;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: smaller;} + + .footnote .label {position: absolute; + right: 79%; + text-align: right;} + + .fnanchor { vertical-align: baseline; + font-size: 80%; + position: relative; + top: -.4em;} + + div.footnote p {text-indent: 0em;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; + font-size: 90%;} + + .poem br {display: none;} + + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + + .poem span.i0 {display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + + .poem span.i1 {display: block; + margin-left: 1em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + + .poem span.i2 {display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + + .poem span.i6 {display: block; + margin-left: 6em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + + .poem span.i8 {display: block; + margin-left: 8em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Devil Stories, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Devil Stories + An Anthology + +Author: Various + +Editor: Maximilian J. Rudwin + +Release Date: March 24, 2010 [EBook #31754] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEVIL STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tpage"> +<h1>DEVIL STORIES</h1> + +<h2>AN ANTHOLOGY</h2> + +<p class="center" style="width: 55%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold">SELECTED AND EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION +AND CRITICAL COMMENTS</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 150%; font-weight: bold"><span class="smcap">By MAXIMILIAN J. RUDWIN</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="font-size: 130%; padding-top: 4em; margin-left: 32%"> +<span class="i0"><i>“Mortal, mock not at the Devil,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Life is short and soon will fail,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the ‘fire everlasting’</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>Is no idle fairy-tale.”</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8">—<span class="smcap">Heine</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="publisher">NEW YORK<br /> + +ALFRED · A · KNOPF<br /> + +MCMXXI</p> + +<p class="publisher">COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY<br /> +ALFRED A. KNOPF, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span></p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 80%">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> +</div> + +<div class="list1"> + +<h2>DEVIL LORE</h2> + +<p class="center">ANTHOLOGIES OF DIABOLICAL LITERATURE<br /> +EDITED BY MAXIMILIAN J. RUDWIN</p> + +<p class="center">I. DEVIL STORIES<br /> +[First Series]</p> + + +<ul> +<li style="padding-left: 7em"><i>In Preparation:</i></li> +<li>DEVIL PLAYS</li> +<li>DEVIL ESSAYS</li> +<li>DEVIL LEGENDS</li> +<li>THE BOOK OF LADY LILITH</li> +<li>ANTHOLOGY OF SATANIC VERSE</li> +<li>BIBLIOGRAPHIA DIABOLICA</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<div class="list2"> +<p class="center"><i>BOOKS BY</i><br /> +<i>MAXIMILIAN J. RUDWIN</i></p> + +<p>The Prophet and Disputation +Scenes in the Religious Drama +of the German Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>The Devil Scenes in the Religious +Drama of the German Middle +Ages.</p> + +<p>The Devil in the German Religious +Plays of the Middle +Ages and the Reformation. +[Hesperia: Johns Hopkins +Studies in Modern Philology, +No. 6.]</p> + +<p>The Origin of the German Carnival +Comedy.</p> + +<p style="padding-top: 0.5em"><i>In Preparation:</i></p> + +<p>The Devil in Modern French +Literature.</p> +</div> + + +<p class="dedication">TO<br /> +ALL STUDENTS OF THE SUPERNATURAL<br /> +IN LITERATURE</p> + + + +<h2><a name="NOTE" id="NOTE"></a>NOTE<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></h2> + + +<p>The preparation of this book would have been out of +the question without the co-operation of authors and +publishers. Proper acknowledgment has been given on +the first page of each selection to the publishers who +have granted us permission to reprint it. We take this +opportunity to express once more our deep appreciation +of the courtesies extended to us by all the parties concerned +in the material between the covers of this book. +Special thanks are offered to Mr. John Masefield for +his permission to republish his story, and to Messrs. +Arthur Symons and Leo Wiener and to Miss Isabel F. +Hapgood for their permission to use their translations of +the foreign stories which we have selected. To Professor +Henry Alfred Todd and Dr. Dorothy Scarborough, +of Columbia University, who have kindly read portions +of the manuscript, the editor is indebted for a number +of helpful suggestions. He adds his thanks to Professor +Raymond Weeks, also of Columbia University, who +called his attention to the Daudet story, and to his former +colleague, Professor Otto A. Greiner, of Purdue University, +who was good enough to read part of the proofs.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">The Publisher.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap" style="padding-right: 1.2em">The Editor.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></h2> + + +<table summary="table of contents"> +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY1"><span class="smcap">The Devil in a Nunnery</span></a><br /> + <i>A Mediaeval Tale By Francis Oscar Mann</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#BELPHAGOR"><span class="smcap">Belphagor, or the Marriage of the Devil</span> (1549)</a><br /> + <i>From the Italian of Niccolò Machiavelli</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER2"><span class="smcap">The Devil and Tom Walker</span> (1824)</a><br /> + <i>By Washington Irving</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN"><span class="smcap">From the Memoirs of Satan</span> (1828)</a><br /> + <i>From the German of Wilhelm Hauff</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#ST_JOHNS_EVE3"><span class="smcap">St. John’s Eve</span> (1830)</a><br /> + <i>From the Russian of Nikolái Vasilévich Gógol</i><br /> + <i>Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_WAGER"><span class="smcap">The Devil’s Wager</span> (1833)</a><br /> + <i>By William Makepeace Thackeray</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN"><span class="smcap">The Painter’s Bargain</span> (1834)</a><br /> + <i>By William Makepeace Thackeray</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#BON-BON"><span class="smcap">Bon-Bon</span> (1835)</a><br /> + <i>By Edgar Allan Poe</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL"><span class="smcap">The Printer’s Devil</span> (1836)</a><br /> + <i>Anonymous</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW16"><span class="smcap">The Devil’s Mother-in-Law</span> (1859)</a><br /> + <i>From the Spanish by Fernán Caballero</i><br /> + <i>Translated by J. H. Ingram</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER17"><span class="smcap">The Generous Gambler</span> (1864)</a><br /> + <i>From the French of Charles Pierre Baudelaire</i><br /> + <i>Translated by Arthur Symons</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_162">162</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES18"><span class="smcap">The Three Low Masses</span> (1869)</a><br /> + <i>A Christmas Story From the French of Alphonse Daudet</i><br /> + <i>Translated by Robert Routeledge</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#DEVIL-PUZZLERS19"><span class="smcap">Devil-Puzzlers</span> (1871)</a><br /> + <i>By Frederick Beecher Perkins</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_ROUND20"><span class="smcap">The Devil’s Round</span> (1874)</a><br /> + <i>A Tale of Flemish Golf From the French of Charles Deulin</i><br /> + <i>Translated by Isabel Bruce</i><br /> + <i>With an introductory note by Andrew Lang</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL"><span class="smcap">The Legend of Mont St.-Michel</span> (1888)</a><br /> + <i>From the French of Guy de Maupassant</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEMON_POPE26"><span class="smcap">The Demon Pope</span> (1888)</a><br /> + <i>By Richard Garnett</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#MADAM_LUCIFER27"><span class="smcap">Madam Lucifer</span> (1888)</a><br /> + <i>By Richard Garnett</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#LUCIFER28"><span class="smcap">Lucifer</span> (1895)</a><br /> + <i>From the French of Anatole France</i><br /> + <i>Translated by Alfred Allinson</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVIL30"><span class="smcap">The Devil</span> (1899)</a><br /> + <i>From the Russian of Maxím Gorky</i><br /> + <i>Translated by Leo Wiener</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN31"><span class="smcap">The Devil and the Old Man</span> (1905)</a><br /> + <i>By John Masefield</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#NOTES"><span class="smcap">Notes</span></a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="lal"><a href="#INDEX"><span class="smcap">Index</span></a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></h2> + + +<p>Of all the myths which have come down to us from +the East, and of all the creations of Western fancy and +belief, the Personality of Evil has had the strongest +attraction for the mind of man. The Devil is the greatest +enigma that has ever confronted the human intelligence. +So large a place has Satan taken in our +imagination, and we might also say in our heart, that +his expulsion therefrom, no matter what philosophy may +teach us, must for ever remain an impossibility. As a +character in imaginative literature Lucifer has not his +equal in heaven above or on the earth beneath. In contrast +to the idea of Good, which is the more exalted in +proportion to its freedom from anthropomorphism, the +idea of Evil owes to the presence of this element its +chief value as a poetic theme. The discrowned archangel +may have been inferior to St. Michael in military +tactics, but he certainly is his superior in matters +literary. The fair angels—all frankness and goodness—are +beyond our comprehension, but the fallen +angels, with all their faults and sufferings, are kin to us.</p> + +<p>There is a legend that the Devil has always had +literary aspirations. The German theosophist Jacob +Böhme relates that when Satan was asked to explain the +cause of God’s enmity to him and his consequent downfall, +he replied: “I wanted to be an author.” +Whether or not the Devil has ever written anything +over his own signature, he has certainly helped others<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> +compose their greatest works. It is a significant fact +that the greatest imaginations have discerned an attraction +in Diabolus. What would the world’s literature be +if from it we eliminated Dante’s <i>Divine Comedy</i>, Calderón’s +<i>Marvellous Magician</i>, Milton’s <i>Paradise Lost</i>, +Goethe’s <i>Faust</i>, Byron’s <i>Cain</i>, Vigny’s <i>Eloa</i>, and Lermontov’s +<i>Demon</i>? Sorry indeed would have been the +plight of literature without a judicious admixture of the +Diabolical. Without the Devil there would simply be +no literature, because without his intervention there +would be no plot, and without a plot the story of the +world would lose its interest. Even now, when the belief +in the Devil has gone out of fashion, and when the +very mention of his name, far from causing men to cross +themselves, brings a smile to their faces, Satan has continued +to be a puissant personage in the realm of letters. +As a matter of fact, Beelzebub has perhaps received his +greatest elaboration at the hands of writers who believed +in him just as little as Shakespeare did in the +ghost of Hamlet’s father.</p> + +<p>Commenting on Anatole France’s <i>The Revolt of the +Angels</i>, an American critic has recently written: “It +is difficult to rehabilitate Beelzebub, not because people +are of one mind concerning Beelzebub, but because +they are of no mind at all.” How this demon must +have laughed when he read these lines! Why, he needs +no rehabilitation. The Devil has never been absent +from the world of letters, just as he has never been +missing from the world of men. Since the days of +Job, Satan has taken a deep interest in the affairs of the +human race; and while most writers content themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span> +with recording his activities on this planet, there never +have been lacking men of sufficient courage to call upon +the prince of darkness in his proper dominions in order +to bring back to us, for our instruction and edification, +a report of his work there. The most distinguished +poet his infernal Highness has ever entertained at his +court, it will be recalled, was Dante. The mark which +the scorching fires of hell left on Dante’s face, was to +his contemporaries sufficient proof of the truth of his +story.</p> + +<p>The subject-matter of literature may always have +been in a state of flux, but the Devil has been present +in all the stages of literary evolution. All schools of +literature in all ages and in all languages set themselves, +whether consciously or unconsciously, to represent +and interpret the Devil, and each school has treated +him in its own characteristic manner.</p> + +<p>The Devil is an old character in literature. Perhaps +he is as old as literature itself. He is encountered in +the story of the paradisiacal sojourn of our first ancestors, +and from that day on, Satan has appeared unfailingly, +in various forms and with various functions, in +all the literatures of the world. His person and his +power continued to develop and to multiply with the +advance of the centuries, so that in the Middle Ages +the world fairly pullulated with demons. From his +minor place in the biblical books, the Devil grew to a +position of paramount importance in mediaeval literature. +The Reformation, which was a movement of +progress in so many respects, left his position intact. +Indeed, it rather increased his power by withdrawing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span> +from the saints the right of intercession in behalf of +the sinners. Neither the Renaissance of ancient learning +nor the institution of modern science could prevail +against Satan. As a matter of fact, the growth of the +interest in the Devil has been on a level with the development +of the spirit of philosophical inquiry. +French classicism, to be sure, occasioned a setback for +our hero. As a member of the Christian hierarchy of +supernatural personages, the Devil could not help but +be affected by the ban under which Boileau placed +Christian supernaturalism. But even the eighteenth +century, a period so inimical to the Supernatural, produced +two master-devils in fiction: Le Sage’s Asmodeus +and Cazotte’s Beelzebub—worthy members of the +august company of literary Devils.</p> + +<p>But as if to make amends for its long lack of appreciation +of the Devil’s literary possibilities, France, +in the beginning of the nineteenth century, brought +about a distinct reaction in his favour. The sympathy +extended by that country of revolutionary progress to +all victims and to all rebels, whether individuals or +classes or nations, could not well be denied to the celestial +outlaw. The fighters for political, social, intellectual, +and emotional liberty on earth, could not withhold +their admiration from the angel who demanded freedom +of thought and independence of action in heaven. +The rebel of the Empyrean was hailed as the first martyr +in the cause of liberty, and his rehabilitation in heaven +was demanded by the rebels on earth. Satan became +the symbol of the restless, hapless nineteenth century. +Through his mouth that age uttered its protest against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> +the monarchs of heaven and earth. The Romantic generation +of 1830 thought the world more than ever out +of joint, and who was better fitted than the Devil to express +their dissatisfaction with the celestial government +of terrestrial affairs? Satan is the eternal Malcontent. +To Hamlet, Denmark seemed gloomy; to Satan, +the whole world appears dark. The admiration of the +Romanticists for Satan was mixed with pity and sympathy—so +much his melancholy endeared him to their +sympathies, so kindred it seemed to their human weakness. +The Romanticists felt a deep admiration for +solitary grandeur. This “knight of the doleful countenance,” +laden with a curse and drawing misfortune +in his train, was the ideal Romantic hero. Was he not +indeed the original <i>beau ténébreux</i>? Thus Satan became +the typical figure of that period and its poetry. +It has been well remarked that if Satan had not existed, +the Romanticists would have invented him. The Devil’s +influence on the Romantic School was so strong and so +sustained that soon it was named after him. The terms +Romantic and Satanic came to be wellnigh synonymous. +The interest which the French Romanticists showed in +the Devil, moreover, passed beyond the boundaries of +France and the limits of the nineteenth century. The +Symbolists, for whom the mysteries of Erebus had a +potent attraction, were simply obsessed by Satan. But +even the Naturalists, who certainly were not haunted by +phantoms, often succumbed to his charms. Foreign +writers turning for inspiration to France, where the literature +of the last century reached its highest perfection, +were also caught in the French enthusiasm for the Devil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span></p> + +<p>Needless to say that this Devil is not the evil spirit of +mediaeval dogma. The Romantic Devil is an altogether +new species of the <i>genus diaboli</i>. There are fashions +in Devils as in dresses, and what is a Devil in one +country or one century may not pass muster in another. +It is related that after the glory of Greece had departed, +a mariner, voyaging along her coast by night, heard +from the woods the cry: “Great Pan is dead!” But +Pan was not dead; he had fallen asleep to awake again +as Satan. In like manner, when the eighteenth century +believed Satan to be dead, he was, as a matter of fact, +only recuperating his energies for a fresh start in a new +form. His new avatar was Prometheus. Satan continued +to be the enemy of God, but he was no longer +the enemy of man. Instead of a demon of darkness he +became a god of grace. This champion of celestial +combat was not actuated by hatred and envy of man, +as Christianity was thought to teach us, but by love and +pity for humankind. The strongest expression of this +idea of the Devil in modern literature has been given +by August Strindberg, whose Lucifer is a compound of +Prometheus, Apollo and Christ. However, this interpretation +of the Devil, whatever value it may have from the +point of view of originality, is aesthetically as well as +theologically not acceptable. Such a revaluation of an +old value offends our intellect while it touches our heart. +All successful treatment of the Devil in literature and +art must be made to correspond with the norm of popular +belief. In art we are all orthodox, whatever our +views may be in religion. This new conception of Satan +will be found chiefly in poetry, while the popular concept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span> +has been continued in prose. But even here a +gradual evolution of the idea of the Devil will be observed. +The nineteenth century Demon is an improvement +on his <i>confrère</i> of the thirteenth. He differs from +his older brother as a cultivated flower from a wild blossom. +The Devil as a human projection is bound to +partake in the progress of human thought. Says +Mephistopheles:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Culture, which the whole world licks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Also unto the Devil sticks.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Devil advances with the progress of civilization, +because he is what men make him. He has benefited by +the modern levelling tendency in characterization. Nowadays +supernatural personages, like their human creators, +are no longer painted either as wholly white or as +wholly black, but in various shades of grey. The Devil, +as Renan has aptly remarked, has chiefly benefited by +this relativist point of view. The Spirit of Evil is better +than he was, because evil is no longer so bad as it was. +Satan, even in the popular mind, is no longer a villain +of the deepest dye. At his worst he is the general mischief-maker +of the universe, who loves to stir up the +earth with his pitch-fork. In modern literature the Devil’s +chief function is that of a satirist. This fine critic +directs the shafts of his sarcasm against all the faults +and foibles of men. He spares no human institution. +In religion, art, society, marriage—everywhere his +searching eye can detect the weak spots. The latest demonstration +of the Devil’s ability as a satirist of men +and morals is furnished by Mark Twain in his posthumous +romance <i>The Mysterious Stranger</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Devil Lore Series, which opens with this book +of Devil Stories, is to serve as documentary evidence of +man’s abiding interest in the Devil. It will be a sort +of portrait-gallery of the literary delineations of Satan. +The Anthologies of Diabolical Literature may be considered, +I trust, without any risk of offence to any theological +or philosophical prepossession. To those alike +who accept and who reject the belief in the Devil’s spiritual +entity apart from man’s, there must be profit and +pleasure in the contemplation of his literary incarnations. +As regards the Devil’s fitness as a literary character, +all intelligent men and women, believers and unbelievers, +may be assumed to have but one opinion.</p> + +<p>This Series is wholly devoted to the Christian Devil +with the total disregard of his cousins in the other faiths. +There will, however, be found a strong Jewish element +in Christian demonology. It must be borne in mind +that our literature has become saturated through Christian +channels with the traditions of the parent creed.</p> + +<p>This collection has been limited to twenty tales. +Within the bounds thus set, an effort has been made to +have this book as representative of national and individual +conceptions of the Devil as possible. The tales +have been taken from many times and tongues. Selection +has been made not only among writers, but also +among the stories of each writer. In two instances, +however, where the choice was not so easy, an author is +represented by two specimens from his pen.</p> + +<p>The stories have been arranged in chronological order +to show the constant and continuous appeal on the part of +the Devil to our story-writers. The mediaeval tale, although<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span> +published last, was placed first. For obvious +reasons, this story has not been given in its original +form, but in its modernized version. While this is not +meant to be a nursery-book, it has been made <i>virginibus +puerisque</i>, and for this reason, selections from Boccaccio, +Rabelais and Balzac could not find their way into these +pages. Moreover, as this volume was limited to narratives +in prose, devil’s tales in verse by Chaucer, Hans +Sachs and La Fontaine could not be considered, either. +Nevertheless this collection is sufficiently comprehensive +to please all tastes in Devils. The reader will find between +the covers of this book Devils fascinating and fearful, +Devils powerful and picturesque, Devils serious and +humorous, Devils pathetic and comic, Devils phantastic +and satiric, Devils gruesome and grotesque. I have +tried, though, to keep them all in good humour throughout +the book, and can accordingly assure the reader that +he need fear no harm from an intimate acquaintance with +the diabolical company to which he is herewith introduced.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Maximilian J. Rudwin</span>.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY1" id="THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY1"></a>THE DEVIL IN A NUNNERY<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span> +</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCIS OSCAR MANN<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Buckingham is as pleasant a shire as a man shall see +on a seven days’ journey. Neither was it any less pleasant +in the days of our Lord King Edward, the third of +that name, he who fought and put the French to shameful +discomfiture at Crecy and Poitiers and at many another +hard-fought field. May God rest his soul, for he +now sleeps in the great Church at Westminster.</p> + +<p>Buckinghamshire is full of smooth round hills and +woodlands of hawthorn and beech, and it is a famous +country for its brooks and shaded waterways running +through the low hay meadows. Upon its hills feed a +thousand sheep, scattered like the remnants of the spring +snow, and it was from these that the merchants made +themselves fat purses, sending the wool into Flanders in +exchange for silver crowns. There were many strong +castles there too, and rich abbeys, and the King’s Highway +ran through it from North to South, upon which the +pilgrims went in crowds to worship at the Shrine of the +Blessed Saint Alban. Thereon also rode noble knights +and stout men-at-arms, and these you could follow with +the eye by their glistening armour, as they wound over +hill and dale, mile after mile, with shining spears and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>shields and fluttering pennons, and anon a trumpet or +two sounding the same keen note as that which rang out +dreadfully on those bloody fields of France. The girls +used to come to the cottage doors or run to hide themselves +in the wayside woods to see them go trampling by; +for Buckinghamshire girls love a soldier above all men. +Nor, I warrant you, were jolly friars lacking in the +highways and the by-ways and under the hedges, good +men of religion, comfortable of penance and easy of +life, who could tip a wink to a housewife, and drink and +crack a joke with the good man, going on their several +ways with tight paunches, skins full of ale and a merry +salutation for every one. A fat pleasant land was +this Buckinghamshire; always plenty to eat and drink +therein, and pretty girls and lusty fellows; and God +knows what more a man can expect in a world where all +is vanity, as the Preacher truly says.</p> + +<p>There was a nunnery at Maids Moreton, two miles out +from Buckingham Borough, on the road to Stony Stratford, +and the place was called Maids Moreton because +of the nunnery. Very devout creatures were the nuns, +being holy ladies out of families of gentle blood. They +punctually fulfilled to the letter all the commands of +the pious founder, just as they were blazoned on the +great parchment Regula, which the Lady Mother kept +on her reading-desk in her little cell. If ever any of +the nuns, by any chance or subtle machination of the +Evil One, was guilty of the smallest backsliding from +the conduct that beseemed them, they made full and +devout confession thereof to the Holy Father who visited +them for this purpose. This good man loved swan’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +meat and galingale, and the charitable nuns never failed +to provide of their best for him on his visiting days; and +whatsoever penance he laid upon them they performed +to the utmost, and with due contrition of heart.</p> + +<p>From Matins to Compline they regularly and decently +carried out the services of Holy Mother Church. After +dinner, one read aloud to them from the Rule, and again +after supper there was reading from the life of some +notable Saint or Virgin, that thereby they might find ensample +for themselves on their own earthly pilgrimage. +For the rest, they tended their herb garden, reared their +chickens, which were famous for miles around, and kept +strict watch over their haywards and swineherds. If +time was when they had nothing more important on +hand, they set to and made the prettiest blood bandages +imaginable for the Bishop, the Bishop’s Chaplain, the +Archdeacon, the neighbouring Abbot and other godly +men of religion round about, who were forced often to +bleed themselves for their health’s sake and their eternal +salvation, so that these venerable men in process of time +came to have by them great chests full of these useful +articles. If little tongues wagged now and then as the +sisters sat at their sewing in the great hall, who shall +blame them, <i>Eva peccatrice</i>? Not I; besides, some of +them were something stricken in years, and old women +are garrulous and hard to be constrained from chattering +and gossiping. But being devout women they could +have spoken no evil.</p> + +<p>One evening after Vespers all these good nuns sat at +supper, the Abbess on her high dais and the nuns ranged +up and down the hall at the long trestled tables. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +Abbess had just said “<i>Gratias</i>” and the sisters had sung +“<i>Qui vivit et regnat per omnia saecula saeculorum, +Amen</i>,” when in came the Manciple mysteriously, and, +with many deprecating bows and outstretchings of the +hands, sidled himself up upon the dais, and, permission +having been given him, spoke to the Lady Mother +thus:</p> + +<p>“Madam, there is a certain pilgrim at the gate who +asks refreshment and a night’s lodging.” It is true he +spoke softly, but little pink ears are sharp of hearing, and +nuns, from their secluded way of life, love to hear news +of the great world.</p> + +<p>“Send him away,” said the Abbess. “It is not fit +that a man should lie within this house.”</p> + +<p>“Madam, he asks food and a bed of straw lest he +should starve of hunger and exhaustion on his way to +do penance and worship at the Holy Shrine of the +Blessed Saint Alban.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of pilgrim is he?”</p> + +<p>“Madam, to speak truly, I know not; but he appears +of a reverend and gracious aspect, a young man well +spoken and well disposed. Madam knows it waxeth +late, and the ways are dark and foul.”</p> + +<p>“I would not have a young man, who is given to pilgrimages +and good works, to faint and starve by the +wayside. Let him sleep with the haywards.”</p> + +<p>“But, Madam, he is a young man of goodly appearance +and conversation; saving your reverence, I would +not wish to ask him to eat and sleep with churls.”</p> + +<p>“He must sleep without. Let him, however, enter +and eat of our poor table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Madam, I will strictly enjoin him what you command. +He hath with him, however, an instrument of +music and would fain cheer you with spiritual songs.”</p> + +<p>A little shiver of anticipation ran down the benches +of the great hall, and the nuns fell to whispering.</p> + +<p>“Take care, Sir Manciple, that he be not some light +juggler, a singer of vain songs, a mocker. I would not +have these quiet halls disturbed by wanton music and +unholy words. God forbid.” And she crossed herself.</p> + +<p>“Madam, I will answer for it.”</p> + +<p>The Manciple bowed himself from the dais and went +down the middle of the hall, his keys rattling at his belt. +A little buzz of conversation rose from the sisters and +went up to the oak roof-trees, like the singing of bees. +The Abbess told her beads.</p> + +<p>The hall door opened and in came the pilgrim. God +knows what manner of man he was; I cannot tell you. +He certainly was lean and lithe like a cat, his eyes +danced in his head like the very devil, but his cheeks +and jaws were as bare of flesh as any hermit’s that lives +on roots and ditchwater. His yellow-hosed legs went +like the tune of a May game, and he screwed and twisted +his scarlet-jerkined body in time with them. In his left +hand he held a cithern, on which he twanged with his +right, making a cunning noise that titillated the back-bones +of those who heard it, and teased every delicate +nerve in the body. Such a tune would have tickled the +ribs of Death himself. A queer fellow to go pilgrimaging +certainly, but why, when they saw him, all the +young nuns tittered and the old nuns grinned, until they +showed their red gums, it is hard to tell. Even the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +Lady Mother on the dais smiled, though she tried to +frown a moment later.</p> + +<p>The pilgrim stepped lightly up to the dais, the infernal +devil in his legs making the nuns think of the +games the village folk play all night in the churchyard +on Saint John’s Eve.</p> + +<p>“Gracious Mother,” he cried, bowing deeply and in +comely wise, “allow a poor pilgrim on his way to confess +and do penance at the shrine of Saint Alban to take +food in your hall, and to rest with the haywards this +night, and let me thereof make some small recompense +with a few sacred numbers, such as your pious founder +would not have disdained to hear.”</p> + +<p>“Young man,” returned the Abbess, “right glad am +I to hear that God has moved thy heart to godly works +and to go on pilgrimages, and verily I wish it may be to +thy soul’s health and to the respite of thy pains hereafter. +I am right willing that thou shouldst refresh +thyself with meat and rest at this holy place.”</p> + +<p>“Madam, I thank thee from my heart, but as some +slight token of gratitude for so large a favour, let me, +I pray thee, sing one or two of my divine songs, to the +uplifting of these holy Sisters’ hearts.”</p> + +<p>Another burst of chatter, louder than before, from +the benches in the hall. One or two of the younger Sisters +clapped their plump white hands and cried, “Oh!” +The Lady Abbess held up her hand for silence.</p> + +<p>“Verily, I should be glad to hear some sweet songs +of religion, and I think it would be to the uplifting of +these Sisters’ hearts. But, young man, take warning +against singing any wanton lines of vain imagination,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +such as the ribalds use on the highways, and the idlers +and haunters of taverns. I have heard them in my +youth, although my ears tingle to think of them now, +and I should think it shame that any such light words +should echo among these sacred rafters or disturb the +slumber of our pious founder, who now sleeps in Christ. +Let me remind you of what saith Saint Jeremie, <i>Onager +solitarius, in desiderio animae suae, attraxit ventum +amoris</i>; the wild ass of the wilderness, in the desire of +his heart, snuffeth up the wind of love; whereby that +holy man signifies that vain earthly love, which is but +wind and air, and shall avail nothing at all, when this +weak, impure flesh is sloughed away.”</p> + +<p>“Madam, such songs as I shall sing, I learnt at the +mouth of our holy parish priest, Sir Thomas, a man of +all good learning and purity of heart.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” said the Abbess, “sing in God’s name, +but stand at the end of the hall, for it suits not the dignity +of my office a man should stand so near this dais.”</p> + +<p>Whereon the pilgrim, making obeisance, went to the +end of the hall, and the eyes of all the nuns danced after +his dancing legs, and their ears hung on the clear, sweet +notes he struck out of his cithern as he walked. He took +his place with his back against the great hall door, in +such attitude as men use when they play the cithern. A +little trembling ran through the nuns, and some rose +from their seats and knelt on the benches, leaning over +the table, the better to see and hear him. Their eyes +sparkled like dew on meadowsweet on a fair morning.</p> + +<p>Certainly his fingers were bewitched or else the devil +was in his cithern, for such sweet sounds had never been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +heard in the hall since the day when it was built and +consecrated to the service of the servants of God. The +shrill notes fell like a tinkling rain from the high roof +in mad, fantastic trills and dying falls that brought all +one’s soul to one’s lips to suck them in. What he sang +about, God only knows; not one of the nuns or even the +holy Abbess herself could have told you, although you +had offered her a piece of the True Cross or a hair of +the Blessed Virgin for a single word. But a divine +yearning filled all their hearts; they seemed to hear ten +thousand thousand angels singing in choruses, Alleluia, +Alleluia, Alleluia; they floated up on impalpable clouds +of azure and silver, up through the blissful paradises +of the uppermost heaven; their nostrils were filled with +the odours of exquisite spices and herbs and smoke of +incense; their eyes dazzled at splendours and lights and +glories; their ears were full of gorgeous harmonies and +all created concords of sweet sounds; the very fibres of +being were loosened within them, as though their souls +would leap forth from their bodies in exquisite dissolution. +The eyes of the younger nuns grew round and +large and tender, and their breath almost died upon +their velvet lips. As for the old nuns, the great, salt +tears coursed down their withered cheeks and fell like +rain on their gnarled hands. The Abbess sat on her +dais with her lips apart, looking into space, ten thousand +thousand miles away. But no one saw her and she +saw no one; every one had forgotten every one else in +that delicious intoxication.</p> + +<p>Then with a shrill cry, full of human yearnings and +desire, the minstrel came to a sudden stop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Western wind, when wilt thou blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the small rain will down rain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christ, if my love were in my arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I in my bed again.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ni">Silence!—not one of the holy Sisters spoke, but some +sighed; some put their hands over their hearts, and one +put her hand in her hood, but when she felt her hair +shorn close to her scalp, drew it out again sharply, as +though she had touched red-hot iron, and cried, “O +Jesu.”</p> + +<p>Sister Peronelle, a toothless old woman, began to +speak in a cracked, high voice, quickly and monotonously, +as though she spoke in a dream. Her eyes were +wet and red, and her thin lips trembled. “God knows,” +she said, “I loved him; God knows it. But I bid all +those who be maids here, to be mindful of the woods. +For they are green, but they are deep and dark, and it is +merry in the springtime with the thick turf below and +the good boughs above, all alone with your heart’s darling—all +alone in the green wood. But God help me, +he would not stay any more than snow at Easter. I +thought just now that I was back with him in the woods. +God keep all those that be maids from the green woods.”</p> + +<p>The pretty Sister Ursula, who had only just finished +her novitiate, was as white as a sheet. Her breath came +thickly and quick as though she bore a great burden up +hill. A great sigh made her comely shoulders rise and +fall. “Blessed Virgin,” she cried. “Ah, ye ask too +much; I did not know; God help me, I did not know,” +and her grey eyes filled with sudden tears, and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +dropped her head on her arms on the table, and sobbed +aloud.</p> + +<p>Then cried out Sister Katherine, who looked as old +and dead as a twig dropped from a tree of last autumn, +and at whom the younger Sisters privily mocked, “It +is the wars, the wars, the cursed wars. I have held his +head in this lap, I tell you; I have kissed his soul into +mine. But now he lies dead, and his pretty limbs all +dropped away into earth. Holy Mother, have pity on +me. I shall never kiss his sweet lips again or look into +his jolly eyes. My heart is broken long since. Holy +Mother! Holy Mother!”</p> + +<p>“He must come oftener,” said a plump Sister of +thirty, with a little nose turned up at the end, eyes black +as sloes and lips round as a plum. “I go to the orchard +day after day, and gather my lap full of apples. He is +my darling. Why does he not come? I look for him +every time that I gather the ripe apples. He used to +come; but that was in the spring, and Our Lady knows +that is long ago. Will it not be spring again soon? I +have gathered many ripe apples.”</p> + +<p>Sister Margarita rocked herself to and fro in her +seat and crossed her arms on her breast. She was singing +quietly to herself.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Lulla, lullay, thou tiny little child,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lulla, lullay, lullay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suck at my breast that am thereat beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lulla, lullay, lullay.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ni">She moaned to herself, “I have seen the village women +go to the well, carrying their babies with them, and they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +laugh as they go by on the way. Their babies hold +them tight round the neck, and their mothers comfort +them, saying, ‘Hey, hey, my little son; hey, hey, my +sweeting.’ Christ and the blessed Saints know that +I have never felt a baby’s little hand in my bosom—and +now I shall die without it, for I am old and past the age +of bearing children.”</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Lulla, lullay, thou tiny little boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lulla, lullay, lullay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel thee suck doth soothe my great annoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lulla, lullay, lullay.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“I have heard them on a May morning, with their +pipes and tabors and jolly, jolly music,” cried Sister +Helen; “I have seen them too, and my heart has gone +with them to bring back the white hawthorn from the +woods. ‘A man and a maid to a hawthorn bough,’ as +it says in the song. They sing outside my window all +Saint John’s Eve so that I cannot say my prayers for +the wild thoughts they put into my brain, as they go +dancing up and down in the churchyard; I cannot forget +the pretty words they say to each other, ‘Sweet love, +a kiss’; ‘kiss me, my love, nor let me go’; ‘As I went +through the garden gate’; ‘A bonny black knight, a +bonny black knight, and what will you give to me? A +kiss, and a kiss, and no more than a kiss, under the wild +rose tree.’ Oh, Mary Mother, have pity on a poor +girl’s heart, I shall die, if no one love me, I shall die.”</p> + +<p>“In faith, I am truly sorry, William,” said Sister +Agnes, who was gaunt and hollow-eyed with long vigils +and overfasting, for which the good father had rebuked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +her time after time, saying that she overtasked the poor +weak flesh. “I am truly sorry that I could not wait. +But the neighbours made such a clamour, and my father +and mother buffeted me too sorely. It is under the oak +tree, no more than a foot deep, and covered with the +red and brown leaves. It was a pretty sight to see the +red blood on its neck, as white as whalebone, and it +neither cried nor wept, so I put it down among the +leaves, the pretty poppet; and it was like thee, William, +it was like thee. I am sorry I did not wait, and now +I’m worn and wan for thy sake, this many a long year, +and all in vain, for thou never comst. I am an old +woman now, and I shall soon be quiet and not complain +any more.”</p> + +<p>Some of the Sisters were sobbing as if their hearts +would break; some sat quiet and still, and let the tears +fall from their eyes unchecked; some smiled and cried +together; some sighed a little and trembled like aspen +leaves in a southern wind. The great candles in the +hall were burning down to their sockets. One by one +they spluttered out. A ghostly, flickering light fell +upon the legend over the broad dais, “<i>Connubium mundum +sed virginitas paradisum complet</i>”—“Marriage +replenisheth the World, but virginity Paradise.”</p> + +<p>“Dong, dong, dong.” Suddenly the great bell of the +Nunnery began to toll. With a cry the Abbess sprang +to her feet; there were tear stains on her white cheeks, +and her hand shook as she pointed fiercely to the door.</p> + +<p>“Away, false pilgrim,” she cried. “Silence, foul +blasphemer! <i>Retro me, Satanas.</i>” She crossed herself +again and again, saying <i>Pater Noster</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>The nuns screamed and trembled with terror. A little +cloud of blue smoke arose from where the minstrel +had stood. There was a little tongue of flame, and +he had disappeared. It was almost dark in the hall. A +few sobs broke the silence. The dying light of a single +candle fell on the form of the Lady Mother.</p> + +<p>“Tomorrow,” she said, “we shall fast and sing +<i>Placebo</i> and <i>Dirige</i> and the <i>Seven Penitential Psalms</i>. +May the Holy God have mercy upon us for all we have +done and said and thought amiss this night. Amen.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Taken by permission from <i>The Devil in a Nunnery and other +Mediaeval Tales</i>, by Francis Oscar Mann, published by P. Dutton & +Company, New York, 1914.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="BELPHAGOR" id="BELPHAGOR"></a>BELPHAGOR<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI<span class="sidenote"><a href="#BELPHAGOR_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>We read in the ancient archives of Florence the following +account, as it was received from the lips of a +very holy man, greatly respected by every one for the +sanctity of his manners at the period in which he lived. +Happening once to be deeply absorbed in his prayers, +such was their efficacy, that he saw an infinite number of +condemned souls, belonging to those miserable mortals +who had died in their sins, undergoing the punishment +due to their offences in the regions below. He remarked +that the greater part of them lamented nothing +so bitterly as their folly in having taken wives, attributing +to them the whole of their misfortunes. Much surprised +at this, Minos and Rhadamanthus, with the rest of +the infernal judges, unwilling to credit all the abuse +heaped upon the female sex, and wearied from day to +day with its repetition, agreed to bring the matter before +Pluto. It was then resolved that the conclave of infernal +princes should form a committee of inquiry, and +should adopt such measures as might be deemed most +advisable by the court in order to discover the truth or +falsehood of the calumnies which they heard. All being +assembled in council, Pluto addressed them as follows: +“Dearly beloved demons! though by celestial +dispensation and the irreversible decree of fate this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +kingdom fell to my share, and I might strictly dispense +with any kind of celestial or earthly responsibility, yet, +as it is more prudent and respectful to consult the laws +and to hear the opinion of others, I have resolved to be +guided by your advice, particularly in a case that may +chance to cast some imputation upon our government. +For the souls of all men daily arriving in our kingdom +still continue to lay the whole blame upon their wives, +and as this appears to us impossible, we must be careful +how we decide in such a business, lest we also should +come in for a share of their abuse, on account of our +too great severity; and yet judgment must be pronounced, +lest we be taxed with negligence and with indifference +to the interests of justice. Now, as the latter +is the fault of a careless, and the former of an unjust +judge, we, wishing to avoid the trouble and the blame +that might attach to both, yet hardly seeing how to get +clear of it, naturally enough apply to you for assistance, +in order that you may look to it, and contrive in some +way that, as we have hitherto reigned without the slightest +imputation upon our character, we may continue to +do so for the future.”</p> + +<p>The affair appearing to be of the utmost importance +to all the princes present, they first resolved that it was +necessary to ascertain the truth, though they differed as +to the best means of accomplishing this object. Some +were of opinion that they ought to choose one or more +from among themselves, who should be commissioned to +pay a visit to the world, and in a human shape endeavour +personally to ascertain how far such reports were +grounded in truth. To many others it appeared that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +this might be done without so much trouble merely by +compelling some of the wretched souls to confess the +truth by the application of a variety of tortures. But +the majority being in favour of a journey to the world, +they abided by the former proposal. No one, however, +being ambitious of undertaking such a task, it was resolved +to leave the affair to chance. The lot fell upon +the arch-devil Belphagor, who, previous to the Fall, had +enjoyed the rank of archangel in a higher world. +Though he received his commission with a very ill grace, +he nevertheless felt himself constrained by Pluto’s imperial +mandate, and prepared to execute whatever had +been determined upon in council. At the same time he +took an oath to observe the tenor of his instructions, as +they had been drawn up with all due solemnity and +ceremony for the purpose of his mission. These were +to the following effect:—<i>Imprimis</i>, that the better to promote +the object in view, he should be furnished with a +hundred thousand gold ducats; secondly, that he should +make use of the utmost expedition in getting into the +world; thirdly, that after assuming the human form he +should enter into the marriage state; and lastly, that he +should live with his wife for the space of ten years. +At the expiration of this period, he was to feign death +and return home, in order to acquaint his employers, +by the fruits of experience, what really were the respective +conveniences and inconveniences of matrimony. +The conditions further ran, that during the said ten +years he should be subject to all kinds of miseries and +disasters, like the rest of mankind, such as poverty, +prisons, and diseases into which men are apt to fall,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +unless, indeed, he could contrive by his own skill and +ingenuity to avoid them. Poor Belphagor having +signed these conditions and received the money, forthwith +came into the world, and having set up his equipage, +with a numerous train of servants, he made a very +splendid entrance into Florence. He selected this city +in preference to all others, as being most favourable for +obtaining an usurious interest of his money; and having +assumed the name of Roderigo, a native of Castile, he +took a house in the suburbs of Ognissanti. And because +he was unable to explain the instructions under +which he acted, he gave out that he was a merchant, who +having had poor prospects in Spain, had gone to Syria, +and succeeded in acquiring his fortune at Aleppo, +whence he had lastly set out for Italy, with the intention +of marrying and settling there, as one of the most polished +and agreeable countries he knew.</p> + +<p>Roderigo was certainly a very handsome man, apparently +about thirty years of age, and he lived in a +style of life that showed he was in pretty easy circumstances, +if not possessed of immense wealth. Being, +moreover, extremely affable and liberal, he soon attracted +the notice of many noble citizens blessed with +large families of daughters and small incomes. The +former of these were soon offered to him, from among +whom Roderigo chose a very beautiful girl of the name +of Onesta, a daughter of Amerigo Donati, who had also +three sons, all grown up, and three more daughters, +also nearly marriageable. Though of a noble family +and enjoying a good reputation in Florence, his father-in-law +was extremely poor, and maintained as poor an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +establishment. Roderigo, therefore, made very splendid +nuptials, and omitted nothing that might tend to +confer honour upon such a festival, being liable, under +the law which he received on leaving his infernal abode, +to feel all kinds of vain and earthly passions. He therefore +soon began to enter into all the pomps and vanities +of the world, and to aim at reputation and consideration +among mankind, which put him to no little expense. +But more than this, he had not long enjoyed the society +of his beloved Onesta, before he became tenderly attached +to her, and was unable to behold her suffer the +slightest inquietude or vexation. Now, along with her +other gifts of beauty and nobility, the lady had brought +into the house of Roderigo such an insufferable portion +of pride, that in this respect Lucifer himself could not +equal her; for her husband, who had experienced the +effects of both, was at no loss to decide which was the +most intolerable of the two. Yet it became infinitely +worse when she discovered the extent of Roderigo’s attachment +to her, of which she availed herself to obtain +an ascendancy over him and rule him with a rod of iron. +Not content with this, when she found he would bear it, +she continued to annoy him with all kinds of insults and +taunts, in such a way as to give him the most indescribable +pain and uneasiness. For what with the influence +of her father, her brothers, her friends, and relatives, the +duty of the matrimonial yoke, and the love he bore her, +he suffered all for some time with the patience of a +saint. It would be useless to recount the follies and +extravagancies into which he ran in order to gratify her +taste for dress, and every article of the newest fashion,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +in which our city, ever so variable in its nature, according +to its usual habits, so much abounds. Yet, to live +upon easy terms with her, he was obliged to do more +than this; he had to assist his father-in-law in portioning +off his other daughters; and she next asked him to +furnish one of her brothers with goods to sail for the +Levant, another with silks for the West, while a third +was to be set up in a goldbeater’s establishment at Florence. +In such objects the greatest part of his fortune +was soon consumed. At length the Carnival season +was at hand; the festival of St. John was to be celebrated, +and the whole city, as usual, was in a ferment. +Numbers of the noblest families were about to vie with +each other in the splendour of their parties, and the +Lady Onesta, being resolved not to be outshone by her +acquaintance, insisted that Roderigo should exceed them +all in the richness of their feasts. For the reasons above +stated, he submitted to her will; nor, indeed, would he +have scrupled at doing much more, however difficult it +might have been, could he have flattered himself with a +hope of preserving the peace and comfort of his household, +and of awaiting quietly the consummation of his +ruin. But this was not the case, inasmuch as the arrogant +temper of his wife had grown to such a height +of asperity by long indulgence, that he was at a loss +in what way to act. His domestics, male and female, +would no longer remain in the house, being unable to +support for any length of time the intolerable life they +led. The inconvenience which he suffered in consequence +of having no one to whom he could intrust his +affairs it is impossible to express. Even his own familiar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +devils, whom he had brought along with him, +had already deserted him, choosing to return below +rather than longer submit to the tyranny of his wife. +Left, then, to himself, amidst this turbulent and unhappy +life, and having dissipated all the ready money +he possessed, he was compelled to live upon the hopes +of the returns expected from his ventures in the East and +the West. Being still in good credit, in order to support +his rank he resorted to bills of exchange; nor was +it long before, accounts running against him, he found +himself in the same situation as many other unhappy +speculators in that market. Just as his case became extremely +delicate, there arrived sudden tidings both from +East and West that one of his wife’s brothers had dissipated +the whole of Roderigo’s profits in play, and +that while the other was returning with a rich cargo uninsured, +his ship had the misfortune to be wrecked, and +he himself was lost. No sooner did this affair transpire +than his creditors assembled, and supposing it +must be all over with him, though their bills had not yet +become due, they resolved to keep a strict watch over +him in fear that he might abscond. Roderigo, on his +part, thinking that there was no other remedy, and feeling +how deeply he was bound by the Stygian law, determined +at all hazards to make his escape. So taking +horse one morning early, as he luckily lived near the +Prato gate, in that direction he went off. His departure +was soon known; the creditors were all in a bustle; the +magistrates were applied to, and the officers of justice, +along with a great part of the populace, were dispatched +in pursuit. Roderigo had hardly proceeded a mile before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +he heard this hue and cry, and the pursuers were +soon so close at his heels that the only resource he had +left was to abandon the highroad and take to the open +country, with the hope of concealing himself in the +fields. But finding himself unable to make way over +the hedges and ditches, he left his horse and took to his +heels, traversing fields of vines and canes, until he +reached Peretola, where he entered the house of Matteo +del Bricca, a labourer of Giovanna del Bene. Finding +him at home, for he was busily providing fodder for his +cattle, our hero earnestly entreated him to save him from +the hands of his adversaries close behind, who would +infallibly starve him to death in a dungeon, engaging +that if Matteo would give him refuge, he would make +him one of the richest men alive, and afford him such +proofs of it before he took his leave as would convince +him of the truth of what he said; and if he failed to do +this, he was quite content that Matteo himself should deliver +him into the hands of his enemies.</p> + +<p>Now Matteo, although a rustic, was a man of courage, +and concluding that he could not lose anything by the +speculation, he gave him his hand and agreed to save +him. He then thrust our hero under a heap of rubbish, +completely enveloping him in weeds; so that when his +pursuers arrived they found themselves quite at a loss, +nor could they extract from Matteo the least information +as to his appearance. In this dilemma there was +nothing left for them but to proceed in the pursuit, +which they continued for two days, and then returned, +jaded and disappointed, to Florence. In the meanwhile, +Matteo drew our hero from his hiding-place, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +begged him to fulfil his engagement. To this his friend +Roderigo replied: “I confess, brother, that I am under +great obligations to you, and I mean to return them. +To leave no doubt upon your mind, I will inform you +who I am;” and he proceeded to acquaint him with all +the particulars of the affair: how he had come into the +world, and married, and run away. He next described +to his preserver the way in which he might become rich, +which was briefly as follows: As soon as Matteo should +hear of some lady in the neighbourhood being said to +be possessed, he was to conclude that it was Roderigo +himself who had taken possession of her; and he gave +him his word, at the same time, that he would never +leave her until Matteo should come and conjure him to +depart. In this way he might obtain what sum he +pleased from the lady’s friends for the price of exorcizing +her; and having mutually agreed upon this plan, +Roderigo disappeared.</p> + +<p>Not many days elapsed before it was reported in +Florence that the daughter of Messer Ambrogio Amedei, +a lady married to Buonajuto Tebalducci, was possessed +by the devil. Her relations did not fail to apply every +means usual on such occasions to expel him, such as +making her wear upon her head St. Zanobi’s cap, and +the cloak of St. John of Gualberto; but these had only the +effect of making Roderigo laugh. And to convince +them that it was really a spirit that possessed her, and +that it was no flight of the imagination, he made the +young lady talk Latin, hold a philosophical dispute, and +reveal the frailties of many of her acquaintance. He +particularly accused a certain friar of having introduced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +a lady into his monastery in male attire, to the +no small scandal of all who heard it, and the astonishment +of the brotherhood. Messer Ambrogio found it +impossible to silence him, and began to despair of his +daughter’s cure. But the news reaching Matteo, he lost +no time in waiting upon Ambrogio, assuring him of his +daughter’s recovery on condition of his paying him five +hundred florins, with which to purchase a farm at Peretola. +To this Messer Ambrogio consented; and Matteo +immediately ordered a number of masses to be said, +after which he proceeded with some unmeaning ceremonies +calculated to give solemnity to his task. Then +approaching the young lady, he whispered in her ear: +“Roderigo, it is Matteo that is come. So do as we +agreed upon, and get out.” Roderigo replied: “It +is all well; but you have not asked enough to make you +a rich man. So when I depart I will take possession +of the daughter of Charles, king of Naples, and I will +not leave her till you come. You may then demand +whatever you please for your reward; and mind that +you never trouble me again.” And when he had said +this, he went out of the lady, to the no small delight and +amazement of the whole city of Florence.</p> + +<p>It was not long again before the accident that had +happened to the daughter of the king of Naples began +to be buzzed about the country, and all the monkish +remedies having been found to fail, the king, hearing of +Matteo, sent for him from Florence. On arriving at +Naples, Matteo, after a few ceremonies, performed the +cure. Before leaving the princess, however, Roderigo +said: “You see, Matteo, I have kept my promise and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +made a rich man of you, and I owe you nothing now. +So, henceforward you will take care to keep out of my +way, lest as I have hitherto done you some good, just +the contrary should happen to you in future.” Upon +this Matteo thought it best to return to Florence, after +receiving fifty thousand ducats from his majesty, in +order to enjoy his riches in peace, and never once +imagined that Roderigo would come in his way again. +But in this he was deceived; for he soon heard that a +daughter of Louis, king of France, was possessed by an +evil spirit, which disturbed our friend Matteo not a little, +thinking of his majesty’s great authority and of +what Roderigo had said. Hearing of Matteo’s great +skill, and finding no other remedy, the king dispatched +a messenger for him, whom Matteo contrived to send +back with a variety of excuses. But this did not long +avail him; the king applied to the Florentine council, +and our hero was compelled to attend. Arriving with +no very pleasant sensations at Paris, he was introduced +into the royal presence, when he assured his majesty +that though it was true he had acquired some fame in the +course of his demoniac practice, he could by no means +always boast of success, and that some devils were of +such a desperate character as not to pay the least attention +to threats, enchantments, or even the exorcisms of +religion itself. He would, nevertheless, do his majesty’s +pleasure, entreating at the same time to be held +excused if it should happen to prove an obstinate case. +To this the king made answer, that be the case what it +might, he would certainly hang him if he did not succeed. +It is impossible to describe poor Matteo’s terror<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +and perplexity on hearing these words; but at length +mustering courage, he ordered the possessed princess to +be brought into his presence. Approaching as usual +close to her ear, he conjured Roderigo in the most humble +terms, by all he had ever done for him, not to abandon +him in such a dilemma, but to show some sense of +gratitude for past services and to leave the princess. +“Ah! thou traitorous villain!” cried Roderigo, “hast +thou, indeed, ventured to meddle in this business? +Dost thou boast thyself a rich man at my expense? I +will now convince the world and thee of the extent of +my power, both to give and to take away. I shall have +the pleasure of seeing thee hanged before thou leavest +this place.” Poor Matteo finding there was no remedy, +said nothing more, but, like a wise man, set his head +to work in order to discover some other means of expelling +the spirit; for which purpose he said to the +king, “Sire, it is as I feared: there are certain spirits of +so malignant a character that there is no keeping any +terms with them, and this is one of them. However, I +will make a last attempt, and I trust that it will succeed +according to our wishes. If not, I am in your majesty’s +power, and I hope you will take compassion on my innocence. +In the first place, I have to entreat that your +majesty will order a large stage to be erected in the +centre of the great square, such as will admit the nobility +and clergy of the whole city. The stage ought to be +adorned with all kinds of silks and with cloth of gold, +and with an altar raised in the middle. Tomorrow +morning I would have your majesty, with your full +train of lords and ecclesiastics in attendance, seated in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +order and in magnificent array, as spectators of the +scene at the said place. There, after having celebrated +solemn mass, the possessed princess must appear; but I +have in particular to entreat that on one side of the +square may be stationed a band of men with drums, +trumpets, horns, tambours, bagpipes, cymbals, and kettle-drums, +and all other kinds of instruments that make +the most infernal noise. Now, when I take my hat off, +let the whole band strike up, and approach with the +most horrid uproar towards the stage. This, along with +a few other secret remedies which I shall apply, will +surely compel the spirit to depart.”</p> + +<p>These preparations were accordingly made by the +royal command; and when the day, being Sunday morning, +arrived, the stage was seen crowded with people of +rank and the square with the people. Mass was celebrated, +and the possessed princess conducted between +two bishops, with a train of nobles, to the spot. Now, +when Roderigo beheld so vast a concourse of people, +together with all this awful preparation, he was almost +struck dumb with astonishment, and said to himself, +“I wonder what that cowardly wretch is thinking of +doing now? Does he imagine I have never seen finer +things than these in the regions above—ay! and more +horrid things below? However, I will soon make him +repent it, at all events.” Matteo then approaching him, +besought him to come out; but Roderigo replied, “Oh, +you think you have done a fine thing now! What do +you mean to do with all this trumpery? Can you escape +my power, think you, in this way, or elude the vengeance +of the king? Thou poltroon villain, I will have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +thee hanged for this!” And as Matteo continued the +more to entreat him, his adversary still vilified him in +the same strain. So Matteo, believing there was no time +to be lost, made the sign with his hat, when all the +musicians who had been stationed there for the purpose +suddenly struck up a hideous din, and ringing a thousand +peals, approached the spot. Roderigo pricked up +his ears at the sound, quite at a loss what to think, and +rather in a perturbed tone of voice he asked Matteo +what it meant. To this the latter returned, apparently +much alarmed: “Alas! dear Roderigo, it is your wife; +she is coming for you!” It is impossible to give an +idea of the anguish of Roderigo’s mind and the strange +alteration which his feelings underwent at that name. +The moment the name of “wife” was pronounced, he +had no longer presence of mind to consider whether it +were probable, or even possible, that it could be her. +Without replying a single word, he leaped out and fled +in the utmost terror, leaving the lady to herself, and +preferring rather to return to his infernal abode and +render an account of his adventures, than run the risk +of any further sufferings and vexations under the matrimonial +yoke. And thus Belphagor again made his appearance +in the infernal domains, bearing ample testimony +to the evils introduced into a household by a wife; +while Matteo, on his part, who knew more of the matter +than the devil, returned triumphantly home, not a little +proud of the victory he had achieved.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER2" id="THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER2"></a>THE DEVIL AND TOM WALKER<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WASHINGTON IRVING<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>A few miles from Boston in Massachusetts, there is +a deep inlet, winding several miles into the interior of +the country from Charles Bay, and terminating in a +thickly-wooded swamp or morass. On one side of this +inlet is a beautiful dark grove; on the opposite side the +land rises abruptly from the water’s edge into a high +ridge, on which grow a few scattered oaks of great +age and immense size. Under one of these gigantic +trees, according to old stories, there was a great amount +of treasure buried by Kidd the pirate. The inlet allowed +a facility to bring the money in a boat secretly +and at night to the very foot of the hill; the elevation of +the place permitted a good lookout to be kept that no +one was at hand; while the remarkable trees formed +good landmarks by which the place might easily be +found again. The old stories add, moreover, that the +devil presided at the hiding of the money, and took it +under his guardianship; but this, it is well known, he +always does with buried treasure, particularly when it +has been ill-gotten. Be that as it may, Kidd never returned +to recover his wealth; being shortly after seized +at Boston, sent out to England, and there hanged for a +pirate.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<p>About the year 1727, just at the time that earthquakes +were prevalent in New England, and shook many tall +sinners down upon their knees, there lived near this +place a meagre, miserly fellow, of the name of Tom +Walker. He had a wife as miserly as himself: they +were so miserly that they even conspired to cheat each +other. Whatever the woman could lay hands on, she +hid away; a hen could not cackle but she was on the +alert to secure the new-laid egg. Her husband was continually +prying about to detect her secret hoards, and +many and fierce were the conflicts that took place about +what ought to have been common property. They lived +in a forlorn-looking house that stood alone, and had an +air of starvation. A few straggling savin-trees, emblems +of sterility, grew near it; no smoke ever curled +from its chimney; no traveller stopped at its door. A +miserable horse, whose ribs were as articulate as the +bars of a gridiron, stalked about a field, where a thin +carpet of moss, scarcely covering the ragged beds of +pudding-stone, tantalized and balked his hunger; and +sometimes he would lean his head over the fence, look +piteously at the passer-by, and seem to petition deliverance +from this land of famine.</p> + +<p>The house and its inmates had altogether a bad name. +Tom’s wife was a tall termagant, fierce of temper, loud +of tongue, and strong of arm. Her voice was often +heard in wordy warfare with her husband; and his face +sometimes showed signs that their conflicts were not confined +to words. No one ventured, however, to interfere +between them. The lonely wayfarer shrunk within himself +at the horrid clamour and clapper-clawing; eyed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +den of discord askance; and hurried on his way, rejoicing, +if a bachelor, in his celibacy.</p> + +<p>One day that Tom Walker had been to a distant part +of the neighbourhood, he took what he considered a +short cut homeward, through the swamp. Like most +short cuts, it was an ill-chosen route. The swamp was +thickly grown with great gloomy pines and hemlocks, +some of them ninety feet high, which made it dark at +noonday, and a retreat for all the owls of the neighbourhood. +It was full of pits and quagmires, partly +covered with weeds and mosses, where the green surface +often betrayed the traveller into a gulf of black, smothering +mud: there were also dark and stagnant pools, the +abodes of the tadpole, the bull-frog, and the water-snake; +where the trunks of pines and hemlocks lay +half-drowned, half-rotting, looking like alligators sleeping +in the mire.</p> + +<p>Tom had long been picking his way cautiously +through this treacherous forest; stepping from tuft to +tuft of rushes and roots, which afforded precarious footholds +among deep sloughs; or pacing carefully, like a +cat, along the prostrate trunks of trees; startled now and +then by the sudden screaming of the bittern, or the +quacking of a wild duck rising on the wing from some +solitary pool. At length he arrived at a firm piece of +ground, which ran out like a peninsula into the deep +bosom of the swamp. It had been one of the strongholds +of the Indians during their wars with the first +colonists. Here they had thrown up a kind of fort, +which they had looked upon as almost impregnable, +and had used as a place of refuge for their squaws and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +children. Nothing remained of the old Indian fort but +a few embankments, gradually sinking to the level of +the surrounding earth, and already overgrown in part +by oaks and other forest trees, the foliage of which +formed a contrast to the dark pines and hemlocks of +the swamp.</p> + +<p>It was late in the dusk of evening when Tom Walker +reached the old fort, and he paused there awhile to rest +himself. Any one but he would have felt unwilling to +linger in this lonely, melancholy place, for the common +people had a bad opinion of it, from the stories handed +down from the time of the Indian wars; when it was asserted +that the savages held incantations here, and made +sacrifices to the evil spirit.</p> + +<p>Tom Walker, however, was not a man to be troubled +with any fears of the kind. He reposed himself for +some time on the trunk of a fallen hemlock, listening to +the boding cry of the tree-toad, and delving with his +walking-staff into a mound of black mould at his feet. +As he turned up the soil unconsciously, his staff struck +against something hard. He raked it out of the vegetable +mould, and lo! a cloven skull, with an Indian +tomahawk buried deep in it, lay before him. The rust +on the weapon showed the time that had elapsed since +this death-blow had been given. It was a dreary memento +of the fierce struggle that had taken place in this +last foothold of the Indian warriors.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” said Tom Walker, as he gave it a kick to +shake the dirt from it.</p> + +<p>“Let that skull alone!” said a gruff voice. Tom +lifted up his eyes, and beheld a great black man seated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +directly opposite him, on the stump of a tree. He was +exceedingly surprised, having neither heard nor seen +any one approach; and he was still more perplexed on +observing, as well as the gathering gloom would permit, +that the stranger was neither negro nor Indian. It +is true he was dressed in a rude half Indian garb, and +had a red belt or sash swathed round his body; but his +face was neither black nor copper-colour, but swarthy +and dingy, and begrimed with soot, as if he had been accustomed +to toil among fires and forges. He had a +shock of coarse black hair, that stood out from his head +in all directions, and bore an ax on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>He scowled for a moment at Tom with a pair of great +red eyes.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing on my grounds?” said the black +man, with a hoarse growling voice.</p> + +<p>“Your grounds!” said Tom, with a sneer, “no more +your grounds than mine; they belong to Deacon Peabody.”</p> + +<p>“Deacon Peabody be d—d,” said the stranger, “as +I flatter myself he will be, if he does not look more to +his own sins and less to those of his neighbours. Look +yonder, and see how Deacon Peabody is faring.”</p> + +<p>Tom looked in the direction that the stranger pointed, +and beheld one of the great trees, fair and flourishing +without, but rotten at the core, and saw that it had been +nearly hewn through, so that the first high wind was +likely to blow it down. On the bark of the tree was +scored the name of Deacon Peabody, an eminent man, +who had waxed wealthy by driving shrewd bargains with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +the Indians. He now looked around, and found most +of the tall trees marked with the name of some great +man of the colony, and all more or less scored by the +ax. The one on which he had been seated, and which +had evidently just been hewn down, bore the name of +Crowninshield; and he recollected a mighty rich man +of that name, who made a vulgar display of wealth, +which it was whispered he had acquired by buccaneering.</p> + +<p>“He’s just ready for burning!” said the black man, +with a growl of triumph. “You see I am likely to have +a good stock of firewood for winter.”</p> + +<p>“But what right have you,” said Tom, “to cut down +Deacon Peabody’s timber?”</p> + +<p>“The right of a prior claim,” said the other. “This +woodland belonged to me long before one of your +whitefaced race put foot upon the soil.”</p> + +<p>“And pray, who are you, if I may be so bold?” said +Tom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I go by various names. I am the wild huntsman +in some countries; the black miner in others. In +this neighbourhood I am known by the name of the +black woodsman. I am he to whom the red men consecrated +this spot, and in honour of whom they now and +then roasted a white man, by way of sweet-smelling +sacrifice. Since the red men have been exterminated +by you white savages, I amuse myself by presiding at +the persecutions of Quakers and Anabaptists; I am the +great patron and prompter of slave-dealers, and the +grand-master of the Salem witches.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“The upshot of all which is, that, if I mistake not,” +said Tom, sturdily, “you are he commonly called Old +Scratch.”</p> + +<p>“The same, at your service!” replied the black man, +with a half civil nod.</p> + +<p>Such was the opening of this interview, according to +the old story; though it has almost too familiar an air +to be credited. One would think that to meet with +such a singular personage, in this wild, lonely place, +would have shaken any man’s nerves; but Tom was a +hard-minded fellow, not easily daunted, and he had +lived so long with a termagant wife, that he did not even +fear the devil.</p> + +<p>It is said that after this commencement they had a +long and earnest conversation together, as Tom returned +homeward. The black man told him of great sums of +money buried by Kidd the pirate, under the oak-trees on +the high ridge, not far from the morass. All these were +under his command, and protected by his power, so that +none could find them but such as propitiated his favour. +These he offered to place within Tom Walker’s reach, +having conceived an especial kindness for him; but they +were to be had only on certain conditions. What these +conditions were may be easily surmised, though Tom +never disclosed them publicly. They must have been +very hard, for he required time to think of them, and he +was not a man to stick at trifles when money was in +view. When they had reached the edge of the swamp, +the stranger paused. “What proof have I that all you +have been telling me is true?” said Tom. “There’s my +signature,” said the black man, pressing his finger on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +Tom’s forehead. So saying, he turned off among the +thickets of the swamp, and seemed, as Tom said, to go +down, down, down, into the earth, until nothing but his +head and shoulders could be seen, and so on, until he +totally disappeared.</p> + +<p>When Tom reached home, he found the black print +of a finger burnt, as it were, into his forehead, which +nothing could obliterate.</p> + +<p>The first news his wife had to tell him was the sudden +death of Absalom Crowninshield, the rich buccaneer. +It was announced in the papers with the usual +flourish, that “A great man had fallen in Israel.”</p> + +<p>Tom recollected the tree which his black friend had +just hewn down, and which was ready for burning. +“Let the freebooter roast,” said Tom, “who cares!” He +now felt convinced that all he had heard and seen was +no illusion.</p> + +<p>He was not prone to let his wife into his confidence; +but as this was an uneasy secret, he willingly shared it +with her. All her avarice was awakened at the mention +of hidden gold, and she urged her husband to comply +with the black man’s terms, and secure what would make +them wealthy for life. However Tom might have felt +disposed to sell himself to the Devil, he was determined +not to do so to oblige his wife; so he flatly refused, out +of the mere spirit of contradiction. Many and bitter +were the quarrels they had on the subject; but the more +she talked, the more resolute was Tom not to be damned +to please her.</p> + +<p>At length she determined to drive the bargain on her +own account, and if she succeeded, to keep all the gain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +to herself. Being of the same fearless temper as her +husband, she set off for the old Indian fort towards the +close of a summer’s day. She was many hours absent. +When she came back, she was reserved and sullen in her +replies. She spoke something of a black man, whom +she had met about twilight hewing at the root of a tall +tree. He was sulky, however, and would not come to +terms: she was to go again with a propitiatory offering, +but what it was she forbore to say.</p> + +<p>The next evening she set off again for the swamp, with +her apron heavily laden. Tom waited and waited for +her, but in vain; midnight came, but she did not make +her appearance: morning, noon, night returned, but still +she did not come. Tom now grew uneasy for her safety, +especially as he found she had carried off in her apron +the silver tea-pot and spoons, and every portable article +of value. Another night elapsed, another morning +came; but no wife. In a word, she was never heard of +more.</p> + +<p>What was her real fate nobody knows, in consequence +of so many pretending to know. It is one of those +facts which have become confounded by a variety of +historians. Some asserted that she lost her way among +the tangled mazes of the swamp, and sank into some +pit or slough; others, more charitable, hinted that she +had eloped with the household booty, and made off to +some other province; while others surmised that the +tempter had decoyed her into a dismal quagmire, on the +top of which her hat was found lying. In confirmation +of this, it was said a great black man, with an ax on his +shoulder, was seen late that very evening coming out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +the swamp, carrying a bundle tied in a check apron, +with an air of surly triumph.</p> + +<p>The most current and probable story, however, observes, +that Tom Walker grew so anxious about the fate +of his wife and his property, that he set out at length to +seek them both at the Indian fort. During a long summer’s +afternoon he searched about the gloomy place, +but no wife was to be seen. He called her name repeatedly, +but she was nowhere to be heard. The bittern +alone responded to his voice, as he flew screaming by; +or the bull-frog croaked dolefully from a neighbouring +pool. At length, it is said, just in the brown hour of +twilight, when the owls began to hoot, and the bats to +flit about, his attention was attracted by the clamour +of carrion crows hovering about a cypress-tree. He +looked up, and beheld a bundle tied in a check apron, +and hanging in the branches of the tree, with a great +vulture perched hard by, as if keeping watch upon it. +He leaped with joy; for he recognized his wife’s apron, +and supposed it to contain the household valuables.</p> + +<p>“Let us get hold of the property,” said he, consolingly +to himself, “and we will endeavour to do without +the woman.”</p> + +<p>As he scrambled up the tree, the vulture spread its +wide wings, and sailed off, screaming, into the deep +shadows of the forest. Tom seized the checked apron, +but, woeful sight! found nothing but a heart and liver +tied up in it!</p> + +<p>Such, according to this most authentic old story, was +all that was to be found of Tom’s wife. She had probably +attempted to deal with the black man as she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +been accustomed to deal with her husband; but though +a female scold is generally considered a match for the +devil, yet in this instance she appears to have had the +worst of it. She must have died game, however; for +it is said Tom noticed many prints of cloven feet deeply +stamped about the tree, and found handfuls of hair, that +looked as if they had been plucked from the coarse +black shock of the woodman. Tom knew his wife’s +prowess by experience. He shrugged his shoulders, as +he looked at the signs of a fierce clapper-clawing. +“Egad,” said he to himself, “Old Scratch must have +had a tough time of it!”</p> + +<p>Tom consoled himself for the loss of his property, +with the loss of his wife, for he was a man of fortitude. +He even felt something like gratitude towards the black +woodman, who, he considered, had done him a kindness. +He sought, therefore, to cultivate a further acquaintance +with him, but for some time without success; the old +black-legs played shy, for whatever people may think, +he is not always to be had for calling for: he knows how +to play his cards when pretty sure of his game.</p> + +<p>At length, it is said, when delay had whetted Tom’s +eagerness to the quick, and prepared him to agree to +anything rather than not gain the promised treasure, he +met the black man one evening in his usual woodman’s +dress, with his ax on his shoulder, sauntering along the +swamp, and humming a tune. He affected to receive +Tom’s advances with great indifference, made brief replies, +and went on humming his tune.</p> + +<p>By degrees, however, Tom brought him to business, +and they began to haggle about the terms on which the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +former was to have the pirate’s treasure. There was +one condition which need not be mentioned, being generally +understood in all cases where the devil grants +favours; but there were others about which, though of +less importance, he was inflexibly obstinate. He insisted +that the money found through his means should be +employed in his service. He proposed, therefore, that +Tom should employ it in the black traffic; that is to say, +that he should fit out a slave-ship. This, however, Tom +resolutely refused: he was bad enough in all conscience; +but the devil himself could not tempt him to turn slave-trader.</p> + +<p>Finding Tom so squeamish on this point, he did not +insist upon it, but proposed, instead, that he should +turn usurer; the devil being extremely anxious for the +increase of usurers, looking upon them as his peculiar +people.</p> + +<p>To this no objections were made, for it was just to +Tom’s taste.</p> + +<p>“You shall open a broker’s shop in Boston next +month,” said the black man.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it tomorrow, if you wish,” said Tom Walker.</p> + +<p>“You shall lend money at two per cent. a month.”</p> + +<p>“Egad, I’ll charge four!” replied Tom Walker.</p> + +<p>“You shall extort bonds, foreclose mortgages, drive +the merchants to bankruptcy”—</p> + +<p>“I’ll drive them to the d—l,” cried Tom Walker.</p> + +<p>“You are the usurer for my money!” said black-legs +with delight. “When will you want the rhino?”</p> + +<p>“This very night.”</p> + +<p>“Done!” said the devil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Done!” said Tom Walker.—So they shook hands +and struck a bargain.</p> + +<p>A few days’ time saw Tom Walker seated behind his +desk in a counting-house in Boston.</p> + +<p>His reputation for a ready-moneyed man, who would +lend money out for a good consideration, soon spread +abroad. Everybody remembers the time of Governor +Belcher, when money was particularly scarce. It was +a time of paper credit. The country had been deluged +with government bills, the famous Land Bank had been +established; there had been a rage for speculating; the +people had run mad with schemes for new settlements; +for building cities in the wilderness; land-jobbers went +about with maps of grants, and townships, and Eldorados, +lying nobody knew where, but which everybody +was ready to purchase. In a word, the great speculating +fever which breaks out every now and then in the +country, had raged to an alarming degree, and everybody +was dreaming of making sudden fortunes from +nothing. As usual the fever had subsided; the dream +had gone off, and the imaginary fortunes with it; the +patients were left in doleful plight, and the whole country +resounded with the consequent cry of “hard times.”</p> + +<p>At this propitious time of public distress did Tom +Walker set up as usurer in Boston. His door was soon +thronged by customers. The needy and adventurous; +the gambling speculator; the dreaming land-jobber; the +thriftless tradesman; the merchant with cracked credit; +in short, every one driven to raise money by desperate +means and desperate sacrifices, hurried to Tom Walker.</p> + +<p>Thus Tom was the universal friend of the needy, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +acted like a “friend in need”; that is to say, he always +exacted good pay and good security. In proportion to +the distress of the applicant was the hardness of his +terms. He accumulated bonds and mortgages; gradually +squeezed his customers closer and closer: and sent +them at length, dry as a sponge, from his door.</p> + +<p>In this way he made money hand over hand; became +a rich and mighty man, and exalted his cocked hat upon +’Change. He built himself, as usual, a vast house, out +of ostentation; but left the greater part of it unfinished +and unfurnished, out of parsimony. He even set up a +carriage in the fulness of his vainglory, though he nearly +starved the horses which drew it; and as the ungreased +wheels groaned and screeched on the axle-trees, you +would have thought you heard the souls of the poor +debtors he was squeezing.</p> + +<p>As Tom waxed old, however, he grew thoughtful. +Having secured the good things of this world, he began +to feel anxious about those of the next. He thought +with regret on the bargain he had made with his black +friend, and set his wits to work to cheat him out of the +conditions. He became, therefore, all of a sudden, a +violent church-goer. He prayed loudly and strenuously, +as if heaven were to be taken by force of lungs. +Indeed, one might always tell when he had sinned most +during the week, by the clamour of his Sunday devotion. +The quiet Christians who had been modestly and steadfastly +travelling Zionward, were struck with self-reproach +at seeing themselves so suddenly outstripped in +their career by this new-made convert. Tom was as +rigid in religious as in money matters; he was a stern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +supervisor and censurer of his neighbours, and seemed to +think every sin entered up to their account became a +credit on his own side of the page. He even talked of +the expediency of reviving the persecution of Quakers +and Anabaptists. In a word, Tom’s zeal became as notorious +as his riches.</p> + +<p>Still, in spite of all this strenuous attention to forms, +Tom had a lurking dread that the devil, after all, would +have his due. That he might not be taken unawares, +therefore, it is said he always carried a small Bible in +his coat-pocket. He had also a great folio Bible on his +counting-house desk, and would frequently be found +reading it when people called on business; on such occasions +he would lay his green spectacles in the book, to +mark the place, while he turned round to drive some +usurious bargain.</p> + +<p>Some say that Tom grew a little crack-brained in his +old days, and that, fancying his end approaching, he +had his horse new shod, saddled and bridled, and buried +with his feet uppermost; because he supposed that at +the last day the world would be turned upside down; in +which case he should find his horse standing ready for +mounting, and he was determined at the worst to give +his old friend a run for it. This, however, is probably +a mere old wives’ fable. If he really did take such a +precaution, it was totally superfluous; at least so says +the authentic old legend; which closes his story in the +following manner.</p> + +<p>One hot summer afternoon in the dog-days, just as +a terrible black thunder-gust was coming up, Tom sat +in his counting-house, in his white linen cap and India<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +silk morning-gown. He was on the point of foreclosing +a mortgage, by which he would complete the ruin of +an unlucky land-speculator for whom he had professed +the greatest friendship. The poor land-jobber begged +him to grant a few months’ indulgence. Tom had +grown testy and irritated, and refused another day.</p> + +<p>“My family will be ruined, and brought upon the +parish,” said the land-jobber. “Charity begins at +home,” replied Tom; “I must take care of myself in +these hard times.”</p> + +<p>“You have made so much money out of me,” said the +speculator.</p> + +<p>Tom lost his patience and his piety. “The devil take +me,” said he, “if I have made a farthing!”</p> + +<p>Just then there were three loud knocks at the street-door. +He stepped out to see who was there. A black +man was holding a black horse, which neighed and +stamped with impatience.</p> + +<p>“Tom, you’re come for,” said the black fellow, +gruffly. Tom shrank back, but too late. He had left +his little Bible at the bottom of his coat-pocket, and his +big Bible on the desk buried under the mortgage he was +about to foreclose: never was sinner taken more unawares. +The black man whisked him like a child into +the saddle, gave the horse the lash, and away he galloped, +with Tom on his back, in the midst of the thunder-storm. +The clerks stuck their pens behind their ears, +and stared after him from the windows. Away went +Tom Walker, dashing down the street; his white cap +bobbing up and down; his morning-gown fluttering in +the wind, and his steed striking fire out of the pavement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +at every bound. When the clerks turned to look for +the black man, he had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Tom Walker never returned to foreclose the mortgage. +A countryman, who lived on the border of the +swamp, reported that in the height of the thunder-gust +he had heard a great clattering of hoofs and a howling +along the road, and running to the window caught sight +of a figure, such as I have described, on a horse that +galloped like mad across the fields, over the hills, and +down into the black hemlock swamp towards the old +Indian fort; and that shortly after a thunder-bolt falling +in that direction seemed to set the whole forest in a blaze.</p> + +<p>The good people of Boston shook their heads and +shrugged their shoulders, but had been so much accustomed +to witches and goblins, and tricks of the devil, in +all kinds of shapes, from the first settlement of the colony, +that they were not so much horror-struck as might +have been expected. Trustees were appointed to take +charge of Tom’s effects. There was nothing, however, +to administer upon. On searching his coffers, all his +bonds and mortgages were found reduced to cinders. +In place of gold and silver, his iron chest was filled with +chips and shavings; two skeletons lay in his stable instead +of his half-starved horses, and the very next day +his great house took fire and was burnt to the ground.</p> + +<p>Such was the end of Tom Walker and his ill-gotten +wealth. Let all griping money-brokers lay this story +to heart. The truth of it is not to be doubted. The +very hole under the oak-trees, whence he dug Kidd’s +money, is to be seen to this day; and the neighbouring +swamp and old Indian fort are often haunted in stormy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +nights by a figure on horseback, in morning-gown and +white cap, which is doubtless the troubled spirit of the +usurer. In fact, the story has resolved itself into a +proverb, and is the origin of that popular saying, so +prevalent throughout New England, of “The Devil and +Tom Walker.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Courtesy of G. P. Putnam’s Sons, Publishers, New York & London.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN" id="FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN"></a>FROM THE MEMOIRS OF SATAN<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WILHELM HAUFF<span class="sidenote"><a href="#FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>In this way the jovial stranger had kept myself, and +twelve or fifteen other gentlemen and ladies (our fellow +guests), in a perpetual whirl of delight. Scarcely any +had any special business to detain them at the hotel, +and yet none ventured to entertain the mere idea of departure, +even at a distant day. On the other hand, after +we had slept for some time late on mornings, sat long +at dinner, sung and played long of evenings, and drank, +chatted, and laughed long of nights, the magic tie which +bound us to this hotel seemed to have woven new chains +around us.</p> + +<p>This intoxication, however, was soon to be put an end +to, perhaps for our good. On the seventh day of our +rejoicings, a Sunday, our friend Von Natas was not to +be found anywhere. The waiters gave as his apology +a short journey; he could not return before sunset, but +would certainly be in time for tea and supper.</p> + +<p>The enjoyment of his society had already become such +a necessity, that this piece of information made us helpless +and ill at ease.</p> + +<p>The conversation turned naturally on our absent +friend and his striking, brilliant apparition among us. +It was strange, but I could not get it out of my head that +I had already met with him in my walk through life, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +in a different shape; and, absurd as the idea was, it still +forced itself irresistibly on my mind once and again. I +called to mind, from years long gone by, the recollection +of a man who in his whole demeanour, but more especially +in his glance, had the greatest resemblance to him. +The one of whom I now speak was a foreign physician, +who occasionally visited my native town, and there lived +at first in great retirement, though he soon found a crowd +of worshippers collected around him. The thought of +this man was always a melancholy one, for it was asserted +that some serious misfortune always followed his +visits; still I could not shake off the idea that Natas resembled +him strikingly, in fact that he was one and the +same person.</p> + +<p>I mentioned to my next neighbour at table the idea +that incessantly haunted me, and how unpleasant it was +to identify so horrible a being as the stranger who had +so afflicted my native city, with our mutual friend who +had so fully gained my esteem and affection; but it will +seem still more incredible when I assure my readers that +all my neighbours were full of precisely the same idea, +and that all fancied they had seen our agreeable companion +in some entirely different shape.</p> + +<p>“You are enough to make one downright melancholy,” +said Baroness von Thingen, who sat near me; “you +make our friend Natas out to be the Wandering Jew, or +God knows what more!”</p> + +<p>A little old man, a professor in Tibsingen, who had +joined our circle some days before, and passed his time +in quiet, silent enjoyment, enlivened by an occasional +deep conference with the Rhine wine, had kept smiling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +to himself during what he called our “comparative +anatomy,” and twirling his huge snuff-box between his +fingers with such skilful rapidity, that it revolved like +a coach-wheel.</p> + +<p>“I cannot longer refrain from a remark I wished to +make,” exclaimed he at last. “Under your favour, +gracious lady, I do not look upon him as being precisely +the Wandering Jew, but still as being a very +strange mortal. As long as he was present, the thought +would, it is true, now and then flash up in my mind, +‘You have seen this man before, but pray where was +it?’ but these recollections were driven away as if by +magic whenever he fastened upon me those dark wandering +eyes of his.”</p> + +<p>“So was it with me—and with me—and with me,” exclaimed +we all in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Hem! hem!” smiled the Professor. “Even now the +scales seem to fall from my eyes, and I see that he is +the very same person I saw in Stuttgart twelve years +ago.”</p> + +<p>“What, you have seen him then, and in what circumstances?” +asked Lady von Thingen eagerly, and almost +blushed at the eagerness she displayed.</p> + +<p>The Professor took a pinch of snuff, shook the superfluous +grains off his waistcoat, and answered—“It may +be now about twelve years since I was forced by a law-suit +to spend some months in Stuttgart. I lived at one +of the best hotels, and generally dined with a large +company at the table d’hôte. Once upon a time I made +my first appearance at table after a lapse of several +days, during which I had been forced to keep my room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +The company were talking very eagerly about a certain +Signor Barighi, who for some time past had been delighting +the other visitors with his lively wit, and his +fluency in all languages. All were unanimous in his +praise, but they could not exactly agree as to his occupation; +some making him out a diplomatist, others a +teacher of languages, a third party a distinguished political +exile, and a fourth a spy of the police. The +door opened, all seemed silent, even confused, at having +carried on the dispute in so loud a tone; I judged +that the person spoken of must be among us, and saw—”</p> + +<p>“Who, pray?”</p> + +<p>“Under favour, the same person who has amused us +so agreeably for some days past. There was nothing +supernatural in this, to be sure, but listen a moment; +for two days Signor Barighi, as the stranger was called, +had given a new relish to our meals by his brilliant conversation, +when mine host interrupted us suddenly—‘Gentlemen,’ +said he, ‘prepare yourself for an unique +entertainment which will be provided for you tomorrow.’</p> + +<p>“We asked what this meant, and a grey headed captain, +who had presided at the hotel table many years, informed +us of the joke as follows—Exactly opposite +this dining room, an old bachelor lives, solitary and +alone, in a large deserted house; he is a retired Counsellor +of State—lives on a handsome premium, and +has an enormous fortune besides. He is, however, a +downright fool, and has some of the strangest peculiarities; +thus, for instance, he often gives himself entertainments +on a scale of extravagant luxury. He orders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +covers for twelve, from the hotel, he has excellent wines +in his cellar, and one or the other of our waiters has +the honour to attend table. You think, perhaps, that at +these feasts he feeds the hungry, and gives drink to the +thirsty—no such thing; on the chairs lie old yellow +leaves of parchment, from the family record, and the +old hunks is as jovial as if he had the merriest set of +fellows around him; he talks and laughs with them, +and the whole thing is said to be so fearful to look +upon, that the youngest waiters are always sent over, +for whoever has been to one such supper will enter +the deserted house no more.</p> + +<p>“The day before yesterday he had a supper, and our +new waiter, Frank, there, calls heaven and earth to +witness that nobody shall ever induce him to go there a +second time. The next day after the entertainment +comes the Counsellor’s second freak. Early in the +morning he leaves the city, and comes back the morning +after; not, however, to his own house, which during +this time is fast locked and bolted, but into this hotel. +Here he treats people he has been in the habit of seeing +for a whole year, as strangers; dines, and afterwards +places himself at one of the windows, and examines his +own house across the way from top to bottom.</p> + +<p>“‘Who does that house opposite belong to?’ he then +asks the host.</p> + +<p>“The other regularly bows and answers, ‘It belongs to +the Counsellor of State, Hasentreffer, at your Excellency’s +service.’”</p> + +<p>“But, Professor,” here observed I, “what has this silly +Hasentreffer of yours to do with our Natas?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“A moment’s patience, Doctor,” answered the Professor, +“the light will soon break in upon you. Hasentreffer +then examines the house, and learns that it belongs +to Hasentreffer. ‘Oh, what!’ he asks, ‘the same +that was a student with me at Tibsingen’—then throws +open the window, stretches his powdered head out, and +calls out—‘Ha-asentreffer—Ha-asentreffer!’</p> + +<p>“Of course no one answers, but he remarks: ‘The old +fellow would never forgive me if I was not to look in +on him for a moment,’ then takes up his hat and cane, +unlocks his own house, goes in, and all goes on after as +before.</p> + +<p>“All of us,” the Professor proceeded in his story, +“were greatly astonished at this singular story, and +highly delighted at the idea of the next day’s merriment. +Signor Barighi, however, obliged us to promise that we +would not betray him, as he said he was preparing a +capital joke to play off on the Counsellor.</p> + +<p>“We all met at the table d’hôte earlier than usual, +and besieged the windows. An old tumble down carriage, +drawn by two blind steeds, came crawling down +the street; it stopped before the hotel. There’s Hasentreffer, +there’s Hasentreffer, was echoed by every +mouth; and we were filled with extravagant merriment +when we saw the little man get out, neatly powdered, +dressed in an iron grey surtout with a huge meerschaum +in hand. An escort of at least ten servants followed him +in, and in this guise he entered the dining-room.</p> + +<p>“We sat down at once. I have seldom laughed as +much as I did then; for the old chap insisted, with the +greatest coolness, that he came direct from Carrel, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +that he had six days before been extremely well entertained +at the Swan Inn at Frankfort. Barighi must +have disappeared before the dessert, for when the Counsellor +left the table, and the other guests, full of curiosity, +imitated his example, Barighi was nowhere to be +seen.</p> + +<p>“The Counsellor took his seat at the window; we all +followed his example and watched his movements. +The house opposite seemed desolate and uninhabited. +Grass grew on the threshold, the shutters were closed, +and on some of them birds seemed to have built their +nests.</p> + +<p>“‘A fine house that, opposite,’ said the old man to +our host, who kept standing behind him in the third +position. ‘Who does it belong to?’</p> + +<p>“‘To the Counsellor of State, Hasentreffer, at your +Excellency’s service.’</p> + +<p>“‘Ah, indeed! that must be the same one that was a +fellow-student with me,’ exclaimed he; ‘he would never +forgive me if I was not to inform him that I was here.’ +He opened the window,—‘Ha-asentreffer—Hasentreffer!’ +cried he, in a hoarse voice. But who can paint +our terror, when opposite, in the empty house, which +we knew was firmly locked and bolted, a window-shutter +was slowly raised, a window opened, and out of it +peered the Counsellor of State, Hasentreffer, in his +chintz morning-gown and white nightcap, under which +a few thin grey locks were visible; this, this exactly, was +his usual morning costume. Down to the minutest +wrinkle on the pallid visage, the figure across the street +was precisely the same as the one that stood by our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +side. But a panic seized us, when the figure in the +morning-gown called out across the street, in just the +same hoarse voice, ‘What do you want? who are you +calling to, hey?’</p> + +<p>“‘Are you the Counsellor of State, Hasentreffer?’ +said the one on our side of the way, pale as death, in a +trembling voice, and quaking as he leaned against the +window for support.</p> + +<p>“‘I’m the man,’ squeaked the other, and nodded his +head in a friendly way; ‘have you any commands for +me?’</p> + +<p>“‘But I’m the man too,’ said our friend mournfully, +‘how can it be possible?’</p> + +<p>“‘You are mistaken, my dear friend,’ answered he +across the way, ‘you are the thirteenth, be good enough +just to step across the street to my house, and let me +twist your neck for you! it is by no means painful.’</p> + +<p>“‘Waiter! my hat and stick,’ said the Counsellor, +pale as death, and his voice escaped in mournful tones +from his hollow chest. ‘The devil is in my house and +seeks my soul; a pleasant evening to you, gentlemen,’ +added he, turning to us with a polite bow, and thereupon +left the room.</p> + +<p>“‘What does this mean?’ we asked each other; ‘are +we all beside ourselves?’</p> + +<p>“The gentleman in the morning-gown kept looking +quietly out of the window, while our good silly old +friend crossed the street at his usual formal pace. At +the front-door, he pulled a huge bunch of keys out of +his pocket, unlocked the heavy creaking door—he of the +morning-gown looking carelessly on, and walked in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The latter now withdrew from the window, and we +saw him go forward to meet our acquaintance at the +room-door.</p> + +<p>“Our host and the ten waiters were all pale with fear, +and trembled. ‘Gentlemen,’ said the former, ‘God +pity poor Hasentreffer, for one of those two must be +the devil in human shape.’ We laughed at our host, +and tried to persuade ourselves that it was a joke of +Barighi’s; but our host assured us that no one could +have obtained access to the house except he was in possession +of the Counsellor’s very artificially contrived +keys; also, that Barighi was seated at table not ten +minutes before the prodigy happened; how then could +he have disguised himself so completely in so short a +time, even supposing him to have known how to unlock +a strange house? He added, that the two were so fearfully +like one another, that he who had lived in the +neighbourhood for twenty years could not distinguish +the true one from the counterfeit. ‘But, for God’s +sake, gentlemen, do you not hear the horrid shrieks +opposite?’</p> + +<p>“We rushed to the window—terrible and fearful +voices rang across from the empty house; we fancied we +saw the old Counsellor, pursued by his image in the +morning-gown, hurry past the window repeatedly. On +a sudden all was quiet.</p> + +<p>“We gazed on each other; the boldest among us proposed +to cross over to the house—we all agreed to it. +We crossed the street—the huge bell at the old man’s +door was rung thrice, but nothing could be heard in +answer; we sent to the police and to a blacksmith’s—the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +door was broken open, the whole tide of anxious +visitors poured up the wide silent staircase—all the +doors were fastened; at length one was opened. In a +splendid apartment, the Counsellor, his iron-grey frock-coat +torn to pieces, his neatly dressed hair in horrible +disorder, lay dead, strangled, on the sofa.</p> + +<p>“Since that time no traces of Barighi have been found, +neither in Stuttgart nor elsewhere.”</p> + + + +<h2><a name="ST_JOHNS_EVE3" id="ST_JOHNS_EVE3"></a>ST. JOHN’S EVE<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY NIKOLÁI VASILÉVICH GÓGOL<span class="sidenote"><a href="#ST_JOHNS_EVE_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Thoma Grigorovich had a very strange sort of eccentricity: +to the day of his death, he never liked to tell +the same thing twice. There were times, when, if you +asked him to relate a thing afresh, behold, he would interpolate +new matter, or alter it so that it was impossible +to recognize it. Once on a time, one of those +gentlemen (it is hard for us simple people to put a +name to them, to say whether they are scribblers, or not +scribblers: but it is just the same thing as the usurers at +our yearly fairs; they clutch and beg and steal every +sort of frippery, and issue mean little volumes, no +thicker than an A B C book, every month, or even every +week),—one of these gentlemen wormed this same story +out of Thoma Grigorovich, and he completely forgot +about it. But that same young gentleman in the pea-green +caftan, whom I have mentioned, and one of +whose tales you have already read, I think, came from +Poltava, bringing with him a little book, and, opening +it in the middle, shows it to us. Thoma Grigorovich +was on the point of setting his spectacles astride of his +nose, but recollected that he had forgotten to wind thread +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>about them, and stick them together with wax, so he +passed it over to me. As I understand something about +reading and writing, and do not wear spectacles, I undertook +to read it. I had not turned two leaves, when +all at once he caught me by the hand, and stopped me.</p> + +<p>“Stop! tell me first what you are reading.”</p> + +<p>I confess that I was a trifle stunned by such a question.</p> + +<p>“What! what am I reading, Thoma Grigorovich? +These were your very words.”</p> + +<p>“Who told you that they were my words?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what more would you have? Here it is +printed: <i>Related by such and such a sacristan</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Spit on the head of the man who printed that! he lies, +the dog of a Moscow pedlar! Did I say that? <i>’Twas +just the same as though one hadn’t his wits about him!</i> +Listen, I’ll tell it to you on the spot.”</p> + +<p>We moved up to the table, and he began.</p> + + +<p style="padding-top: 1.5em">My grandfather (the kingdom of heaven be his! may +he eat only wheaten rolls and makovniki<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> with honey in +the other world!) could tell a story wonderfully well. +When he used to begin on a tale, you wouldn’t stir from +the spot all day, but keep on listening. He was no +match for the story-teller of the present day, when he +begins to lie, with a tongue as though he had had nothing +to eat for three days, so that you snatch your cap, +and flee from the house. As I now recall it, my old +mother was alive then, in the long winter evenings when +the frost was crackling out of doors, and had so sealed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>up hermetically the narrow panes of our cottage, she +used to sit before the hackling-comb, drawing out a long +thread in her hand, rocking the cradle with her foot, +and humming a song, which I seem to hear even now.</p> + +<p>The fat-lamp, quivering and flaring up as though in +fear of something, lighted us within our cottage; the +spindle hummed; and all of us children, collected in a +cluster, listened to grandfather, who had not crawled +off the oven for more than five years, owing to his great +age. But the wondrous tales of the incursions of the +Zaporozhian Cossacks, the Poles, the bold deeds of +Podkova, of Poltor-Kozhukh, and Sagaidatchnii, did not +interest us so much as the stories about some deed of +old which always sent a shiver through our frames, and +made our hair rise upright on our heads. Sometimes +such terror took possession of us in consequence of them, +that, from that evening on, Heaven knows what a marvel +everything seemed to us. If you chanced to go out of +the cottage after nightfall for anything, you imagine +that a visitor from the other world has lain down to +sleep in your bed; and I should not be able to tell this +a second time were it not that I had often taken my own +smock, at a distance, as it lay at the head of the bed, +for the Evil One rolled up in a ball! But the chief +thing about grandfather’s stories was, that he never had +lied in his life; and whatever he said was so, was so.</p> + +<p>I will now relate to you one of his marvellous tales. +I know that there are a great many wise people who +copy in the courts, and can even read civil documents, +who, if you were to put into their hand a simple prayer-book,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +could not make out the first letter in it, and would +show all their teeth in derision—which is wisdom. +These people laugh at everything you tell them. Such +incredulity has spread abroad in the world! What +then? (Why, may God and the Holy Virgin cease to +love me if it is not possible that even you will not believe +me!) Once he said something about witches; +... What then? Along comes one of these head-breakers,—and +doesn’t believe in witches! Yes, glory +to God that I have lived so long in the world! I have +seen heretics, to whom it would be easier to lie in confession +than it would for our brothers and equals to take +snuff, and those people would deny the existence of +witches! But let them just dream about something, +and they won’t even tell what it was! There’s no use in +talking about them!</p> + + +<p style="padding-top: 1.5em">No one could have recognized this village of ours a +little over a hundred years ago: a hamlet it was, the +poorest kind of a hamlet. Half a score of miserable +izbás, unplastered, badly thatched, were scattered here +and there about the fields. There was not an enclosure +or a decent shed to shelter animals or wagons. That +was the way the wealthy lived: and if you had looked +for our brothers, the poor,—why, a hole in the ground,—that +was a cabin for you! Only by the smoke could +you tell that a God-created man lived there. You ask, +why they lived so? It was not entirely through poverty: +almost every one led a wandering, Cossack life, +and gathered not a little plunder in foreign lands; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +was rather because there was no reason for setting up a +well-ordered khata<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>. How many people were wandering +all over the country,—Crimeans, Poles, Lithuanians! +It was quite possible that their own countrymen might +make a descent, and plunder everything. Anything +was possible.</p> + +<p>In this hamlet a man, or rather a devil in human +form, often made his appearance. Why he came, and +whence, no one knew. He prowled about, got drunk, +and suddenly disappeared as if into the air, and there +was not a hint of his existence. Then, again, behold, +and he seemed to have dropped from the sky, and went +flying about the street of the village, of which no trace +now remains, and which was not more than a hundred +paces from Dikanka. He would collect together all +the Cossacks he met; then there were songs, laughter, +money in abundance, and vodka flowed like water.... +He would address the pretty girls, and give them ribbons, +earrings, strings of beads,—more than they knew +what to do with. It is true that the pretty girls rather +hesitated about accepting his presents: God knows, +perhaps they had passed through unclean hands. My +grandfather’s aunt, who kept a tavern at the time, in +which Basavriuk (as they called that devil-man) often +had his carouses, said that no consideration on the face +of the earth would have induced her to accept a gift +from him. And then, again, how avoid accepting? +Fear seized on every one when he knit his bristly brows, +and gave a sidelong glance which might send your feet, +God knows whither: but if you accept, then the next +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>night some fiend from the swamp, with horns on his +head, comes to call, and begins to squeeze your neck, +when there is a string of beads upon it; or bite your +finger, if there is a ring upon it; or drag you by the +hair, if ribbons are braided in it. God have mercy, +then, on those who owned such gifts! But here was the +difficulty: it was impossible to get rid of them; if you +threw them into the water, the diabolical ring or necklace +would skim along the surface, and into your hand.</p> + +<p>There was a church in the village,—St. Pantelei, if I +remember rightly. There lived there a priest, Father +Athanasii of blessed memory. Observing that Basavriuk +did not come to Church, even on Easter, he determined +to reprove him, and impose penance upon +him. Well, he hardly escaped with his life. “Hark +ye, pannotche!”<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> he thundered in reply, “learn to mind +your own business instead of meddling in other +people’s, if you don’t want that goat’s throat of yours +stuck together with boiling kutya.”<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> What was to be +done with this unrepentant man? Father Athanasii contented +himself with announcing that any one who should +make the acquaintance of Basavriuk would be counted +a Catholic, an enemy of Christ’s church, not a member +of the human race.</p> + +<p>In this village there was a Cossack named Korzh, +who had a labourer whom people called Peter the Orphan—perhaps +because no one remembered either his +father or mother. The church starost,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> it is true, said +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>that they had died of the pest in his second year; but +my grandfather’s aunt would not hear to that, and tried +with all her might to furnish him with parents, although +poor Peter needed them about as much as we need last +year’s snow. She said that his father had been in Zaporozhe, +taken prisoner by the Turks, underwent God only +knows what tortures, and having, by some miracle, disguised +himself as a eunuch, had made his escape. Little +cared the black-browed youths and maidens about +his parents. They merely remarked, that if he only +had a new coat, a red sash, a black lambskin cap, with +dandified blue crown, on his head, a Turkish sabre hanging +by his side, a whip in one hand and a pipe with handsome +mountings in the other, he would surpass all the +young men. But the pity was, that the only thing poor +Peter had was a grey svitka with more holes in it than +there are gold pieces in a Jew’s pocket. And that was +not the worst of it, but this: that Korzh had a daughter, +such a beauty as I think you can hardly have chanced +to see. My deceased grandfather’s aunt used to say—and +you know that it is easier for a woman to kiss the +Evil One than to call anybody a beauty, without malice +be it said—that this Cossack maiden’s cheeks were as +plump and fresh as the pinkest poppy when just bathed +in God’s dew, and, glowing, it unfolds its petals, and +coquets with the rising sun; that her brows were like +black cords, such as our maidens buy nowadays, for +their crosses and ducats, of the Moscow pedlars who +visit the villages with their baskets, and evenly arched +as though peeping into her clear eyes; that her little +mouth, at sight of which the youth smacked their lips,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +seemed made to emit the songs of nightingales; that her +hair, black as the raven’s wing, and soft as young flax +(our maidens did not then plait their hair in clubs interwoven +with pretty, bright-hued ribbons), fell in curls +over her kuntush.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Eh! may I never intone another +alleluia in the choir, if I would not have kissed her, in +spite of the grey which is making its way all through +the old wool which covers my pate, and my old woman +beside me, like a thorn in my side! Well, you know +what happens when young men and maids live side by +side. In the twilight the heels of red boots were always +visible in the place where Pidórka chatted with her +Petrus. But Korzh would never have suspected anything +out of the way, only one day—it is evident that +none but the Evil One could have inspired him—Petrus +took it into his head to kiss the Cossack maiden’s rosy lips +with all his heart in the passage, without first looking +well about him; and that same Evil One—may the son +of a dog dream of the holy cross!—caused the old greybeard, +like a fool, to open the cottage-door at that same +moment. Korzh was petrified, dropped his jaw, and +clutched at the door for support. Those unlucky kisses +had completely stunned him. It surprised him more +than the blow of a pestle on the wall, with which, in our +days, the muzhik generally drives out his intoxication +for lack of fusees and powder.</p> + +<p>Recovering himself, he took his grandfather’s hunting-whip +from the wall, and was about to belabour +Peter’s back with it, when Pidórka’s little six-year-old +brother Ivas rushed up from somewhere or other, and, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>grasping his father’s legs with his little hands, screamed +out, “Daddy, daddy! don’t beat Petrus!” What was to +be done? A father’s heart is not made of stone. Hanging +the whip again upon the wall, he led him quietly +from the house. “If you ever show yourself in my +cottage again, or even under the windows, look out, +Petró! by Heaven, your black moustache will disappear; +and your black locks, though wound twice about your +ears, will take leave of your pate, or my name is not +Terentii Korzh.” So saying, he gave him a little taste +of his fist in the nape of his neck, so that all grew dark +before Petrus, and he flew headlong. So there was an +end of their kissing. Sorrow seized upon our doves; +and a rumour was rife in the village, that a certain +Pole, all embroidered with gold, with moustaches, sabre, +spurs, and pockets jingling like the bells of the bag +with which our sacristan Taras goes through the church +every day, had begun to frequent Korzh’s house. +Now, it is well known why the father is visited when +there is a black-browed daughter about. So, one day, +Pidórka burst into tears, and clutched the hand of her +Ivas. “Ivas, my dear! Ivas, my love! fly to Petrus, +my child of gold, like an arrow from a bow. Tell him +all: I would have loved his brown eyes, I would have +kissed his white face, but my fate decrees not so. More +than one towel have I wet with burning tears. I am sad, +I am heavy at heart. And my own father is my enemy. +I will not marry that Pole, whom I do not love. Tell +him they are preparing a wedding, but there will be no +music at our wedding: ecclesiastics will sing instead of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +pipes and kobzas.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> I shall not dance with my bridegroom: +they will carry me out. Dark, dark will be my +dwelling,—of maple wood; and, instead of chimneys, a +cross will stand upon the roof.”</p> + +<p>Petró stood petrified, without moving from the spot, +when the innocent child lisped out Pidórka’s words to +him. “And I, unhappy man, thought to go to the +Crimea and Turkey, win gold and return to thee, my +beauty! But it may not be. The evil eye has seen us. +I will have a wedding, too, dear little fish, I, too; but no +ecclesiastics will be at that wedding. The black crow +will caw, instead of the pope, over me; the smooth field +will be my dwelling; the dark blue clouds my roof-tree. +The eagle will claw out my brown eyes: the rain will +wash the Cossack’s bones, and the whirlwinds will dry +them. But what am I? Of whom, to whom, am I +complaining? ’Tis plain, God willed it so. If I am to +be lost, then so be it!” and he went straight to the tavern.</p> + +<p>My late grandfather’s aunt was somewhat surprised +on seeing Petrus in the tavern, and at an hour when good +men go to morning mass; and she stared at him as though +in a dream, when he demanded a jug of brandy, about +half a pailful. But the poor fellow tried in vain to +drown his woe. The vodka stung his tongue like nettles, +and tasted more bitter than wormwood. He flung the +jug from him upon the ground. “You have sorrowed +enough, Cossack,” growled a bass voice behind him. +He looked round—Basavriuk! Ugh, what a face! His +hair was like a brush, his eyes like those of a bull. “I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>know what you lack: here it is.” Then he jingled a +leather purse which hung from his girdle, and smiled +diabolically. Petró shuddered. “He, he, he! yes, how +it shines!” he roared, shaking out ducats into his hand: +“he, he, he! and how it jingles! And I only ask one +thing for a whole pile of such shiners.”—“It is the Evil +One!” exclaimed Petró:—“Give them here! I am +ready for anything!” They struck hands upon it. +“See here, Petró, you are ripe just in time: tomorrow is +St. John the Baptist’s day. Only on this one night in +the year does the fern blossom. Delay not. I will +await thee at midnight in the Bear’s ravine.”</p> + +<p>I do not believe that chickens await the hour when the +woman brings their corn, with as much anxiety as Petrus +awaited the evening. And, in fact, he looked to see +whether the shadows of the trees were not lengthening, if +the sun were not turning red towards setting; and, the +longer he watched, the more impatient he grew. How +long it was! Evidently, God’s day had lost its end +somewhere. And now the sun is gone. The sky is red +only on one side, and it is already growing dark. It +grows colder in the fields. It gets dusky, and more +dusky, and at last quite dark. At last! With heart almost +bursting from his bosom, he set out on his way, and +cautiously descended through the dense woods into the +deep hollow called the Bear’s ravine. Basavriuk was +already waiting there. It was so dark, that you could +not see a yard before you. Hand in hand they penetrated +the thin marsh, clinging to the luxuriant thorn-bushes, +and stumbling at almost every step. At last +they reached an open spot. Petró looked about him:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +he had never chanced to come there before. Here Basavriuk +halted.</p> + +<p>“Do you see, before you stand three hillocks? There +are a great many sorts of flowers upon them. But may +some power keep you from plucking even one of them. +But as soon as the fern blossoms, seize it, and look not +round, no matter what may seem to be going on behind +thee.”</p> + +<p>Petró wanted to ask—and behold, he was no longer +there. He approached the three hillocks—where were +the flowers? He saw nothing. The wild steppe-grass +darkled around, and stifled everything in its luxuriance. +But the lightning flashed; and before him stood a whole +bed of flowers, all wonderful, all strange: and there were +also the simple fronds of fern. Petró doubted his +senses, and stood thoughtfully before them, with both +hands upon his sides.</p> + +<p>“What prodigy is this? one can see these weeds ten +times in a day: what marvel is there about them? was +not devil’s-face laughing at me?”</p> + +<p>Behold! the tiny flower-bud crimsons, and moves as +though alive. It is a marvel, in truth. It moves, and +grows larger and larger, and flashes like a burning coal. +The tiny star flashes up, something bursts softly, and the +flower opens before his eyes like a flame, lighting the +others about it. “Now is the time,” thought Petró, and +extended his hand. He sees hundreds of shaggy hands +reach from behind him, also for the flower; and there is +a running about from place to place, in the rear. He +half shut his eyes, plucked sharply at the stalk, and the +flower remained in his hand. All became still. Upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +a stump sat Basavriuk, all blue like a corpse. He +moved not so much as a finger. His eyes were immovably +fixed on something visible to him alone: his mouth +was half open and speechless. All about, nothing +stirred. Ugh! it was horrible!—But then a whistle was +heard, which made Petró’s heart grow cold within him; +and it seemed to him that the grass whispered, and the +flowers began to talk among themselves in delicate +voices, like little silver bells; the trees rustled in waving +contention;—Basavriuk’s face suddenly became full of +life and his eyes sparkled. “The witch has just returned,” +he muttered between his teeth. “See here, +Petró: a beauty will stand before you in a moment; do +whatever she commands; if not—you are lost for ever.” +Then he parted the thorn-bush with a knotty stick, and +before him stood a tiny izbá, on chicken’s legs, as they +say. Basavriuk smote it with his fist, and the wall +trembled. A large black dog ran out to meet them, and +with a whine, transforming itself into a cat, flew straight +at his eyes. “Don’t be angry, don’t be angry, you old +Satan!” said Basavriuk, employing such words as would +have made a good man stop his ears. Behold, instead +of a cat, an old woman with a face wrinkled like a +baked apple, and all bent into a bow: her nose and chin +were like a pair of nut-crackers. “A stunning beauty!” +thought Petró; and cold chills ran down his back. The +witch tore the flower from his hand, bent over, and muttered +over it for a long time, sprinkling it with some +kind of water. Sparks flew from her mouth, froth appeared +on her lips.</p> + +<p>“Throw it away,” she said, giving it back to Petró.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Petró threw it, and what wonder was this? the flower +did not fall straight to the earth, but for a long while +twinkled like a fiery ball through the darkness, and +swam through the air like a boat: at last it began to +sink lower, and fell so far away, that the little star, +hardly larger than a poppy-seed, was barely visible. +“Here!” croaked the old woman, in a dull voice: and +Basavriuk, giving him a spade, said, “Dig here, Petró: +here you will find more gold than you or Korzh ever +dreamed of.”</p> + +<p>Petró spat on his hands, seized the spade, applied his +foot, and turned up the earth, a second, a third, a fourth +time.... There was something hard: the spade +clinked, and would go no farther. Then his eyes began +to distinguish a small, iron-bound coffer. He tried +to seize it; but the chest began to sink into the earth, +deeper, farther, and deeper still: and behind him he +heard a laugh, more like a serpent’s hiss. “No, you shall +not see the gold until you procure human blood,” said +the witch, and led up to him a child of six, covered with +a white sheet, indicating by a sign that he was to cut +off his head. Petró was stunned. A trifle, indeed, to +cut off a man’s or even an innocent child’s head for no +reason whatever! In wrath he tore off the sheet enveloping +his head, and behold! before him stood Ivas. +And the poor child crossed his little hands, and hung his +head.... Petró flew upon the witch with the knife +like a madman, and was on the point of laying hands +on her....</p> + +<p>“What did you promise for the girl?” ... thundered +Basavriuk; and like a shot he was on his back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +The witch stamped her foot: a blue flame flashed from +the earth; it illumined it all inside, and it was as if +moulded of crystal; and all that was within the earth +became visible, as if in the palm of the hand. Ducats, +precious stones in chests and kettles, were piled in heaps +beneath the very spot they stood on. His eyes burned, +... his mind grew troubled.... He grasped the +knife like a madman, and the innocent blood spurted +into his eyes. Diabolical laughter resounded on all +sides. Misshaped monsters flew past him in herds. +The witch, fastening her hands in the headless trunk, +like a wolf, drank its blood.... All went round in his +head. Collecting all his strength, he set out to run. +Everything turned red before him. The trees seemed +steeped in blood, and burned and groaned. The sky +glowed and glowered.... Burning point, like lightning, +flickered before his eyes. Utterly exhausted, he +rushed into his miserable hovel, and fell to the ground +like a log. A death-like sleep overpowered him.</p> + +<p>Two days and two nights did Petró sleep, without once +awakening. When he came to himself, on the third +day, he looked long at all the corners of his hut; but in +vain did he endeavour to recollect; his memory was like +a miser’s pocket, from which you cannot entice a +quarter of a kopek. Stretching himself, he heard +something clash at his feet. He looked—two bags of +gold. Then only, as if in a dream, he recollected that +he had been seeking some treasure, that something had +frightened him in the woods.... But at what price he +had obtained it, and how, he could by no means understand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>Korzh saw the sacks,—and was mollified. “Such a +Petrus, quite unheard of! yes, and did I not love him? +Was he not to me as my own son?” And the old fellow +carried on his fiction until it reduced him to tears. +Pidórka began to tell him some passing gipsies had +stolen Ivas; but Petró could not even recall him—to such +a degree had the Devil’s influence darkened his mind! +There was no reason for delay. The Pole was dismissed, +and the wedding-feast prepared; rolls were +baked, towels and handkerchiefs embroidered; the +young people were seated at table; the wedding-loaf was +cut; banduras, cymbals, pipes, kobzi, sounded, and +pleasure was rife....</p> + +<p>A wedding in the olden times was not like one of the +present day. My grandfather’s aunt used to tell—what +doings!—how the maidens—in festive head-dresses of +yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they bound +gold braid; in thin chemisettes embroidered on all the +seams with red silk, and strewn with tiny silver flowers; +in morocco shoes, with high iron heels—danced the gorlitza +as swimmingly as peacocks, and as wildly as the +whirlwind; how the youths—with their ship-shaped caps +upon their heads, the crowns of gold brocade, with a +little slit at the nape where the hair-net peeped through, +and two horns projecting, one in front and another behind, +of the very finest black lambskin; in kuntushas of +the finest blue silk with red borders—stepped forward +one by one, their arms akimbo in stately form, and +executed the gopak; how the lads—in tall Cossack caps, +and light cloth svitkas, girt with silver embroidered belts, +their short pipes in their teeth—skipped before them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +and talked nonsense. Even Korzh could not contain +himself, as he gazed at the young people, from getting +gay in his old age. Bandura in hand, alternately puffing +at his pipe and singing, a brandy-glass upon his +head, the greybeard began the national dance amid loud +shouts from the merry-makers. What will not people +devise in merry mood! They even began to disguise +their faces. They did not look like human beings. +They are not to be compared with the disguises which +we have at our weddings nowadays. What do they do +now? Why, imitate gipsies and Moscow pedlars. +No! then one used to dress himself as a Jew, another as +the Devil: they would begin by kissing each other, and +end by seizing each other by the hair.... God be with +them! you laughed till you held your sides. They +dressed themselves in Turkish and Tartar garments. All +upon them glowed like a conflagration ... and then +they began to joke and play pranks.... Well, then +away with the saints!</p> + +<p>An amusing thing happened to my grandfather’s aunt, +who was at this wedding. She was dressed in a voluminous +Tartar robe, and, wineglass in hand, was entertaining +the company. The Evil One instigated one man to +pour vodka over her from behind. Another, at the +same moment, evidently not by accident, struck a light, +and touched it to her; ... the flame flashed up; poor +aunt, in terror, flung her robe from her, before them +all.... Screams, laughter, jests, arose, as if at a fair. +In a word, the old folks could not recall so merry a +wedding.</p> + +<p>Pidórka and Petrus began to live like a gentleman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +and lady. There was plenty of everything, and everything +was handsome.... But honest people shook +their heads when they looked at their way of living. +“From the Devil no good can come,” they unanimously +agreed. “Whence, except from the tempter of orthodox +people, came this wealth? Where else could he get +such a lot of gold? Why, on the very day that he got +rich, did Basavriuk vanish as if into thin air?” Say, +if you can, that people imagine things! In fact, a +month had not passed, and no one would have recognized +Petrus. Why, what had happened to him? God knows. +He sits in one spot, and says no word to any one: he +thinks continually, and seems to be trying to recall something. +When Pidórka succeeds in getting him to speak, +he seems to forget himself, carries on a conversation, +and even grows cheerful; but if he inadvertently glances +at the sacks, “Stop, stop! I have forgotten,” he cries, +and again plunges into revery, and again strives to recall +something. Sometimes when he has sat long in a +place, it seems to him as though it were coming, just +coming back to mind, ... and again all fades away. +It seems as if he is sitting in the tavern: they bring +him vodka; vodka stings him; vodka is repulsive to him. +Some one comes along, and strikes him on the shoulder; ... but +beyond that everything is veiled in darkness +before him. The perspiration streams down his face, +and he sits exhausted in the same place.</p> + +<p>What did not Pidórka do? She consulted the sorceress; +and they poured out fear, and brewed stomach-ache,<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>—but +all to no avail. And so the summer passed. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>Many a Cossack had mowed and reaped: many a Cossack, +more enterprising than the rest, had set off upon +an expedition. Flocks of ducks were already crowding +our marshes, but there was not even a hint of improvement.</p> + +<p>It was red upon the steppes. Ricks of grain, like +Cossacks’ caps, dotted the fields here and there. On the +highway were to be encountered wagons loaded with +brushwood and logs. The ground had become more +solid, and in places was touched with frost. Already +had the snow begun to besprinkle the sky, and the +branches of the trees were covered with rime like rabbit-skin. +Already on frosty days the red-breasted finch +hopped about on the snow-heaps like a foppish Polish +nobleman, and picked out grains of corn; and children, +with huge sticks, chased wooden tops upon the ice; while +their fathers lay quietly on the stove, issuing forth at +intervals with lighted pipes in their lips, to growl, in +regular fashion, at the orthodox frost, or to take the air, +and thresh the grain spread out in the barn. At last the +snow began to melt, and the ice rind slipped away: but +Petró remained the same; and, the longer it went on, +the more morose he grew. He sat in the middle of the +cottage as though nailed to the spot, with the sacks of +gold at his feet. He grew shy, his hair grew long, he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>became terrible; and still he thought of but one thing, +still he tried to recall something, and got angry and ill-tempered +because he could not recall it. Often, rising +wildly from his seat, he gesticulates violently, fixes his +eyes on something as though desirous of catching it: his +lips move as though desirous of uttering some long-forgotten +word—and remain speechless. Fury takes +possession of him: he gnaws and bites his hands like a +man half crazy, and in his vexation tears out his hair +by the handful, until, calming down, he falls into forgetfulness, +as it were, and again begins to recall, and is +again seized with fury and fresh tortures.... What +visitation of God is this?</p> + +<p>Pidórka was neither dead nor alive. At first it was +horrible to her to remain alone in the cottage; but, in +course of time, the poor woman grew accustomed to her +sorrow. But it was impossible to recognize the Pidórka +of former days. No blush, no smile: she was thin and +worn with grief, and had wept her bright eyes away. +Once, some one who evidently took pity on her, advised +her to go to the witch who dwelt in the Bear’s ravine, +and enjoyed the reputation of being able to cure every +disease in the world. She determined to try this last +remedy: word by word she persuaded the old woman to +come to her. This was St. John’s Eve, as it chanced. +Petró lay insensible on the bench, and did not observe +the new-comer. Little by little he rose, and looked +about him. Suddenly he trembled in every limb, as +though he were on the scaffold: his hair rose upon his +head, ... and he laughed such a laugh as pierced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +Pidórka’s heart with fear. “I have remembered, remembered!” +he cried in terrible joy; and, swinging a +hatchet round his head, he flung it at the old woman +with all his might. The hatchet penetrated the oaken +door two vershok.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> The old woman disappeared; and +a child of seven in a white blouse, with covered head, +stood in the middle of the cottage.... The sheet flew +off. “Ivas!” cried Pidórka, and ran to him; but the apparition +became covered from head to foot with blood, +and illumined the whole room with red light.... She +ran into the passage in her terror, but, on recovering herself +a little, wished to help him; in vain! the door had +slammed to behind her so securely that she could not +open it. People ran up, and began to knock: they broke +in the door, as though there were but one mind among +them. The whole cottage was full of smoke; and just +in the middle, where Petrus had stood, was a heap of +ashes, from which smoke was still rising. They flung +themselves upon the sacks: only broken potsherds lay +there instead of ducats. The Cossacks stood with staring +eyes and open mouths, not daring to move a hair, +as if rooted to the earth, such terror did this wonder +inspire in them.</p> + +<p>I do not remember what happened next. Pidórka +took a vow to go upon a pilgrimage, collected the property +left her by her father, and in a few days it was as +if she had never been in the village. Whither she had +gone, no one could tell. Officious old women would have +dispatched her to the same place whither Petró had gone; +but a Cossack from Kiev reported that he had seen, in a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>cloister, a nun withered to a mere skeleton, who prayed +unceasingly; and her fellow-villagers recognized her as +Pidórka, by all the signs,—that no one had ever heard +her utter a word; that she had come on foot, and had +brought a frame for the ikon of God’s mother, set with +such brilliant stones that all were dazzled at the sight.</p> + +<p>But this was not the end, if you please. On the same +day that the Evil One made way with Petrus, Basavriuk +appeared again; but all fled from him. They knew +what sort of a bird he was,—none else than Satan, who +had assumed human form in order to unearth treasures; +and, since treasures do not yield to unclean hands, he seduced +the young. That same year, all deserted their +earth huts, and collected in a village; but, even there, +there was no peace, on account of that accursed Basavriuk. +My late grandfather’s aunt said that he was +particularly angry with her, because she had abandoned +her former tavern, and tried with all his might to revenge +himself upon her. Once the village elders were +assembled in the tavern, and, as the saying goes, were +arranging the precedence at the table, in the middle of +which was placed a small roasted lamb, shame to say. +They chattered about this, that, and the other,—among +the rest about various marvels and strange things. Well, +they saw something; it would have been nothing if only +one had seen it, but all saw it; and it was this: the +sheep raised his head; his goggling eyes became alive +and sparkled; and the black, bristling moustache, which +appeared for one instant, made a significant gesture at +those present. All, at once, recognized Basavriuk’s +countenance in the sheep’s head: my grandfather’s aunt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +thought it was on the point of asking for vodka.... +The worthy elders seized their hats, and hastened home.</p> + +<p>Another time, the church starost himself, who was +fond of an occasional private interview with my grandfather’s +brandy-glass, had not succeeded in getting to +the bottom twice, when he beheld the glass bowing very +low to him. “Satan take you, let us make the sign of +the cross over you!” ... And the same marvel happened +to his better half. She had just begun to mix +the dough in a huge kneading-trough, when suddenly +the trough sprang up. “Stop, stop! where are you going?” +Putting its arms akimbo, with dignity, it went +skipping all about the cottage.... You may laugh, but +it was no laughing-matter to your grandfathers. And +in vain did Father Athanasii go through all the village +with holy water, and chase the Devil through the streets +with his brush; and my late grandfather’s aunt long complained, +that, as soon as it was dark, some one came +knocking at her door, and scratching at the wall.</p> + +<p>Well! All appears to be quiet now, in the place +where our village stands; but it was not so very long +ago—my father was still alive—that I remember how a +good man could not pass the ruined tavern, which a dishonest +race had long managed for their own interest. +From the smoke-blackened chimneys, smoke poured out +in a pillar, and rising high in the air, as if to take an +observation, rolled off like a cap, scattering burning +coals over the steppe; and Satan (the son of a dog should +not be mentioned) sobbed so pitifully in his lair, that +the startled ravens rose in flocks from the neighbouring +oak-wood, and flew through the air with wild cries.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From <i>St. John’s Eve and Other Stories</i>, translated by Isabel F. Hapgood +from the Russian of N. V. Gógol. (Copyright, 1886, by Thomas +Y. Crowell & Co. By permission of the Publishers.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Poppy-seeds cooked in honey, and dried in square cakes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Wooden house.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Sir.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> A dish of rice or wheat flour, with honey and raisins, which is +brought to the church on the celebration of memorial masses.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Elder.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Upper garment in Little Russia.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Eight-stringed musical instrument.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> “To pour out fear,” is done with us in case of fear; when it is desired +to know what caused it, melted lead or wax is poured into water +and the object whose form it assumes is the one which frightened the +sick person; after this, the fear departs. <i>Sónvashnitza</i> is brewed for +giddiness, and pain in the bowels. To this end, a bit of stump is +burned, thrown into a jug, and turned upside down into a bowl filled +with water, which is placed on the patient’s stomach: after an incantation, +he is given a spoonful of this water to drink.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Three inches and a half.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_WAGER" id="THE_DEVILS_WAGER"></a>THE DEVIL’S WAGER<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_WAGER_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>It was the hour of the night when there be none stirring +save church-yard ghosts—when all doors are +closed except the gates of graves, and all eyes shut but +the eyes of wicked men.</p> + +<p>When there is no sound on the earth except the ticking +of the grasshopper, or the croaking of obscene frogs +in the pool.</p> + +<p>And no light except that of the blinking stars, and +the wicked and devilish wills-o’-the-wisp, as they gambol +among the marshes, and lead good men astray.</p> + +<p>When there is nothing moving in heaven except the +owl, as he flappeth along lazily; or the magician, as he +rideth on his infernal broomstick, whistling through the +air like the arrows of a Yorkshire archer.</p> + +<p>It was at this hour (namely, at twelve o’clock of the +night,) that two beings went winging through the black +clouds, and holding converse with each other.</p> + +<p>Now the first was Mercurius, the messenger, not of +gods (as the heathens feigned), but of demons; and the +second, with whom he held company, was the soul of +Sir Roger de Rollo, the brave knight. Sir Roger was +Count of Chauchigny, in Champagne; Seigneur of Santerre, +Villacerf and autre lieux. But the great die as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +well as the humble; and nothing remained of brave +Roger now, but his coffin and his deathless soul.</p> + +<p>And Mercurius, in order to keep fast the soul, his +companion, had bound him round the neck with his tail; +which, when the soul was stubborn, he would draw so +tight as to strangle him wellnigh, sticking into him the +barbed point thereof; whereat the poor soul, Sir Rollo, +would groan and roar lustily.</p> + +<p>Now they two had come together from the gates of +purgatory, being bound to those regions of fire and +flame where poor sinners fry and roast in saecula saeculorum.</p> + +<p>“It is hard,” said the poor Sir Rollo, as they went +gliding through the clouds, “that I should thus be condemned +for ever, and all for want of a single ave.”</p> + +<p>“How, Sir Soul?” said the demon. “You were on +earth so wicked, that not one, or a million of aves, could +suffice to keep from hell-flame a creature like thee; but +cheer up and be merry; thou wilt be but a subject of +our lord the Devil, as am I; and, perhaps, thou wilt be +advanced to posts of honour, as am I also:” and to show +his authority, he lashed with his tail the ribs of the +wretched Rollo.</p> + +<p>“Nevertheless, sinner as I am, one more ave would +have saved me; for my sister, who was Abbess of St. +Mary of Chauchigny, did so prevail, by her prayer and +good works, for my lost and wretched soul, that every +day I felt the pains of purgatory decrease; the pitchforks +which, on my first entry, had never ceased to vex +and torment my poor carcass, were now not applied +above once a week; the roasting had ceased, the boiling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +had discontinued; only a certain warmth was kept up, +to remind me of my situation.”</p> + +<p>“A gentle stew,” said the demon.</p> + +<p>“Yea, truly, I was but in a stew, and all from the +effects of the prayers of my blessed sister. But yesterday, +he who watched me in purgatory told me, that yet +another prayer from my sister, and my bonds should be +unloosed, and I, who am now a devil, should have been +a blessed angel.”</p> + +<p>“And the other ave?” said the demon.</p> + +<p>“She died, sir—my sister died—death choked her in +the middle of the prayer.” And hereat the wretched +spirit began to weep and whine piteously; his salt tears +falling over his beard, and scalding the tail of Mercurius +the devil.</p> + +<p>“It is, in truth, a hard case,” said the demon; “but I +know of no remedy save patience, and for that you will +have an excellent opportunity in your lodgings below.”</p> + +<p>“But I have relations,” said the Earl; “my kinsman +Randal, who has inherited my lands, will he not say a +prayer for his uncle?”</p> + +<p>“Thou didst hate and oppress him when living.”</p> + +<p>“It is true; but an ave is not much; his sister, my +niece, Matilda—”</p> + +<p>“You shut her in a convent, and hanged her lover.”</p> + +<p>“Had I not reason? besides, has she not others?”</p> + +<p>“A dozen, without a doubt.”</p> + +<p>“And my brother, the prior?”</p> + +<p>“A liege subject of my lord the Devil: he never opens +his mouth, except to utter an oath, or to swallow a cup +of wine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“And yet, if but one of these would but say an ave +for me, I should be saved.”</p> + +<p>“Aves with them are <i>rarae</i> aves,” replied Mercurius, +wagging his tail right waggishly; “and, what is more, +I will lay thee any wager that no one of these will say a +prayer to save thee.”</p> + +<p>“I would wager willingly,” responded he of Chauchigny; +“but what has a poor soul like me to stake?”</p> + +<p>“Every evening, after the day’s roasting, my lord +Satan giveth a cup of cold water to his servants; I will +bet thee thy water for a year, that none of the three will +pray for thee.”</p> + +<p>“Done!” said Rollo.</p> + +<p>“Done!” said the demon; “and here, if I mistake not, +is thy castle of Chauchigny.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, it was true. The soul, on looking down, perceived +the tall towers, the courts, the stables, and the +fair gardens of the castle. Although it was past midnight, +there was a blaze of light in the banqueting-hall, +and a lamp burning in the open window of the Lady +Matilda.</p> + +<p>“With whom shall we begin?” said the demon: “with +the baron or the lady?”</p> + +<p>“With the lady, if you will.”</p> + +<p>“Be it so; her window is open, let us enter.”</p> + +<p>So they descended, and entered silently into Matilda’s +chamber.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The young lady’s eyes were fixed so intently on a +little clock, that it was no wonder that she did not perceive +the entrance of her two visitors. Her fair cheek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +rested in her white arm, and her white arm on the cushion +of a great chair in which she sat, pleasantly supported +by sweet thoughts and swan’s down; a lute was at +her side, and a book of prayers lay under the table (for +piety is always modest). Like the amorous Alexander, +she sighed and looked (at the clock)—and sighed for +ten minutes or more, when she softly breathed the word +“Edward!”</p> + +<p>At this the soul of the Baron was wroth. “The jade is +at her old pranks,” said he to the devil; and then addressing +Matilda: “I pray thee, sweet niece, turn thy +thoughts for a moment from that villainous page, Edward, +and give them to thine affectionate uncle.”</p> + +<p>When she heard the voice, and saw the awful apparition +of her uncle (for a year’s sojourn in purgatory +had not increased the comeliness of his appearance), +she started, screamed, and of course fainted.</p> + +<p>But the devil Mercurius soon restored her to herself. +“What’s o’clock?” said she, as soon as she had recovered +from her fit: “is he come?”</p> + +<p>“Not thy lover, Maude, but thine uncle—that is, his +soul. For the love of heaven, listen to me: I have been +frying in purgatory for a year past, and should +have been in heaven but for the want of a single +ave.”</p> + +<p>“I will say it for thee tomorrow, uncle.”</p> + +<p>“Tonight, or never.”</p> + +<p>“Well, tonight be it:” and she requested the devil +Mercurius to give her the prayer-book, from under the +table; but he had no sooner touched the holy book than +he dropped it with a shriek and a yell. “It was hotter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>” +he said, “than his master Sir Lucifer’s own particular +pitchfork.” And the lady was forced to begin her ave +without the aid of her missal.</p> + +<p>At the commencement of her devotions the demon +retired, and carried with him the anxious soul of poor +Sir Roger de Rollo.</p> + +<p>The lady knelt down—she sighed deeply; she looked +again at the clock, and began—</p> + +<p>“Ave Maria.”</p> + +<p>When a lute was heard under the window, and a sweet +voice singing—</p> + +<p>“Hark!” said Matilda.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Now the toils of day are over,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the sun hath sunk to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking, like a fiery lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bosom of the blushing west—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The faithful night keeps watch and ward,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Raising the moon, her silver shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summoning the stars to guard<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The slumbers of my fair Mathilde!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“For mercy’s sake!” said Sir Rollo, “the ave first, and +next the song.”</p> + +<p>So Matilda again dutifully betook her to her devotions, +and began—</p> + +<p>“Ave Maria gratia plena!” but the music began again, +and the prayer ceased of course.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The faithful night! Now all things lie<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hid by her mantle dark and dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pious hope I hither hie,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And humbly chant mine ev’ning hymn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(For never holy pilgrim kneel’d,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wept at feet more pure than thine),<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My virgin love, my sweet Mathilde!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Virgin love!” said the Baron. “Upon my soul, this +is too bad!” and he thought of the lady’s lover whom he +had caused to be hanged.</p> + +<p>But <i>she</i> only thought of him who stood singing at her +window.</p> + +<p>“Niece Matilda!” cried Sir Roger, agonizedly, “wilt +thou listen to the lies of an impudent page, whilst thine +uncle is waiting but a dozen words to make him happy?”</p> + +<p>At this Matilda grew angry: “Edward is neither impudent +nor a liar, Sir Uncle, and I will listen to the end +of the song.”</p> + +<p>“Come away,” said Mercurius; “he hath yet got +wield, field, sealed, congealed, and a dozen other rhymes +beside; and after the song will come the supper.”</p> + +<p>So the poor soul was obliged to go; while the lady +listened, and the page sung away till morning.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“My virtues have been my ruin,” said poor Sir Rollo, +as he and Mercurius slunk silently out of the window. +“Had I hanged that knave Edward, as I did the page his +predecessor, my niece would have sung mine ave, and I +should have been by this time an angel in heaven.”</p> + +<p>“He is reserved for wiser purposes,” responded the +devil: “he will assassinate your successor, the lady Mathilde’s +brother; and, in consequence, will be hanged. +In the love of the lady he will be succeeded by a gardener,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +who will be replaced by a monk, who will give +way to an ostler, who will be deposed by a Jew pedlar, +who shall, finally, yield to a noble earl, the future husband +of the fair Mathilde. So that, you see, instead of +having one poor soul a-frying, we may now look forward +to a goodly harvest for our lord the Devil.”</p> + +<p>The soul of the Baron began to think that his companion +knew too much for one who would make fair +bets; but there was no help for it; he would not, and he +could not cry off: and he prayed inwardly that the +brother might be found more pious than the sister.</p> + +<p>But there seemed little chance of this. As they +crossed the court, lackeys, with smoking dishes and full +jugs, passed and repassed continually, although it was +long past midnight. On entering the hall, they found +Sir Randal at the head of a vast table, surrounded by a +fiercer and more motley collection of individuals than +had congregated there even in the time of Sir Rollo. +The lord of the castle had signified that “it was his royal +pleasure to be drunk,” and the gentlemen of his train +had obsequiously followed their master. Mercurius +was delighted with the scene, and relaxed his usually +rigid countenance into a bland and benevolent smile, +which became him wonderfully.</p> + +<p>The entrance of Sir Roger, who had been dead about +a year, and a person with hoofs, horns, and a tail, rather +disturbed the hilarity of the company. Sir Randal +dropped his cup of wine; and Father Peter, the confessor, +incontinently paused in the midst of a profane song, +with which he was amusing the society.</p> + +<p>“Holy Mother!” cried he, “it is Sir Roger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Alive!” screamed Sir Randal.</p> + +<p>“No, my lord,” Mercurius said; “Sir Roger is dead, +but cometh on a matter of business; and I have the +honour to act as his counsellor and attendant.”</p> + +<p>“Nephew,” said Sir Roger, “the demon saith justly; +I am come on a trifling affair, in which thy service is +essential.”</p> + +<p>“I will do anything, uncle, in my power.”</p> + +<p>“Thou canst give me life, if thou wilt?” But Sir +Randal looked very blank at this proposition. “I mean +life spiritual, Randal,” said Sir Roger; and thereupon he +explained to him the nature of the wager.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was telling his story, his companion Mercurius +was playing all sorts of antics in the hall; and, by +his wit and fun, became so popular with this godless +crew, that they lost all the fear which his first appearance +had given them. The friar was wonderfully taken +with him, and used his utmost eloquence and endeavours +to convert the devil; the knights stopped drinking to +listen to the argument; the men-at-arms forbore brawling; +and the wicked little pages crowded round the two +strange disputants, to hear their edifying discourse. +The ghostly man, however, had little chance in the +controversy, and certainly little learning to carry it on. +Sir Randal interrupted him. “Father Peter,” said he, +“our kinsman is condemned for ever, for want of a +single ave: wilt thou say it for him?” “Willingly, my +lord,” said the monk, “with my book;” and accordingly +he produced his missal to read, without which aid it appeared +that the holy father could not manage the desired +prayer. But the crafty Mercurius had, by his devilish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +art, inserted a song in the place of the ave, so that Father +Peter, instead of chanting an hymn, sang the following +irreverent ditty:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Some love the matin-chimes, which tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hour of prayer to sinner:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But better far’s the mid-day bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which speaks the hour of dinner;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when I see a smoking fish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or capon drowned in gravy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or noble haunch on silver dish,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full glad I sing mine ave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“My pulpit is an ale-house bench,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereon I sit so jolly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A smiling rosy country wench<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My saint and patron holy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I kiss her cheek so red and sleek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I press her ringlets wavy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her willing ear I speak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A most religious ave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And if I’m blind, yet heaven is kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And holy saints forgiving;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sure he leads a right good life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who thus admires good living.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above, they say, our flesh is air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our blood celestial ichor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, grant! mid all the changes there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They may not change our liquor!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And with this pious wish the holy confessor tumbled +under the table in an agony of devout drunkenness; +whilst the knights, the men-at-arms, and the wicked little +pages, rang out the last verse with a most melodious and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +emphatic glee. “I am sorry, fair uncle,” hiccupped Sir +Randal, “that, in the matter of the ave, we could not +oblige thee in a more orthodox manner; but the holy +father has failed, and there is not another man in the +hall who hath an idea of a prayer.”</p> + +<p>“It is my own fault,” said Sir Rollo; “for I hanged +the last confessor.” And he wished his nephew a surly +goodnight, as he prepared to quit the room.</p> + +<p>“Au revoir, gentlemen,” said the devil Mercurius; +and once more fixed his tail round the neck of his disappointed +companion.</p> + +<p>The spirit of poor Rollo was sadly cast down; the +devil, on the contrary, was in high good humour. He +wagged his tail with the most satisfied air in the world, +and cut a hundred jokes at the expense of his poor associate. +On they sped, cleaving swiftly through the cold +night winds, frightening the birds that were roosting in +the woods, and the owls that were watching in the towers.</p> + +<p>In the twinkling of an eye, as it is known, devils can +fly hundreds of miles: so that almost the same beat of +the clock which left these two in Champagne found them +hovering over Paris. They dropped into the court of +the Lazarist Convent, and winded their way, through +passage and cloister, until they reached the door of the +prior’s cell.</p> + +<p>Now the prior, Rollo’s brother, was a wicked and +malignant sorcerer; his time was spent in conjuring devils +and doing wicked deeds, instead of fasting, scourging, +and singing holy psalms: this Mercurius knew; and +he, therefore, was fully at ease as to the final result of +his wager with poor Sir Roger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You seem to be well acquainted with the road,” said +the knight.</p> + +<p>“I have reason,” answered Mercurius, “having, for a +long period, had the acquaintance of his reverence, your +brother; but you have little chance with him.”</p> + +<p>“And why?” said Sir Rollo.</p> + +<p>“He is under a bond to my master, never to say a +prayer, or else his soul and his body are forfeited at +once.”</p> + +<p>“Why, thou false and traitorous devil!” said the enraged +knight; “and thou knewest this when we made our +wager?”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly: do you suppose I would have done so +had there been any chance of losing?”</p> + +<p>And with this they arrived at Father Ignatius’s door.</p> + +<p>“Thy cursed presence threw a spell on my niece, and +stopped the tongue of my nephew’s chaplain; I do believe +that had I seen either of them alone, my wager had +been won.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly; therefore, I took good care to go with +thee; however, thou mayest see the prior alone, if thou +wilt; and lo! his door is open. I will stand without for +five minutes when it will be time to commence our +journey.”</p> + +<p>It was the poor Baron’s last chance: and he entered +his brother’s room more for the five minutes’ respite +than from any hope of success.</p> + +<p>Father Ignatius, the prior, was absorbed in magic calculations: +he stood in the middle of a circle of skulls, +with no garment except his long white beard, which +reached to his knees; he was waving a silver rod,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +and muttering imprecations in some horrible tongue.</p> + +<p>But Sir Rollo came forward and interrupted his incantation. +“I am,” said he, “the shade of thy brother +Roger de Rollo; and have come, from pure brotherly +love, to warn thee of thy fate.”</p> + +<p>“Whence camest thou?”</p> + +<p>“From the abode of the blessed in Paradise,” replied +Sir Roger, who was inspired with a sudden thought; +“it was but five minutes ago that the Patron Saint of thy +church told me of thy danger, and of thy wicked compact +with the fiend. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘to thy miserable +brother, and tell him there is but one way by which he +may escape from paying the awful forfeit of his bond.’”</p> + +<p>“And how may that be?” said the prior; “the false +fiend hath deceived me; I have given him my soul, but +have received no worldly benefit in return. Brother! +dear brother! how may I escape?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell thee. As soon as I heard the voice of +blessed St. Mary Lazarus” (the worthy Earl had, at a +pinch, coined the name of a saint), “I left the clouds, +where, with other angels, I was seated, and sped hither +to save thee. ‘Thy brother,’ said the Saint, ‘hath but +one day more to live, when he will become for all +eternity the subject of Satan; if he would escape, he +must boldly break his bond, by saying an ave.’”</p> + +<p>“It is the express condition of the agreement,” said +the unhappy monk, “I must say no prayer, or that instant +I become Satan’s, body and soul.”</p> + +<p>“It is the express condition of the Saint,” answered +Roger, fiercely; “pray, brother, pray, or thou art lost for +ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>So the foolish monk knelt down, and devoutly sung +out an ave. “Amen!” said Sir Roger, devoutly.</p> + +<p>“Amen!” said Mercurius, as, suddenly, coming behind, +he seized Ignatius by his long beard, and flew up +with him to the top of the church-steeple.</p> + +<p>The monk roared, and screamed, and swore against +his brother; but it was of no avail: Sir Roger smiled +kindly on him, and said, “Do not fret, brother; it must +have come to this in a year or two.”</p> + +<p>And he flew alongside of Mercurius to the steeple-top: +<i>but this time the devil had not his tail round his +neck</i>. “I will let thee off thy bet,” said he to the demon; +for he could afford, now, to be generous.</p> + +<p>“I believe, my lord,” said the demon, politely, “that +our ways separate here.” Sir Roger sailed gaily upwards: +while Mercurius having bound the miserable +monk faster than ever, he sunk downwards to earth, and +perhaps lower. Ignatius was heard roaring and screaming +as the devil dashed him against the iron spikes and +buttresses of the church.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN" id="THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN"></a>THE PAINTER’S BARGAIN<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Simon Gambouge was the son of Solomon Gambouge; +and as all the world knows, both father and son were +astonishingly clever fellows at their profession. Solomon +painted landscapes, which nobody bought; and +Simon took a higher line, and painted portraits to admiration, +only nobody came to sit to him.</p> + +<p>As he was not gaining five pounds a year by his profession, +and had arrived at the age of twenty, at least, +Simon determined to better himself by taking a wife,—a +plan which a number of other wise men adopt, in +similar years and circumstances. So Simon prevailed +upon a butcher’s daughter (to whom he owed considerable +for cutlets) to quit the meat-shop and follow him. +Griskinissa—such was the fair creature’s name—“was +as lovely a bit of mutton,” her father said, “as ever a +man would wish to stick a knife into.” She had sat to +the painter for all sorts of characters; and the curious +who possess any of Gambouge’s pictures will see her as +Venus, Minerva, Madonna, and in numberless other +characters: Portrait of a lady—Griskinissa; Sleeping +Nymph—Griskinissa, without a rag of clothes, lying in +a forest; Maternal Solicitude—Griskinissa again, with +young Master Gambouge, who was by this time the offspring +of their affections.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>The lady brought the painter a handsome little fortune +of a couple of hundred pounds; and as long as this +sum lasted no woman could be more lovely or loving. +But want began speedily to attack their little household; +baker’s bills were unpaid; rent was due, and the reckless +landlord gave no quarter; and, to crown the whole, +her father, unnatural butcher! suddenly stopped the supplies +of mutton-chops; and swore that his daughter, and +the dauber, her husband, should have no more of his +wares. At first they embraced tenderly, and, kissing +and crying over their little infant, vowed to heaven that +they would do without: but in the course of the evening +Griskinissa grew peckish, and poor Simon pawned his +best coat.</p> + +<p>When this habit of pawning is discovered, it appears +to the poor a kind of Eldorado. Gambouge and his wife +were so delighted, that they, in course of a month, made +away with her gold chain, her great warming-pan, his +best crimson plush inexpressibles, two wigs, a washhand +basin and ewer, fire-irons, window-curtains, crockery, +and arm-chairs. Griskinissa said, smiling, that she had +found a second father in <i>her uncle</i>,—a base pun, which +showed that her mind was corrupted, and that she was no +longer the tender, simple Griskinissa of other days.</p> + +<p>I am sorry to say that she had taken to drinking; she +swallowed the warming-pan in the course of three days, +and fuddled herself one whole evening with the crimson +plush breeches.</p> + +<p>Drinking is the devil—the father, that is to say, of all +vices. Griskinissa’s face and her mind grew ugly together; +her good humour changed to bilious, bitter discontent;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +her pretty, fond epithets, to foul abuse and +swearing; her tender blue eyes grew watery and blear, +and the peach-colour on her cheeks fled from its old +habitation, and crowded up into her nose, where, with +a number of pimples, it stuck fast. Add to this a dirty, +draggle-tailed chintz; long, matted hair, wandering into +her eyes, and over her lean shoulders, which were once +so snowy, and you have the picture of drunkenness and +Mrs. Simon Gambouge.</p> + +<p>Poor Simon, who had been a gay, lively fellow enough +in the days of his better fortune, was completely cast +down by his present ill luck, and cowed by the ferocity +of his wife. From morning till night the neighbours +could hear this woman’s tongue, and understand her doings; +bellows went skimming across the room, chairs +were flumped down on the floor, and poor Gambouge’s oil +and varnish pots went clattering through the windows, or +down the stairs. The baby roared all day; and Simon +sat pale and idle in a corner, taking a small sup at the +brandy-bottle, when Mrs. Gambouge was out of the way.</p> + +<p>One day, as he sat disconsolately at his easel, furbishing +up a picture of his wife, in the character of Peace, +which he had commenced a year before, he was more +than ordinarily desperate, and cursed and swore in the +most pathetic manner. “O miserable fate of genius!” +cried he, “was I, a man of such commanding talents, +born for this? to be bullied by a fiend of a wife; to have +my masterpieces neglected by the world, or sold only for +a few pieces? Cursed be the love which has misled +me; cursed be the art which is unworthy of me! Let +me dig or steal, let me sell myself as a soldier, or sell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +myself to the Devil, I should not be more wretched than +I am now!”</p> + +<p>“Quite the contrary,” cried a small, cheery voice.</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Gambouge, trembling and surprised. +“Who’s there?—where are you?—who are +you?”</p> + +<p>“You were just speaking of me,” said the voice.</p> + +<p>Gambouge held, in his left hand, his palette; in his +right, a bladder of crimson lake, which he was about to +squeeze out upon the mahogany. “Where are you?” +cried he again.</p> + +<p>“S-q-u-e-e-z-e!” exclaimed the little voice.</p> + +<p>Gambouge picked out the nail from the bladder, and +gave a squeeze; when, as sure as I’m living, a little imp +spurted out from the hole upon the palette, and began +laughing in the most singular and oily manner.</p> + +<p>When first born he was little bigger than a tadpole; +then he grew to be as big as a mouse; then he arrived at +the size of a cat; and then he jumped off the palette, and, +turning head over heels, asked the poor painter what +he wanted with him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The strange little animal twisted head over heels, and +fixed himself at last upon the top of Gambouge’s easel,—smearing +out, with his heels, all the white and vermilion +which had just been laid on the allegoric portrait of +Mrs. Gambouge.</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Simon, “is it the—”</p> + +<p>“Exactly so; talk of me, you know, and I am always +at hand: besides, I am not half so black as I am painted, +as you will see when you know me a little better.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word,” said the painter, “it is a very singular +surprise which you have given me. To tell truth, I +did not even believe in your existence.”</p> + +<p>The little imp put on a theatrical air, and with one of +Mr. Macready’s best looks, said,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“There are more things in heaven and earth, Gambogio,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than are dreamed of in your philosophy.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Gambouge, being a Frenchman, did not understand +the quotation, but felt somehow strangely and singularly +interested in the conversation of his new friend.</p> + +<p>Diabolus continued: “You are a man of merit, and +want money; you will starve on your merit; you can only +get money from me. Come, my friend, how much is it? +I ask the easiest interest in the world: old Mordecai, the +usurer, has made you pay twice as heavily before now: +nothing but the signature of a bond, which is a mere +ceremony, and the transfer of an article which, in itself, +is a supposition—a valueless, windy, uncertain property +of yours, called by some poet of your own, I think, an +<i>animula</i>, <i>vagula</i>, <i>blandula</i>—bah! there is no use beating +about the bush—I mean <i>a soul</i>. Come, let me have it; +you know you will sell it some other way, and not get +such good pay for your bargain!”—and, having made +this speech, the Devil pulled out from his fob a sheet as +big as a double <i>Times</i>, only there was a different <i>stamp</i> +in the corner.</p> + +<p>It is useless and tedious to describe law documents: +lawyers only love to read them; and they have as good +in Chitty as any that are to be found in the Devil’s own;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +so nobly have the apprentices emulated the skill of the +master. Suffice it to say, that poor Gambouge read over +the paper, and signed it. He was to have all he wished +for seven years, and at the end of that time was to become +the property of the—; <b>provided</b> that during the +course of the seven years, every single wish which he +might form should be gratified by the other of the contracting +parties; otherwise the deed became null and +nonavenue, and Gambouge should be left “to go to the—his +own way.”</p> + +<p>“You will never see me again,” said Diabolus, in +shaking hands with poor Simon, on whose fingers he left +such a mark as is to be seen at this day—“never, at least, +unless you want me; for everything you ask will be performed +in the most quiet and every-day manner: believe +me, it is the best and most gentlemanlike, and avoids +anything like scandal. But if you set me about anything +which is extraordinary, and out of the course of +nature, as it were, come I must, you know; and of this +you are the best judge.” So saying, Diabolus disappeared; +but whether up the chimney, through the keyhole, +or by any other aperture or contrivance, nobody +knows. Simon Gambouge was left in a fever of delight, +as, heaven forgive me! I believe many a worthy man +would be, if he were allowed an opportunity to make a +similar bargain.</p> + +<p>“Heigho!” said Simon. “I wonder whether this be +a reality or a dream.—I am sober, I know; for who will +give me credit for the means to be drunk? and as for +sleeping, I’m too hungry for that. I wish I could see a +capon and a bottle of white wine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Monsieur Simon</span>!” cried a voice on the landing-place.</p> + +<p>“C’est ici,” quoth Gambouge, hastening to open the +door. He did so; and lo! there was a <i>restaurateur’s</i> boy +at the door, supporting a tray, a tin-covered dish, and +plates on the same; and, by its side, a tall amber-coloured +flask of Sauterne.</p> + +<p>“I am the new boy, sir,” exclaimed this youth, on +entering; “but I believe this is the right door, and you +asked for these things.”</p> + +<p>Simon grinned, and said, “Certainly, I did <i>ask for</i> +these things.” But such was the effect which his interview +with the demon had had on his innocent mind, that +he took them, although he knew they were for old Simon, +the Jew dandy, who was mad after an opera girl, and +lived on the floor beneath.</p> + +<p>“Go, my boy,” he said; “it is good: call in a couple of +hours, and remove the plates and glasses.”</p> + +<p>The little waiter trotted down stairs, and Simon sat +greedily down to discuss the capon and the white wine. +He bolted the legs, he devoured the wings, he cut every +morsel of flesh from the breast;—seasoning his repast +with pleasant draughts of wine, and caring nothing for +the inevitable bill which was to follow all.</p> + +<p>“Ye gods!” said he, as he scraped away at the back-bone, +“what a dinner! what wine!—and how gaily +served up too!” There were silver forks and spoons, +and the remnants of the fowl were upon a silver dish. +“Why the money for this dish and these spoons,” cried +Simon, “would keep me and Mrs. G. for a month! <span class="smcap">I +wish</span>”—and here Simon whistled, and turned round to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +see that no one was peeping—“I wish the plate were +mine.”</p> + +<p>Oh, the horrid progress of the Devil! “Here they +are,” thought Simon to himself; “why should not I +<i>take them</i>?” and take them he did. “Detection,” said +he, “is not so bad as starvation; and I would as soon +live at the galleys as live with Madame Gambouge.”</p> + +<p>So Gambouge shovelled dish and spoons into the flap +of his surtout, and ran down stairs as if the Devil were +behind him—as, indeed, he was.</p> + +<p>He immediately made for the house of his old friend +the pawnbroker—that establishment which is called in +France the Mont de Piété. “I am obliged to come to +you again, my old friend,” said Simon, “with some family +plate, of which I beseech you to take care.”</p> + +<p>The pawnbroker smiled as he examined the goods. +“I can give you nothing upon them,” said he.</p> + +<p>“What!” cried Simon; “not even the worth of the +silver?”</p> + +<p>“No; I could buy them at that price at the ‘Café +Morisot,’ Rue de la Verrerie, where, I suppose, you got +them a little cheaper.” And, so saying, he showed to +the guilt-stricken Gambouge how the name of that +coffee-house was inscribed upon every one of the articles +which he wished to pawn.</p> + +<p>The effects of conscience are dreadful indeed. Oh! +how fearful is retribution, how deep is despair, how bitter +is remorse for crime—<i>when crime is found out!</i>—otherwise, +conscience takes matters much more easily. +Gambouge cursed his fate, and swore henceforth to be +virtuous.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But, hark ye, my friend,” continued the honest +broker, “there is no reason why, because I cannot lend +upon these things, I should not buy them: they will do +to melt, if for no other purpose. Will you have half +the money?—speak, or I peach.”</p> + +<p>Simon’s resolves about virtue were dissipated instantaneously. +“Give me half,” he said, “and let me go.—What +scoundrels are these pawnbrokers!” ejaculated he, +as he passed out of the accursed shop, “seeking every +wicked pretext to rob the poor man of his hard-won +gain.”</p> + +<p>When he had marched forwards for a street or two, +Gambouge counted the money which he had received, +and found that he was in possession of no less than a +hundred francs. It was night, as he reckoned out his +equivocal gains, and he counted them at the light of a +lamp. He looked up at the lamp, in doubt as to the +course he should next pursue: upon it was inscribed the +simple number, 152. “A gambling-house,” thought +Gambouge. “<span class="smcap">I wish</span> I had half the money that is now +on the table, up stairs.”</p> + +<p>He mounted, as many a rogue has done before him, +and found half a hundred persons busy at a table of +<i>rouge et noir</i>. Gambouge’s five napoleons looked insignificant +by the side of the heaps which were around him; +but the effects of the wine, of the theft, and of the detection +by the pawnbroker, were upon him, and he threw +down his capital stoutly upon the 0 0.</p> + +<p>It is a dangerous spot that 0 0, or double zero; but to +Simon it was more lucky than to the rest of the world. +The ball went spinning round—in “its predestined circle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +rolled,” as Shelley has it, after Goethe—and plumped +down at last in the double zero. One hundred and thirty-five +gold napoleons (louis they were then) were +counted out to the delighted painter. “Oh, Diabolus!” +cried he, “now it is that I begin to believe in thee! +Don’t talk about merit,” he cried; “talk about fortune. +Tell me not about heroes for the future—tell me of +<i>zeroes</i>.” And down went twenty napoleons more upon +the 0.</p> + +<p>The Devil was certainly in the ball: round it twirled, +and dropped into zero as naturally as a duck pops its +head into a pond. Our friend received five hundred +pounds for his stake; and the croupiers and lookers-on +began to stare at him.</p> + +<p>There were twelve thousand pounds upon the table. +Suffice it to say, that Simon won half, and retired from +the Palais Royal with a thick bundle of bank-notes +crammed into his dirty three-cornered hat. He had +been but half an hour in the place, and he had won the +revenues of a prince for half a year!</p> + +<p>Gambouge, as soon as he felt that he was a capitalist, +and that he had a stake in the country, discovered that +he was an altered man. He repented of his foul deed, +and his base purloining of the <i>restaurateur’s</i> plate. “O +honesty!” he cried, “how unworthy is an action like this +of a man who has a property like mine!” So he went +back to the pawnbroker with the gloomiest face imaginable. +“My friend,” said he, “I have sinned against all +that I hold most sacred: I have forgotten my family and +my religion. Here is thy money. In the name of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +heaven, restore me the plate which I have wrongfully +sold thee!”</p> + +<p>But the pawnbroker grinned, and said, “Nay, Mr. +Gambouge, I will sell that plate for a thousand francs to +you, or I will never sell it at all.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” cried Gambouge, “thou art an inexorable +ruffian, Troisboules; but I will give thee all I am worth.” +And here he produced a billet of five hundred francs. +“Look,” said he, “this money is all I own; it is the payment +of two years’ lodging. To raise it, I have toiled +for many months; and, failing, I have been a criminal. +O heaven! I <i>stole</i> that plate that I might pay my debt, +and keep my dear wife from wandering houseless. But +I cannot bear this load of ignominy—I cannot suffer the +thought of this crime. I will go to the person to whom +I did wrong. I will starve, I will confess; but I will, I +<i>will</i> do right!”</p> + +<p>The broker was alarmed. “Give me thy note,” he +cried; “here is the plate.”</p> + +<p>“Give me an acquittal first,” cried Simon, almost +broken-hearted; “sign me a paper, and the money is +yours.” So Troisboules wrote according to Gambouge’s +dictation: “Received, for thirteen ounces of plate, +twenty pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Monster of iniquity!” cried the painter, “fiend of +wickedness! thou art caught in thine own snares. Hast +thou not sold me five pounds’ worth of plate for twenty? +Have I it not in my pocket? Art thou not a convicted +dealer in stolen goods? Yield, scoundrel, yield thy +money, or I will bring thee to justice!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>The frightened pawnbroker bullied and battled for a +while; but he gave up his money at last, and the dispute +ended. Thus it will be seen that Diabolus had rather +a hard bargain in the wily Gambouge. He had taken +a victim prisoner, but he had assuredly caught a Tartar. +Simon now returned home, and, to do him justice, paid +the bill for his dinner, and restored the plate.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>And now I may add (and the reader should ponder +upon this, as a profound picture of human life), that +Gambouge, since he had grown rich, grew likewise abundantly +moral. He was a most exemplary father. He +fed the poor, and was loved by them. He scorned a +base action. And I have no doubt that Mr. Thurtell, or +the late lamented Mr. Greenacre, in similar circumstances, +would have acted like the worthy Simon Gambouge.</p> + +<p>There was but one blot upon his character—he hated +Mrs. Gam. worse than ever. As he grew more benevolent, +she grew more virulent: when he went to plays, +she went to Bible societies, and <i>vice versâ</i>: in fact, she +led him such a life as Xantippe led Socrates, or as a dog +leads a cat in the same kitchen. With all his fortune—for, +as may be supposed, Simon prospered in all worldly +things—he was the most miserable dog in the whole city +of Paris. Only in the point of drinking did he and +Mrs. Simon agree; and for many years, and during a +considerable number of hours in each day, he thus dissipated, +partially, his domestic chagrin. O philosophy! +we may talk of thee: but, except at the bottom of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +wine-cup, where thou liest like truth in a well, where +shall we find thee?</p> + +<p>He lived so long, and in his worldly matters prospered +so much, there was so little sign of devilment in +the accomplishment of his wishes, and the increase of +his prosperity, that Simon, at the end of six years, began +to doubt whether he had made any such bargain at all, +as that which we have described at the commencement of +this history. He had grown, as we said, very pious and +moral. He went regularly to mass, and had a confessor +into the bargain. He resolved, therefore, to consult +that reverend gentleman, and to lay before him the +whole matter.</p> + +<p>“I am inclined to think, holy sir,” said Gambouge, +after he had concluded his history, and shown how, in +some miraculous way, all his desires were accomplished, +“that, after all, this demon was no other than the creation +of my own brain, heated by the effects of that bottle +of wine, the cause of my crime and my prosperity.”</p> + +<p>The confessor agreed with him, and they walked out +of church comfortably together, and entered afterwards +a <i>café</i>, where they sat down to refresh themselves after +the fatigues of their devotion.</p> + +<p>A respectable old gentleman, with a number of orders +at his button-hole, presently entered the room, and sauntered +up to the marble table, before which reposed Simon +and his clerical friend. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” +he said, as he took a place opposite them, and began +reading the papers of the day.</p> + +<p>“Bah!” said he, at last,—“sont-ils grands ces journaux<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +anglais? Look, sir,” he said, handing over an +immense sheet of <i>The Times</i> to Mr. Gambouge, “was +ever anything so monstrous?”</p> + +<p>Gambouge smiled, politely, and examined the proffered +page. “It is enormous,” he said; “but I do not +read English.”</p> + +<p>“Nay,” said the man with the orders, “look closer at +it, Signor Gambouge; it is astonishing how easy the +language is.”</p> + +<p>Wondering, Simon took the sheet of paper. He +turned pale as he looked at it, and began to curse the +ices and the waiter. “Come, M. l’Abbé,” he said; “the +heat and glare of this place are intolerable.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The stranger rose with them. “Au plaisir de vous +revoir, mon cher monsieur,” said he; “I do not mind +speaking before the Abbé here, who will be my very +good friend one of these days; but I thought it necessary +to refresh your memory, concerning our little +business transaction six years since; and could not exactly +talk of it <i>at church</i>, as you may fancy.”</p> + +<p>Simon Gambouge had seen, in the double-sheeted +<i>Times</i>, the paper signed by himself, which the little +Devil had pulled out of his fob.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There was no doubt on the subject; and Simon, who +had but a year to live, grew more pious, and more careful +than ever. He had consultations with all the doctors +of the Sorbonne and all the lawyers of the Palais. But +his magnificence grew as wearisome to him as his poverty +had been before; and not one of the doctors whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +he consulted could give him a pennyworth of consolation.</p> + +<p>Then he grew outrageous in his demands upon the +Devil, and put him to all sorts of absurd and ridiculous +tasks; but they were all punctually performed, until +Simon could invent no new ones, and the Devil sat all +day with his hands in his pockets doing nothing.</p> + +<p>One day, Simon’s confessor came bounding into the +room, with the greatest glee. “My friend,” said he, “I +have it! Eureka!—I have found it. Send the Pope +a hundred thousand crowns, build a new Jesuit college +at Rome, give a hundred gold candlesticks to St. Peter’s; +and tell his Holiness you will double all if he will give +you absolution!”</p> + +<p>Gambouge caught at the notion, and hurried off a +courier to Rome <i>ventre à terre</i>. His Holiness agreed to +the request of the petition, and sent him an absolution, +written out with his own fist, and all in due form.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said he, “foul fiend, I defy you! arise. Diabolus! +your contract is not worth a jot: the Pope has +absolved me, and I am safe on the road to salvation.” +In a fervour of gratitude he clasped the hand of his +confessor, and embraced him: tears of joy ran down +the cheeks of these good men.</p> + +<p>They heard an inordinate roar of laughter, and there +was Diabolus sitting opposite to them holding his sides, +and lashing his tail about, as if he would have gone +mad with glee.</p> + +<p>“Why,” said he, “what nonsense is this! do you suppose +I care about <i>that</i>?” and he tossed the Pope’s missive +into a corner. “M. l’Abbé knows,” he said, bowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +and grinning, “that though the Pope’s paper may pass +current <i>here</i>, it is not worth twopence in our country. +What do I care about the Pope’s absolution? You +might just as well be absolved by your under butler.”</p> + +<p>“Egad,” said the Abbé, “the rogue is right—I quite +forgot the fact, which he points out clearly enough.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Gambouge,” continued Diabolus, with horrid +familiarity, “go thy ways, old fellow, that <i>cock won’t +fight</i>.” And he retired up the chimney, chuckling at +his wit and his triumph. Gambouge heard his tail +scuttling all the way up, as if he had been a sweeper +by profession.</p> + +<p>Simon was left in that condition of grief in which, +according to the newspapers, cities and nations are +found when a murder is committed, or a lord ill of the +gout—a situation, we say, more easy to imagine than to +describe.</p> + +<p>To add to his woes, Mrs. Gambouge, who was now +first made acquainted with his compact, and its probable +consequences, raised such a storm about his ears, as +made him wish almost that his seven years were expired. +She screamed, she scolded, she swore, she wept, +she went into such fits of hysterics, that poor Gambouge, +who had completely knocked under to her, was worn out +of his life. He was allowed no rest, night or day: he +moped about his fine house, solitary and wretched, and +cursed his stars that he ever had married the butcher’s +daughter.</p> + +<p>It wanted six months of the time.</p> + +<p>A sudden and desperate resolution seemed all at once +to have taken possession of Simon Gambouge. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +called his family and his friends together—he gave one +of the greatest feasts that ever was known in the city of +Paris—he gaily presided at one end of his table, while +Mrs. Gam., splendidly arrayed, gave herself airs at the +other extremity.</p> + +<p>After dinner, using the customary formula, he called +upon Diabolus to appear. The old ladies screamed and +hoped he would not appear naked; the young ones tittered, +and longed to see the monster: everybody was +pale with expectation and affright.</p> + +<p>A very quiet, gentlemanly man, neatly dressed in +black, made his appearance, to the surprise of all present, +and bowed all round to the company. “I will not +show my <i>credentials</i>,” he said, blushing, and pointing to +his hoofs, which were cleverly hidden by his pumps and +shoe-buckles, “unless the ladies absolutely wish it; but +I am the person you want, Mr. Gambouge; pray tell me +what is your will.”</p> + +<p>“You know,” said that gentleman, in a stately and determined +voice, “that you are bound to me, according to +our agreement, for six months to come.”</p> + +<p>“I am,” replied the new comer.</p> + +<p>“You are to do all that I ask, whatsoever it may be, or +you forfeit the bond which I gave you?”</p> + +<p>“It is true.”</p> + +<p>“You declare this before the present company?”</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour, as a gentleman,” said Diabolus, +bowing, and laying his hand upon his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>A whisper of applause ran round the room: all were +charmed with the bland manners of the fascinating +stranger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>“My love,” continued Gambouge, mildly addressing +his lady, “will you be so polite as to step this way? +You know I must go soon, and I am anxious, before this +noble company, to make a provision for one who, in +sickness as in health, in poverty as in riches, has been +my truest and fondest companion.”</p> + +<p>Gambouge mopped his eyes with his handkerchief—all +the company did likewise. Diabolus sobbed audibly, +and Mrs. Gambouge sidled up to her husband’s +side, and took him tenderly by the hand. “Simon!” +said she, “is it true? and do you really love your Griskinissa?”</p> + +<p>Simon continued solemnly: “Come hither, Diabolus; +you are bound to obey me in all things for the +six months during which our contract has to run; take, +then, Griskinissa Gambouge, live alone with her for half +a year, never leave her from morning till night, obey +all her caprices, follow all her whims, and listen to all +the abuse which falls from her infernal tongue. Do +this, and I ask no more of you; I will deliver myself up +at the appointed time.”</p> + +<p>Not Lord G——, when flogged by Lord B——, in the +House,—not Mr. Cartlitch, of Astley’s Amphitheatre, +in his most pathetic passages, could look more crestfallen, +and howl more hideously, than Diabolus did now. +“Take another year, Gambouge,” screamed he; “two +more—ten more—a century; roast me on Lawrence’s +gridiron, boil me in holy water, but don’t ask that: don’t, +don’t bid me live with Mrs. Gambouge!”</p> + +<p>Simon smiled sternly. “I have said it,” he cried; +“do this, or our contract is at an end.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>The Devil, at this, grinned so horribly that every drop +of beer in the house turned sour: he gnashed his teeth +so frightfully that every person in the company wellnigh +fainted with the cholic. He slapped down the great +parchment upon the floor, trampled upon it madly, and +lashed it with his hoofs and his tail: at last, spreading +out a mighty pair of wings as wide as from here to +Regent Street, he slapped Gambouge with his tail over +one eye, and vanished, abruptly, through the keyhole.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Gambouge screamed with pain and started up. “You +drunken, lazy scoundrel!” cried a shrill and well-known +voice, “you have been asleep these two hours:” and here +he received another terrific box on the ear.</p> + +<p>It was too true, he had fallen asleep at his work; and +the beautiful vision had been dispelled by the thumps +of the tipsy Griskinissa. Nothing remained to corroborate +his story, except the bladder of lake, and this was +spirted all over his waistcoat and breeches.</p> + +<p>“I wish,” said the poor fellow, rubbing his tingling +cheeks, “that dreams were true;” and he went to work +again at his portrait.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>My last accounts of Gambouge are, that he has left the +arts, and is footman in a small family. Mrs. Gam. +takes in washing; and it is said that her continual dealings +with soap-suds and hot water have been the only +things in life which have kept her from spontaneous +combustion.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="BON-BON" id="BON-BON"></a>BON-BON<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY EDGAR ALLAN POE<span class="sidenote"><a href="#BON-BON_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quand un bon vin meuble mon estomac,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Je suis plus savant que Balzac—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plus sage que Pibrac;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mon bras seul faisant l’attaque<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De la nation cossaque,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">La mettroit au sac;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De Charon je passerois le lac<br /></span> +<span class="i0">En dormant dans son bac;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">J’irois au fier Eac,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sans que mon cœur fit tic ni tac,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presenter du tabac.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">—<i>French Vaudeville.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That Pierre Bon-Bon was a <i>restaurateur</i> of uncommon +qualifications, no man who, during the reign of ——, +frequented the little <i>café</i> in the <i>cul-de-sac</i> Le Febvre at +Rouen, will, I imagine, feel himself at liberty to dispute. +That Pierre Bon-Bon was, in an equal degree, +skilled in the philosophy of that period is, I presume, +still more especially undeniable. His <i>pâtés à la fois</i> +were beyond doubt immaculate; but what pen can do +justice to his essays <i>sur la Nature</i>—his thoughts <i>sur +l’Ame</i>—his observations <i>sur l’Esprit</i>? If his <i>omelettes</i>—if +his <i>fricandeaux</i> were inestimable, what <i>littérateur</i> +of that day would not have given twice as much for an +“<i>Idée de Bon-Bon</i>” as for all the trash of all the “<i>Idées</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>” +of all the rest of the <i>savants</i>? Bon-Bon had ransacked +libraries which no other man had ransacked—had read +more than any other would have entertained a notion +of reading—had understood more than any other would +have conceived the possibility of understanding; and +although, while he flourished, there were not wanting +some authors at Rouen to assert “that his <i>dicta</i> evinced +neither the purity of the Academy, nor the depth of the +Lyceum”—although, mark me, his doctrines were by +no means very generally comprehended, still it did not +follow that they were difficult of comprehension. It +was, I think, on account of their self-evidency that many +persons were led to consider them abstruse. It is to +Bon-Bon—but let this go no further—it is to Bon-Bon +that Kant himself is mainly indebted for his metaphysics. +The former was indeed not a Platonist, nor +strictly speaking an Aristotelian—nor did he, like the +modern Leibnitz, waste those precious hours which +might be employed in the invention of a <i>fricassée</i> or, +<i>facili gradu</i>, the analysis of a sensation, in frivolous +attempts at reconciling the obstinate oils and waters of +ethical discussion. Not at all. Bon-Bon was Ionic—Bon-Bon +was equally Italic. He reasoned <i>a priori</i>—He +reasoned <i>a posteriori</i>. His ideas were innate—or otherwise. +He believed in George of Trebizond—he believed +in Bossarion. Bon-Bon was emphatically a—Bon-Bonist.</p> + +<p>I have spoken of the philosopher in his capacity of +<i>restaurateur</i>. I would not, however, have any friend of +mine imagine that, in fulfilling his hereditary duties in +that line, our hero wanted a proper estimation of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +dignity and importance. Far from it. It was impossible +to say in which branch of his profession he took the +greater pride. In his opinion the powers of the intellect +held intimate connection with the capabilities of the +stomach. I am not sure, indeed, that he greatly disagreed +with the Chinese, who hold that the soul lies in +the abdomen. The Greeks at all events were right, he +thought, who employed the same word for the mind and +the diaphragm.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> By this I do not mean to insinuate a +charge of gluttony, or indeed any other serious charge to +the prejudice of the metaphysician. If Pierre Bon-Bon +had his failings—and what great man has not a +thousand?—if Pierre Bon-Bon, I say, had his failings, +they were failings of very little importance—faults indeed +which, in other tempers, have often been looked +upon rather in the light of virtues. As regards one of +these foibles, I should not even have mentioned it in +this history but for the remarkable prominency—the +extreme <i>alto relievo</i>—in which it jutted out from the +plane of his general disposition. He could never let +slip an opportunity of making a bargain.</p> + +<p>Not that he was avaricious—no. It was by no means +necessary to the satisfaction of the philosopher, that the +bargain should be to his own proper advantage. Provided +a trade could be effected—a trade of any kind, +upon any terms, or under any circumstances—a triumphant +smile was seen for many days thereafter to enlighten +his countenance, and a knowing wink of the eye +to give evidence of his sagacity.</p> + +<p>At any epoch it would not be very wonderful if a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>humour so peculiar as the one I have just mentioned, +should elicit attention and remark. At the epoch of our +narrative, had this peculiarity <i>not</i> attracted observation, +there would have been room for wonder indeed. It was +soon reported that, upon all occasions of the kind, the +smile of Bon-Bon was found to differ widely from the +downright grin with which he would laugh at his own +jokes, or welcome an acquaintance. Hints were thrown +out of an exciting nature; stories were told of perilous +bargains made in a hurry and repented of at leisure; +and instances were adduced of unaccountable capacities, +vague longings, and unnatural inclinations implanted +by the author of all evil for wise purposes of his own.</p> + +<p>The philosopher had other weaknesses—but they are +scarcely worthy our serious examination. For example, +there are few men of extraordinary profundity who are +found wanting in an inclination for the bottle. +Whether this inclination be an exciting cause, or rather +a valid proof, of such profundity, it is a nice thing to +say. Bon-Bon, as far as I can learn, did not think the +subject adapted to minute investigation;—nor do I. +Yet in the indulgence of a propensity so truly classical, +it is not to be supposed that the <i>restaurateur</i> would +lose sight of that intuitive discrimination which was wont +to characterize, at one and the same time, his <i>essais</i> and +his <i>omelettes</i>. In his seclusions the Vin de Bourgogne +had its allotted hour, and there were appropriate moments +for the Côtes du Rhône. With him Sauternes was +to Médoc what Catullus was to Homer. He would sport +with a syllogism in sipping St. Péray, but unravel an +argument over Clos-Vougeot, and upset a theory in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +torrent of Chambertin. Well had it been if the same +quick sense of propriety had attended him in the peddling +propensity to which I have formerly alluded—but +this was by no means the case. Indeed to say the truth, +<i>that</i> trait of mind in the philosophic Bon-Bon <i>did</i> begin +at length to assume a character of strange intensity and +mysticism, and appeared deeply tinctured with the +<i>diablerie</i> of his favourite German studies.</p> + +<p>To enter the little <i>café</i> in the <i>cul-de-sac</i> Le Febvre was, +at the period of our tale, to enter the <i>sanctum</i> of a man +of genius. Bon-Bon was a man of genius. There was +not a <i>sous-cuisinier</i> in Rouen who could not have told +you that Bon-Bon was a man of genius. His very cat +knew it, and forbore to whisk her tail in the presence +of the man of genius. His large water-dog was acquainted +with the fact, and upon the approach of his +master, betrayed his sense of inferiority by a sanctity +of deportment, a debasement of the ears, and a dropping +of the lower jaw not altogether unworthy of a dog. +It is, however, true that much of this habitual respect +might have been attributed to the personal appearance +of the metaphysician. A distinguished exterior will, +I am constrained to say, have its way even with a beast; +and I am willing to allow much in the outward man of +the <i>restaurateur</i> calculated to impress the imagination of +the quadruped. There is a peculiar majesty about the +atmosphere of the little great—if I may be permitted so +equivocal an expression—which mere physical bulk +alone will be found at all times inefficient in creating. +If, however, Bon-Bon was barely three feet in height, +and if his head was diminutively small, still it was impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +to behold the rotundity of his stomach without +a sense of magnificence nearly bordering upon the sublime. +In its size both dogs and men must have seen a +type of his acquirements—in its immensity a fitting habitation +for his immortal soul.</p> + +<p>I might here—if it so pleased me—dilate upon the +matter of habiliment, and other mere circumstances of +the external metaphysician. I might hint that the hair +of our hero was worn short, combed smoothly over his +forehead, and surmounted by a conical-shaped white +flannel cap and tassels—that his pea-green jerkin was +not after the fashion of those worn by the common class +of <i>restaurateurs</i> at that day—that the sleeves were something +fuller than the reigning costume permitted—that +the cuffs were turned up, not as usual in that barbarous +period, with cloth of the same quality and colour as the +garment, but faced in a more fanciful manner with the +particoloured velvet of Genoa—that his slippers were +of bright purple, curiously filigreed, and might have +been manufactured in Japan, but for the exquisite pointing +of the toes, and the brilliant tints of the binding and +embroidery—that his breeches were of the yellow satin-like +material called <i>aimable</i>—that his sky-blue cloak, +resembling in form a dressing-wrapper, and richly bestudded +all over with crimson devices, floated cavaliery +upon his shoulders like a mist of the morning—and +that his <i>tout ensemble</i> gave rise to the remarkable +words of Benevenuta, the Improvisatrice of Florence, +“that it was difficult to say whether Pierre Bon-Bon was +indeed a bird of Paradise, or the rather a very Paradise +of perfection.” I might, I say, expatiate upon all these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +points if I pleased,—but I forbear; merely personal details +may be left to historical novelists,—they are beneath +the moral dignity of matter-of-fact.</p> + +<p>I have said that “to enter the <i>café</i> in the <i>cul-de-sac</i> Le +Febvre was to enter the <i>sanctum</i> of a man of genius”—but +then it was only the man of genius who could duly +estimate the merits of the <i>sanctum</i>. A sign, consisting +of a vast folio, swung before the entrance. On one side +of the volume was painted a bottle; on the reverse a +<i>pâté</i>. On the back were visible in large letters <i>Oeuvres +de Bon-Bon</i>. Thus was delicately shadowed forth the +twofold occupation of the proprietor.</p> + +<p>Upon stepping over the threshold, the whole interior +of the building presented itself to view. A long, low-pitched +room, of antique construction, was indeed all +the accommodation afforded by the <i>café</i>. In a corner +of the apartment stood the bed of the metaphysician. +An array of curtains, together with a canopy <i>à la +grecque</i>, gave it an air at once classic and comfortable. +In the corner diagonally opposite, appeared, in direct +family communion, the properties of the kitchen and the +<i>bibliothèque</i>. A dish of polemics stood peacefully +upon the dresser. Here lay an ovenful of the latest +ethics—there a kettle of duodecimo <i>mélanges</i>. Volumes +of German morality were hand and glove with +the gridiron—a toasting-fork might be discovered by the +side of Eusebius—Plato reclined at his ease in the frying-pan—and +contemporary manuscripts were filed +away upon the spit.</p> + +<p>In other respects the <i>Café de Bon-Bon</i> might be said +to differ little from the usual <i>restaurants</i> of the period.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +A large fireplace yawned opposite the door. On the +right of the fireplace an open cupboard displayed a +formidable array of labelled bottles.</p> + +<p>It was here, about twelve o’clock one night, during +the severe winter of ——, that Pierre Bon-Bon, after having +listened for some time to the comments of his neighbours +upon his singular propensity—that Pierre Bon-Bon, +I say, having turned them all out of his house, +locked the door upon them with an oath, and betook himself +in no very pacific mood to the comforts of a leather-bottomed +arm-chair, and a fire of blazing fagots.</p> + +<p>It was one of those terrific nights which are only met +with once or twice during a century. It snowed fiercely, +and the house tottered to its centre with the floods of +wind that, rushing through the crannies of the wall, and +pouring impetuously down the chimney, shook awfully +the curtains of the philosopher’s bed, and disorganized +the economy of his <i>pâté</i>-pans and papers. The huge +folio sign that swung without, exposed to the fury of +the tempest, creaked ominously, and gave out a moaning +sound from its stanchions of solid oak.</p> + +<p>It was in no placid temper, I say, that the metaphysician +drew up his chair to its customary station by the +hearth. Many circumstances of a perplexing nature +had occurred during the day, to disturb the serenity of +his meditations. In attempting <i>des œufs à la Princesse</i>, +he had unfortunately perpetrated an <i>omelette à la Reine</i>; +the discovery of a principle in ethics had been frustrated +by the overturning of a stew; and last, not least, he had +been thwarted in one of those admirable bargains which +he at all times took such especial delight in bringing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +a successful termination. But in the chafing of his +mind at these unaccountable vicissitudes, there did not +fail to be mingled some degree of that nervous anxiety +which the fury of a boisterous night is so well calculated +to produce. Whistling to his more immediate vicinity +the large black water-dog we have spoken of before, and +settling himself uneasily in his chair, he could not help +casting a wary and unquiet eye toward those distant recesses +of the apartment whose inexorable shadows not +even the red fire-light itself could more than partially +succeed in overcoming. Having completed a scrutiny +whose exact purpose was perhaps unintelligible to himself, +he drew close to his seat a small table covered with +books and papers, and soon became absorbed in the task +of retouching a voluminous manuscript, intended for +publication on the morrow.</p> + +<p>He had been thus occupied for some minutes, when +“I am in no hurry, Monsieur Bon-Bon,” suddenly whispered +a whining voice in the apartment.</p> + +<p>“The devil!” ejaculated our hero, starting to his feet, +overturning the table at his side, and staring around +him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Very true,” calmly replied the voice.</p> + +<p>“Very true!—what is very true?—how came you +here?” vociferated the metaphysician, as his eye fell +upon something which lay stretched at full length upon +the bed.</p> + +<p>“I was saying,” said the intruder, without attending to +the interrogatories,—“I was saying that I am not at all +pushed for time—that the business, upon which I took +the liberty of calling, is of no pressing importance—in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +short, that I can very well wait until you have finished +your Exposition.”</p> + +<p>“My Exposition!—there now!—how do <i>you</i> know?—how +came <i>you</i> to understand that I was writing an Exposition—good +God!”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” replied the figure, in a shrill undertone; +and, arising quickly from the bed, he made a single step +toward our hero, while an iron lamp that depended overhead +swung convulsively back from his approach.</p> + +<p>The philosopher’s amazement did not prevent a narrow +scrutiny of the stranger’s dress and appearance. +The outlines of his figure, exceedingly lean, but much +above the common height, were rendered minutely distinct +by means of a faded suit of black cloth which fitted +tight to the skin, but was otherwise cut very much in the +style of a century ago. These garments had evidently +been intended for a much shorter person than their present +owner. His ankles and wrists were left naked for +several inches. In his shoes, however, a pair of very +brilliant buckles gave the lie to the extreme poverty implied +by the other portions of his dress. His head was +bare, and entirely bald, with the exception of the hinder-part, +from which depended a <i>queue</i> of considerable +length. A pair of green spectacles, with side glasses, +protected his eyes from the influence of the light, and at +the same time prevented our hero from ascertaining +either their colour or their conformation. About the +entire person there was no evidence of a shirt; but a +white cravat, of filthy appearance, was tied with extreme +precision around the throat, and the ends, hanging +down formally side by side gave (although I dare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +say unintentionally) the idea of an ecclesiastic. Indeed, +many other points both in his appearance and demeanour +might have very well sustained a conception of +that nature. Over his left ear, he carried, after the +fashion of a modern clerk, an instrument resembling the +<i>stylus</i> of the ancients. In a breast-pocket of his coat +appeared conspicuously a small black volume fastened +with clasps of steel. This book, whether accidentally +or not, was so turned outwardly from the person as to +discover the words “<i>Rituel Catholique</i>” in white letters +upon the back. His entire physiognomy was interestingly +saturnine—even cadaverously pale. The forehead +was lofty, and deeply furrowed with the ridges of +contemplation. The corners of the mouth were drawn +down into an expression of the most submissive humility. +There was also a clasping of the hands, as he stepped +towards our hero—a deep sigh—and altogether a look +of such utter sanctity as could not have failed to be +unequivocally prepossessing. Every shadow of anger +faded from the countenance of the metaphysician, as, +having completed a satisfactory survey of his visitor’s +person, he shook him cordially by the hand, and conducted +him to a seat.</p> + +<p>There would however be a radical error in attributing +this instantaneous transition of feeling in the philosopher +to any one of those causes which might naturally +be supposed to have had an influence. Indeed, +Pierre Bon-Bon, from what I have been able to understand +of his disposition, was of all men the least likely +to be imposed upon by any speciousness of exterior deportment. +It was impossible that so accurate an observer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +of men and things should have failed to discover, +upon the moment, the real character of the personage +who had thus intruded upon his hospitality. To say no +more, the conformation of his visitor’s feet was sufficiently +remarkable—he maintained lightly upon his +head an inordinately tall hat—there was a tremulous +swelling about the hinder-part of his breeches—and the +vibration of his coat tail was a palpable fact. Judge, +then, with what feelings of satisfaction our hero found +himself thrown thus at once into the society of a person +for whom he had at all times entertained the most unqualified +respect. He was, however, too much of the +diplomatist to let escape him any intimation of his suspicions +in regard to the true state of affairs. It was not +his cue to appear at all conscious of the high honour he +thus unexpectedly enjoyed; but, by leading his guest +into conversation, to elicit some important ethical ideas, +which might, in obtaining a place in his contemplated +publication, enlighten the human race, and at the same +time immortalize himself—ideas which, I should have +added, his visitor’s great age, and well-known proficiency +in the science of morals, might very well have +enabled him to afford.</p> + +<p>Actuated by these enlightened views, our hero bade +the gentleman sit down, while he himself took occasion +to throw some fagots upon the fire, and place upon the +now re-established table some bottles of Mousseaux. +Having quickly completed these operations, he drew his +chair <i>vis-à-vis</i> to his companion’s, and waited until the +latter should open the conversation. But plans even +the most skilfully matured are often thwarted in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +outset of their application—and the <i>restaurateur</i> found +himself <i>nonplussed</i> by the very first words of his visitor’s +speech.</p> + +<p>“I see you know me, Bon-Bon,” said he; “ha! ha! +ha!—he! he! he!—hi! hi! hi—ho! ho! ho!—hu! +hu! hu!”—and the Devil, dropping at once the sanctity +of his demeanour, opened to its fullest extent a mouth +from ear to ear, so as to display a set of jagged and +fang-like teeth, and, throwing back his head, laughed +long, loudly, wickedly, and uproariously, while the +black dog, crouching down upon his haunches, joined +lustily in the chorus, and the tabby cat, flying off a tangent, +stood up on end, and shrieked in the farthest corner +of the apartment.</p> + +<p>Not so the philosopher: he was too much a man of +the world either to laugh like the dog, or by shrieks to +betray the indecorous trepidation of the cat. It must +be confessed, he felt a little astonishment to see the +white letters which formed the words “<i>Rituel Catholique</i>” +on the book in his guest’s pocket, momently changing +both their colour and their import, and in a few seconds, +in place of the original title, the words “<i>Registre +des Condamnés</i>” blaze forth in characters of red. This +startling circumstance, when Bon-Bon replied to his visitor’s +remark, imparted to his manner an air of embarrassment +which probably might not otherwise have +been observed.</p> + +<p>“Why, sir,” said the philosopher, “why, sir, to speak +sincerely—I believe you are—upon my word—the d—dest—that +is to say, I think—I imagine—I <i>have</i> some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +faint—some <i>very</i> faint idea—of the remarkable honour—”</p> + +<p>“Oh!—ah!—yes!—very well!” interrupted his Majesty; +“say no more—I see how it is.” And hereupon, +taking off his green spectacles, he wiped the glasses carefully +with the sleeve of his coat, and deposited them in +his pocket.</p> + +<p>If Bon-Bon had been astonished at the incident of +the book, his amazement was now much increased by +the spectacle which here presented itself to view. In +raising his eyes, with a strong feeling of curiosity to +ascertain the colour of his guest’s, he found them by no +means black, as he had anticipated—nor grey, as might +have been imagined—nor yet hazel nor blue—nor indeed +yellow nor red—nor purple—nor white—nor +green—nor any other colour in the heavens above, or in +the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth. In +short, Pierre Bon-Bon not only saw plainly that his +Majesty had no eyes whatsoever, but could discover no +indications of their having existed at any previous +period—for the space where eyes should naturally have +been was, I am constrained to say, simply a dead level +of flesh.</p> + +<p>It was not in the nature of the metaphysician to forbear +making some inquiry into the sources of so strange +a phenomenon; and the reply of his Majesty was at +once prompt, dignified, and satisfactory.</p> + +<p>“Eyes! my dear Bon-Bon—eyes! did you say?—oh!—ah!—I +perceive! The ridiculous prints, eh, which +are in circulation, have given you a false idea of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +personal appearance. Eyes!—true. Eyes, Pierre +Bon-Bon, are very well in their proper place—<i>that</i>, you +would say, is the head?—right—the head of a worm. +To <i>you</i>, likewise, these optics are indispensable—yet I +will convince you that my vision is more penetrating +than your own. There is a cat I see in the corner—a +pretty cat—look at her—observe her well. Now, Bon-Bon, +do you behold the thoughts—the thoughts, I say—the +ideas—the reflections—which are being engendered +in her pericranium? There it is now—you do not! +She is thinking we admire the length of her tail and the +profundity of her mind. She has just concluded that I +am the most distinguished of ecclesiastics, and that you +are the most superficial of metaphysicians. Thus you +see I am not altogether blind; but to one of my profession, +the eyes you speak of would be merely an incumbrance, +liable at any time to be put out by a toasting-iron +or a pitchfork. To you, I allow, these optical affairs +are indispensable. Endeavour, Bon-Bon, to use +them well; <i>my</i> vision is the soul.”</p> + +<p>Hereupon the guest helped himself to the wine upon +the table, and pouring out a bumper for Bon-Bon, requested +him to drink it without scruple, and make himself +perfectly at home.</p> + +<p>“A clever book that of yours, Pierre,” resumed his +Majesty, tapping our friend knowingly upon the shoulder, +as the latter put down his glass after a thorough +compliance with his visitor’s injunction. “A clever +book that of yours, upon my honour. It’s a work after +my own heart. Your arrangement of the matter, I +think, however, might be improved, and many of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +notions remind me of Aristotle. That philosopher was +one of my most intimate acquaintances. I liked him as +much for his terrible ill temper, as for his happy knack +at making a blunder. There is only one solid truth in +all that he has written, and for that I gave him the hint +out of pure compassion for his absurdity. I suppose, +Pierre Bon-Bon, you very well know to what divine +moral truth I am alluding?”</p> + +<p>“Cannot say that I—”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!—why it was I who told Aristotle that, by +sneezing, men expelled superfluous ideas through the +proboscis.”</p> + +<p>“Which is—hiccup!—undoubtedly the case,” said +the metaphysician, while he poured out for himself another +bumper of Mousseaux, and offering his snuff-box to +the fingers of his visitor.</p> + +<p>“There was Plato, too,” continued his Majesty, modestly +declining the snuff-box and the compliment it implied—“there +was Plato, too, for whom I, at one time, +felt all the affection of a friend. You knew Plato, Bon-Bon?—ah, +no, I beg a thousand pardons. He met me +at Athens, one day, in the Parthenon, and told me he was +distressed for an idea. I bade him write down that +‘ὁ νοῦς ἐστιν αὐλός.’ He said that he would do so, and went +home, while I stepped over to the pyramids. But my +conscience smote me for having uttered a truth, even to +aid a friend, and hastening back to Athens, I arrived behind +the philosopher’s chair as he was inditing the +‘αυλός.’</p> + +<p>“Giving the lambda a fillip with my finger, I turned it +upside down. So the sentence now reads ‘<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>ὁ νοῦς ἐστιν +αύγος,’ and is, you perceive, the fundamental doctrine in +his metaphysics.”</p> + +<p>“Were you ever at Rome?” asked the <i>restaurateur</i>, as +he finished his second bottle of Mousseaux, and drew +from the closet a larger supply of Chambertin.</p> + +<p>“But once, Monsieur Bon-Bon, but once. There was +a time,” said the Devil, as if reciting some passage from +a book—“there was a time when occurred an anarchy of +five years, during which the republic, bereft of all its +officers, had no magistracy besides the tribunes of the +people, and these were not legally vested with any degree +of executive power—at that time, Monsieur Bon-Bon—at +that time <i>only</i> I was in Rome, and I have no +earthly acquaintance, consequently, with any of its philosophy.”<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> + +<p>“What do you think of—what do you think of—hiccup!—Epicurus?”</p> + +<p>“What do I think of <i>whom</i>?” said the Devil, in astonishment; +“you surely do not mean to find any fault with +Epicurus! What do I think of Epicurus! Do you +mean me, sir?—I am Epicurus! I am the same philosopher +who wrote each of the three hundred treatises +commemorated by Diogenes Laertes.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a lie!” said the metaphysician, for the wine +had gotten a little into his head.</p> + +<p>“Very well!—very well, sir!—very well, indeed, +sir!” said his Majesty, apparently much flattered.</p> + +<p>“That’s a lie!” repeated the <i>restaurateur</i>, dogmatically; +“that’s a—hiccup!—a lie!”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<p>“Well, well, have it your own way!” said the Devil, +pacifically, and Bon-Bon, having beaten his Majesty at +an argument, thought it his duty to conclude a second +bottle of Chambertin.</p> + +<p>“As I was saying,” resumed the visitor—“as I was +observing a little while ago, there are some very <i>outré</i> +notions in that book of yours, Monsieur Bon-Bon. +What, for instance, do you mean by all that humbug +about the soul? Pray, sir, what <i>is</i> the soul?”</p> + +<p>“The—hiccup!—soul,” replied the metaphysician, +referring to his MS., “is undoubtedly—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Indubitably—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Indisputably—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Evidently—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Incontrovertibly—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Hiccup!—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“And beyond all question, a—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, the soul is no such thing!” (Here the philosopher, +looking daggers, took occasion to make an end, +upon the spot, of his third bottle of Chambertin.)</p> + +<p>“Then—hiccup!—pray, sir—what—what is it?”</p> + +<p>“That is neither here nor there, Monsieur Bon-Bon,” +replied his Majesty, musingly. “I have tasted—that is +to say, I have known some very bad souls, and some too—pretty +good ones.” Here he smacked his lips, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +having unconsciously let fall his hand upon the volume +in his pocket, was seized with a violent fit of sneezing.</p> + +<p>He continued:</p> + +<p>“There was the soul of Cratinus—passable: Aristophanes—racy: +Plato—exquisite—not <i>your</i> Plato, +but Plato the comic poet; your Plato would have turned +the stomach of Cerberus—faugh! Then let me see! +there were Naevius, and Andronicus, and Plautus, and +Terentius. Then there were Lucilius, and Catullus, and +Naso, and Quintus Flaccus,—dear Quinty! as I called +him when he sang a <i>saeculare</i> for my amusement, while +I toasted him, in pure good humour, on a fork. But +they want <i>flavour</i>, these Romans. One fat Greek is +worth a dozen of them, and besides will <i>keep</i>, which +cannot be said of a Quirite. Let us taste your Sauterne.”</p> + +<p>Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to the +<i>nil admirari</i>, and endeavoured to hand down the bottles +in question. He was, however, conscious of a strange +sound in the room like the wagging of a tail. Of this, +although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher +took no notice:—simply kicking the dog, and requesting +him to be quiet. The visitor continued:</p> + +<p>“I found that Horace tasted very much like Aristotle;—you +know I am fond of variety. Terentius I could +not have told from Menander. Naso, to my astonishment, +was Nicander in disguise. Virgilius had a strong +twang of Theocritus. Martial put me much in mind of +Archilochus—and Titus Livius was positively Polybius +and none other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Hiccup!” here replied Bon-Bon, and his Majesty +proceeded:</p> + +<p>“But if I <i>have</i> a <i>penchant</i>, Monsieur Bon-Bon—if I +<i>have</i> a <i>penchant</i>, it is for a philosopher. Yet, let me +tell you, sir, it is not every dev—I mean it is not every +gentleman who knows how to <i>choose</i> a philosopher. +Long ones are <i>not</i> good; and the best, if not carefully +shelled, are apt to be a little rancid on account of the +gall.”</p> + +<p>“Shelled!!”</p> + +<p>“I mean taken out of the carcass.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think of a—hiccup!—physician?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Don’t</i> mention them!—ugh! ugh!” (Here his Majesty +retched violently.) “I never tasted but one—that +rascal Hippocrates!—smelt of asafoetida—ugh! ugh! +ugh!—caught a wretched cold washing him in the Styx—and +after all he gave me the cholera-morbus.”</p> + +<p>“The—hiccup!—wretch!” ejaculated Bon-Bon, “the—hiccup!—abortion +of a pill-box!”—and the philosopher +dropped a tear.</p> + +<p>“After all,” continued the visitor, “after all, if a dev—if +a gentleman wishes to <i>live</i>, he must have more talents +than one or two; and with us a fat face is an evidence +of diplomacy.”</p> + +<p>“How so?”</p> + +<p>“Why we are sometimes exceedingly pushed for provisions. +You must know that, in a climate so sultry as +mine, it is frequently impossible to keep a spirit alive +for more than two or three hours; and after death, unless +pickled immediately (and a pickled spirit is <i>not</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +good), they will—smell—you understand, eh? Putrefaction +is always to be apprehended when the souls are +consigned to us in the usual way.”</p> + +<p>“Hiccup!—hiccup!—good God! how <i>do</i> you manage?”</p> + +<p>Here the iron lamp commenced swinging with redoubled +violence, and the Devil half started from his +seat;—however, with a slight sigh, he recovered his composure, +merely saying to our hero in a low tone: “I +tell you what, Pierre Bon-Bon, we <i>must</i> have no more +swearing.”</p> + +<p>The host swallowed another bumper, by way of denoting +thorough comprehension and acquiescence, and the +visitor continued:</p> + +<p>“Why, there are <i>several</i> ways of managing. The +most of us starve: some put up with the pickle: for my +part I purchase my spirits <i>vivente corpore</i>, in which case +I find they keep very well.”</p> + +<p>“But the body!—hiccup!—the body!!”</p> + +<p>“The body, the body—well, what of the body?—oh! +ah! I perceive. Why, sir, the body is not <i>at all</i> affected +by the transaction. I have made innumerable +purchases of the kind in my day, and the parties never +experienced any inconvenience. There were Cain and +Nimrod, and Nero, and Caligula, and Dionysius, and +Pisistratus, and—and a thousand others, who never +knew what it was to have a soul during the latter part +of their lives; yet, sir, these men adorned society. Why +isn’t there A—, now, whom you know as well as I? +Is <i>he</i> not in possession of all his faculties, mental and +corporeal? Who writes a keener epigram? Who reasons<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +more wittily? Who—but, stay! I have his agreement +in my pocket-book.”</p> + +<p>Thus saying, he produced a red leather wallet, and +took from it a number of papers. Upon some of these +Bon-Bon caught a glimpse of the letters <i>Machi</i>—<i>Maza</i>—<i>Robesp</i>—with +the words <i>Caligula</i>, <i>George</i>, <i>Elizabeth</i>. +His Majesty selected a narrow slip of parchment, and +from it read aloud the following words:</p> + +<p>“In consideration of certain mental endowments +which it is unnecessary to specify, and in further consideration +of one thousand louis d’or, I, being aged one +year and one month, do hereby make over to the bearer +of this agreement all my right, title, and appurtenance +in the shadow called my soul. (Signed) A....”<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> +(Here His Majesty repeated a name which I do not feel +myself justified in indicating more unequivocally.)</p> + +<p>“A clever fellow that,” resumed he; “but, like you, +Monsieur Bon-Bon, he was mistaken about the soul. +The soul a shadow, truly! The soul a shadow! Ha! +ha! ha!—he! he! he!—hu! hu! hu! Only think of a +<i>fricasséed</i> shadow!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Only</i> think—hiccup!—of a <i>fricasséed</i> shadow!” exclaimed +our hero, whose faculties were becoming much +illuminated by the profundity of His Majesty’s discourse. +“Only think of a—hiccup!—<i>fricasséed</i> shadow!! +Now, damme!—hiccup!—humph! If <i>I</i> would have +been such a—hiccup!—nincompoop! <i>My</i> soul, Mr.—humph!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Your</i> soul, Monsieur Bon-Bon?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—hiccup!—<i>my</i> soul is—”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> +<p>“What, sir?”</p> + +<p>“<i>No</i> shadow, damme!”</p> + +<p>“Did you mean to say—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, <i>my</i> soul is—hiccup!—humph!—yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did you not intend to assert—”</p> + +<p>“<i>My</i> soul is—hiccup!—peculiarly qualified for—hiccup!—a—”</p> + +<p>“What, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Stew.”</p> + +<p>“Ha!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Soufflée.</i>”</p> + +<p>“Eh!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Fricassée.</i>”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Ragoût</i> and <i>fricandeau</i>—and see here, my good +fellow! I’ll let you have it—hiccup!—a bargain.” +Here the philosopher slapped His Majesty upon the +back.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t think of such a thing,” said the latter +calmly, at the same time rising from his seat. The +metaphysician stared.</p> + +<p>“Am supplied at present,” said His Majesty.</p> + +<p>“Hic-cup!—e-h?” said the philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Have no funds on hand.”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Besides, very unhandsome in me—”</p> + +<p>“Sir!”</p> + +<p>“To take advantage of—”</p> + +<p>“Hic-cup!”</p> + +<p>“Your present disgusting and ungentlemanly situation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>Here the visitor bowed and withdrew—in what manner +could not precisely be ascertained—but in a well-concerted +effort to discharge a bottle at “the villain,” +the slender chain was severed that depended from the +ceiling, and the metaphysician prostrated by the downfall +of the lamp.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Φρένες.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Ils écrivaient sur la philosophie (<i>Cicero</i>, <i>Lucretius</i>, <i>Seneca</i>), mais +c’était la philosophie grecque.—<i>Condorcet.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Query.—<i>Arouet?</i></p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL" id="THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL"></a>THE PRINTER’S DEVIL<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span><span class="sidenote" style="font-size: 60%"><a href="#THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL_N">Notes</a></span></h2> + + +<p>As I was sitting in my armchair and preparing an +essay on the Devil in literature, sleep overpowered me; +the pen fell from my hands, and my head reclined upon +the desk. I had been thinking so much about the Devil +in my waking hours, that the same idea pursued me +after I had fallen asleep. I heard a gentle rap at the +door, and having bawled out as usual, “Come in,” a little +gentleman entered, wrapped in a large blue cloth +cloak, with a slouched hat, and goggles over his eyes. +After bowing and scraping with considerable ceremony, +he took off his hat, and threw his cloak over the back +of a chair, when I immediately perceived that my visitor +was no mortal. His face was hideously ugly; the skin +appearing very much like wet paper, and the forehead +covered with those cabalistic signs whose wondrous significance +is best known to those who correct the press. +On the end of his long hooked nose there seemed to me +to be growing, like a carbuncle, the first letter of the alphabet, +glittering with ink and ready to print. I observed, +also, that each of his fingers and toes, or rather +claws, was in the same manner terminated by one of the +letters of the alphabet; and as he slashed round his tail +to brush a fly off his nose, I noticed that the letter Z +formed the extremity of that useful member. While I +was looking with no small astonishment and some trepidation +at my extraordinary visitor, he took occasion to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +inform me that he had taken liberty to call, as he was +afraid I might forget him in the treatise which I was +writing—an omission which he assured me would cause +him no little mortification. “In me,” says he, “you behold +the prince and patron of printers’ devils. My +province is to preside over the hell of books; and if you +will only take the trouble to accompany me a little way, +I will show you some of the wonders of that world.” +As my imagination had lately been much excited by +perusing Dante’s <i>Inferno</i>, I was delighted with an adventure +which promised to turn out something like his +wonderful journey, and I readily consented to visit my +new friend’s dominions, and we sallied forth together. +As we pursued our way, my conductor endeavoured to +give me some information respecting the world I was +about to enter, in order to prepare me for the wonders +I should encounter there. “You must know,” remarked +he, “that books have souls as well as men; and the moment +any work is published, whether successful or not, +its soul appears in precisely the same form in another +world; either in this domain, which is subject to me, or +in a better region, over which I have no control. I have +power only to exhibit the place of punishment for bad +books, periodicals, pamphlets, and, in short, publications +of every kind.”</p> + +<p>We now arrived at the mouth of a cavern, which I did +not remember to have ever noticed before, though I had +repeatedly passed the spot in my walks. It looked to +me more like the entrance to a coalmine than anything +else, as the sides were entirely black. Upon examining +them more closely, I found that they were covered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +with a black fluid which greatly resembled printer’s ink, +and which seemed to corrode and wear away the rocks +of the cavern wherever it touched them. “We have +lately received a large supply of political publications,” +said my companion; “and hell is perfectly saturated with +their maliciousness. We carry on a profitable trade +upon the earth, by retailing this ink to the principal political +editors. Unfortunately, it is not found to answer +very well for literary publications, though they have +tried it with considerable success in printing the London +<i>Quarterly</i> and several of the other important reviews.”</p> + +<p>The cavern widened as we advanced, and we came +presently into a vast open plain, which was bounded on +one side by a wall so high that it seemed to reach the +very heavens. As we approached the wall I observed +a vast gateway before us, closed up by folding doors. +The gates opened at our approach, and we entered. I +found myself in a warm sandy valley, bounded on one +side by a steep range of mountains. A feeble light +shone upon it, much like that of a sick chamber, and the +air seemed confined and stifling like that of the abode +of illness. My ears were assailed by a confused whining +noise, as if all the litters of new-born puppies, kittens +with their eyes unopened, and babes just come to +light, in the whole world, were brought into one spot, +and were whelping, mewing, and squalling at once. I +turned in mute wonder to my guide for explanation; +and he informed me that I now beheld the destined abode +of all still-born and abortive publications; and the infantine +noises which I heard were only their feeble wailing +for the miseries they had endured in being brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +into the world. I now saw what the feebleness of the +light had prevented my observing before, that the soil +was absolutely covered with books of every size and +shape, from the little diamond almanac up to the respectable +quarto. I saw folios there. These books +were crawling about and tumbling over each other like +blind whelps, uttering, at the same time, the most +mournful cries. I observed one, however, which remained +quite still, occasionally groaning a little, and appeared +like an overgrown toad oppressed with its own +heaviness. I drew near, and read upon the back, +“<i>Resignation</i>, a Novel.” The cover flew open, and the +title-page immediately began to address me. I walked +off, however, as fast as possible, only distinguishing a +few words about “the injustice and severity of critics;” +“bad taste of the public;” “very well considering;” +“first effort;” “feminine mind,” &c. &c. I presently +discovered a very important-looking little book, stalking +about among the rest in a great passion, kicking the +others out of the way, and swearing like a trooper; till +at length, apparently exhausted with its efforts, it sunk +down to rise no more. “Ah ha!” exclaimed my little +diabolical friend, “here is a new comer; let’s see who he +is;” and coming up, he turned it over with his foot so +that we could see the back of it, upon which was printed +“<i>The Monikins</i>, by the Author of, &c. &c.” I noticed +that the book had several marks across it, as if some one +had been flogging the unfortunate work. “It is only +the marks of the scourge,” said my companion, “which +the critics have used rather more severely, I think, than +was necessary.” I expected, after all the passion I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +had seen, and the great importance of feeling, arrogance, +and vanity the little work had manifested, that +it would have some pert remarks to make to us; but +it was so much exhausted that it could not say a word. +At the bottom of the valley was a small pond of a milky +hue, from which there issued a perfume very much like +the smell of bread and butter. An immense number of +thin, prettily bound manuscript books were soaking in +this pond of milk, all of which, I was informed, were +<i>Young Ladies’ Albums</i>, which it was necessary to +souse in the slough, to prevent them from stealing passages +from the various works about them. As soon as +I heard what they were, I ran away with all my speed, +having a mortal dread of these books.</p> + +<p>We had now traversed the valley, and, approaching +the barrier of mountains, we found a passage cut +through, which greatly resembled the Pausilipo, near +Naples; it was closed on the side towards the valley, +only with a curtain of white paper, upon which were +printed the names of the principal reviews, which my +conductor assured me were enough to prevent any of +the unhappy works we had seen from coming near the +passage.</p> + +<p>As we advanced through the mountains, occasional +gleams of light appeared before us, and immediately +vanished, leaving us in darkness. My guide, however, +seemed to be well acquainted with the way, and we went +on fearlessly till we emerged into an open field, lighted +up by constant flashes of lightning, which glared from +every side; the air was hot, and strongly impregnated +with sulphur. “Each department of my dominions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>” +said the Devil, “receives its light from the works which +are sent there. You are now surrounded by the glittering +but evanescent coruscations of the more recent +novels. This department of hell was never very well +supplied till quite lately, though Fielding, Smollett, +Maturin, and Godwin, did what they could for us. Our +greatest benefactors have been Disraeli, Bulwer, and +Victor Hugo; and this glare of light, so painful to our +eyes, proceeds chiefly from their books.” There was a +tremendous noise like the rioting of an army of drunken +men, with horrible cries and imprecations, and fiend-like +laughing, which made my blood curdle; and such +a scrambling and fighting among the books, as I never +saw before. I could not imagine at first what could be +the cause of this, till I discovered at last a golden hill +rising up like a cone in the midst of the plane, with +just room enough for one book on the summit; and I +found that the novels were fighting like so many devils +for the occupation of this place. One work, however, +had gained possession of it, and seemed to maintain its +hold with a strength and resolution which bade defiance +to the rest. I could not at first make out the name of +this book, which seemed to stand upon its golden throne +like the Prince of Hell; but presently the whole arch of +the heavens glared with new brilliancy, and the magic +name of <i>Vivian Grey</i> flashed from the book in letters +of scorching light. I was much afraid, however, that +<i>Vivian</i> would not long retain his post; for I saw <i>Pelham</i> +and <i>Peregrine Pickle</i>, and the terrible <i>Melmoth</i> with +his glaring eyes, coming together to the assault, when +a whirlwind seized them all four and carried them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +away to a vast distance, leaving the elevation vacant for +some other competitor. “There is no peace to the +wicked, you see,” said my Asmodeus. “These books +are longing for repose, and they can get none on account +of the insatiable vanity of their authors, whose +desire for distinction made them careless of the sentiments +they expressed and the principles they advocated. +The great characteristic of works of this stamp is action, +intense, painful action. They have none of that beautiful +serenity which shines in Scott and Edgeworth; and +they are condemned to illustrate, by an eternity of contest +here, the restless spirit with which they are inspired.”</p> + +<p>While I was looking on with fearful interest in the +mad combat before me, the horizon seemed to be darkened, +and a vast cloud rose up in the image of a gigantic +eagle, whose wings stretched from the east to +the west till he covered the firmament. In his talons +he carried an open book, at the sight of which the battle +around me was calmed; the lightnings ceased to flash, +and there was an awful stillness. Then suddenly there +glared from the book a sheet of fire, which rose in +columns a thousand feet high, and filled the empyrean +with intense light; the pillars of flame curling and +wreathing themselves into monstrous letters, till they +were fixed in one terrific glare, and I read—“BYRON.” +Even my companion quailed before the awful light, and +I covered my face with my hands. When I withdrew +them, the cloud and the book had vanished, and the +contest was begun again—“You have seen the Prince of +this division of hell,” said my guide.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>We now began rapidly to descend into the bowels of +the earth; and, after sinking some thousand feet, I +found myself on terra firma again, and walking a little +way, we came to a gate of massive ice, over which was +written in vast letters—“My heritage is despair.” We +passed through, and immediately found ourselves in a +vast basin of lead, which seemed to meet the horizon on +every side. A bright light shone over the whole region; +but it was not like the genial light of the sun. It +chilled me through; and every ray that fell upon me +seemed like the touch of ice. The deepest silence prevailed; +and though the valley was covered with books, +not one moved or uttered a sound. I drew near to one, +and I shivered with intense cold as I read upon it—“Voltaire.” +“Behold,” said the demon, “the hell of infidel +books; the light which emanates from them is the light +of reason, and they are doomed to everlasting torpor.” +I found it too cold to pursue my investigations any farther +in this region, and I gladly passed on from the +leaden gulf of Infidelity.</p> + +<p>I had no sooner passed the barrier which separated +this department from the next, than I heard a confused +sound like the quacking of myriads of ducks and geese, +and a great flapping of wings; of which I soon saw the +cause. “You are in the hell of newspapers,” said my +guide. And sure enough, when I looked up I saw +thousands of newspapers flying about with their great +wooden back-bones, and the padlock dangling like a +bobtail at the end, flapping their wings and hawking at +each other like mad. After circling about in the air +for a little while, and biting and tearing each other as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +much as they could, they plumped down, head first, into +a deep black-looking pool, and were seen no more. +“We place these newspapers deeper in hell than the +Infidel publications,” said the Devil; “because they are +so much more extensively read, and thereby do much +greater mischief. It is a kind of pest of which there +is no end; and we are obliged to allot the largest portion +of our dominions to containing them.”</p> + +<p>We now came to an immense pile of a leaden hue, +which I found at last to consist of old worn-out type, +which was heaped up to form the wall of the next division. +A monstrous u, turned bottom upwards (in this +way ⋂) formed the arch of a gateway through which +we passed; and then traversed a draw-bridge, which was +thrown across a river of ink, upon whose banks millions +of horrible little demons were sporting. I presently +saw that they were employed in throwing into the black +stream a quantity of books which were heaped up on +the shore. As I looked down into the stream, I saw +that they were immediately devoured by the most hideous +and disgusting monsters which were floundering about +there. I looked at one book, which had crawled out +after being thrown into the river; it was dripping with +filth, but I distinguished on the back the words—<i>Don +Juan</i>. It had hardly climbed up the bank, however, +when one of the demons gave it a kick, and sent it back +into the stream, where it was immediately swallowed. +On the back of some of the books which the little imps +were tossing in, I saw the name of—<i>Rochester</i>, which +showed me the character of those which were sent into +this division of the infernal regions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>Beyond this region rose up a vast chain of mountains, +which we were obliged to clamber over. After toiling +for a long time, we reached the summit, and I looked +down upon an immense labyrinth built upon the plain +below, in which I saw a great number of large folios, +stalking about in solemn pomp, each followed by a +number of small volumes and pamphlets, like so many +pages or footmen watching the beck of their master. +“You behold here,” said the demon, “all the false works +upon theology which have been written since the beginning +of the Christian era. They are condemned to wander +about to all eternity in the hopeless maze of this +labyrinth, each folio drawing after it all the minor +works to which it gave origin.” A faint light shone +from these ponderous tomes; but it was like the shining +of a lamp in a thick mist, shorn of its rays, and +illuminating nothing around it. And if my companion +had not held a torch before me, I should not have discerned +the outlines of this department of the Infernal +world. As my eye became somewhat accustomed to the +feeble light, I discovered beyond the labyrinth a thick +mist, which appeared to rise from some river or lake. +“That,” said my companion, “is the distinct abode of +German Metaphysical works, and other treatises of a +similar unintelligible character. They are all obliged +to pass through a press; and if there is any sense in them, +it is thus separated from the mass of nonsense in which +it is imbedded, and is allowed to escape to a better +world. Very few of the works, however, are found to +be materially diminished by passing through the +press.” We had now crossed the plain, and stood near<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +the impenetrable fog, which rose up like a wall before +us. In front of it was the press managed by several +ugly little demons, and surrounded by an immense number +of volumes of every size and shape, waiting for the +process which all were obliged to undergo. As I was +watching their operations, I saw two very respectable +German folios, with enormous clasps, extended like +arms, carrying between them a little volume, which they +were fondling like a pet child with marks of doting +affection. These folios proved to be two of the most +abstruse, learned, and incomprehensible of the metaphysical +productions of Germany; and the bantling +which they seemed to embrace with so much affection, +was registered on the back—“<i>Records of a School</i>.” I +did not find that a single ray of intelligence had been extracted +from either of the two after being subjected to +the press. As soon as the volumes had passed through +the operation of yielding up all the little sense they contained, +they plunged into the intense fog, and disappeared +for ever.</p> + +<p>We next approached the verge of a gulf, which appeared +to be bottomless; and there was dreadful noise, +like the war of the elements, and forked flames shooting +up from the abyss, which reminded me of the crater +of Vesuvius. “You have now reached the ancient limits +of hell,” said the demon, “and you behold beneath +your feet the original chaos on which my domains are +founded. But within a few years we have been obliged +to build a yet deeper division beyond the gulf, to contain +a class of books that were unknown in former times.” +“Pray, what class can be found,” I asked, “worse than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +those which I have already seen, and for which it appears +hell was not bad enough?” “They are American +re-prints of English publications,” replied he, “and +they are generally works of such a despicable character, +that they would have found their way here without being +republished; but even where the original work was +good, it is so degenerated by the form under which it +re-appears in America, that its merit is entirely lost, and +it is only fit for the seventh and lowest division of hell.”</p> + +<p>I now perceived a bridge spanning over the gulf, +with an arch that seemed as lofty as the firmament. We +hastily passed over, and found that the farthest extremity +of the bridge was closed by a gate, over which was +written three words. “They are the names of the three +furies who reign over this division,” said my guide. I +of course did not contradict him; but the words looked +very much like some I had seen before; and the more +I examined them, the more difficult was it to convince +myself that the inscription was not the same thing as +the sign over a certain publishing house in Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>“These,” said the Devil, “are called the three furies +of the hell of books; not from the mischief they do there +to the works about them, but for the unspeakable wrong +they did to the same works upon the earth, by re-printing +them in their hideous brown paper editions.” As +soon as they beheld me, they rushed towards me with +such piteous accents and heart-moving entreaties, that I +would intercede to save them from their torment, that I +was moved with the deepest compassion, and began to +ask my conductor if there were no relief for them. But +he hurried me away, assuring me that they only wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +to sell me some of their infernal editions, and the idea +of owning any such property was so dreadful that it +woke me up directly.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW16" id="THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW16"></a>THE DEVIL’S MOTHER-IN-LAW<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY FERNÁN CABALLERO<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>In a town, named Villagañanes, there was once an old +widow uglier than the sergeant of Utrera, who was considered +as ugly as ugly could be; drier than hay; older +than foot-walking, and more yellow than the jaundice. +Moreover, she had so crossgrained a disposition that Job +himself could not have tolerated her. She had been +nicknamed “Mother Holofernes,” and she had only to +put her head out of doors to put all the lads to flight. +Mother Holofernes was as clean as a new pin, and as industrious +as an ant, and in these respects suffered no little +vexation on account of her daughter Panfila, who was, on +the contrary, so lazy, and such an admirer of the Quietists, +that an earthquake would not move her. So it +came to pass that Mother Holofernes began quarrelling +with her daughter almost from the day that the girl was +born.</p> + +<p>“You are,” she said, “as flaccid as Dutch tobacco, and +it would take a couple of oxen to draw you out of your +room. You fly work as you would the pest, and nothing +pleases you but the window, you shameless girl. You +are more amorous than Cupid himself, but, if I have any +power, you shall live as close as a nun.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> +<p>On hearing all this, Panfila got up, yawned, stretched +herself, and turning her back on her mother, went to the +street door. Mother Holofernes, without paying attention +to this, began to sweep with most tremendous energy, +accompanying the noise of the broom with a monologue +of this tenor:—</p> + +<p>“In my time girls had to work like men.”</p> + +<p>The broom gave the accompaniment of <i>shis</i>, <i>shis</i>, <i>shis</i>.</p> + +<p>“And lived as secluded as nuns.”</p> + +<p>And the broom went <i>shis</i>, <i>shis</i>, <i>shis</i>.</p> + +<p>“Now they are a pack of fools.”—<i>Shis</i>, <i>shis</i>.</p> + +<p>“Of idlers.”—<i>Shis</i>, <i>shis</i>.</p> + +<p>“And think of nothing but husbands.—<i>Shis</i>, <i>shis</i>.</p> + +<p>“And are a lot of good-for-nothings.”</p> + +<p>The broom following with its chorus.</p> + +<p>By this time she had nearly reached the street door, +when she saw her daughter making signs to a youth; +and the handle of the broom, as the handiest implement, +descended upon the shoulders of Panfila, and effected +the miracle of making her run. Next, Mother Holofernes, +grasping the broom, made for the door; but scarcely +had the shadow of her head appeared, than it produced +the customary effect, and the aspirant disappeared so +swiftly that it seemed as if he must have had wings on +his feet.</p> + +<p>“Drat that fellow!” shouted the mother; “I should +like to break all the bones in his body.”</p> + +<p>“What for? Why should I not think of getting married?”</p> + +<p>“What are you saying? You get married, you fool! +not while I live!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Why were you married, madam? and my grandmother? +and my great grandmother?”</p> + +<p>“Nicely I have been repaid for it, by you, you sauce-box! +And understand me, that if I chose to get married, +and your grandmother also, and your great grandmother +also, I do not intend that you shall marry; nor +my granddaughter, nor my great granddaughter! Do +you hear me?”</p> + +<p>In these gentle disputes the mother and daughter +passed their lives, without any other result than that the +mother grumbled more and more every day, and the +daughter became daily more and more desirous of getting +a husband.</p> + +<p>Upon one occasion, when Mother Holofernes was +doing the washing, and as the lye was on the point of +boiling, she had to call her daughter to help her lift the +caldron, in order to pour its contents on to the tub of +clothes. The girl heard her with one ear, but with the +other was listening to a well-known voice which sang +in the street:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I would like to love thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Did thy mother let me woo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May the demon meddle<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In all she tries to do!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The sound outside being more attractive for Panfila +than the caldron within, she did not hasten to her +mother, but went to the window. Mother Holofernes, +meanwhile, seeing that her daughter did not come, and +that time was passing, attempted to lift the caldron by +herself, in order to pour the water upon the linen; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +as the good woman was small, and not very strong, it +turned over, and burnt her foot. On hearing the horrible +groans Mother Holofernes made, her daughter +went to her.</p> + +<p>“Wretch, wretch!” cried the enraged Mother Holofernes +to her daughter, “may you love Barabbas! And +as for marrying—may Heaven grant you may marry the +Evil One himself!”</p> + +<p>Sometime after this accident an aspirant presented +himself: he was a little man, young, fair, red-haired, +well-mannered, and had well-furnished pockets. He +had not a single fault, and Mother Holofernes was not +able to find any in all her arsenal of negatives. As for +Panfila, it wanted little to send her out of her senses with +delight. So the preparations for the wedding were +made, with the usual grumbling accompaniment on the +part of the bridegroom’s future mother-in-law. Everything +went on smoothly straightforward, and without a +break—like a railroad—when, without knowing why, +the popular voice—a voice which is as the personification +of conscience,—began to rise in a murmur against +the stranger, despite the fact that he was affable, humane, +and liberal; that he spoke well and sang better; +and freely took the black and horny hands of the labourers +between his own white and beringed fingers. +They began to feel neither honoured nor overpowered by +so much courtesy; his reasoning was always so coarse, +although forcible and logical.</p> + +<p>“By my faith!” said Uncle Blas; “why does this ill-faced +gentleman call me Mr. Blas, as if that would +make me any better? What does it look like to you?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Well, as for me,” said Uncle Gil, “did he not come +to shake hands with me as if we had some plot between +us? Did he not call me citizen? I, who have never +been out of the village, and never want to go.”</p> + +<p>As for Mother Holofernes, the more she saw of her +future son-in-law, the less regard she had for him. It +seemed to her that between that innocent red hair and +the cranium were located certain protuberances of a +very curious kind; and she remembered with emotion +that malediction she had uttered against her daughter +on that ever memorable day on which her foot was injured +and her washing spoilt.</p> + +<p>At last, the wedding day arrived. Mother Holofernes +had made pastry and reflections—the former sweet, +the latter bitter; a great <i>olla podrida</i> for the food, and a +dangerous project for supper; she had prepared a barrel +of wine that was generous, and a line of conduct that +was not. When the bridal pair were about to retire to +the nuptial chamber, Mother Holofernes called her +daughter aside, and said: “When you are in your +room, be careful to close the door and windows; shut all +the shutters, and do not leave a single crevice open but +the keyhole of the door. Take with you this branch +of consecrated olive, and beat your husband with it as I +advise you; this ceremony is customary at all marriages, +and signifies that the woman is going to be master, and +is followed in order to sanction and establish the rule.”</p> + +<p>Panfila, for the first time obedient to her mother, did +everything that she had prescribed.</p> + +<p>No sooner did the bridegroom espy the branch of +consecrated olive in the hands of his wife, than he attempted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +to make a precipitous retreat. But when he +found the doors and windows closed, and every crevice +stopped up, seeing no other means of escape than by +passing through the keyhole, he crept into that; this +spruce, red-and-white, and well-spoken bachelor being, +as Mother Holofernes had suspected, neither more nor +less than the Evil One himself, who, availing himself of +the right given him by the anathema launched against +Panfila by her mother, thought to amuse himself with +the pleasures of a marriage, and encumber himself with +a wife of his own, whilst so many husbands were supplicating +him to take theirs off their hands.</p> + +<p>But this gentleman, despite his reputation for wisdom, +had met with a mother-in-law who knew more than he +did; and Mother Holofernes was not the only specimen +of that genus. Therefore, scarcely had his lordship entered +into the keyhole, congratulating himself upon having, +as usual, discovered a method of escape, than he +found himself in a phial, which his foreseeing mother-in-law +had ready on the other side of the door; and no +sooner had he got into it than the provident old dame +sealed the vessel hermetically. In a most tender voice, +and with most humble supplications, and most pathetic +gestures, her son-in-law addressed her, and desired that +she would grant him his liberty. But Mother Holofernes +was not to be deceived by the demon, nor disconcerted +by orations, nor imposed upon by honeyed words; +she took charge of the bottle and its contents, and went +off to a mountain. The old lady vigorously climbed to +the summit of this mountain, and there, on its most +elevated crest, in a rocky and secluded spot, deposited<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +the phial, taking leave of her son-in-law with a shake of +her closed fist as a farewell greeting.</p> + +<p>And there his lordship remained for ten years. What +years those ten were! The world was as quiet as a pool +of oil. Everybody attended to his own affairs, without +meddling in those of other people. Nobody coveted the +position, nor the wife, nor the property of other persons; +theft became a word without signification; arms rusted; +powder was only consumed in fireworks; prisons stood +empty; finally, in this decade of the golden age, only +one single deplorable event occurred ... the lawyers +died from hunger and quietude.</p> + +<p>Alas! that so happy a time should have an end! But +everything has an end in this world, even the discourses +of the most eloquent fathers of the country. At last +the much-to-be-envied decade came to a termination in +the following way.</p> + +<p>A soldier named Briónes had obtained permission +for a few days’ leave to enable him to visit his native +place, which was Villagañanes. He took the road which +led to the lofty mountain upon whose summit the son-in-law +of Mother Holofernes was cursing all mothers-in-law, +past, present, and future, promising as soon as ever +he regained his power to put an end to that class of +vipers, and by a very simple method—the abolition of +matrimony. Much of his time was spent in composing +and reciting satires against the invention of washing +linen, the primal cause of his present trouble.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the foot of the mountain, Briónes did not +care to go round the mountain like the road, but wished +to go straight ahead, assuring the carriers who were with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +him, that if the mountain would not go to the right-about +for him he would pass over its summit, although it +were so high that he should knock his head against the +sky.</p> + +<p>When he reached the summit, Briónes was struck +with amazement on seeing the phial borne like a pimple +on the nose of the mountain. He took it up, looked +through it, and on perceiving the demon, who with years +of confinement and fasting, the sun’s rays, and sadness, +had dwindled and become as dried as a prune, exclaimed +in surprise:—</p> + +<p>“Whatever vermin is this? What a phenomenon!”</p> + +<p>“I am an honourable and meritorious demon,” said +the captive, humbly and courteously. “The perversity +of a treacherous mother-in-law, into whose clutches I +fell, has held me confined here during the last ten years; +liberate me, valiant warrior, and I will grant any favour +you choose to solicit.”</p> + +<p>“I should like my demission from the army,” said +Briónes.</p> + +<p>“You shall have it; but uncork, uncork quickly, for it +is a most monstrous anomaly to have thrust into a corner, +in these revolutionary times, the first revolutionist +in the world.”</p> + +<p>Briónes drew the cork out slightly, and a noxious +vapour issued from the bottle and ascended to his brain. +He sneezed, and immediately replaced the stopper with +such a violent blow from his hand that the cork was +suddenly depressed, and the prisoner, squeezed down, +gave a shout of rage and pain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What are you doing, vile earthworm, more malicious +and perfidious than my mother-in-law?” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“There is another condition,” responded Briónes, +“that I must add to our treaty; it appears to me that the +service I am going to do you is worth it.”</p> + +<p>“And what is this condition, tardy liberator?” inquired +the demon.</p> + +<p>“I should like for thy ransom four dollars daily during +the rest of my life. Think of it, for upon that depends +whether you stay in or come out.”</p> + +<p>“Miserable avaricious one!” exclaimed the demon, +“I have no money.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” replied Briónes, “what an answer from a great +lord like you! Why, friend, that is the Minister of +War’s answer! If you can’t pay me I cannot help you.”</p> + +<p>“Then you do not believe me,” said the demon, “only +let me out, and I will aid you to obtain what you want +as I have done for many others. Let me out, I say, +let me out.”</p> + +<p>“Gently,” responded the soldier, “there is nothing to +hurry about. Understand me that I shall have to hold +you by the tail until you have performed your promise +to me; and if not, I have nothing more to say to you.”</p> + +<p>“Insolent, do you not trust me then!” shouted the +demon.</p> + +<p>“No,” responded Briónes.</p> + +<p>“What you desire is contrary to my dignity,” said the +captive, with all the arrogance that a being of his size +could express.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now I must go,” said Briónes.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” said the demon, in order not to say +<i>adieu</i>.</p> + +<p>But seeing that Briónes went off, the captive made +desperate jumps in the phial, shouting loudly to the +soldier.</p> + +<p>“Return, return, dear friend,” he said; and muttered +to himself, “I should like a four-year-old bull to overtake +you, you soulless fool!” and then he shouted, +“Come, come, beneficent fellow, liberate me, and hold +me by the tail, or by the nose, valiant warrior;” and +then muttered to himself, “Some one will avenge me, +obstinate soldier; and if the son-in-law of Mother Holofernes +is not able to do it, there are those who will burn +you both, face to face, in the same bonfire, or I have +little influence.”</p> + +<p>On hearing the demon’s supplications Briónes returned +and uncorked the bottle. Mother Holofernes’s +son-in-law came forth like a chick from its shell, drawing +out his head first and then his body, and lastly his +tail, which Briónes seized; and the more the demon +tried to contract it the firmer he held it.</p> + +<p>After the ex-captive, who was somewhat cramped, had +occasionally stopped to stretch his arms and legs, they +took the road to court, the demon grumbling and following +the soldier, who carried the tail well secured in his +hands.</p> + +<p>On their arrival they went to court, and the demon +said to his liberator:—</p> + +<p>“I am going to put myself into the body of the princess,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +who is extremely beloved by her father, and I shall +give her pains that no doctor will be able to cure; then +you present yourself and offer to cure her, demanding +for your recompense four dollars daily, and your discharge. +I will then leave her to you, and our accounts +will be settled.”</p> + +<p>Everything happened as arranged and foreseen by the +demon, but Briónes did not wish to let go his hold of the +tail, and he said:—</p> + +<p>“Well devised, sir, but four dollars are a ransom unworthy +of you, of me, and of the service that we have +undertaken. Find some method of showing yourself +more generous. To do this will give you honour in the +world, where, pardon my frankness, you do not enjoy +the best of characters.”</p> + +<p>“Would that I could get rid of you!” said the demon +to himself, “but I am so weak and so numbed that I am +not able to go alone. I must have patience! that which +men call a virtue. Oh, now I understand why so many +fall into my power for not having practised it. Forward +then for Naples, for it is necessary to submit in +order to liberate my tail. I must go and submit to the +arbitration of fate for the satisfaction of this new demand.”</p> + +<p>Everything succeeded according to his wish. The +princess of Naples fell a victim to convulsive pains and +took to her bed. The king was greatly afflicted. +Briónes presented himself with all the arrogance his +knowledge that he would receive the demon’s aid could +give him. The king was willing to make use of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +services, but stipulated that if within three days he had +not cured the princess, as he confidently promised to, he +should be hanged. Briónes, certain of a favourable result, +did not raise the slightest objection.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, the demon heard this arrangement +made, and gave a leap of delight at seeing within his +hands the means of avenging himself.</p> + +<p>The demon’s leap caused the princess such pain that +she begged them to take the doctor away.</p> + +<p>The following day this scene was repeated. Briónes +then knew that the demon was at the bottom of it, and +intended to let him be hanged. But Briónes was not a +man to lose his head.</p> + +<p>On the third day, when the pretended doctor arrived, +they were erecting the gallows in front of the very palace +door. As he entered the princess’s apartment, the +invalid’s pains were redoubled and she began to cry out +that they should put an end to that impostor.</p> + +<p>“I have not exhausted all my resources yet,” said +Briónes gravely, “deign, your Royal Highness, to wait +a little while.” He then went out of the room and gave +orders in the princess’s name that all the bells of the +city should be rung.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the royal apartment, the demon, +who has a mortal hatred of the sound of bells, and +is, moreover, inquisitive, asked Briónes what the bells +were ringing for.</p> + +<p>“They are ringing,” responded the soldier, “because +of the arrival of your mother-in-law, whom I have ordered +to be summoned.”</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the demon heard that his mother-in-law<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +had arrived, than he flew away with such rapidity that +not even a sun’s ray could have caught him. Proud as +a peacock, Briónes was left in victorious possession of +the field.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> From <i>Spanish Fairy Tales</i>. By Fernán Caballero. Translated by +J. H. Ingram. (Philadelphia, J. B. Lippincott Co., 1881. By permission +of the Publishers.)</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER17" id="THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER17"></a>THE GENEROUS GAMBLER<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES PIERRE BAUDELAIRE<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Yesterday, across the crowd of the boulevard, I found +myself touched by a mysterious Being I had always desired +to know, and who I recognized immediately, in +spite of the fact that I had never seen him. He had, I +imagined, in himself, relatively as to me, a similar desire, +for he gave me, in passing, so significant a sign in +his eyes that I hastened to obey him. I followed him +attentively, and soon I descended behind him into a +subterranean dwelling, astonishing to me as a vision, +where shone a luxury of which none of the actual houses +in Paris could give me an approximate example. It +seemed to me singular that I had passed so often that +prodigious retreat without having discovered the entrance. +There reigned an exquisite, an almost stifling +atmosphere, which made one forget almost instantaneously +all the fastidious horrors of life; there I breathed +a sombre sensuality, like that of opium-smokers when, +set on the shore of an enchanted island, over which shone +an eternal afternoon, they felt born in them, to the soothing +sounds of melodious cascades, the desire of never +again seeing their households, their women, their children, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>and of never again being tossed on the decks of +ships by storms.</p> + +<p>There were there strange faces of men and women, +gifted with so fatal a beauty that I seemed to have seen +them years ago and in countries which I failed to remember, +and which inspired in me that curious sympathy +and that equally curious sense of fear that I usually +discover in unknown aspects. If I wanted to define in +some fashion or other the singular expression of their +eyes, I would say that never had I seen such magic radiance +more energetically expressing the horror of +<i>ennui</i> and of desire—of the immortal desire of feeling +themselves alive.</p> + +<p>As for mine host and myself, we were already, as we +sat down, as perfect friends as if we had always known +each other. We drank immeasurably of all sorts of +extraordinary wines, and—a thing not less bizarre—it +seemed to me, after several hours, that I was no more +intoxicated than he was.</p> + +<p>However, gambling, this superhuman pleasure, had +cut, at various intervals, our copious libations, and I +ought to say that I had gained and lost my soul, as we +were playing, with an heroical carelessness and light-heartedness. +The soul is so invisible a thing, often useless +and sometimes so troublesome, that I did not experience, +as to this loss, more than that kind of emotion I +might have, had I lost my visiting card in the street.</p> + +<p>We spent hours in smoking cigars, whose incomparable +savour and perfume give to the soul the nostalgia +of unknown delights and sights, and, intoxicated by all +these spiced sauces, I dared, in an access of familiarity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +which did not seem to displease him, to cry, as I lifted a +glass filled to the brim with wine: “To your immortal +health, Old He-Goat!”</p> + +<p>We talked of the universe, of its creation and of its +future destruction; of the leading ideas of the century—that +is to say, of Progress and Perfectibility—and, in +general, of all kinds of human infatuations. On this +subject his Highness was inexhaustible in his irrefutable +jests, and he expressed himself with a splendour of diction +and with a magnificence in drollery such as I have +never found in any of the most famous conversationalists +of our age. He explained to me the absurdity of different +philosophies that had so far taken possession of +men’s brains, and deigned even to take me in confidence +in regard to certain fundamental principles, which I am +not inclined to share with any one.</p> + +<p>He complained in no way of the evil reputation under +which he lived, indeed, all over the world, and he assured +me that he himself was of all living beings the +most interested in the destruction of <i>Superstition</i>, and he +avowed to me that he had been afraid, relatively as to +his proper power, once only, and that was on the day +when he had heard a preacher, more subtle than the +rest of the human herd, cry in his pulpit: “My dear +brethren, do not ever forget, when you hear the progress +of lights praised, that the loveliest trick of the +Devil is to persuade you that he does not exist!”</p> + +<p>The memory of this famous orator brought us naturally +on the subject of Academies, and my strange host +declared to me that he didn’t disdain, in many cases, to +inspire the pens, the words, and the consciences of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +pedagogues, and that he almost always assisted in person, +in spite of being invisible, at all the scientific meetings.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by so much kindness I asked him if he +had any news of God—who has not his hours of impiety?—especially +as the old friend of the Devil. He +said to me, with a shade of unconcern united with a +deeper shade of sadness: “We salute each other when +we meet.” But, for the rest, he spoke in Hebrew.</p> + +<p>It is uncertain if his Highness has ever given so long +an audience to a simple mortal, and I feared to abuse it.</p> + +<p>Finally, as the dark approached shivering, this famous +personage, sung by so many poets, and served by +so many philosophers who work for his glory’s sake +without being aware of it, said to me: “I want you to +remember me always, and to prove to you that I—of +whom one says so much evil—am often enough <i>bon +diable</i>, to make use of one of your vulgar locutions. +So as to make up for the irremediable loss that you have +made of your soul, I shall give you back the stake you +ought to have gained, if your fate had been fortunate—that +is to say, the possibility of solacing and of conquering, +during your whole life, this bizarre affection of +<i>ennui</i>, which is the source of all your maladies and of +all your miseries. Never a desire shall be formed by +you that I will not aid you to realize; you will reign +over your vulgar equals; money and gold and diamonds, +fairy palaces, shall come to seek you and shall ask you +to accept them without your having made the least effort +to obtain them; you can change your abode as often +as you like; you shall have in your power all sensualities<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +without lassitude, in lands where the climate is always +hot, and where the women are as scented as the flowers.” +With this he rose up and said good-bye to me +with a charming smile.</p> + +<p>If it had not been for the shame of humiliating myself +before so immense an assembly, I might have voluntarily +fallen at the feet of this generous Gambler, to +thank him for his unheard-of munificence. But, little +by little, after I had left him, an incurable defiance entered +into me; I dared no longer believe in so prodigious +a happiness; and as I went to bed, making over again +my nightly prayer by means of all that remained in me +in the matter of faith, I repeated in my slumber: “My +God, my Lord, my God! Do let the Devil keep his +word with me!”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> From <i>The English Review</i>, November 1918. By permission of the +Editor and Mr. Arthur Symons.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES18" id="THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES18"></a>THE THREE LOW MASSES<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span><br /> + +<span style="font-size: 70%">A CHRISTMAS STORY</span></h2> + +<h3>BY ALPHONSE DAUDET<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>“Two truffled turkeys, Garrigou?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, your reverence, two magnificent turkeys, +stuffed with truffles. I should know something about it, +for I myself helped to fill them. One would have said +their skin would crack as they were roasting, it is that +stretched....”</p> + +<p>“Jesu-Maria! I who like truffles so much!... +Quick, give me my surplice, Garrigou.... And have +you seen anything else in the kitchen besides the turkeys?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, all kinds of good things.... Since noon, we +have done nothing but pluck pheasants, hoopoes, barn-fowls, +and woodcocks. Feathers were flying about all +over.... Then they have brought eels, gold carp, and +trout out of the pond, besides....”</p> + +<p>“What size were the trout, Garrigou?”</p> + +<p>“As big as that, your reverence.... Enormous!”</p> + +<p>“Oh heavens! I think I see them.... Have you +put the wine in the vessels?”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> +<p>“Yes, your reverence, I have put the wine in the vessels.... +But la! it is not to be compared to what you +will drink presently, when the midnight mass is over. +If you only saw that in the dining hall of the château! +The decanters are all full of wines glowing with every +colour!... And the silver plate, the chased <i>epergnes</i>, +the flowers, the lustres!... Never will such another +midnight repast be seen. The noble marquis has invited +all the lords of the neighbourhood. At least forty +of you will sit down to table, without reckoning the farm +bailiff and the notary.... Oh, how lucky is your +reverence to be one of them!... After a mere sniff +of those fine turkeys, the scent of truffles follows me +everywhere.... Yum!”</p> + +<p>“Come now, come now, my child. Let us keep from +the sin of gluttony, on the night of the Nativity especially.... +Be quick and light the wax-tapers and ring +the first bell for the mass; for it’s nearly midnight and we +must not be behind time.”</p> + +<p>This conversation took place on a Christmas night in +the year of grace one thousand six hundred and something, +between the Reverend Dom Balaguère (formerly +Prior of the Barnabites, now paid chaplain of the Lords +of Trinquelague), and his little clerk Garrigou, or at +least him whom he took for his little clerk Garrigou, +for you must know that the devil had on that night assumed +the round face and soft features of the young +sacristan, in order the more effectually to lead the reverend +father into temptation, and make him commit the +dreadful sin of gluttony. Well then, while the supposed +Garrigou (hum!) was with all his might making<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +the bells of the baronial chapel chime out, his reverence +was putting on his chasuble in the little sacristy of +the château; and with his mind already agitated by all +these gastronomic descriptions, he kept saying to himself +as he was robing:</p> + +<p>“Roasted turkeys, ... golden carp, ... trout as +big as that!...”</p> + +<p>Out of doors, the soughing night wind was carrying +abroad the music of the bells, and with this, lights began +to make their appearance on the dark sides of Mount +Ventoux, on the summit of which rose the ancient towers +of Trinquelague. The lights were borne by the families +of the tenant farmers, who were coming to hear the midnight +mass at the château. They were scaling the hill +in groups of five or six together, and singing; the father +in front carrying a lantern, and the women wrapped up +in large brown cloaks, beneath which their little children +snuggled and sheltered. In spite of the cold and the +lateness of the hour these good folks were marching +blithely along, cheered by the thought that after the +mass was over there would be, as always in former +years, tables set for them down in the kitchens. Occasionally +the glass windows in some lord’s carriage, +preceded by torch-bearers, would glisten in the moon-light +on the rough ascent; or perhaps a mule would jog +by with tinkling bells, and by the light of the misty lanterns +the tenants would recognize their bailiff and would +salute him as he passed with:</p> + +<p>“Good evening, Master Arnoton.”</p> + +<p>“Good evening. Good evening, my friend.”</p> + +<p>The night was clear, and the stars were twinkling with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +frost; the north wind was nipping, and at times a fine +small hail, that slipped off one’s garments without wetting +them, faithfully maintained the tradition of Christmas +being white with snow. On the summit of the hill, +as the goal towards which all were wending, gleamed +the château, with its enormous mass of towers and +gables, and its chapel steeple rising into the blue-black +sky. A multitude of little lights were twinkling, coming, +going, and moving about at all the windows; they +looked like the sparks one sees running about in the +ashes of burnt paper.</p> + +<p>After you had passed the drawbridge and the postern +gate, it was necessary, in order to reach the chapel, to +cross the first court, which was full of carriages, footmen +and sedan chairs, and was quite illuminated by the +blaze of torches and the glare of the kitchen fires. Here +were heard the click of turnspits, the rattle of sauce-pans, +the clash of glasses and silver plate in the commotion +attending the preparation of the feast; while +over all rose a warm vapour smelling pleasantly of +roast meat, piquant herbs, and complex sauces, and +which seemed to say to the farmers, as well as to the +chaplain and to the bailiff, and to everybody:</p> + +<p>“What a good midnight repast we are going to have +after the mass!”</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Ting-a-ring!—a—ring!</p> + +<p>The midnight mass is beginning in the chapel of the +château, which is a cathedral in miniature, with groined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +and vaulted roofs, oak wood-work as high as the walls, +expanded draperies, and tapers all aglow. And what +a lot of people! What grand dresses! First of all, +seated in the carved stalls that line the choir, is the +Lord of Trinquelague in a coat of salmon-coloured silk, +and about him are ranged all the noble lords who have +been invited.</p> + +<p>On the opposite side, on velvet-covered praying-stools, +the old dowager marchioness in flame-coloured brocade, +and the youthful Lady of Trinquelague wearing a lofty +head-dress of plaited lace in the newest fashion of the +French court, have taken their places. Lower down, +dressed in black, with punctilious wigs, and shaven +faces, like two grave notes among the gay silks and the +figured damasks, are seen the bailiff, Thomas Arnoton, +and the notary Master Ambroy. Then come the stout +major-domos, the pages, the horsemen, the stewards, +Dame Barbara, with all her keys hanging at her side on +a real silver ring. At the end, on the forms, are the +lower class, the female servants, the cotter farmers and +their families; and lastly, down there, near the door, +which they open and shut very carefully, are messieurs +the scullions, who enter in the interval between two +sauces, to take a little whiff of mass; and these bring +the smell of the repast with them into the church, which +now is in high festival and warm from the number of +lighted tapers.</p> + +<p>Is it the sight of their little white caps that so distracts +the celebrant? Is it not rather Garrigou’s bell? +that mad little bell which is shaken at the altar foot with +an infernal impetuosity that seems all the time to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +saying: “Come, let us make haste, make haste.... +The sooner we shall have finished, the sooner shall we +be at table.” The fact is that every time this devil’s +bell tinkles the chaplain forgets his mass, and thinks +of nothing but the midnight repast. He fancies he sees +the cooks bustling about, the stoves glowing with forge-like +fires, the two magnificent turkeys, filled, crammed, +marbled with truffles....</p> + +<p>Then again he sees, passing along, files of little pages +carrying dishes enveloped in tempting vapours, and with +them he enters the great hall now prepared for the feast. +Oh delight! there is the immense table all laden and +luminous, peacocks adorned with their feathers, pheasants +spreading out their reddish-brown wings, ruby-coloured +decanters, pyramids of fruit glowing amid green +boughs, and those wonderful fish Garrigou (ah well, +yes, Garrigou!) had mentioned, laid on a couch of fennel, +with their pearly scales gleaming as if they had just +come out of the water, and bunches of sweet-smelling +herbs in their monstrous snouts. So clear is the vision +of these marvels that it seems to Dom Balaguère that all +these wondrous dishes are served before him on the +embroidered altar-cloth, and two or three times instead +of the <i>Dominus vobiscum</i>, he finds himself saying the +<i>Benedicite</i>. Except these slight mistakes, the worthy +man pronounces the service very conscientiously, without +skipping a line, without omitting a genuflexion; and +all goes tolerably well until the end of the first mass; +for you know that on Christmas Day the same officiating +priest must celebrate three consecutive masses.</p> + +<p>“That’s one done!” says the chaplain to himself with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +a sigh of relief; then, without losing a moment, he motioned +to his clerk, or to him whom he supposed to be +his clerk, and...</p> + +<p>“Ting-a-ring ... Ting-a-ring, a-ring!”</p> + +<p>Now the second mass is beginning, and with it begins +also Dom Balaguère’s sin. “Quick, quick, let us make +haste,” Garrigou’s bell cries out to him in its shrill little +voice, and this time the unhappy celebrant, completely +given over to the demon of gluttony, fastens upon the +missal and devours its pages with the eagerness of his +over-excited appetite. Frantically he bows down, rises +up, merely indicates the sign of the cross and the genuflexions, +and curtails all his gestures in order to get +sooner finished. Scarcely has he stretched out his arms +at the gospel, before he is striking his breast at the +<i>Confiteor</i>. It is a contest between himself and the clerk +as to who shall mumble the faster. Versicles and responses +are hurried over and run one into another. +The words, half pronounced, without opening the mouth, +which would take up too much time, terminate in unmeaning +murmurs.</p> + +<p>“<i>Oremus ps ... ps ... ps....</i>”</p> + +<p>“<i>Mea culpa ... pa ... pa....</i>”</p> + +<p>Like vintagers in a hurry pressing grapes in the vat, +these two paddle in the mass Latin, sending splashes in +every direction.</p> + +<p>“<i>Dom ... scum!...</i>” says Balaguère.</p> + +<p>“<i>... Stutuo!...</i>” replies Garrigou; and all the +time the cursed little bell is tinkling there in their ears, +like the jingles they put on post-horses to make them gallop +fast. You may imagine at that speed a low mass is +quickly disposed of.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That makes two,” says the chaplain quite panting; +then without taking time to breathe, red and perspiring, +he descends the altar steps and...</p> + +<p>“Ting-a-ring!... Ting-a-ring!...”</p> + +<p>Now the third mass is beginning. There are but a +few more steps to be taken to reach the dining-hall; but, +alas! the nearer the midnight repast approaches the more +does the unfortunate Balaguère feel himself possessed +by mad impatience and gluttony. The vision becomes +more distinct; the golden carps, the roasted turkeys are +there, there!... He touches them, ... he ... oh +heavens! The dishes are smoking, the wines perfume +the air; and with furiously agitated clapper, the little +bell is crying out to him:</p> + +<p>“Quick, quick, quicker yet!”</p> + +<p>But how could he go quicker? His lips scarcely +move. He no longer pronounces the words; ... unless +he were to impose upon Heaven outright and trick it +out of its mass.... And that is precisely what he does, +the unfortunate man!... From temptation to temptation; +he begins by skipping a verse, then two. Then +the epistle is too long—he does not finish it, skims over +the gospel, passes before the <i>Credo</i> without going into it, +skips the <i>Pater</i>, salutes the <i>Preface</i> from a distance, and +by leaps and bounds thus hurls himself into eternal +damnation, constantly followed by the vile Garrigou +(<i>vade retro, Satanas!</i>), who seconds him with wonderful +skill, sustains his chasuble, turns over the leaves two at +a time, elbows the reading-desks, upsets the vessels, and +is continually sounding the little bell louder and louder, +quicker and quicker.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>You should have seen the scared faces of all who +were present, as they were obliged to follow this mass +by mere mimicry of the priest, without hearing a word; +some rise when others kneel, and sit down when the others +are standing up, and all the phases of this singular +service are mixed up together in the multitude of different +attitudes presented by the worshippers on the +benches....</p> + +<p>“The <i>abbé</i> goes too fast.... One can’t follow him,” +murmured the old dowager, shaking her head-dress in +confusion. Master Arnoton with great steel spectacles +on his nose is searching in his prayer-book to find where +the dickens they are. But at heart all these good +folks, who themselves are thinking about feasting, are +not sorry that the mass is going on at this post haste; +and when Dom Balaguère with radiant face turns towards +those present and cries with all his might: “<i>Ite, +missa est</i>,” they all respond to him a “<i>Deo gratias</i>” in +but one voice, and that as joyous and enthusiastic, as +if they thought themselves already seated at the midnight +repast and drinking the first toast.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Five minutes afterwards the crowd of nobles were sitting +down in the great hall, with the chaplain in the +midst of them. The château, illuminated from top to +bottom, was resounding with songs, with shouts, with +laughter, with uproar; and the venerable Dom Balaguère +was thrusting his fork into the wing of a fowl, and +drowning all remorse for his sin in streams of regal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +wine and the luscious juices of the viands. He ate and +drank so much, the dear, holy man, that he died during +the night of a terrible attack, without even having had +time to repent; and then in the morning when he got +to heaven, I leave you to imagine how he was received.</p> + +<p>He was told to withdraw on account of his wickedness. +His fault was so grievous that it effaced a whole +lifetime of virtue.... He had robbed them of a midnight +mass.... He should have to pay for it with +three hundred, and he should not enter into Paradise +until he had celebrated in his own chapel these three +hundred Christmas masses in the presence of all those +who had sinned with him and by his fault....</p> + +<p>... And now this is the true legend of Dom Balaguère +as it is related in the olive country. At the present +time the château of Trinquelague no longer exists, +but the chapel still stands on the top of Mount Ventoux, +amid a cluster of green oaks. Its decayed door rattles +in the wind, and its threshold is choked up with vegetation; +there are birds’ nests at the corners of the altar, +and in the recesses of the lofty windows, from which the +stained glass has long ago disappeared. It seems, however, +that every year at Christmas, a supernatural light +wanders amid these ruins, and the peasants, in going to +the masses and to the midnight repasts, see this phantom +of a chapel illuminated by invisible tapers that burn in +the open air, even in snow and wind. You may laugh +at it if you like, but a vine-dresser of the place, named +Garrigue, doubtless a descendant of Garrigou, declared +to me that one Christmas night, when he was a little +tipsy, he lost his way on the hill of Trinquelague; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +this is what he saw.... Till eleven o’clock, nothing. +All was silent, motionless, inanimate. Suddenly, about +midnight, a chime sounded from the top of the steeple, +an old, old chime, which seemed as if it were ten leagues +off. Very soon Garrigue saw lights flitting about, and +uncertain shadows moving in the road that climbs the +hill. They passed on beneath the chapel porch, and +murmured:</p> + +<p>“Good evening, Master Arnoton!”</p> + +<p>“Good evening, good evening, my friends!” ...</p> + +<p>When all had entered, my vine-dresser, who was very +courageous, silently approached, and when he looked +through the broken door, a singular spectacle met his +gaze. All those he had seen pass were seated round the +choir, and in the ruined nave, just as if the old seats +still existed. Fine ladies in brocade, with lace head-dresses; +lords adorned from head to foot; peasants in +flowered jackets such as our grandfathers had; all with +an old, faded, dusty, tired look. From time to time +the night birds, the usual inhabitants of the chapel, who +were aroused by all these lights, would come and flit +round the tapers, the flames of which rose straight and +ill-defined, as if they were burning behind a veil; and +what amused Garrigue very much was a certain personage +with large steel spectacles, who was ever shaking +his tall black wig, in which one of these birds was +quite entangled, and kept itself upright by noiselessly +flapping its wings....</p> + +<p>At the farther end, a little old man of childish figure +was on his knees in the middle of the choir, desperately +shaking a clapperless and soundless bell, whilst a priest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +clad in ancient gold, was coming and going before the +altar, reciting prayers of which not a word was heard.... +Most certainly this was Dom Balaguère in the act +of saying his third low mass.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> From <i>The Fig and the Idler, an Algerian Legend, and Other +Stories</i>, by Alphonse Daudet. London, T. Fisher Unwin, 1892. (By +permission of the Publisher.)</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="DEVIL-PUZZLERS19" id="DEVIL-PUZZLERS19"></a>DEVIL-PUZZLERS<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY FREDERICK BEECHER PERKINS<span class="sidenote"><a href="#DEVIL-PUZZLERS_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>It will not do at all to disbelieve in the existence of a +personal devil. It is not so many years ago that one +of our profoundest divines remarked with indignation +upon such disbelief. “No such person?” cried the doctor +with energy. “Don’t tell me! I can hear his tail +snap and crack about amongst the churches any day!”</p> + +<p>And if the enemy is, in truth, still as vigorously active +among the sons of God as he was in the days of Job +(that is to say, in the time of Solomon, when, as the critics +have found out, the Book of Job was written), then +surely still more is he vigilant and sly in his tricks for +foreclosing his mortgages upon the souls of the wicked.</p> + +<p>And once more: still more than ever is his personal +appearance probable in these latter days. The everlasting +tooting of the wordy Cumming has proclaimed +the end of all things for a quarter of a century; and he +will surely see his prophecy fulfilled if he can only keep +it up long enough. But, though we discredit the sapient +Second-Adventist as to the precise occasion of the diabolic +avatar, has there not been a strange coincidence +between his noisy declarations, and other evidences of +an approximation of the spiritual to the bodily sphere +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>of life? Is not this same quarter of a century that of +the Spiritists? Has it not witnessed the development +of Od? And of clairvoyance? And have not the doctrines +of ghosts, and re-appearances of the dead, and of +messages from them, risen into a prominence entirely +new, and into a coherence and semblance at least of +fact and fixed law such as was never known before? +Yea, verily. Of all times in the world’s history, to reject +out of one’s beliefs either good spirits or bad, angelology +or diabology, chief good being, or chief bad +being, this is the most improper.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hicok was trebly liable to the awful temptation, +under which he had assuredly fallen, over and above +the fact that he was a prig, which makes one feel the +more glad that he was so handsomely come up with in +the end; such a prig that everybody who knew him, +invariably called him (when he wasn’t by) Hicok-alorum. +This charming surname had been conferred +on him by a crazy old fellow with whom he once got +into a dispute. Lunatics have the most awfully tricky +ways of dodging out of pinches in reasoning; but Hicok +knew too much to know <i>that</i>; and so he acquired his fine +title to teach him one thing more.</p> + +<p>Trebly liable, we said. The three reasons are,—</p> + +<ul><li>1. He was foreign-born.</li> + +<li>2. He was a Scotchman.</li> + +<li>3. He was a physician and surgeon.</li></ul> + + +<p>The way in which these causes operated was as follows +(I wish it were allowable to use Artemas Ward’s +curiously satisfactory vocable “thusly:” like Mrs. Wiggle’s +soothing syrup, it “supplies a real want”):<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>Being foreign-born, Dr. Hicok had not the unfailing +moral stamina of a native American, and therefore was +comparatively easily beset by sin. Being, secondly, a +Scotchman, he was not only thoroughly conceited, with a +conceit as immovable as the Bass Rock, just as other +folks sometimes are, but, in particular, he was perfectly +sure of his utter mastery of metaphysics, logic and dialectics, +or, as he used to call it, with a snobbish Teutonicalization, +<i>dialektik</i>. Now, in the latter two, the +Scotch can do something, but in metaphysics they are +simply imbecile; which quality, in the inscrutable providence +of God, has been joined with an equally complete +conviction of the exact opposite. Let not man, therefore, +put those traits asunder—not so much by reason +of any divine ordinance, as because no man in his senses +would try to convince a Scotchman—or anybody else, +for that matter.</p> + +<p>Thirdly, he was a physician and surgeon; and gentlemen +of this profession are prone to become either thoroughgoing +materialists, or else implicit and extreme Calvinistic +Presbyterians, “of the large blue kind.” And +they are, moreover, positive, hard-headed, bold, and +self-confident. So they have good need to be. Did not +Majendie say to his students, “Gentlemen, disease is a +subject which physicians know nothing about”?</p> + +<p>So the doctor both believed in the existence of a personal +devil, and believed in his own ability to get the +upper hand of that individual in a tournament of the wits. +Ah, he learned better by terrible experience! The doctor +was a dry-looking little chap, with sandy hair, a +freckled face, small grey eyes, and absurd white eyebrows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +and eyelashes, which made him look as if he had +finished off his toilet with just a light flourish from the +dredging-box. He was erect of carriage, and of a +prompt, ridiculous alertness of step and motion, very +much like that of Major Wellington De Boots. And his +face commonly wore a kind of complacent serenity such +as the Hindoos ascribe to Buddha. I know a little snappish +dentist’s-goods dealer up town, who might be mistaken +for Hicok-alorum any day.</p> + +<p>Well, well—what had the doctor done? Why—it will +sound absurd, probably, to some unbelieving people—but +really Dr. Hicok confessed the whole story to me himself: +he had made a bargain with the Evil One! And +indeed he was such an uncommonly disagreeable-looking +fellow, that, unless on some such hypothesis, it is impossible +to imagine how he could have prospered as he +did. He gained patients, and cured them too; made +money; invested successfully; bought a brown-stone +front—a house, not a wiglet—then bought other real estate; +began to put his name on charity subscription lists, +and to be made vice-president of various things.</p> + +<p>Chiefest of all,—it must have been by some superhuman +aid that Dr. Hicok married his wife, the then and +present Mrs. Hicok. Dear me! I have described the +doctor easily enough. But how infinitely more difficult +it is to delineate Beauty than the Beast: did you ever +think of it? All I can say is, that she is a very lovely +woman now; and she must have been, when the doctor +married her, one of the loveliest creatures that ever lived—a +lively, graceful, bright-eyed brunette, with thick fine +long black hair, pencilled delicate eyebrows, little pink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +ears, thin high nose, great astonished brown eyes, perfect +teeth, a little rosebud of a mouth, and a figure so +extremely beautiful that nobody believed she did not +pad—hardly even the artists who—those of them at +least who work faithfully in the life-school—are the +very best judges extant of truth in costume and personal +beauty. But, furthermore, she was good, with the innocent +unconscious goodness of a sweet little child; and +of all feminine charms—even beyond her supreme grace +of motion—she possessed the sweetest, the most resistless—a +lovely voice; whose tones, whether in speech or +song, were perfect in sweetness, and with a strange penetrating +sympathetic quality and at the same time with +the most wonderful half-delaying completeness of articulation +and modulation, as if she enjoyed the sound +of her own music. No doubt she did; but it was unconsciously, +like a bird. The voice was so sweet, the +great loveliness and kindness of soul it expressed were +so deep, that, like every exquisite beauty, it rayed forth +a certain sadness within the pleasure it gave. It awakened +infinite, indistinct emotions of beauty and perfection—infinite +longings.</p> + +<p>It’s of no use to tell me that such a spirit—she really +ought not to be noted so low down as amongst human +beings—that such a spirit could have been made glad +by becoming the yoke-fellow of Hicok-alorum, by influences +exclusively human. No!—I don’t believe it—I +won’t believe it—it can’t be believed. I can’t convince +you, of course, for you don’t know her; but if you did, +along with the rest of the evidence, and if your knowledge +was like mine, that from the testimony of my own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +eyes and ears and judgment—you would know, just as I +do, that the doctor’s possession of his wife was the key-stone +of the arch of completed proof on which I found +my absolute assertion that he had made that bargain.</p> + +<p>He certainly had! A most characteristic transaction +too; for while, after the usual fashion, it was agreed +by the “party of the first part,”—viz., Old Scratch—that +Dr. Hicok should succeed in whatever he undertook +during twenty years, and by the party of the second +part, that at the end of that time the D—— should fetch +him in manner and form as is ordinarily provided, yet +there was added a peculiar clause. This was, that, +when the time came for the doctor to depart, he should +be left entirely whole and unharmed, in mind, body, and +estate, provided he could put to the Devil three consecutive +questions, of which either one should be such that +that cunning spirit could not solve it on the spot.</p> + +<p>So for twenty years Dr. Hicok lived and prospered, +and waxed very great. He did not gain one single +pound avoirdupois however, which may perchance seem +strange, but is the most natural thing in the world. Who +ever saw a little, dry, wiry, sandy, freckled man, with +white eyebrows, that did grow fat? And besides, the +doctor spent all his leisure time in hunting up his saving +trinity of questions; and hard study, above all for such +a purpose, is as sure an anti-fattener as Banting.</p> + +<p>He knew the Scotch metaphysicians by heart already, +<i>ex-officio</i> as it were; but he very early gave up the idea +of trying to fool the Devil with such mud-pie as that. +Yet be it understood, that he found cause to except Sir +William Hamilton from the muddle-headed crew. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +chewed a good while, and pretty hopefully, upon the +Quantification of the Predicate; but he had to give that +up too, when he found out how small and how dry a +meat rattled within the big, noisy nut-shell. He read +Saint Thomas Aquinas, and Peter Dens, and a cartload +more of old casuists, Romanist and Protestant.</p> + +<p>He exhausted the learning of the Development +Theory. He studied and experimented up to the existing +limits of knowledge on the question of the Origin of +Life, and then poked out alone, as much farther as he +could, into the ineffable black darkness that is close at +the end of our noses on that, as well as most other questions. +He hammered his way through the whole controversy +on the Freedom of the Will. He mastered the +whole works of Mrs. Henry C. Carey on one side, and +of two hundred and fifty English capitalists and American +college professors on the other, on the question of +Protection or Free Trade. He made, with vast pains, +an extensive collection of the questions proposed at debating +societies and college-students’ societies with long +Greek names. The last effort was a failure. Dr. +Hicok had got the idea, that, from the spontaneous activity +of so many free young geniuses, many wondrous +and suggestive thoughts would be born. Having, however, +tabulated his collection, he found, that, among all +these innumerable gymnasia of intellect, there were +only seventeen questions debated! The doctor read me +a curious little memorandum of his conclusions on this +unexpected fact, which will perhaps be printed some +day.</p> + +<p>He investigated many other things too; for a sharp-witted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +little Presbyterian Scotch doctor, working to cheat +the Devil out of his soul, can accomplish an amazing +deal in twenty years. He even went so far as to take +into consideration mere humbugs; for, if he could cheat +the enemy with a humbug, why not? The only pain in +that case, would be the mortification of having stooped +to an inadequate adversary—a foeman unworthy of his +steel. So he weighed such queries as the old scholastic +<i>brocard, An chimoera bombinans in vacuo devorat secundas +intentiones?</i> and that beautiful moot point wherewith +Sir Thomas More silenced the challenging schoolmen +of Bruges, <i>An averia carrucae capta in vetito nomio +sint irreplegibilia?</i></p> + +<p>He glanced a little at the subject of conundrums; and +among the chips from his workshop is a really clever +theory of conundrums. He has a classification and +discussion of them, all his own, and quite ingenious +and satisfactory, which divides them into answerable +and unanswerable, and, under each of these, into resemblant +and differential.</p> + +<p>For instance: let the four classes be distinguished +with the initials of those four terms, A. R., A. D., U. R., +and U. D.; you will find that the Infinite Possible Conundrum +(so to speak) can always be reduced under one of +those four heads. Using symbols, as they do in discussing +syllogism—indeed, by the way, a conundrum +is only a jocular variation in the syllogism, an intentional +fallacy for fun (read Whately’s <i>Logic</i>, Book III., +and see if it isn’t so)—using symbols, I say, you have +these four “figures:”—</p> + +<p>I. (A. R.) Why is A like B? (answerable): as, Why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +is a gentleman who gives a young lady a young dog, like +a person who rides rapidly up hill? A. Because he +gives a gallop up (gal-a-pup).</p> + +<p><i>Sub-variety</i>; depending upon a violation of something +like the “principle of excluded middle,” a very +fallacy of a fallacy; such as the ancient “nigger-minstrel!” +case, Why is an elephant like a brick? A. Because +neither of them can climb a tree.</p> + +<p>II. (A. D.) Why is A <i>unlike</i> B? (answerable) usually +put thus: What is the difference between A and +B? (Figure I., if worded in the same style, would become: +What is the similarity between A and B?): as, +What is the difference between the old United-States +Bank and the Fulton Ferry-boat signals in thick weather? +A. One is a fog whistle, and the other is a Whig fossil.</p> + +<p>III. (U. R.) Why is A like B? (unanswerable): as +Charles Lamb’s well-known question, Is that your own +hare, or a wig?</p> + +<p>IV. (U. D.) Why is A <i>unlike</i> B? (unanswerable): i. e., +What is the difference, &c., as, What is the difference +between a fac simile and a sick family; or between hydraulics +and raw-hide licks?</p> + +<p>But let me not diverge too far into frivolity. All the +hopefully difficult questions Dr. Hicok set down and +classified. He compiled a set of rules on the subject, +and indeed developed a whole philosophy of it, by which +he struck off, as soluble, questions or classes of them. +Some he thought out himself; others were now and then +answered in some learned book, that led the way +through the very heart of one or another of his biggest +mill-stones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>So it was really none too much time that he had; and, +in truth, he did not actually decide upon his three questions, +until just a week before the fearful day when he +was to put them.</p> + +<p>It came at last, as every day of reckoning surely +comes; and Dr. Hicok, memorandum in hand, sat in +his comfortable library about three o’clock on one beautiful +warm summer afternoon, as pale as a sheet, his +heart thumping away like Mr. Krupp’s biggest steam-hammer +at Essen, his mouth and tongue parched and +feverish, a pitcher of cold water at hand from which +he sipped and sipped, though it seemed as if his throat +repelled it into “the globular state,” or dispersed it into +steam, as red-hot iron does. Around him were the records +of the vast army of doubters and quibblers in whose +works he had been hunting, as a traveller labours +through a jungle, for the deepest doubts, the most remote +inquiries.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, with that sort of hardihood, rather than +reason, which makes a desperate man try to believe by +his will what he longs to know to be true, Dr. Hicok +would say to himself, “I know I’ve got him!” And then +his heart would seem to fall out of him, it sank so suddenly, +and with so deadly a faintness, as the other side +of his awful case loomed before him, and he thought, +“But if—?” He would not finish <i>that</i> question; he +could not. The furthest point to which he could bring +himself was that of a sort of icy outer stiffening of acquiescence +in the inevitable.</p> + +<p>There was a ring at the street-door. The servant +brought in a card, on a silver salver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p>MR. APOLLO LYON</p> +</div> + +<p>“Show the gentleman in,” said the doctor. He spoke +with difficulty; for the effort to control his own nervous +excitement was so immense an exertion, that he hardly +had the self-command and muscular energy even to articulate.</p> + +<p>The servant returned, and ushered into the library a +handsome, youngish, middle-aged and middle-sized gentleman, +pale, with large melancholy black eyes, and +dressed in the most perfect and quiet style.</p> + +<p>The doctor arose, and greeted his visitor with a degree +of steadiness and politeness that did him the greatest +credit.</p> + +<p>“How do you do, sir?” he said: “I am happy”—but +it struck him that he wasn’t, and he stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Very right, my dear sir,” replied the guest, in a voice +that was musical but perceptibly sad, or rather patient +in tone. “Very right; how hollow those formulas are! +I hate all forms and ceremonies! But I am glad to see +<i>you</i>, doctor. Now, that is really the fact.”</p> + +<p>No doubt! “Divil doubt him!” as an Irishman would +say. So is a cat glad to see a mouse in its paw. Something +like these thoughts arose in the doctor’s mind; he +smiled as affably as he could, and requested the visitor +to be seated.</p> + +<p>“Thanks!” replied he, and took the chair which the +doctor moved up to the table for him. He placed his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +hat and gloves on the table. There was a brief pause, +as might happen if any two friends sat down at their +ease for a chat on matters and things in general. The +visitor turned over a volume or two that lay on the +table.</p> + +<p>“The Devil,” he read from one of them; “His Origin, +Greatness, and Decadence. By the Rev. A. Réville, +D.D.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he commented quietly. “A Frenchman, I observe. +If it had been an Englishman, I should fancy +he wrote the book for the sake of the rhyme in the title. +Do you know, doctor, I fancy that incredulity of his will +substitute one dash for the two periods in the reverend +gentleman’s degree! I know no one greater condition of +success in some lines of operation, than to have one’s existence +thoroughly disbelieved in.”</p> + +<p>The doctor forced himself to reply: “I hardly know +how I came to have the book here. Yet he does make +out a pretty strong case. I confess I would like to be +certified that he is right. Suppose you allow yourself +to be convinced?” And the poor fellow grinned: it +couldn’t be called a smile.</p> + +<p>“Why, really, I’ll look into it. I’ve considered the +point though, not that I’m sure I could choose. And +you know, as the late J. Milton very neatly observed, one +would hardly like to lose one’s intellectual being, +‘though full of pain;’” and he smiled, not unkindly but +sadly, and then resumed: “A Bible too. Very good +edition. I remember seeing it stated that a professional +person made it his business to find errors of the press +in one of the Bible Society’s editions—this very one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +I think; and the only one he could discover was a single +‘wrong font.’ Very accurate work—very!”</p> + +<p>He had been turning over the leaves indifferently as +he spoke, and laid the volume easily back. “Curious +old superstition that,” he remarked, “that certain personages +were made uncomfortable by this work!” And +he gave the doctor a glance, as much as to ask, in the +most delicate manner in the world, “Did you put that +there to scare me with?”</p> + +<p>I think the doctor blushed a little. He had not really +expected, you know,—still, in case there should be any +prophylactic influence—? No harm done, in any +event; and that was precisely the observation made by +the guest.</p> + +<p>“No harm done, my dear fellow!” he said, in his +calm, quiet, musical voice. No good, either, I imagine +they both of them added to themselves.</p> + +<p>There is an often repeated observation, that people +under the pressure of an immeasurable misery or agony +seem to take on a preternaturally sharp vision for +minute details, such as spots in the carpet, and sprigs in +the wall-paper, threads on a sleeve, and the like. Probably +the doctor felt this influence. He had dallied a +little, too, with the crisis; and so did his visitor—from +different motives, no doubt; and, as he sat there, his eye +fell on the card that had just been brought to him.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said; “but might I ask a +question about your card?”</p> + +<p>“Most certainly, doctor: what is it?”</p> + +<p>“Why—it’s always a liberty to ask questions about a +gentleman’s name, and we Scotchmen are particularly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +sensitive on the point; but I have always been interested +in the general subject of patronomatology.”</p> + +<p>The other, by a friendly smile and a deprecating wave +of the hand, renewed his welcome to the doctor’s question.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s this: How did you come to decide upon +that form of name—Mr. Apollo Lyon?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! just a little fancy of mine. It’s a newly-invented +variable card, I believe they call it. There’s a +temporary ink arrangement. It struck me it was liable +to abuse in case of an assumption of <i>aliases</i>; but perhaps +that’s none of my business. You can easily take +off the upper name, and another one comes out underneath. +I’m always interested in inventions. See.”</p> + +<p>And as the text, “But they have sought out many inventions,” +passed through Dr. Hicok’s mind, the other +drew forth a white handkerchief, and, rubbing the card +in a careless sort of way, laid it down before the doctor. +Perhaps the strain on the poor doctor’s nerves was unsteadying +him by this time: he may not have seen right; +but he seemed to see only one name, as if compounded +from the former two.</p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p>APOLLYON</p> +</div> + +<p>And it seemed to be in red ink instead of black; and +the lines seemed to creep and throb and glow, as if the +red were the red of fire, instead of vermilion. But red +is an extremely trying colour to the eyes. However, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +doctor, startled as he was, thought best not to raise any +further queries, and only said, perhaps with some difficulty, +“Very curious, I’m sure!”</p> + +<p>“Well, doctor,” said Mr. Lyon, or whatever his name +was, “I don’t want to hurry you, but I suppose we might +as well have our little business over?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes. I suppose you wouldn’t care to consider +any question of compromises or substitutes?”</p> + +<p>“I fear it’s out of the question, really,” was the reply, +most kindly in tone, but with perfect distinctness.</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence. It seemed to Dr. +Hicok as if the beating of his heart must fill the room, +it struck so heavily, and the blood seemed to surge with +so loud a rush through the carotids up past his ears. +“Shall I be found to have gone off with a rush of blood +to the head?” he thought to himself. But—it can very +often be done by a resolute effort—he gathered himself +together as it were, and with one powerful exertion mastered +his disordered nerves. Then he lifted his memorandum, +gave one glance at the sad, calm face opposite +him, and spoke.</p> + +<p>“You know they’re every once in a while explaining a +vote, as they call it, in Congress. It don’t make any +difference, I know; but it seems to me as if I should put +you more fully in possession of my meaning, if I should +just say a word or two, about the reasons for my selection.”</p> + +<p>The visitor bowed with his usual air of pleasant acquiescence.</p> + +<p>“I am aware,” said Dr. Hicok, “that my selection +would seem thoroughly commonplace to most people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +Yet nobody knows better than you do, my dear sir, that +the oldest questions are the newest. The same vitality +which is so strong in them, as to raise them as soon as +thought begins, is infinite, and maintains them as long +as thought endures. Indeed, I may say to you frankly, +that it is by no means on novelty, but rather on antiquity, +that I rely.”</p> + +<p>The doctor’s hearer bowed with an air of approving +interest. “Very justly reasoned,” he observed. The +doctor went on—</p> + +<p>“I have, I may say—and under the circumstances I +shall not be suspected of conceit—made pretty much the +complete circuit of unsolved problems. They class exactly +as those questions do which we habitually reckon +as solved: under the three subjects to which they relate—God, +the intelligent creation, the unintelligent creation. +Now, I have selected my questions accordingly—one for +each of those divisions. Whether I have succeeded in +satisfying the conditions necessary will appear quickly. +But you see that I have not stooped to any quibbling, or +begging either. I have sought to protect myself by the +honourable use of a masculine reason.”</p> + +<p>“Your observations interest me greatly,” remarked +the audience. “Not the less so, that they are so accurately +coincident with my own habitual lines of +thought—at least, so far as I can judge from what you +have said. Indeed, suppose you had called upon me to +help you prepare insoluble problems. I was bound, I +suppose, to comply to the best of my ability; and, if I +had done so, those statements of yours are thus far the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +very preface I supplied—I beg your pardon—should +have supplied—you with. I fancy I could almost state +the questions. Well?”—</p> + +<p>All this was most kind and complimentary; but somehow +it did not encourage the doctor in the least. He +even fancied that he detected a sneer, as if his interlocutor +had been saying, “Flutter away, old bird! That +was <i>my bait</i> that you have been feeding on: you’re safe +enough; it is my net that holds you.”</p> + +<p>“<i>First Question</i>,” said Dr. Hicok, with steadiness: +“Reconcile the foreknowledge and the fore-ordination +of God with the free will of man?”</p> + +<p>“I thought so, of course,” remarked the other. Then +he looked straight into the doctor’s keen little grey eyes +with his deep melancholy black ones, and raised his +slender fore-finger. “Most readily. The reconciliation +is <i>your own conscience</i>, doctor! Do what you know to +be right, and you will find that there is nothing to reconcile—that +you and your Maker have no debates to +settle!”</p> + +<p>The words were spoken with a weighty solemnity and +conviction that were even awful. The doctor had a +conscience, though he had found himself practically +forced, for the sake of success, to use a good deal of +constraint with it—in fact, to lock it up, as it were, in a +private mad-house, on an unfounded charge of lunacy. +But the obstinate thing would not die, and would not +lose its wits; and now all of a sudden, and from the +very last quarter where it was to be expected, came a +summons before whose intensity of just requirement no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +bolts could stand. The doctor’s conscience walked out +of her prison, and came straight up to the field of battle, +and said—</p> + +<p>“Give up the first question.”</p> + +<p>And he obeyed.</p> + +<p>“I confess it,” he said. “But how could I have expected +a great basic truth both religiously and psychologically +so, from—from <i>you</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! my dear sir,” was the reply, “you have erred in +<i>that</i> line of thought, exactly as many others have. The +truth is one and the same, to God, man, and devil.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Second Question</i>,” said Dr. Hicok. “Reconcile the +development theory, connection of natural selection and +sexual relation, with the responsible immortality of the +soul.”</p> + +<p>“Unquestionably,” assented the other, as if to say, +“Just as I expected.”</p> + +<p>“No theory of creation has any logical connection +with any doctrine of immortality. What was the motive +of creation?—<i>that</i> would be a question! If you +had asked me <i>that</i>! But the question, ‘Where did men +come from?’ has no bearing on the question, ‘Have they +any duties now that they are here?’ The two are reconciled, +because they do not differ. You can’t state any +inconsistency between a yard measure and a fifty-six +pound weight.”</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded; he sat down; he took a glass of +water, and pressed his hand to his heart. “Now, then,” +he said to himself, “once more! If I have to stand this +fifteen minutes I shall be in <i>some</i> other world!”</p> + +<p>The door from the inner room opened; and Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +Hicok came singing in, carrying balanced upon her +pretty pink fore-finger something or other of an airy +bouquet-like fabric. Upon this she was looking with +much delight.</p> + +<p>“See, dear!” she said: “how perfectly lovely!”</p> + +<p>Both gentlemen started, and the lady started too. +She had not known of the visit; and she had not, until +this instant, seen that her husband was not alone.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hicok, of course, had never given her the key to +his skeleton-closet; for he was a shrewd man. He loved +her too; and he thought he had provided for her absence +during the ordeal. She had executed her shopping with +unprecedented speed.</p> + +<p>Why the visitor started, would be difficult to say. +Perhaps her voice startled him. The happy music in it +was enough like a beautified duplicate of his own thrilling +sweet tones, to have made him acknowledge her for +a sister—from heaven. He started, at any rate.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Lyon, my wife,” said the doctor, somewhat at a +loss. Mr. Lyon bowed, and so did the lady.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I am sure,” she said. +“I did not know you were busy, dear. There is a +thunder-shower coming up. I drove home just in +season.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!—only a little wager, about some conundrums,” +said the doctor. Perhaps he may be excused for his +fib. He did not want to annoy her unnecessarily.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do let me know!” she said, with much eagerness. +“You know how I enjoy them!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said the doctor, “not exactly the ordinary +kind. I was to puzzle my friend here with one out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +three questions; and he has beaten me in two of them already. +I’ve but one more chance.”</p> + +<p>“Only one?” she asked, with a smile. “What a +bright man your friend must be! I thought nobody +could puzzle you, dear. Stay; let <i>me</i> ask the other +question.”</p> + +<p>Both the gentlemen started again: it was quite a surprise.</p> + +<p>“But are you a married man, Mr. Lyon?” she asked, +with a blush.</p> + +<p>“No, madam,” was the reply, with a very graceful +bow—“I have a mother, but no wife. Permit me to +say, that, if I could believe there was a duplicate of +yourself in existence, I would be as soon as possible.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what a gallant speech!” said the lady. “Thank +you, sir, very much;” and she made him a pretty little +curtsy. “Then I am quite sure of my question, sir. +Shall I, dear?”</p> + +<p>The doctor quickly decided. “I am done for, anyhow,” +he reflected. “I begin to see that the old villain +put those questions into my head himself. He hinted +as much. I don’t know but I’d rather she would ask +it. It’s better to have her kill me, I guess, than to +hold out the carving-knife to him myself.”</p> + +<p>“With all my heart, my dear,” said the doctor, “if +Mr. Lyon consents.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Lyon looked a little disturbed; but his manner +was perfect, as he replied that he regretted to seem to +disoblige, but that he feared the conditions of their little +bet would not allow it.</p> + +<p>“Beg your pardon, I’m sure, for being so uncivil,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>” +said the lively little beauty, as she whispered a few +words in her husband’s ear.</p> + +<p>This is what she said—</p> + +<p>“What’s mine’s yours, dear. Take it. Ask him—buz, +buzz, buzz.”</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. Mrs. Hicok stood by him and +smiled, still holding in her pretty pink fore-finger the +frail shimmering thing just mentioned; and she gave it +a twirl, so that it swung quite round. “Isn’t it a love of +a bonnet?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” the doctor said aloud. “I adopt the question.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Third Question. Which is the front side of this?</i>”</p> + +<p>And he pointed to the bonnet. It must have been a +bonnet, because Mrs. Hicok called it so. I shouldn’t +have known it from the collection of things in a kaleidoscope, +bunched up together.</p> + +<p>The lady stood before him, and twirled the wondrous +fabric round and round, with the prettiest possible unconscious +roguish look of defiance. The doctor’s very +heart stood still.</p> + +<p>“Put it on, please,” said Mr. Lyon, in the most innocent +way in the world.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” laughed she. “I know I’m only a woman, +but I’m not <i>quite</i> so silly! But I’ll tell you what: you +men put it on, if you think that will help you!” And +she held out the mystery to him.</p> + +<p>Confident in his powers of discrimination, Mr. Lyon +took hold of the fairy-like combination of sparkles and +threads and feathers and flowers, touching it with that +sort of timid apprehension that bachelors use with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +baby. He stood before the glass over the mantelpiece. +First he put it across his head with one side in front, +and then with the other. Then he put it lengthways of +his head, and tried the effect of tying one of the two +couples of strings under each of his ears. Then he put +it on, the other side up; so that it swam on his head like +a boat, with a high mounted bow and stern. More than +once he did all this, with obvious care and thoughtfulness.</p> + +<p>Then he came slowly back, and resumed his seat. It +was growing very dark, though they had not noticed it; +for the thunder-shower had been hurrying on, and already +its advanced guard of wind, heavy laden with the +smell of the rain, could be heard, and a few large drops +splashed on the window.</p> + +<p>The beautiful wife of the doctor laughed merrily to +watch the growing discomposure of the visitor, who returned +the bonnet, with undiminished courtesy, but with +obvious constraint of manner.</p> + +<p>He looked down; he drummed on the table; he looked +up; and both the doctor and the doctor’s wife were +startled at the intense sudden anger in the dark, handsome +face. Then he sprang up, and went to the window. +He looked out a moment, and then said—</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, that is going to be a very sharp +squall! The clouds are <i>very</i> heavy. If I’m any judge, +something will be struck. I can feel the electricity in +the air.”</p> + +<p>While he still spoke, the first thunder-bolt crashed +overhead. It was one of those close, sudden, overpoweringly +awful explosions from clouds very heavy and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +very near, where the lightning and the thunder leap together +out of the very air close about you, even as if you +were in them. It was an unendurable burst of sound, +and of the intense white sheety light of very near lightning. +Dreadfully frightened, the poor little lady clung +close to her husband. He, poor man, if possible yet +more frightened, exhausted as he was by what he had +been enduring, fainted dead away. Don’t blame him: a +cast-iron bull-dog might have fainted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hicok, thinking that her husband was struck +dead by the lightning, screamed terribly. Then she +touched him; and, seeing what was really the matter, +administered cold water from the pitcher on the table. +Shortly he revived.</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, love. I thought you were dead. He +must have gone away. Did it strike the house?”</p> + +<p>“Gone away? Thank God! Thank <i>you</i>, dear!” +cried out the doctor.</p> + +<p>Not knowing any adequate cause for so much emotion, +she answered him—</p> + +<p>“Now, love, don’t you ever say women are not practical +again. That was a practical question, you see. +But didn’t it strike the house? What a queer smell. +Ozone: isn’t that what you were telling me about? How +funny, that lightning should have a smell!”</p> + +<p>“I believe there’s no doubt of it,” observed Dr. Hicok.</p> + +<p>Mr. Apollo Lyon had really gone, though just how or +when, nobody could say.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” said Dr. Hicok, “I do so like that bonnet +of yours! I don’t wonder it puzzled him. It would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +puzzle the Devil himself. I firmly believe I shall call +it your Devil-puzzler.”</p> + +<p>But he never told her what the puzzle had been.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> By permission of G. P. Putnam’s Sons, Publishers. New York and +London.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_ROUND20" id="THE_DEVILS_ROUND20"></a>THE DEVIL’S ROUND<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span><br /> + +<span style="font-size: 70%">A TALE OF FLEMISH GOLF</span></h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES DEULIN<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_ROUND_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The following story, translated by Miss Isabel Bruce from +<i>Le Grand Choleur</i> of M. Charles Deulin (<i>Contes du Roi Gambrinus</i>), +gives a great deal of information about French and +Flemish golf. As any reader will see, this ancient game represents +a stage of evolution between golf and hockey. The object +is to strike a ball, in as few strokes as possible, to a given point; +but, after every three strokes, the opponent is allowed to <i>décholer</i>, +or make one stroke back, or into a hazard. Here the element +of hockey comes in. Get rid of this element, let each +man hit his own ball, and, in place of striking to a point—say, +the cemetery gate—let men “putt” into holes, and the +Flemish game becomes golf. It is of great antiquity. Ducange, +in his Lexicon of Low Latin, gives <i>Choulla</i>, French +<i>choule</i> = “Globulus ligneus qui clava propellitur”—a wooden +ball struck with a club. The head of the club was of iron (cf. +<i>crossare</i>). This is borne out by a miniature in a missal of +1504, which represents peasants playing <i>choule</i> with clubs very +like niblicks. Ducange quotes various MS. references of 1353, +1357, and other dates older by a century than our earliest +Scotch references to golf. At present the game is played in +Belgium with a strangely-shaped lofting-iron and a ball of +beechwood. M. Zola (<i>Germinal</i>, p. 310) represents his miners +playing <i>chole</i>, or <i>choulle</i>, and says that they hit drives of more +than 500 yards. Experiments made at Wimbledon with a Belgian +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>club sent over by M. Charles Michel suggest that M. Zola +has over-estimated the distance. But M. Zola and M. Deulin +agree in making the players <i>run</i> after the ball. M. Henri +Gaidoz adds that a similar game, called <i>soule</i>, is played in various +departments of France. He refers to Laisnel de la Salle. +The name <i>chole</i> may be connected with German <i>Kolbe</i>, and +<i>golf</i> may be the form which this word would assume in a +Celtic language. All this makes golf very old; but the question +arises, Are the “holes” to which golfers play of Scotch or +of Dutch origin? There are several old Flemish pictures of +golf; do any of them show players in the act of “holing out”? +There is said to be such a picture at Neuchâtel.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">A. Lang.</span>]</p></div> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Once upon a time there lived at the hamlet of Coq, +near Condé-sur-l’Escaut, a wheelwright called Roger. +He was a good fellow, untiring both at his sport and at +his toil, and as skilful in lofting a ball with a stroke of +his club as in putting together a cartwheel. Every one +knows that the game of golf consists in driving towards +a given point a ball of cherrywood with a club which +has for head a sort of little iron shoe without a heel.</p> + +<p>For my part, I do not know a more amusing game; +and when the country is almost cleared of the harvest, +men, women, children, everybody, drives his ball as +you please, and there is nothing cheerier than to see +them filing on a Sunday like a flight of starlings across +potato fields and ploughed lands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Well, one Tuesday, it was a Shrove Tuesday, the +wheelwright of Coq laid aside his plane, and was slipping +on his blouse to go and drink his can of beer at +Condé, when two strangers came in, club in hand.</p> + +<p>“Would you put a new shaft to my club, master?” +said one of them.</p> + +<p>“What are you asking me, friends? A day like +this! I wouldn’t give the smallest stroke of the chisel +for a brick of gold. Besides, does any one play golf +on Shrove Tuesday? You had much better go and see +the mummers tumbling in the high street of Condé.”</p> + +<p>“We take no interest in the tumbling of mummers,” +replied the stranger. “We have challenged each other +at golf and we want to play it out. Come, you won’t refuse +to help us, you who are said to be one of the finest +players of the country?”</p> + +<p>“If it is a match, that is different,” said Roger.</p> + +<p>He turned up his sleeves, hooked on his apron, and +in the twinkling of an eye had adjusted the shaft.</p> + +<p>“How much do I owe you?” asked the unknown, drawing +out his purse.</p> + +<p>“Nothing at all, faith; it is not worth while.”</p> + +<p>The stranger insisted, but in vain.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>“You are too honest, i’faith,” said he to the wheelwright, +“for me to be in your debt. I will grant you +the fulfilment of three wishes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Don’t forget to wish what is <i>best</i>,” added his companion.</p> + +<p>At these words the wheelwright smiled incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Are you not a couple of the loafers of Capelette?” +he asked, with a wink.</p> + +<p>The idlers of the crossways of Capelette were considered +the wildest wags in Condé.</p> + +<p>“Whom do you take us for?” replied the unknown +in a tone of severity, and with his club he touched an +axle, made of iron, which instantly changed into one of +pure silver.</p> + +<p>“Who are you, then,” cried Roger, “that your word +is as good as ready money?”</p> + +<p>“I am St. Peter, and my companion is St. Antony, the +patron of golfers.”</p> + +<p>“Take the trouble to walk in, gentlemen,” said the +wheelwright of Coq; and he ushered the two saints into +the back parlour. He offered them chairs, and went to +draw a jug of beer in the cellar. They clinked their +glasses together, and after each had lit his pipe:</p> + +<p>“Since you are so good, sir saints,” said Roger, “as to +grant me the accomplishment of three wishes, know +that for a long while I have desired three things. I +wish, first of all, that whoever seats himself upon the +elm-trunk at my door may not be able to rise without +my permission. I like company and it bores me to be +always alone.”</p> + +<p>St. Peter shook his head and St. Antony nudged his +client.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>“When I play a game of cards, on Sunday evening, at +the ‘Fighting Cock,’” continued the wheelwright, “it is +no sooner nine o’clock than the garde-champêtre comes +to chuck us out. I desire that whoever shall have his +feet on my leathern apron cannot be driven from the +place where I shall have spread it.”</p> + +<p>St. Peter shook his head, and St. Antony, with a solemn +air, repeated:</p> + +<p>“Don’t forget what is <i>best</i>.”</p> + +<p>“What is best,” replied the wheelwright of Coq, nobly, +“is to be the first golfer in the world. Every time I +find my master at golf it turns my blood as black as the +inside of the chimney. So I want a club that will carry +the ball as high as the belfry of Condé, and will infallibly +win me my match.”</p> + +<p>“So be it,” said St. Peter.</p> + +<p>“You would have done better,” said St. Antony, “to +have asked for your eternal salvation.”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” replied the other. “I have plenty of time to +think of that; I am not yet greasing my boots for the +long journey.”</p> + +<p>The two saints went out and Roger followed them, +curious to be present at such a rare game; but suddenly, +near the Chapel of St. Antony, they disappeared.</p> + +<p>The wheelwright then went to see the mummers tumbling +in the high street of Condé.</p> + +<p>When he returned, towards midnight, he found at the +corner of his door the desired club. To his great surprise +it was only a bad little iron head attached to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +wretched worn-out shaft. Nevertheless he took the gift +of St. Peter and put it carefully away.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>Next morning the Condéens scattered in crowds over +the country, to play golf, eat red herrings, and drink +beer, so as to scatter the fumes of wine from their heads +and to revive after the fatigues of the Carnival. The +wheelwright of Coq came too, with his miserable club, +and made such fine strokes that all the players left their +games to see him play. The following Sunday he +proved still more expert; little by little his fame spread +through the land. From ten leagues round the most +skilful players hastened to come and be beaten, and it +was then that he was named the Great Golfer.</p> + +<p>He passed the whole Sunday in golfing, and in the +evening he rested himself by playing a game of matrimony +at the “Fighting Cock.” He spread his apron +under the feet of the players, and the devil himself +could not have put them out of the tavern, much less the +rural policeman. On Monday morning he stopped the +pilgrims who were going to worship at Notre Dame de +Bon Secours; he induced them to rest themselves upon +his <i>causeuse</i>, and did not let them go before he had confessed +them well.</p> + +<p>In short, he led the most agreeable life that a good +Fleming can imagine, and only regretted one thing—namely, +that he had not wished it might last for ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>Well, it happened one day that the strongest player +of Mons, who was called Paternostre, was found dead on +the edge of a bunker. His head was broken, and near +him was his niblick, red with blood.</p> + +<p>They could not tell who had done this business, and as +Paternostre often said that at golf he feared neither man +nor devil, it occurred to them that he had challenged +Mynheer van Belzébuth, and that as a punishment for +this he had knocked him on the head. Mynheer van +Belzébuth is, as every one knows, the greatest gamester +that there is upon or under the earth, but the game he +particularly affects is golf. When he goes his round in +Flanders one always meets him, club in hand, like a +true Fleming.</p> + +<p>The wheelwright of Coq was very fond of Paternostre, +who, next to himself, was the best golfer in the country. +He went to his funeral with some golfers from the hamlets +of Coq, La Cigogne, and La Queue de l’Ayache.</p> + +<p>On returning from the cemetery they went to the +tavern to drink, as they say, to the memory of the dead,<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> +and there they lost themselves in talk about the noble +game of golf. When they separated, in the dusk of +evening:</p> + +<p>“A good journey to you,” said the Belgian players, +“and may St. Antony, the patron of golfers, preserve +you from meeting the devil on the way!”</p> + +<p>“What do I care for the devil?” replied Roger. “If +he challenged me I should soon beat him!”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> +<p>The companions trotted from tavern to tavern without +misadventure; but the wolf-bell had long tolled for retiring +in the belfry of Condé when they returned each +one to his own den.</p> + + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>As he was putting the key into the lock the wheelwright +thought he heard a shout of mocking laughter. +He turned, and saw in the darkness a man six feet high, +who again burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>“What are you laughing at?” said he, crossly.</p> + +<p>“At what? Why, at the <i>aplomb</i> with which you +boasted a little while ago that you would dare measure +yourself against the devil.”</p> + +<p>“Why not, if he challenged me?”</p> + +<p>“Very well, my master, bring your clubs. I challenge +you!” said Mynheer van Belzébuth, for it was +himself. Roger recognized him by a certain odour of +sulphur that always hangs about his majesty.</p> + +<p>“What shall the stake be?” he asked resolutely.</p> + +<p>“Your soul?”</p> + +<p>“Against what?”</p> + +<p>“Whatever you please.”</p> + +<p>The wheelwright reflected.</p> + +<p>“What have you there in your sack?”</p> + +<p>“My spoils of the week.”</p> + +<p>“Is the soul of Paternostre among them?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure! and those of five other golfers; dead, +like him, without confession.”</p> + +<p>“I play you my soul against that of Paternostre.”</p> + +<p>“Done!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>”</p> + + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p>The two adversaries repaired to the adjoining field +and chose for their goal the door of the cemetery of +Condé.<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> Belzébuth teed a ball on a frozen heap, after +which he said, according to custom:</p> + +<p>“From here, as you lie, in how many turns of three +strokes will you run in?”</p> + +<p>“In two,” replied the great golfer.</p> + +<p>And his adversary was not a little surprised, for +from there to the cemetery was nearly a quarter of a +league.</p> + +<p>“But how shall we see the ball?” continued the wheelwright.</p> + +<p>“True!” said Belzébuth.</p> + +<p>He touched the ball with his club, and it shone suddenly +in the dark like an immense glowworm.</p> + +<p>“Fore!” cried Roger.</p> + +<p>He hit the ball with the head of his club, and it rose +to the sky like a star going to rejoin its sisters. In three +strokes it crossed three-quarters of the distance.</p> + +<p>“That is good!” said Belzébuth, whose astonishment +redoubled. “My turn to play now!”<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> + +<p>With one stroke of the club he drove the ball over the +roofs of Coq nearly to Maison Blanche, half a league +away. The blow was so violent that the iron struck +fire against a pebble.</p> + +<p>“Good St. Antony! I am lost, unless you come to my +aid,” murmured the wheelwright of Coq.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p><p>He struck tremblingly; but, though his arm was uncertain, +the club seemed to have acquired a new vigour. +At the second stroke the ball went as if of itself and hit +the door of the cemetery.</p> + +<p>“By the horns of my grandfather!” cried Belzébuth, +“it shall not be said that I have been beaten by a son of +that fool Adam. Give me my revenge.”</p> + +<p>“What shall we play for?”</p> + +<p>“Your soul and that of Paternostre against the souls +of two golfers.”</p> + + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p>The devil played up, “pressing” furiously; his club +blazed at each stroke with showers of sparks. The ball +flew from Condé to Bon-Secours, to Pernwelz, to Leuze. +Once it spun away to Tournai, six leagues from there.</p> + +<p>It left behind a luminous tail like a comet, and the +two golfers followed, so to speak, on its track. Roger +was never able to understand how he ran, or rather flew +so fast, and without fatigue.</p> + +<p>In short, he did not lose a single game, and won the +souls of the six defunct golfers. Belzébuth rolled his +eyes like an angry tom-cat.</p> + +<p>“Shall we go on?” said the wheelwright of Coq.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the other; “they expect me at the +Witches’ Sabbath on the hill of Copiémont.</p> + +<p>“That brigand,” said he aside, “is capable of filching +all my game.”</p> + +<p>And he vanished.</p> + +<p>Returned home, the great golfer shut up his souls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +in a sack and went to bed, enchanted to have beaten +Mynheer van Belzébuth.</p> + + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p>Two years after the wheelwright of Coq received a +visit which he little expected. An old man, tall, thin +and yellow, came into the workshop carrying a scythe +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Are you bringing me your scythe to haft anew, master?”</p> + +<p>“No, faith, <i>my</i> scythe is never unhafted.”</p> + +<p>“Then how can I serve you?”</p> + +<p>“By following me: your hour is come.”</p> + +<p>“The devil,” said the great golfer, “could you not +wait a little till I have finished this wheel?”</p> + +<p>“Be it so! I have done hard work today and I have +well earned a smoke.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, master, sit down there on the <i>causeuse</i>. +I have at your service some famous tobacco at seven +petards the pound.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good, faith; make haste.”</p> + +<p>And Death lit his pipe and seated himself at the door +on the elm trunk.</p> + +<p>Laughing in his sleeve, the wheelwright of Coq returned +to his work. At the end of a quarter of an hour +Death called to him:</p> + +<p>“Ho! faith, will you soon have finished?”</p> + +<p>The wheelwright turned a deaf ear and went on planing, +singing:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Attendez-moi sur l’orme;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vous m’attendrez longtemps.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“I don’t think he hears me,” said Death. “Ho! +friend, are you ready?”</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Va-t-en voir s’ils viennent, Jean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Va-t-en voir s’ils viennent,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ni">replied the singer.</p> + +<p>“Would the brute laugh at me?” said Death to himself.</p> + +<p>And he tried to rise.</p> + +<p>To his great surprise he could not detach himself +from the <i>causeuse</i>. He then understood that he was the +sport of a superior power.</p> + +<p>“Let us see,” he said to Roger. “What will you take +to let me go? Do you wish me to prolong your life +ten years?”</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“J’ai de bon tabac dans ma tabatière,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ni">sang the great golfer.</p> + +<p>“Will you take twenty years?”</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Il pleut, il pleut, bergère;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rentre tes blancs moutons.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Will you take a fifty, wheelwright?—may the devil +admire you!”</p> + +<p>The wheelwright of Coq intoned:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Bon voyage, cher Dumollet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Saint-Malo débarquez sans naufrage.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the meanwhile the clock of Condé had just struck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +four, and the boys were coming out of school. The +sight of this great dry heron of a creature who struggled +on the <i>causeuse</i>, like a devil in a holy-water pot, +surprised and soon delighted them.</p> + +<p>Never suspecting that when seated at the door of the +old, Death watches the young, they thought it funny to +put out their tongues at him, singing in chorus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Bon voyage, cher Dumollet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Saint-Malo débarquez sans naufrage.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Will you take a hundred years?” yelled Death.</p> + +<p>“Hein? How? What? Were you not speaking of +an extension of a hundred years? I accept with all my +heart, master; but let us understand: I am not such a +fool as to ask for the lengthening of my old age.”</p> + +<p>“Then what do you want?”</p> + +<p>“From old age I only ask the experience which it +gives by degrees. ‘Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait!’ +says the proverb. I wish to preserve for a hundred +years the strength of a young man, and to acquire +the knowledge of an old one.”</p> + +<p>“So be it,” said Death; “I shall return this day a +hundred years.”</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Bon voyage, cher Dumollet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Saint-Malo débarquez sans naufrage.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p>The great golfer began a new life. At first he enjoyed +perfect happiness, which was increased by the certainty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +of its not ending for a hundred years. Thanks to +his experience, he so well understood the management +of his affairs that he could leave his mallet and shut up +shop.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p> + +<p>He experienced, nevertheless, an annoyance he had +not foreseen. His wonderful skill at golf ended by +frightening the players whom he had at first delighted, +and was the cause of his never finding any one who +would play against him.</p> + +<p>He therefore quitted the canton and set out on his +travels over French Flanders, Belgium, and all the +greens where the noble game of golf is held in honour. +At the end of twenty years he returned to Coq to be admired +by a new generation of golfers, after which he +departed to return twenty years later.</p> + +<p>Alas! in spite of its apparent charm, this existence before +long became a burden to him. Besides that, it +bored him to win on every occasion; he was tired of passing +like the Wandering Jew through generations, and of +seeing the sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons of his +friends grow old, and die out. He was constantly reduced +to making new friendships which were undone +by the age or death of his fellows; all changed around +him, he only did not change.</p> + +<p>He grew impatient of this eternal youthfulness which +condemned him to taste the same pleasures for ever, +and he sometimes longed to know the calmer joys of old +age. One day he caught himself at his looking-glass, +examining whether his hair had not begun to grow +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>white; nothing seemed so beautiful to him now as the +snow on the forehead of the old.</p> + + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p>In addition to this, experience soon made him so wise +that he was no longer amused at anything. If sometimes +in the tavern he had a fancy for making use of his +apron to pass the night at cards: “What is the good of +this excess?” whispered experience; “it is not sufficient +to be unable to shorten one’s days, one must also avoid +making oneself ill.”</p> + +<p>He reached the point of refusing himself the pleasure +of drinking his pint and smoking his pipe. Why, indeed, +plunge into dissipations which enervate the body +and dull the brain?</p> + +<p><i>The wretch went further and gave up golf!</i> Experience +convinced him that the game is a dangerous one, +which overheats one, and is eminently adapted to produce +colds, catarrhs, rheumatism, and inflammation of +the lungs.</p> + +<p>Besides, what is the use, and what great glory is it to +be reputed the first golfer in the world?</p> + +<p>Of what use is glory itself? A vain hope, vain as the +smoke of a pipe.</p> + +<p>When experience had thus bereft him one by one of +his delusions, the unhappy golfer became mortally +weary. He saw that he had deceived himself, that delusion +has its price, and that the greatest charm of +youth is perhaps its inexperience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>He thus arrived at the term agreed on in the contract, +and as he had not had a paradise here below, he sought +through his hardly-acquired wisdom a clever way of +conquering one above.</p> + + +<h4>XIII</h4> + +<p>Death found him at Coq at work in his shop. Experience +had at least taught him that work is the most +lasting of pleasures.</p> + +<p>“Are you ready?” said Death.</p> + +<p>“I am.”</p> + +<p>He took his club, put a score of balls in his pocket, +threw his sack over his shoulder, and buckled his gaiters +without taking off his apron.</p> + +<p>“What do you want your club for?”</p> + +<p>“Why, to golf in paradise with my patron St. Antony.”</p> + +<p>“Do you fancy, then, that I am going to conduct you +to paradise?”</p> + +<p>“You must, as I have half-a-dozen souls to carry +there, that I once saved from the clutches of Belzébuth.”</p> + +<p>“Better have saved your own. <i>En route, cher Dumollet!</i>”</p> + +<p>The great golfer saw that the old reaper bore him a +grudge, and that he was going to conduct him to the +paradise of the lost.<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> + +<p>Indeed a quarter of an hour later the two travellers +knocked at the gate of hell.</p> + +<p>“Toc, toc!”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> +<p>“Who is there?”</p> + +<p>“The wheelwright of Coq,” said the great golfer.</p> + +<p>“Don’t open the door,” cried Belzébuth; “that rascal +wins at every turn; he is capable of depopulating my +empire.”</p> + +<p>Roger laughed in his sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Oh! you are not saved,” said Death. “I am going +to take you where you won’t be cold either.”</p> + +<p>Quicker than a beggar would have emptied a poor’s +box they were in purgatory.</p> + +<p>“Toc—toc!”</p> + +<p>“Who is there?”</p> + +<p>“The wheelwright of Coq,” said the great golfer.</p> + +<p>“But he is in a state of mortal sin,” cried the angel +on duty. “Take him away from here—he can’t come +in.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot, all the same, let him linger between heaven +and earth,” said Death; “I shall shunt him back to Coq.”</p> + +<p>“Where they will take me for a ghost. Thank you! +is there not still paradise?”</p> + + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p>They were there at the end of a short hour.</p> + +<p>“Toc, toc!”</p> + +<p>“Who is there?”</p> + +<p>“The wheelwright of Coq,” said the great golfer.</p> + +<p>“Ah! my lad,” said St. Peter, half opening the door, +“I am really grieved. St. Antony told you long ago +you had better ask for the salvation of your soul.”</p> + +<p>“That is true, St. Peter,” replied Roger with a sheepish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +air. “And how is he, that blessed St. Antony? +Could I not come in for one moment to return the visit +he once paid me?”</p> + +<p>“Why, here he comes,” said St. Peter, throwing the +door wide open.</p> + +<p>In the twinkling of an eye the sly golfer had flung +himself into paradise, unhooked his apron, let it fall to +the ground, and seated himself down on it.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, St. Antony,” said he with a fine salute. +“You see I had plenty of time to think of paradise, +for here we are!”</p> + +<p>“What! <i>You</i> here!” cried St. Antony.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I and my company,” replied Roger, opening +his sack and scattering on the carpet the souls of the six +golfers.</p> + +<p>“Will you have the goodness to pack right off, all of +you?”</p> + +<p>“Impossible,” said the great golfer, showing his +apron.</p> + +<p>“The rogue has made game of us,” said St. Antony. +“Come, St. Peter, in memory of our game of golf, let +him in with his souls. Besides, he has had his purgatory +on earth.”</p> + +<p>“It is not a very good precedent,” murmured St. +Peter.</p> + +<p>“Bah!” replied Roger, “if we have a few good golfers +in paradise, where is the harm?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>”</p> + + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p>Thus, after having lived long, golfed much and drunk +many cans of beer, the wheelwright of Coq called the +Great Golfer was admitted to paradise; but I advise no +one to copy him, for it is not quite the right way to go, +and St. Peter might not always be so compliant, though +great allowances must be made for golfers.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> From <i>Longman’s Magazine</i>, vol. xiv. [Copyright 1889 by Longmans, +Green & Co., London & New York. By permission of the Publishers.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> <i>Boire la cervelle du mort.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> They play to points, not holes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> After each three strokes the opponent has one hit back, or into a +hazard.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> <i>Vivre à porte close.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> <i>Noires glaives.</i></p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL" id="THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL"></a>THE LEGEND OF MONT ST.-MICHEL<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle in the +sea. I got an indistinct impression of it as of a grey +shadow outlined against the misty sky. I saw it again +from Avranches at sunset. The immense stretch of sand +was red, the horizon was red, the whole boundless bay +was red. The rocky castle rising out there in the distance +like a weird, seignorial residence, like a dream +palace, strange and beautiful—this alone remained +black in the crimson light of the dying day.</p> + +<p>The following morning at dawn I went toward it +across the sands, my eyes fastened on this gigantic jewel, +as big as a mountain, cut like a cameo, and as dainty as +lace. The nearer I approached the greater my admiration +grew, for nothing in the world could be more wonderful +or more perfect.</p> + +<p>As surprised as if I had discovered the habitation of +a god, I wandered through those halls supported by frail +or massive columns, raising my eyes in wonder to those +spires which looked like rockets starting for the sky, +and to that marvellous assemblage of towers, of gargoyles, +of slender and charming ornaments, a regular +fireworks of stone, granite lace, a masterpiece of colossal +and delicate architecture.</p> + +<p>As I was looking up in ecstasy a Lower Normandy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +peasant came up to me and told me the story of the +great quarrel between Saint Michael and the devil.</p> + +<p>A sceptical genius has said: “God made man in his +image and man has returned the compliment.”</p> + +<p>This saying is an eternal truth, and it would be very +curious to write the history of the local divinity of every +continent, as well as the history of the patron saints in +each one of our provinces. The negro has his ferocious +man-eating idols; the polygamous Mahometan +fills his paradise with women; the Greeks, like a practical +people, deified all the passions.</p> + +<p>Every village in France is under the influence of some +protecting saint, modelled according to the characteristics +of the inhabitants.</p> + +<p>Saint Michael watches over Lower Normandy, Saint +Michael, the radiant and victorious angel, the sword-carrier, +the hero of Heaven, the victorious, the conqueror +of Satan.</p> + +<p>But this is how the Lower Normandy peasant, cunning, +deceitful and tricky, understands and tells of the +struggle between the great saint and the devil.</p> + +<p>To escape from the malice of his neighbour, the devil, +Saint Michael built himself, in the open ocean, this +habitation worthy of an archangel; and only such a +saint could build a residence of such magnificence.</p> + +<p>But, as he still feared the approaches of the wicked +one, he surrounded his domains by quicksands, more +treacherous even than the sea.</p> + +<p>The devil lived in a humble cottage on the hill, but he +owned all the salt marshes, the rich lands where grow +the finest crops, the wooded valleys and all the fertile<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +hills of the country, while the saint ruled only over the +sands. Therefore Satan was rich, whereas Saint +Michael was as poor as a church mouse.</p> + +<p>After a few years of fasting the saint grew tired of +this state of affairs and began to think of some compromise +with the devil, but the matter was by no means +easy, as Satan kept a good hold on his crops.</p> + +<p>He thought the thing over for about six months; then +one morning he walked across to the shore. The demon +was eating his soup in front of his door when he saw the +saint. He immediately rushed toward him, kissed the +hem of his sleeve, invited him in and offered him refreshments.</p> + +<p>Saint Michael drank a bowl of milk and then began: +“I have come here to propose to you a good bargain.”</p> + +<p>The devil, candid and trustful, answered: “That +will suit me.”</p> + +<p>“Here it is. Give me all your lands.”</p> + +<p>Satan, growing alarmed, wished to speak: “But—”</p> + +<p>The saint continued: “Listen first. Give me all +your lands. I will take care of all the work, the ploughing, +the sowing, the fertilizing, everything, and we will +share the crops equally. How does that suit you?”</p> + +<p>The devil, who was naturally lazy, accepted. He +only demanded in addition a few of those delicious grey +mullet which are caught around the solitary mount. +Saint Michael promised the fish.</p> + +<p>They grasped hands and spat on the ground to show +that it was a bargain, and the saint continued: “See +here, so that you will have nothing to complain of, +choose that part of the crops which you prefer: the part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +that grows above ground or the part that stays in the +ground.” Satan cried out: “I will take all that will +be above ground.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a bargain!” said the saint. And he went away.</p> + +<p>Six months later, all over the immense domain of +the devil, one could see nothing but carrots, turnips, +onions, salsify, all the plants whose juicy roots are good +and savoury and whose useless leaves are good for nothing +but for feeding animals.</p> + +<p>Satan wished to break the contract, calling Saint +Michael a swindler.</p> + +<p>But the saint, who had developed quite a taste for +agriculture, went back to see the devil and said: +“Really, I hadn’t thought of that at all; it was just an +accident, no fault of mine. And to make things fair +with you, this year I’ll let you take everything that is +under the ground.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” answered Satan.</p> + +<p>The following spring all the evil spirit’s lands were +covered with golden wheat, oats as big as beans, flax, +magnificent colza, red clover, peas, cabbage, artichokes, +everything that develops into grains or fruit in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>Once more Satan received nothing, and this time he +completely lost his temper. He took back his fields and +remained deaf to all the fresh propositions of his +neighbour.</p> + +<p>A whole year rolled by. From the top of his lonely +manor Saint Michael looked at the distant and fertile +lands and watched the devil direct the work, take in his +crops and thresh the wheat. And he grew angry, exasperated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +at his powerlessness. As he was no longer +able to deceive Satan, he decided to wreak vengeance on +him, and he went out to invite him to dinner for the following +Monday.</p> + +<p>“You have been very unfortunate in your dealings +with me,” he said; “I know it, but I don’t want any ill +feeling between us, and I expect you to dine with me. +I’ll give you some good things to eat.”</p> + +<p>Satan, who was as greedy as he was lazy, accepted +eagerly. On the day appointed he donned his finest +clothes and set out for the castle.</p> + +<p>Saint Michael sat him down to a magnificent meal. +First there was a <i>vol-au-vent</i>, full of cocks’ crests and +kidneys, with meat-balls, then two big grey mullet with +cream sauce, a turkey stuffed with chestnuts soaked +in wine, some salt-marsh lamb as tender as cake, vegetables +which melted in the mouth and nice hot pancake +which was brought on smoking and spreading a delicious +odour of butter.</p> + +<p>They drank new, sweet, sparkling cider and heady +red wine, and after each course they whetted their appetites +with some old apple brandy.</p> + +<p>The devil drank and ate to his heart’s content; in +fact he took so much that he was very uncomfortable, +and began to retch.</p> + +<p>Then Saint Michael arose in anger and cried in a +voice like thunder: “What! before me, rascal! You +dare—before me—”</p> + +<p>Satan, terrified, ran away, and the saint, seizing a +stick, pursued him. They ran through the halls, turning +round the pillars, running up the staircases, galloping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +along the cornices, jumping from gargoyle to +gargoyle. The poor devil, who was woefully ill, was +running about madly and trying hard to escape. At +last he found himself at the top of the last terrace, right +at the top, from which could be seen the immense bay, +with its distant towns, sands and pastures. He could no +longer escape, and the saint came up behind him and +gave him a furious kick, which shot him through space +like a cannon-ball.</p> + +<p>He shot through the air like a javelin and fell heavily +before the town of Mortain. His horns and claws stuck +deep into the rock, which keeps through eternity the +traces of this fall of Satan.</p> + +<p>He stood up again, limping, crippled until the end +of time, and as he looked at this fatal castle in the distance, +standing out against the setting sun, he understood +well that he would always be vanquished in this +unequal struggle, and he went away limping, heading +for distant countries, leaving to his enemy his fields, his +hills, his valleys and his marshes.</p> + +<p>And this is how Saint Michael, the patron saint of +Normandy, vanquished the devil.</p> + +<p>Another people would have dreamed of this battle in +an entirely different manner.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEMON_POPE26" id="THE_DEMON_POPE26"></a>THE DEMON POPE<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY RICHARD GARNETT<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEMON_POPE_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>“So you won’t sell me your soul?” said the devil.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” replied the student, “I had rather keep +it myself, if it’s all the same to you.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s not all the same to me. I want it very particularly. +Come, I’ll be liberal. I said twenty years. +You can have thirty.”</p> + +<p>The student shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Forty!”</p> + +<p>Another shake.</p> + +<p>“Fifty!”</p> + +<p>As before.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said the devil. “I know I’m going to do a +foolish thing, but I cannot bear to see a clever, spirited +young man throw himself away. I’ll make you another +kind of offer. We don’t have any bargain at present, +but I will push you on in the world for the next forty +years. This day forty years I come back and ask you +for a boon; not your soul, mind, or anything not perfectly +in your power to grant. If you give it, we are +quits; if not, I fly away with you. What say you to +this?”</p> + +<p>The student reflected for some minutes. “Agreed,” +he said at last.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> +<p>Scarcely had the devil disappeared, which he did instantaneously, +ere a messenger reined in his smoking +steed at the gate of the University of Cordova (the judicious +reader will already have remarked that Lucifer +could never have been allowed inside a Christian seat of +learning), and, inquiring for the student Gerbert, presented +him with the Emperor Otho’s nomination to the +Abbacy of Bobbio, in consideration, said the document, +of his virtue and learning, wellnigh miraculous in one so +young. Such messengers were frequent visitors during +Gerbert’s prosperous career. Abbot, bishop, archbishop, +cardinal, he was ultimately enthroned Pope on +April 2, 999, and assumed the appellation of Silvester +the Second. It was then a general belief that the world +would come to an end in the following year, a catastrophe +which to many seemed the more imminent from +the election of a chief pastor whose celebrity as a theologian, +though not inconsiderable, by no means equalled +his reputation as a necromancer.</p> + +<p>The world, notwithstanding, revolved scatheless +through the dreaded twelvemonth, and early in the first +year of the eleventh century Gerbert was sitting peacefully +in his study, perusing a book of magic. Volumes +of algebra, astrology, alchemy, Aristotelian philosophy, +and other such light reading filled his bookcase; and on +a table stood an improved clock of his invention, next to +his introduction of the Arabic numerals his chief legacy +to posterity. Suddenly a sound of wings was heard, +and Lucifer stood by his side.</p> + +<p>“It is a long time,” said the fiend, “since I have had +the pleasure of seeing you. I have now called to remind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +you of our little contract, concluded this day forty +years.”</p> + +<p>“You remember,” said Silvester, “that you are not to +ask anything exceeding my power to perform.”</p> + +<p>“I have no such intention,” said Lucifer. “On the +contrary, I am about to solicit a favour which can be +bestowed by you alone. You are Pope, I desire that +you would make me a Cardinal.”</p> + +<p>“In the expectation, I presume,” returned Gerbert, +“of becoming Pope on the next vacancy.”</p> + +<p>“An expectation,” replied Lucifer, “which I may +most reasonably entertain, considering my enormous +wealth, my proficiency in intrigue, and the present condition +of the Sacred College.”</p> + +<p>“You would doubtless,” said Gerbert, “endeavour to +subvert the foundations of the Faith, and, by a course of +profligacy and licentiousness, render the Holy See odious +and contemptible.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary,” said the fiend, “I would extirpate +heresy, and all learning and knowledge as inevitably +tending thereunto. I would suffer no man to read but +the priest, and confine his reading to his breviary. I +would burn your books together with your bones on the +first convenient opportunity. I would observe an austere +propriety of conduct, and be especially careful not +to loosen one rivet in the tremendous yoke I was forging +for the minds and consciences of mankind.”</p> + +<p>“If it be so,” said Gerbert, “let’s be off!”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Lucifer, “you are willing to accompany +me to the infernal regions!”</p> + +<p>“Assuredly, rather than be accessory to the burning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +of Plato and Aristotle, and give place to the darkness +against which I have been contending all my +life.”</p> + +<p>“Gerbert,” replied the demon, “this is arrant trifling. +Know you not that no good man can enter my dominions? +that, were such a thing possible, my empire would +become intolerable to me, and I should be compelled to +abdicate?”</p> + +<p>“I do know it,” said Gerbert, “and hence I have been +able to receive your visit with composure.”</p> + +<p>“Gerbert,” said the devil, with tears in his eyes, “I +put it to you—is this fair, is this honest? I undertake +to promote your interests in the world; I fulfil my promise +abundantly. You obtain through my instrumentality +a position to which you could never otherwise have +aspired. Often have I had a hand in the election of a +Pope, but never before have I contributed to confer the +tiara on one eminent for virtue and learning. You +profit by my assistance to the full, and now take advantage +of an adventitious circumstance to deprive me of +my reasonable guerdon. It is my constant experience +that the good people are much more slippery than the +sinners, and drive much harder bargains.”</p> + +<p>“Lucifer,” answered Gerbert, “I have always sought +to treat you as a gentleman, hoping that you would approve +yourself such in return. I will not inquire +whether it was entirely in harmony with this character +to seek to intimidate me into compliance with your demand +by threatening me with a penalty which you well +knew could not be enforced. I will overlook this little +irregularity, and concede even more than you have requested.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +You have asked to be a Cardinal. I will +make you Pope—”</p> + +<p>“Ha!” exclaimed Lucifer, and an internal glow suffused +his sooty hide, as the light of a fading ember is +revived by breathing upon it.</p> + +<p>“For twelve hours,” continued Gerbert. “At the expiration +of that time we will consider the matter further; +and if, as I anticipate, you are more anxious to +divest yourself of the Papal dignity than you were to +assume it, I promise to bestow upon you any boon you +may ask within my power to grant, and not plainly inconsistent +with religion or morals.”</p> + +<p>“Done!” cried the demon. Gerbert uttered some cabalistic +words, and in a moment the apartment held two +Pope Silvesters, entirely indistinguishable save by their +attire, and the fact that one limped slightly with the left +foot.</p> + +<p>“You will find the Pontifical apparel in this cupboard,” +said Gerbert, and, taking his book of magic +with him, he retreated through a masked door to a secret +chamber. As the door closed behind him he chuckled, +and muttered to himself, “Poor old Lucifer! Sold +again!”</p> + +<p>If Lucifer was sold he did not seem to know it. He +approached a large slab of silver which did duty as a +mirror, and contemplated his personal appearance with +some dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>“I certainly don’t look half so well without my +horns,” he soliloquized, “and I am sure I shall miss my +tail most grievously.”</p> + +<p>A tiara and a train, however, made fair amends for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +the deficient appendages, and Lucifer now looked every +inch a Pope. He was about to call the master of the +ceremonies, and summon a consistory, when the door +was burst open, and seven cardinals, brandishing poniards, +rushed into the room.</p> + +<p>“Down with the sorcerer!” they cried, as they seized +and gagged him.</p> + +<p>“Death to the Saracen!”</p> + +<p>“Practises algebra, and other devilish arts!”</p> + +<p>“Knows Greek!”</p> + +<p>“Talks Arabic!”</p> + +<p>“Reads Hebrew!”</p> + +<p>“Burn him!”</p> + +<p>“Smother him!”</p> + +<p>“Let him be deposed by a general council,” said a +young and inexperienced Cardinal.</p> + +<p>“Heaven forbid!” said an old and wary one, <i>sotto +voce</i>.</p> + +<p>Lucifer struggled frantically, but the feeble frame +he was doomed to inhabit for the next eleven hours was +speedily exhausted. Bound and helpless, he swooned +away.</p> + +<p>“Brethren,” said one of the senior cardinals, “it hath +been delivered by the exorcists that a sorcerer or other +individual in league with the demon doth usually bear +upon his person some visible token of his infernal compact. +I propose that we forthwith institute a search +for this stigma, the discovery of which may contribute +to justify our proceedings in the eyes of the world.”</p> + +<p>“I heartily approve of our brother Anno’s proposition,” +said another, “the rather as we cannot possibly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +fail to discover such a mark, if, indeed, we desire to +find it.”</p> + +<p>The search was accordingly instituted, and had not +proceeded far ere a simultaneous yell from all the seven +cardinals indicated that their investigation had brought +more light than they had ventured to expect.</p> + +<p>The Holy Father had a cloven foot!</p> + +<p>For the next five minutes the Cardinals remained utterly +stunned, silent, and stupefied with amazement. As +they gradually recovered their faculties it would have +become manifest to a nice observer that the Pope had +risen very considerably in their good opinion.</p> + +<p>“This is an affair requiring very mature deliberation,” +said one.</p> + +<p>“I always feared that we might be proceeding too precipitately,” +said another.</p> + +<p>“It is written, ‘the devils believe,’” said a third: +“the Holy Father, therefore, is not a heretic at any +rate.”</p> + +<p>“Brethren,” said Anno, “this affair, as our brother +Benno well remarks, doth indeed call for mature deliberation. +I therefore propose that, instead of smothering +his Holiness with cushions, as originally contemplated, +we immure him for the present in the dungeon +adjoining hereunto, and, after spending the night +in meditation and prayer, resume the consideration of +the business tomorrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“Informing the officials of the palace,” said Benno, +“that his Holiness has retired for his devotions, and desires +on no account to be disturbed.”</p> + +<p>“A pious fraud,” said Anno, “which not one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +Fathers would for a moment have scrupled to commit.”</p> + +<p>The Cardinals accordingly lifted the still insensible +Lucifer, and bore him carefully, almost tenderly, to the +apartment appointed for his detention. Each would +fain have lingered in hopes of his recovery, but each +felt that the eyes of his six brethren were upon him: +and all, therefore, retired simultaneously, each taking a +key of the cell.</p> + +<p>Lucifer regained consciousness almost immediately +afterwards. He had the most confused idea of the circumstances +which had involved him in his present +scrape, and could only say to himself that if they were +the usual concomitants of the Papal dignity, these were +by no means to his taste, and he wished he had been +made acquainted with them sooner. The dungeon was +not only perfectly dark, but horribly cold, and the poor +devil in his present form had no latent store of infernal +heat to draw upon. His teeth chattered, he shivered in +every limb, and felt devoured with hunger and thirst. +There is much probability in the assertion of some of +his biographers that it was on this occasion that he +invented ardent spirits; but, even if he did, the mere +conception of a glass of brandy could only increase his +sufferings. So the long January night wore wearily +on, and Lucifer seemed likely to expire from inanition, +when a key turned in the lock, and Cardinal Anno cautiously +glided in, bearing a lamp, a loaf, half a cold +roast kid, and a bottle of wine.</p> + +<p>“I trust,” he said, bowing courteously, “that I may +be excused any slight breach of etiquette of which I may +render myself culpable from the difficulty under which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +I labour of determining whether, under present circumstances, +‘Your Holiness,’ or ‘Your infernal Majesty’ be +the form of address most befitting me to employ.”</p> + +<p>“Bub-ub-bub-boo,” went Lucifer, who still had the +gag in his mouth.</p> + +<p>“Heavens!” exclaimed the Cardinal, “I crave your +Infernal Holiness’s forgiveness. What a lamentable +oversight!”</p> + +<p>And, relieving Lucifer from his gag and bonds, he +set out the refection, upon which the demon fell voraciously.</p> + +<p>“Why the devil, if I may so express myself,” pursued +Anno, “did not your Holiness inform us that you +<i>were</i> the devil? Not a hand would then have been +raised against you. I have myself been seeking all my +life for the audience now happily vouchsafed me. +Whence this mistrust of your faithful Anno, who has +served you so loyally and zealously these many years?”</p> + +<p>Lucifer pointed significantly to the gag and fetters.</p> + +<p>“I shall never forgive myself,” protested the Cardinal, +“for the part I have borne in this unfortunate +transaction. Next to ministering to your Majesty’s bodily +necessities, there is nothing I have so much at heart +as to express my penitence. But I entreat your Majesty +to remember that I believed myself to be acting in your +Majesty’s interest by overthrowing a magician who was +accustomed to send your Majesty upon errands, and who +might at any time enclose you in a box, and cast you +into the sea. It is deplorable that your Majesty’s most +devoted servants should have been thus misled.”</p> + +<p>“Reasons of State,” suggested Lucifer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I trust that they no longer operate,” said the Cardinal. +“However, the Sacred College is now fully possessed +of the whole matter: it is therefore unnecessary +to pursue this department of the subject further. I +would now humbly crave leave to confer with your Majesty, +or rather, perhaps, your Holiness, since I am about +to speak of spiritual things, on the important and delicate +point of your Holiness’s successor. I am ignorant +how long your Holiness proposes to occupy the Apostolic +chair; but of course you are aware that public opinion +will not suffer you to hold it for a term exceeding that +of the pontificate of Peter. A vacancy, therefore, must +one day occur; and I am humbly to represent that the +office could not be filled by one more congenial than +myself to the present incumbent, or on whom he could +more fully rely to carry out in every respect his views +and intentions.”</p> + +<p>And the Cardinal proceeded to detail various circumstances +of his past life, which certainly seemed to corroborate +his assertion. He had not, however, proceeded +far ere he was disturbed by the grating of another key in +the lock, and had just time to whisper impressively, +“Beware of Benno,” ere he dived under a table.</p> + +<p>Benno was also provided with a lamp, wine, and cold +viands. Warned by the other lamp and the remains of +Lucifer’s repast that some colleague had been beforehand +with him, and not knowing how many more might +be in the field, he came briefly to the point as regarded +the Papacy, and preferred his claim in much the same +manner as Anno. While he was earnestly cautioning +Lucifer against this Cardinal as one who could and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +would cheat the very Devil himself, another key turned +in the lock, and Benno escaped under the table, where +Anno immediately inserted his fingers into his right eye. +The little squeal consequent upon this occurrence Lucifer +successfully smothered by a fit of coughing.</p> + +<p>Cardinal No. 3, a Frenchman, bore a Bayonne ham, +and exhibited the same disgust as Benno on seeing himself +forestalled. So far as his requests transpired they +were moderate, but no one knows where he would have +stopped if he had not been scared by the advent of Cardinal +No. 4. Up to this time he had only asked for an +inexhaustible purse, power to call up the Devil <i>ad +libitum</i>, and a ring of invisibility to allow him free access +to his mistress, who was unfortunately a married +woman.</p> + +<p>Cardinal No. 4 chiefly wanted to be put into the way +of poisoning Cardinal No. 5; and Cardinal No. 5 preferred +the same petition as respected Cardinal No. 4.</p> + +<p>Cardinal No. 6, an Englishman, demanded the reversion +of the Archbishoprics of Canterbury and York, +with the faculty of holding them together, and of unlimited +non-residence. In the course of his harangue +he made use of the phrase <i>non obstantibus</i>, of which +Lucifer immediately took a note.</p> + +<p>What the seventh Cardinal would have solicited is +not known, for he had hardly opened his mouth when +the twelfth hour expired, and Lucifer, regaining his +vigour with his shape, sent the Prince of the Church +spinning to the other end of the room, and split the +marble table with a single stroke of his tail. The six<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +crouched and huddling Cardinals cowered revealed to +one another, and at the same time enjoyed the spectacle +of his Holiness darting through the stone ceiling, which +yielded like a film to his passage, and closed up afterwards +as if nothing had happened. After the first shock +of dismay they unanimously rushed to the door, but +found it bolted on the outside. There was no other +exit, and no means of giving an alarm. In this emergency +the demeanour of the Italian Cardinals set a +bright example to their ultramontane colleagues. +“<i>Bisogna pazienzia</i>,” they said, as they shrugged their +shoulders. Nothing could exceed the mutual politeness +of Cardinals Anno and Benno, unless that of the +two who had sought to poison each other. The Frenchman +was held to have gravely derogated from good manners +by alluding to this circumstance, which had reached +his ears while he was under the table: and the Englishman +swore so outrageously at the plight in which he +found himself that the Italians then and there silently +registered a vow that none of his nation should ever be +Pope, a maxim which, with one exception, has been observed +to this day.</p> + +<p>Lucifer, meanwhile, had repaired to Silvester, whom +he found arrayed in all the insignia of his dignity; of +which, as he remarked, he thought his visitor had probably +had enough.</p> + +<p>“I should think so indeed,” replied Lucifer. “But +at the same time I feel myself fully repaid for all I +have undergone by the assurance of the loyalty of my +friends and admirers, and the conviction that it is needless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +for me to devote any considerable amount of personal +attention to ecclesiastical affairs. I now claim the +promised boon, which it will be in no way inconsistent +with thy functions to grant, seeing that it is a work of +mercy. I demand that the Cardinals be released, and +that their conspiracy against thee, by which I alone suffered, +be buried in oblivion.”</p> + +<p>“I hoped you would carry them all off,” said Gerbert, +with an expression of disappointment.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said the Devil. “It is more to my interest +to leave them where they are.”</p> + +<p>So the dungeon-door was unbolted, and the Cardinals +came forth, sheepish and crestfallen. If, after all, +they did less mischief than Lucifer had expected from +them, the cause was their entire bewilderment by what +had passed, and their utter inability to penetrate the policy +of Gerbert, who henceforth devoted himself even with +ostentation to good works. They could never quite satisfy +themselves whether they were speaking to the Pope +or to the Devil, and when under the latter impression +habitually emitted propositions which Gerbert justly +stigmatized as rash, temerarious, and scandalous. +They plagued him with allusions to certain matters mentioned +in their interviews with Lucifer, with which they +naturally but erroneously supposed him to be conversant, +and worried him by continual nods and titterings +as they glanced at his nether extremities. To abolish +this nuisance, and at the same time silence sundry unpleasant +rumours which had somehow got abroad, Gerbert +devised the ceremony of kissing the Pope’s feet, +which, in a grievously mutilated form, endures to this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +day. The stupefaction of the Cardinals on discovering +that the Holy Father had lost his hoof surpasses all description, +and they went to their graves without having +obtained the least insight into the mystery.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Taken by permission from <i>The Twilight of the Gods</i>, by Richard +Garnett. Published by John Lane Co., New York.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="MADAM_LUCIFER27" id="MADAM_LUCIFER27"></a>MADAM LUCIFER<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY RICHARD GARNETT<span class="sidenote"><a href="#MADAM_LUCIFER_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Lucifer sat playing chess with Man for his soul.</p> + +<p>The game was evidently going ill for Man. He had +but pawns left, few and struggling. Lucifer had rooks, +knights, and, of course, bishops.</p> + +<p>It was but natural under such circumstances that Man +should be in no great hurry to move. Lucifer grew impatient.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity,” said he at last, “that we did not fix +some period within which the player must move, or resign.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Lucifer,” returned the young man, in heart-rending +accents, “it is not the impending loss of my +soul that thus unmans me, but the loss of my betrothed. +When I think of the grief of the Lady Adeliza, the paragon +of terrestrial loveliness!” Tears choked his utterance; +Lucifer was touched.</p> + +<p>“Is the Lady Adeliza’s loveliness in sooth so transcendent?” +he inquired.</p> + +<p>“She is a rose, a lily, a diamond, a morning star!”</p> + +<p>“If that is the case,” rejoined Lucifer, “thou mayest +reassure thyself. The Lady Adeliza shall not want for +consolation. I will assume thy shape and woo her in +thy stead.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> +<p>The young man hardly seemed to receive all the comfort +from this promise which Lucifer no doubt designed. +He made a desperate move. In an instant the Devil +checkmated him, and he disappeared.</p> + + +<p style="padding-top: 1.5em">“Upon my word, if I had known what a business this +was going to be, I don’t think I should have gone in for +it,” soliloquized the Devil as, wearing his captive’s semblance +and installed in his apartments, he surveyed the +effects to which he now had to administer. They included +coats, shirts, collars, neckties, foils, cigars, and +the like <i>ad libitum</i>; and very little else except three +challenges, ten writs, and seventy-four unpaid bills, elegantly +disposed around the looking-glass. To the poor +youth’s praise be it said, there were no <i>billets-doux</i>, except +from the Lady Adeliza herself.</p> + +<p>Noting the address of these carefully, the Devil sallied +forth, and nothing but his ignorance of the topography +of the hotel, which made him take the back +stairs, saved him from the clutches of two bailiffs lurking +on the principal staircase. Leaping into a cab, he +thus escaped a perfumer and a bootmaker, and shortly +found himself at the Lady Adeliza’s feet.</p> + +<p>The truth had not been half told him. Such beauty, +such wit, such correctness of principle! Lucifer went +forth from her presence a love-sick fiend. Not Merlin’s +mother had produced half the impression upon him; +and Adeliza on her part had never found her lover one-hundredth +part so interesting as he seemed that morning.</p> + +<p>Lucifer proceeded at once to the City, where, assuming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +his proper shape for the occasion, he negotiated a +loan without the smallest difficulty. All debts were +promptly discharged, and Adeliza was astonished at the +splendour and variety of the presents she was constantly +receiving.</p> + +<p>Lucifer had all but brought her to name the day, +when he was informed that a gentleman of clerical appearance +desired to wait upon him.</p> + +<p>“Wants money for a new church or mission, I suppose,” +said he. “Show him up.”</p> + +<p>But when the visitor was ushered in, Lucifer found +with discomposure that he was no earthly clergyman, +but a celestial saint; a saint, too, with whom Lucifer had +never been able to get on. He had served in the army +while on earth, and his address was curt, precise, and +peremptory.</p> + +<p>“I have called,” he said, “to notify to you my appointment +as Inspector of Devils.”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Lucifer, in consternation. “To +the post of my old friend Michael!”</p> + +<p>“Too old,” said the Saint laconically. “Millions of +years older than the world. About your age, I think.”</p> + +<p>Lucifer winced, remembering the particular business +he was then about. The Saint continued:</p> + +<p>“I am a new broom, and am expected to sweep clean. +I warn you that I mean to be strict, and there is one +little matter which I must set right immediately. You +are going to marry that poor young fellow’s betrothed, +are you? Now you know you can not take his wife, +unless you give him yours.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear friend,” exclaimed Lucifer, “what an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +inexpressibly blissful prospect you do open unto me!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that,” said the Saint. “I must remind +you that the dominion of the infernal regions is +unalterably attached to the person of the present Queen +thereof. If you part with her you immediately lose +all your authority and possessions. I don’t care a brass +button which you do, but you must understand that you +cannot eat your cake and have it too. Good morning!”</p> + +<p>Who shall describe the conflict in Lucifer’s bosom? +If any stronger passion existed therein at that moment +than attachment to Adeliza, it was aversion to his consort, +and the two combined were wellnigh irresistible. +But to disenthrone himself, to descend to the condition +of a poor devil!</p> + +<p>Feeling himself incapable of coming to a decision, he +sent for Belial, unfolded the matter, and requested his +advice.</p> + +<p>“What a shame that our new inspector will not let +you marry Adeliza!” lamented his counsellor. “If you +did, my private opinion is that forty-eight hours afterwards +you would care just as much for her as you do +now for Madam Lucifer, neither more nor less. Are +your intentions really honourable?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Lucifer, “it is to be a Lucifer match.”</p> + +<p>“The more fool you,” rejoined Belial. “If you +tempted her to commit a sin, she would be yours without +any conditions at all.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Belial,” said Lucifer, “I cannot bring myself to +be a tempter of so much innocence and loveliness.”</p> + +<p>And he meant what he said.</p> + +<p>“Well then, let me try,” proposed Belial.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You?” replied Lucifer contemptuously; “do you +imagine that Adeliza would look at you?”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” asked Belial, surveying himself complacently +in the glass.</p> + +<p>He was humpbacked, squinting, and lame, and his +horns stood up under his wig.</p> + +<p>The discussion ended in a wager: after which there +was no retreat for Lucifer.</p> + +<p>The infernal Iachimo was introduced to Adeliza as a +distinguished foreigner, and was soon prosecuting his +suit with all the success which Lucifer had predicted. +One thing protected while it baffled him—the entire inability +of Adeliza to understand what he meant. At +length he was constrained to make the matter clear by +producing an enormous treasure, which he offered +Adeliza in exchange for the abandonment of her lover.</p> + +<p>The tempest of indignation which ensued would have +swept away any ordinary demon, but Belial listened unmoved. +When Adeliza had exhausted herself he smilingly +rallied her upon her affection for an unworthy +lover, of whose infidelity he undertook to give her proof. +Frantic with jealousy, Adeliza consented, and in a trice +found herself in the infernal regions.</p> + + +<p style="padding-top: 1.5em">Adeliza’s arrival in Pandemonium, as Belial had +planned, occurred immediately after the receipt of a +message from Lucifer, in whose bosom love had finally +gained the victory, and who had telegraphed his abdication +and resignation of Madam Lucifer to Adeliza’s +betrothed. The poor young man had just been hauled +up from the lower depths, and was beset by legions of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +demons obsequiously pressing all manner of treasures +upon his acceptance. He stared, helpless and bewildered, +unable to realize his position in the smallest +degree. In the background grave and serious demons, +the princes of the infernal realm, discussed the new departure, +and consulted especially how to break it to +Madam Lucifer—a commission of which no one +seemed ambitious.</p> + +<p>“Stay where you are,” whispered Belial to Adeliza; +“stir not: you shall put his constancy to the proof within +five minutes.”</p> + +<p>Not all the hustling, mowing, and gibbering of the +fiends would under ordinary circumstances have kept +Adeliza from her lover’s side: but what is all hell to +jealousy?</p> + +<p>In even less time than he had promised, Belial returned, +accompanied by Madam Lucifer. This lady’s +black robe, dripping with blood, contrasted agreeably +with her complexion of sulphurous yellow; the absence +of hair was compensated by the exceptional length of +her nails; she was a thousand million years old, and, +but for her remarkable muscular vigour, looked every +one of them. The rage into which Belial’s communication +had thrown her was something indescribable; +but, as her eye fell on the handsome youth, a different +order of thoughts seemed to take possession of her +mind.</p> + +<p>“Let the monster go!” she exclaimed; “who cares? +Come, my love, ascend the throne with me, and share +the empire and the treasures of thy fond Luciferetta.”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t, back you go,” interjected Belial.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + +<p>What might have been the young man’s decision if +Madam Lucifer had borne more resemblance to Madam +Vulcan, it would be wholly impertinent to inquire, for +the question never arose.</p> + +<p>“Take me away!” he screamed, “take me away, anywhere! +anywhere out of her reach! Oh, Adeliza!”</p> + +<p>With a bound Adeliza stood by his side. She was +darting a triumphant glance at the discomfited Queen of +Hell, when suddenly her expression changed, and she +screamed loudly. Two adorers stood before her, alike +in every lineament and every detail of costume, utterly +indistinguishable, even by the eye of Love.</p> + +<p>Lucifer, in fact, hastening to throw himself at Adeliza’s +feet and pray her to defer his bliss no longer, had +been thunderstruck by the tidings of her elopement with +Belial. Fearing to lose his wife and his dominions +along with his sweetheart, he had sped to the nether +regions with such expedition that he had had no time +to change his costume. Hence the equivocation which +confounded Adeliza, but at the same time preserved +her from being torn to pieces by the no less mystified +Madam Lucifer.</p> + +<p>Perceiving the state of the case, Lucifer with true +gentlemanly feeling resumed his proper semblance, and +Madam Lucifer’s talons were immediately inserted into +his whiskers.</p> + +<p>“My dear! my love!” he gasped, as audibly as she +would let him, “is this the way it welcomes its own +Lucy-pucy?”</p> + +<p>“Who is that person?” demanded Madam Lucifer.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know her,” screamed the wretched Lucifer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +“I never saw her before. Take her away; shut her up +in the deepest dungeon!”</p> + +<p>“Not if I know it,” sharply replied Madam Lucifer. +“You can’t bear to part with her, can’t you? You +would intrigue with her under my nose, would you? +Take that! and that! Turn them both out, I say! turn +them both out!”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, my dearest love, most certainly,” responded +Lucifer.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Sire,” cried Moloch and Beelzebub together, +“for Heaven’s sake let your Majesty consider what he +is doing. The Inspector—”</p> + +<p>“Bother the Inspector!” screeched Lucifer. “D’ye +think I’m not a thousand times more afraid of your +mistress than of all the saints in the calendar? There,” +addressing Adeliza and her betrothed, “be off! You’ll +find all debts paid, and a nice balance at the bank. +Out! Run!”</p> + +<p>They did not wait to be told twice. Earth yawned. +The gates of Tartarus stood wide. They found themselves +on the side of a steep mountain, down which they +scoured madly, hand linked in hand. But fast as they +ran, it was long ere they ceased to hear the tongue of +Madam Lucifer.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Taken by permission from <i>The Twilight of the Gods</i>, by Richard +Garnett. Published by John Lane Co., New York.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="LUCIFER28" id="LUCIFER28"></a>LUCIFER<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY ANATOLE FRANCE<span class="sidenote"><a href="#LUCIFER_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em"><i>E si compiacque tanto Spinello di farlo orribile e contrafatto, +che si dice (tanto può alcuna fiata l’immaginazione) che +la detta figura da lui dipinta gli apparve in sogno, domandandolo +dove egli l’ avesse veduta si brutta.</i><a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> + +<p class="right"> +(<i>Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, da Messer<br /> +Giorgio Vasari.—“Vita di Spinello.”</i>)<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Andrea Tafi, painter and worker-in-mosaic of Florence, +had a wholesome terror of the Devils of Hell, particularly +in the watches of the night, when it is given +to the powers of Darkness to prevail. And the worthy +man’s fears were not unreasonable, for in those days the +Demons had good cause to hate the Painters, who robbed +them of more souls with a single picture than a good +little Preaching Friar could do in thirty sermons. No +doubt the Monk, to instil a soul-saving horror in the +hearts of the faithful, would describe to the utmost of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>his powers “that day of wrath, that day of mourning,” +which is to reduce the universe to ashes, <i>teste David et +Sibylla</i>, borrowing his deepest voice and bellowing +through his hands to imitate the Archangel’s last trump. +But there! it was “all sound and fury, signifying nothing,” +whereas a painting displayed on a Chapel wall or +in the Cloister, showing Jesus Christ sitting on the Great +White Throne to judge the living and the dead, spoke +unceasingly to the eyes of sinners, and through the eyes +chastened such as had sinned by the eyes or otherwise.</p> + +<p>It was in the days when cunning masters were depicting +at Santa-Croce in Florence and the Campo Santo of +Pisa the mysteries of Divine Justice. These works were +drawn according to the account in verse which Dante +Alighieri, a man very learned in Theology and in Canon +Law, wrote in days gone by of his journey to Hell, and +Purgatory and Paradise, whither by the singular great +merits of his lady, he was able to make his way alive. +So everything in these paintings was instructive and true, +and we may say surely less profit is to be had of reading +the most full and ample Chronicle than from contemplating +such representative works of art. Moreover, the +Florentine masters took heed to paint, under the shade +of orange groves, on the flower-starred turf, fair ladies +and gallant knights, with Death lying in wait for them +with his scythe, while they were discoursing of love to +the sound of lutes and viols. Nothing was better fitted +to convert carnal-minded sinners who quaff forgetfulness +of God on the lips of women. To rebuke the covetous, +the painter would show to the life the Devils pouring +molten gold down the throat of Bishop or Abbess,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +who had commissioned some work from him and then +scamped his pay.</p> + +<p>This is why the Demons in those days were bitter +enemies of the painters, and above all of the Florentine +painters, who surpassed all the rest in subtlety of wit. +Chiefly they reproached them with representing them +under a hideous guise, with the heads of bird and fish, +serpents’ bodies and bats’ wings. This sore resentment +which they felt will come out plainly in the history of +Spinello of Arezzo.</p> + +<p>Spinello Spinelli was sprung of a noble family of +Florentine exiles, and his graciousness of mind matched +his gentle birth; for he was the most skilful painter of +his time. He wrought many and great works at Florence; +and the Pisans begged him to complete Giotto’s +wall-paintings in their Campo Santo, where the dead +rest beneath roses in holy earth shipped from Jerusalem. +At last, after working long years in divers cities and +getting much gold, he longed to see once more the good +city of Arezzo, his mother. The men of Arezzo had +not forgotten how Spinello, in his younger days, being +enrolled in the Confraternity of Santa Maria della Misericordia, +had visited the sick and buried the dead in the +plague of 1383. They were grateful to him besides for +having by his works spread the fame of their city over +all Tuscany. For all these reasons they welcomed him +with high honours on his return.</p> + +<p>Still full of vigour in his old age, he undertook important +tasks in his native town. His wife would tell +him:</p> + +<p>“You are rich, Spinello. Do you rest, and leave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +younger men to paint instead of you. It is meet a man +should end his days in a gentle, religious quiet. It is +tempting God to be for ever raising new and worldly +monuments, mere heathen towers of Babel. Quit your +colours and your varnishes, Spinello, or they will destroy +your peace of mind.”</p> + +<p>So the good dame would preach, but he refused to +listen, for his one thought was to increase his fortune and +renown. Far from resting on his laurels, he arranged +a price with the Wardens of Sant’ Agnolo for a history +of St. Michael, that was to cover all the Choir of the +Church and contain an infinity of figures. Into this enterprise +he threw himself with extraordinary ardour. +Re-reading the parts of Scripture that were to be his +inspiration, he set himself to study deeply every line +and every word of these passages. Not content with +drawing all day long in his workshop, he persisted in +working both at bed and board; while at dusk, walking +below the hill on whose brow Arezzo proudly lifts her +walls and towers, he was still lost in thought. And we +may say the story of the Archangel was already limned +in his brain when he started to sketch out the incidents +in red chalk on the plaster of the wall. He was soon +done tracing these outlines; then he fell to painting above +the high altar the scene that was to outshine all the others +in brilliancy. For it was his intent therein to glorify +the leader of the hosts of Heaven for the victory he won +before the beginning of time. Accordingly Spinello +represented St. Michael fighting in the air against the +serpent with seven heads and ten horns, and he figured +with delight, in the bottom part of the picture, the Prince<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +of the Devils, Lucifer, under the semblance of an appalling +monster. The figures seemed to grow to life +of themselves under his hand. His success was beyond +his fondest hopes; so hideous was the countenance +of Lucifer, none could escape the nightmare of its foulness. +The face haunted the painter in the streets and +even went home with him to his lodging.</p> + +<p>Presently when night was come, Spinello lay down in +his bed beside his wife and fell asleep. In his slumbers +he saw an Angel as comely as St. Michael, but black; +and the Angel said to him:</p> + +<p>“Spinello, I am Lucifer. Tell me, where had you +seen me, that you should paint me as you have, under +so ignominious a likeness?”</p> + +<p>The old painter answered, trembling, that he had never +seen him with his eyes, never having gone down alive +into Hell, like Messer Dante Alighieri; but that, in depicting +him as he had done, he was for expressing in +visible lines and colours the hideousness of sin.</p> + +<p>Lucifer shrugged his shoulders, and the hill of +San Gemignano seemed of a sudden to heave and +stagger.</p> + +<p>“Spinello,” he went on, “will you do me the pleasure +to reason awhile with me? I am no mean Logician; He +you pray to knows that.”</p> + +<p>Receiving no reply, Lucifer proceeded in these terms:</p> + +<p>“Spinello, you have read the books that tell of me. +You know of my enterprise, and how I forsook Heaven +to become the Prince of this World. A tremendous adventure,—and +a unique one, had not the Giants in like +fashion assailed the god Jupiter, as yourself have seen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +Spinello, recorded on an ancient tomb where this Titanic +war is carved in marble.”</p> + +<p>“It is true,” said Spinello, “I have seen the tomb, +shaped like a great tun, in the Church of Santa Reparata +at Florence. ’Tis a fine work of the Romans.”</p> + +<p>“Still,” returned Lucifer, smiling, “the Giants are not +pictured on it in the shape of frogs or chameleons or +the like hideous and horrid creatures.”</p> + +<p>“True,” replied the painter, “but then they had not +attacked the true God, but only a false idol of the Pagans. +’Tis a mighty difference. The fact is clear, Lucifer, +you raised the standard of revolt against the true +and veritable King of Earth and Heaven.”</p> + +<p>“I will not deny it,” said Lucifer. “And how many +sorts of sins do you charge me with for that?”</p> + +<p>“Seven, it is like enough,” the painter answered, +“and deadly sins one and all.”</p> + +<p>“Seven!” exclaimed the Angel of Darkness; “well! +the number is canonical. Everything goes by sevens in +my history, which is close bound up with God’s. +Spinello, you deem me proud, angry and envious. I +enter no protest, provided you allow that glory was my +only aim. Do you deem me covetous? Granted again; +Covetousness is a virtue for Princes. For Gluttony and +Lust, if you hold me guilty, I will not complain. Remains +<i>Indolence</i>.”</p> + +<p>As he pronounced the word, Lucifer crossed his arms +across his breast, and shaking his gloomy head, tossed +his flaming locks:</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Spinello, do you really think I am indolent? +Do you take me for a coward? Do you hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +that in my revolt I showed a lack of courage? Nay! +you cannot. Then it was but just to paint me in the +guise of a hero, with a proud countenance. You should +wrong no one, not even the Devil. Cannot you see that +you insult Him you make prayer to, when you give Him +for adversary a vile, monstrous toad? Spinello, you +are very ignorant for a man of your age. I have a great +mind to pull your ears, as they do to an ill-conditioned +schoolboy.”</p> + +<p>At this threat, and seeing the arm of Lucifer already +stretched out towards him, Spinello clapped his hand to +his head and began to howl with terror.</p> + +<p>His good wife, waking up with a start, asked him +what ailed him. He told her with chattering teeth, how +he had just seen Lucifer and had been in terror for his +ears.</p> + +<p>“I told you so,” retorted the worthy dame; “I knew +all those figures you will go on painting on the walls +would end by driving you mad.”</p> + +<p>“I am not mad,” protested the painter. “I saw him +with my own eyes; and he is beautiful to look on, albeit +proud and sad. First thing tomorrow I will blot out +the horrid figure I have drawn and set in its place the +shape I beheld in my dream. For we must not wrong +even the Devil himself.”</p> + +<p>“You had best go to sleep again,” scolded his wife. +“You are talking stark nonsense, and unchristian to +boot.”</p> + +<p>Spinello tried to rise, but his strength failed him and +he fell back unconscious on his pillow. He lingered +on a few days in a high fever, and then died.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Taken by permission from <i>The Well of St. Claire</i>, by Anatole +France, translated by Alfred Allinson. Published, 1909, by John Lane +Co., New York.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> “And so successful was Spinello with his horrible and portentous +Production that it was commonly reported—so great is always the +force of fancy—that the said figure (of Lucifer trodden underfoot by +St. Michael in the Altar-Piece of the Church of St. Agnolo at Arezzo) +painted by him had appeared to the artist in a dream, and asked him +in what place he had beheld him under so brutish a form.” +</p><p> +<i>Lives of the most Excellent Painters</i>, by Giorgio Vasari.—“Life of +Spinello.”</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL30" id="THE_DEVIL30"></a>THE DEVIL<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY MAXIM GORKY<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Life is a burden in the Fall,—the sad season of decay +and death!</p> + +<p>The grey days, the weeping, sunless sky, the dark +nights, the growling, whining wind, the heavy, black +autumn shadows—all that drives clouds of gloomy +thoughts over the human soul, and fills it with a mysterious +fear of life where nothing is permanent, all is in an +eternal flux; things are born, decay, die ... why? +... for what purpose?...</p> + +<p>Sometimes the strength fails us to battle against the +tenebrous thoughts that enfold the soul late in the +autumn, therefore those who want to assuage their bitterness +ought to meet them half way. This is the only +way by which they will escape from the chaos of despair +and doubt, and will enter on the terra firma of self-confidence.</p> + +<p>But it is a laborious path, it leads through thorny +brambles that lacerate the living heart, and on that path +the devil always lies in ambush. It is that best of all +the devils, with whom the great Goethe has made us acquainted....</p> + +<p>My story is about that devil.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The devil suffered from ennui.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>He is too wise to ridicule everything.</p> + +<p>He knows that there are phenomena of life which the +devil himself is not able to rail at; for example, he has +never applied the sharp scalpel of his irony to the +majestic fact of his existence. To tell the truth, our +favourite devil is more bold than clever, and if we were +to look more closely at him, we might discover that, like +ourselves, he wastes most of his time on trifles. But +we had better leave that alone; we are not children that +break their best toys in order to discover what is in them.</p> + +<p>The devil once wandered over the cemetery in the +darkness of an autumn night: he felt lonely and whistled +softly as he looked around himself in search of a distraction. +He whistled an old song—my father’s favourite +song,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When, in autumnal days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A leaf from its branch is torn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on high by the wind is borne.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And the wind sang with him, soughing over the graves +and among the black crosses, and heavy autumnal clouds +slowly crawled over the heaven and with their cold tears +watered the narrow dwellings of the dead. The mournful +trees in the cemetery timidly creaked under the +strokes of the wind and stretched their bare branches to +the speechless clouds. The branches were now and then +caught by the crosses, and then a dull, shuffling, awful +sound passed over the churchyard....</p> + +<p>The devil was whistling, and he thought:</p> + +<p>“I wonder how the dead feel in such weather! No<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +doubt, the dampness goes down to them, and although +they are secure against rheumatism ever since the day +of their death, yet, I suppose, they do not feel comfortable. +How, if I called one of them up and had a talk +with him? It would be a little distraction for me, and, +very likely, for him also. I will call him! Somewhere +around here they have buried an old friend of +mine, an author.... I used to visit him when he was +alive ... why not renew our acquaintance? People +of his kind are dreadfully exacting. I shall find out +whether the grave satisfies him completely. But where +is his grave?”</p> + +<p>And the devil who, as is well known, knows everything, +wandered for a long time about the cemetery, before +he found the author’s grave....</p> + +<p>“Oh there!” he called out as he knocked with his +claws at the heavy stone under which his acquaintance +was put away.</p> + +<p>“Get up!”</p> + +<p>“What for?” came the dull answer from below.</p> + +<p>“I need you.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t get up.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Who are you, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“You know me.”</p> + +<p>“The censor?”</p> + +<p>“Ha, ha, ha! No!”</p> + +<p>“Maybe a secret policeman?”</p> + +<p>“No, no!”</p> + +<p>“Not a critic, either?”</p> + +<p>“I am the devil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll be out in a minute.”</p> + +<p>The stone lifted itself from the grave, the earth burst +open, and a skeleton came out of it. It was a very common +skeleton, just the kind that students study anatomy +by: only it was dirty, had no wire connections, and in +the empty sockets there shone a blue phosphoric light +instead of eyes. It crawled out of the ground, shook its +bones in order to throw off the earth that stuck to them, +making a dry, rattling noise with them, and raising up +its skull, looked with its cold, blue eyes at the murky, +cloud-covered sky. “I hope you are well!” said the +devil.</p> + +<p>“How can I be?” curtly answered the author. He +spoke in a strange, low voice, as if two bones were grating +against each other.</p> + +<p>“Oh, excuse my greeting!” the devil said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Never mind!... But why have you raised me?”</p> + +<p>“I just wanted to take a walk with you, though the +weather is very bad.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you are not afraid of catching a cold?” +asked the devil.</p> + +<p>“Not at all, I got used to catching colds during my +lifetime.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I remember, you died pretty cold.”</p> + +<p>“I should say I did! They had poured enough cold +water over me all my life.”</p> + +<p>They walked beside each other over the narrow path, +between graves and crosses. Two blue beams fell from +the author’s eyes upon the ground and lit the way for +the devil. A drizzling rain sprinkled over them, and +the wind freely passed between the author’s bare ribs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +and through his breast where there was no longer a +heart.</p> + +<p>“We are going to town?” he asked the devil.</p> + +<p>“What interests you there?”</p> + +<p>“Life, my dear sir,” the author said impassionately.</p> + +<p>“What! It still has a meaning for you?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed it has!”</p> + +<p>“But why?”</p> + +<p>“How am I to say it? A man measures all by the +quantity of his effort, and if he carries a common stone +down from the summit of Ararat, that stone becomes +a gem to him.”</p> + +<p>“Poor fellow!” smiled the devil.</p> + +<p>“But also happy man!” the author retorted coldly.</p> + +<p>The devil shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>They left the churchyard, and before them lay a +street,—two rows of houses, and between them was darkness +in which the miserable lamps clearly proved the +want of light upon earth.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” the devil spoke after a pause, “how do you +like your grave?”</p> + +<p>“Now I am used to it, and it is all right: it is very +quiet there.”</p> + +<p>“Is it not damp down there in the Fall?” asked the +devil.</p> + +<p>“A little. But you get used to that. The greatest annoyance +comes from those various idiots who ramble +over the cemetery and accidentally stumble on my grave. +I don’t know how long I have been lying in my grave, +for I and everything around me is unchangeable, and the +concept of time does not exist for me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“You have been in the ground four years,—it will +soon be five,” said the devil.</p> + +<p>“Indeed? Well then, there have been three people at +my grave during that time. Those accursed people +make me nervous. One, you see, straight away denied +the fact of my existence: he read my name on the tombstone +and said confidently: ‘There never was such a +man! I have never read him, though I remember such +a name: when I was a boy, there lived a man of that +name who had a broker’s shop in our street.’ How do +you like that? And my articles appeared for sixteen +years in the most popular periodicals, and three times +during my lifetime my books came out in separate editions.”</p> + +<p>“There were two more editions since your death,” the +devil informed him.</p> + +<p>“Well, you see? Then came two, and one of them +said: ‘Oh, that’s that fellow!’ ‘Yes, that is he!’ answered +the other. ‘Yes, they used to read him in the +auld lang syne.’ ‘They read a lot of them.’ ‘What was +it he preached?’ ‘Oh, generally, ideas of beauty, goodness, +and so forth.’ ‘Oh, yes, I remember.’ ‘He had +a heavy tongue.’ ‘There is a lot of them in the ground:—yes, +Russia is rich in talents’ ... And those asses +went away. It is true, warm words do not raise the +temperature of the grave, and I do not care for that, +yet it hurts me. And oh, how I wanted to give them a +piece of my mind!”</p> + +<p>“You ought to have given them a fine tongue-lashing!” +smiled the devil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, that would not have done. On the verge of the +twentieth century it would be absurd for dead people to +scold, and, besides, it would be hard on the materialists.”</p> + +<p>The devil again felt the ennui coming over him.</p> + +<p>This author had always wished in his lifetime to be a +bridegroom at all weddings and a corpse at all burials, +and now that all is dead in him, his egotism is still +alive. Is man of any importance to life? Of importance +is only the human spirit, and only the spirit deserves +applause and recognition.... How annoying +people are! The devil was on the point of proposing +to the author to return to his grave, when an idea flashed +through his evil head. They had just reached a square, +and heavy masses of buildings surrounded them on all +sides. The dark, wet sky hung low over the square; it +seemed as though it rested on the roofs and murkily +looked at the dirty earth.</p> + +<p>“Say,” said the devil as he inclined pleasantly towards +the author, “don’t you want to know how your +wife is getting on?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether I want to,” the author spoke +slowly.</p> + +<p>“I see, you are a thorough corpse!” called out the +devil to annoy him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know?” said the author and jauntily +shook his bones. “I don’t mind seeing her; besides, +she will not see me, or if she will, she cannot recognize +me!”</p> + +<p>“Of course!” the devil assured him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You know, I only said so because she did not like +for me to go away long from home,” explained the author.</p> + +<p>And suddenly the wall of a house disappeared or became +as transparent as glass. The author saw the inside +of large apartments, and it was so light and cosy +in them.</p> + +<p>“Elegant appointments!” he grated his bones approvingly: +“Very fine appointments! If I had lived in +such rooms, I would be alive now.”</p> + +<p>“I like it, too,” said the devil and smiled. “And it is +not expensive—it only costs some three thousands.”</p> + +<p>“Hem, that not expensive? I remember my largest +work brought me 815 roubles, and I worked over it a +whole year. But who lives here?”</p> + +<p>“Your wife,” said the devil.</p> + +<p>“I declare! That is good ... for her.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and here comes her husband.”</p> + +<p>“She is so pretty now, and how well she is dressed! +Her husband, you say? What a fine looking fellow! +Rather a bourgeois phiz,—kind, but somewhat stupid! +He looks as if he might be cunning,—well, just the face +to please a woman.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want me to heave a sigh for you?” the devil +proposed and looked maliciously at the author. But he +was taken up with the scene before him.</p> + +<p>“What happy, jolly faces both have! They are evidently +satisfied with life. Tell me, does she love him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, very much!”</p> + +<p>“And who is he?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“A clerk in a millinery shop.”</p> + +<p>“A clerk in a millinery shop,” the author repeated +slowly and did not utter a word for some time. The +devil looked at him and smiled a merry smile.</p> + +<p>“Do you like that?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The author spoke with an effort:</p> + +<p>“I had some children.... I know they are alive.... +I had some children ... a son and a daughter.... +I used to think then that my son would turn out +in time a good man....”</p> + +<p>“There are plenty of good men, but what the world +needs is perfect men,” said the devil coolly and whistled +a jolly march.</p> + +<p>“I think the clerk is probably a poor pedagogue ... +and my son....”</p> + +<p>The author’s empty skull shook sadly.</p> + +<p>“Just look how he is embracing her! They are living +an easy life!” exclaimed the devil.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Is that clerk a rich man?”</p> + +<p>“No, he was poorer than I, but your wife is rich.”</p> + +<p>“My wife? Where did she get the money from?”</p> + +<p>“From the sale of your books!”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said the author and shook his bare and empty +skull. “Oh! Then it simply means that I have worked +for a certain clerk?”</p> + +<p>“I confess it looks that way,” the devil chimed in +merrily.</p> + +<p>The author looked at the ground and said to the devil: +“Take me back to my grave!”</p> + +<p>... It was late. A rain fell, heavy clouds hung in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +the sky, and the author rattled his bones as he marched +rapidly to his grave.... The devil walked behind him +and whistled merrily.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>My reader is, of course, dissatisfied. My reader is +surfeited with literature, and even the people that write +only to please him, are rarely to his taste. In the present +case my reader is also dissatisfied because I have +said nothing about hell. As my reader is justly convinced +that after death he will find his way there, he +would like to know something about hell during his lifetime. +Really, I can’t tell anything pleasant to my +reader on that score, because there is no hell, no fiery +hell which it is so easy to imagine. Yet, there is something +else and infinitely more terrible.</p> + +<p>The moment the doctor will have said about you to +your friends: “He is dead!” you will enter an immeasurable, +illuminated space, and that is the space of +the consciousness of your mistakes.</p> + +<p>You lie in the grave, in a narrow coffin, and your miserable +life rotates about you like a wheel.</p> + +<p>It moves painfully slow, and passes before you from +your first conscious step to the last moment of your life.</p> + +<p>You will see all that you have hidden from yourself +during your lifetime, all the lies and meanness of your +existence: you will think over anew all your past +thoughts, and you will see every wrong step of yours,—all +your life will be gone over, to its minutest details!</p> + +<p>And to increase your torments, you will know that on +that narrow and stupid road which you have traversed, +others are marching, and pushing each other, and hurrying,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +and lying.... And you understand that they are +doing it all only to find out in time how shameful it is +to live such a wretched, soulless life.</p> + +<p>And though you see them hastening on towards their +destruction, you are in no way able to warn them: you +will not move nor cry, and your helpless desire to aid +them will tear your soul to pieces.</p> + +<p>Your life passes before you, and you see it from the +start, and there is no end to the work of your conscience, +and there will be no end ... and to the horror of your +torments there will never be an end ... never!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> From the <i>National Magazine</i>, vol. XV. By permission of the Editor +and Translator.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN31" id="THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN31"></a>THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN MASEFIELD<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN_N">Notes</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Up away north, in the old days, in Chester, there was +a man who never throve. Nothing he put his hand to +ever prospered, and as his state worsened, his friends +fell away, and he grew desperate. So one night when +he was alone in his room, thinking of the rent due in +two or three days and the money he couldn’t scrape together, +he cried out, “I wish I could sell my soul to the +devil like that man the old books tell about.”</p> + +<p>Now just as he spoke the clock struck twelve, and, +while it chimed, a sparkle began to burn about the room, +and the air, all at once, began to smell of brimstone, and +a voice said:</p> + +<p>“Will these terms suit you?”</p> + +<p>He then saw that some one had just placed a parchment +there. He picked it up and read it through; and +being in despair, and not knowing what he was doing, +he answered, “Yes,” and looked round for a pen.</p> + +<p>“Take and sign,” said the voice again, “but first consider +what it is you do; do nothing rashly. Consider.”</p> + +<p>So he thought awhile; then “Yes,” he said, “I’ll sign,” +and with that he groped for the pen.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> +<p>“Blood from your left thumb and sign,” said the +voice.</p> + +<p>So he pricked his left thumb and signed.</p> + +<p>“Here is your earnest money,” said the voice, “nine +and twenty silver pennies. This day twenty years hence +I shall see you again.”</p> + +<p>Now early next morning our friend came to himself +and felt like one of the drowned. “What a dream I’ve +had,” he said. Then he woke up and saw the nine and +twenty silver pennies and smelt a faint smell of brimstone.</p> + +<p>So he sat in his chair there, and remembered that he +had sold his soul to the devil for twenty years of heart’s-desire; +and whatever fears he may have had as to what +might come at the end of those twenty years, he found +comfort in the thought that, after all, twenty years is a +good stretch of time, and that throughout them he could +eat, drink, merrymake, roll in gold, dress in silk, and be +care-free, heart at ease and jib-sheet to windward.</p> + +<p>So for nineteen years and nine months he lived in +great state, having his heart’s desire in all things; but, +when his twenty years were nearly run through, there +was no wretcheder man in all the world than that poor +fellow. So he threw up his house, his position, riches, +everything, and away he went to the port of Liverpool, +where he signed on as A. B., aboard a Black Ball packet, +a tea clipper, bound to the China seas.</p> + +<p>They made a fine passage out, and when our friend +had only three days more, they were in the Indian Ocean +lying lazy, becalmed.</p> + +<p>Now it was his wheel that forenoon, and it being dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +calm, all he had to do was just to think of things; the +ship of course having no way on her.</p> + +<p>So he stood there, hanging on to the spokes, groaning +and weeping till, just twenty minutes or so before eight +bells were made, up came the Captain for a turn on +deck.</p> + +<p>He went aft, of course, took a squint aloft, and saw our +friend crying at the wheel. “Hello, my man,” he says, +“why, what’s all this? Ain’t you well? You’d best lay +aft for a dose o’salts at four bells tonight.”</p> + +<p>“No, Cap’n,” said the man, “there’s no salts’ll ever +cure my sickness.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s all this?” says the old man. “You +must be sick if it’s as bad as all that. But come now; +your cheek is all sunk, and you look as if you ain’t slept +well. What is it ails you, anyway? Have you anything +on your mind?”</p> + +<p>“Captain,” he answers very solemn, “I have sold my +soul to the devil.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said the old man, “why, that’s bad. That’s +powerful bad. I never thought them sort of things ever +happened outside a book.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said our friend, “that’s not the worst of it, +Captain. At this time three days hence the devil will +fetch me home.”</p> + +<p>“Good Lord!” groaned the old man. “Here’s a nice +hurrah’s nest to happen aboard my ship. But come +now,” he went on, “did the devil give you no chance—no +saving-clause like? Just think quietly for a moment.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Captain,” said our friend, “just when I made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +the deal, there came a whisper in my ear. And,” he +said, speaking very quietly, so as not to let the mate +hear, “if I can give the devil three jobs to do which he +cannot do, why, then, Captain,” he says, “I’m saved, and +that deed of mine is cancelled.”</p> + +<p>Well, at this the old man grinned and said, “You +just leave things to me, my son. <i>I’ll</i> fix the devil for +you. Aft there, one o’ you, and relieve the wheel. +Now you run forrard, and have a good watch below, and +be quite easy in your mind, for I’ll deal with the devil +for you. You rest and be easy.”</p> + +<p>And so that day goes by, and the next, and the one +after that, and the one after that was the day the Devil +was due.</p> + +<p>Soon as eight bells was made in the morning watch, +the old man called all hands aft.</p> + +<p>“Men,” he said, “I’ve got an all-hands job for you this +forenoon.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Mate,” he cried, “get all hands on to the main-tops’l +halliards and bowse the sail stiff up and down.”</p> + +<p>So they passed along the halliards, and took the turns +off, and old John Chantyman piped up—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There’s a Black Ball clipper<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comin’ down the river.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And away the yard went to the mast-head till the bunt-robands +jammed in the sheave.</p> + +<p>“Very well that,” said the old man. “Now get my +dinghy off o’ the half-deck and let her drag alongside.”</p> + +<p>So they did that, too.</p> + +<p>“Very well that,” said the old man. “Now forrard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +with you, to the chain-locker, and rouse out every inch +of chain you find there.”</p> + +<p>So forrard they went, and the chain was lighted up +and flaked along the deck all clear for running.</p> + +<p>“Now, Chips,” says the old man to the carpenter, “just +bend the spare anchor to the end of that chain, and clear +away the fo’c’s’le rails ready for when we let go.”</p> + +<p>So they did this, too.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said the old man, “get them tubs of slush +from the galley. Pass that slush along there, doctor. +Very well that. Now turn to, all hands, and slush away +every link in that chain a good inch thick in grease.”</p> + +<p>So they did that, too, and wondered what the old man +meant.</p> + +<p>“Very well that,” cries the old man. “Now get below +all hands! Chips, on to the fo’c’s’le head with you and +stand by! I’ll keep the deck, Mr. Mate! Very well +that.”</p> + +<p>So all hands tumbled down below; Chips took a fill +o’ baccy to leeward of the capstan, and the old man +walked the weather-poop looking for a sign of hell-fire.</p> + +<p>It was still dead calm—but presently, towards six +bells, he raised a black cloud away to leeward, and saw +the glimmer of the lightning in it; only the flashes were +too red, and came too quick.</p> + +<p>“Now,” says he to himself, “stand by.”</p> + +<p>Very soon that black cloud worked up to windward, +right alongside, and there came a red flash, and a strong +sulphurous smell, and then a loud peal of thunder as +the devil steps aboard.</p> + +<p>“Mornin’, Cap’n,” says he.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Mornin’, Mr. Devil,” says the old man, “and what +in blazes do you want aboard <i>my</i> ship?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Captain,” said the devil, “I’ve come for the +soul of one of your hands as per signed agreement: and, +as my time’s pretty full up in these wicked days, I hope +you won’t keep me waiting for him longer than need +be.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Devil,” says the old man, “the man you +come for is down below, sleeping, just at this moment. +It’s a fair pity to call him up till it’s right time. So +supposin’ I set you them three tasks. How would that +be? Have you any objections?”</p> + +<p>“Why, no,” said the devil, “fire away as soon as you +like.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Devil,” said the old man, “you see that main-tops’l +yard? Suppose you lay out on that main-tops’l +yard and take in three reefs singlehanded.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay, sir,” the devil said, and he ran up the rat-lines, +into the top, up the topmast rigging and along the +yard.</p> + +<p>Well, when he found the sail stiff up and down, he +hailed the deck:</p> + +<p>“Below there! On deck there! Lower away ya halliards!”</p> + +<p>“I will not,” said the old man, “nary a lower.”</p> + +<p>“Come up your sheets, then,” cries the devil. “This +main-topsail’s stiff up-and-down. How’m I to take in +three reefs when the sail’s stiff up-and-down?”</p> + +<p>“Why,” said the old man, “<i>you can’t do it</i>. Come +out o’ that! Down from aloft, you hoof-footed son. +That’s one to me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” says the devil, when he got on deck again, +“I don’t deny it, Cap’n. That’s one to you.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Mr. Devil,” said the old man, going towards +the rail, “suppose you was to step into that little boat +alongside there. Will you please?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay, sir,” he said, and he slid down the forrard +fall, got into the stern sheets, and sat down.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mr. Devil,” said the skipper, taking a little +salt spoon from his vest pocket, “supposin’ you bail all +the water on that side the boat on to this side the boat, +using this spoon as your dipper.”</p> + +<p>Well!—the devil just looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Say!” he said at length, “which of the New England +States d’ye hail from anyway?”</p> + +<p>“Not Jersey, anyway,” said the old man. “That’s +two up, alright; ain’t it, sonny?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” growls the devil, as he climbs aboard. +“That’s two up. Two to you and one to play. Now, +what’s your next contraption?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Devil,” said the old man, looking very innocent, +“you see, I’ve ranged my chain ready for letting go +anchor. Now Chips is forrard there, and when I sing +out, he’ll let the anchor go. Supposin’ you stopper the +chain with them big hands o’ yourn and keep it from +running out clear. Will you, please?”</p> + +<p>So the devil takes off his coat and rubs his hands together, +and gets away forrard by the bitts, and stands +by.</p> + +<p>“All ready, Cap’n,” he says.</p> + +<p>“All ready, Chips?” asked the old man.</p> + +<p>“All ready, sir,” replies Chips.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then, stand by—Let <i>go</i> the anchor,” and clink, +clink, old Chips knocks out the pin, and away goes the +spare anchor and greased chain into a five mile deep of +God’s sea. As I said, they were in the Indian Ocean.</p> + +<p>Well—there was the devil, making a grab here and +a grab there, and the slushy chain just slipping through +his claws, and at whiles a bight of chain would spring +clear and rap him in the eye.</p> + +<p>So at last the cable was nearly clean gone, and the +devil ran to the last big link (which was seized to the +heel of the foremast), and he put both his arms through +it, and hung on to it like grim death.</p> + +<p>But the chain gave such a <i>Yank</i> when it came-to, that +the big link carried away, and oh, roll and go, out it +went through the hawsehole, in a shower of bright +sparks, carrying the devil with it. There is no devil +now. The devil’s dead.</p> + +<p>As for the old man, he looked over the bows watching +the bubbles burst, but the devil never rose. Then he +went to the fo’c’s’le scuttle and banged thereon with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +hand-spike.</p> + +<p>“Rouse out, there, the port watch!” he called, “an’ +get my dinghy inboard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> From <i>A Mainsail Haul</i>, by John Masefield [Copyright 1913 by The +Macmillan Company. Reprinted by permission of the Author and the +Publishers.]</p></div> +</div> + +<p> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="NOTES" id="NOTES"></a>NOTES<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></h2> + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY_N" id="THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY_N"></a>THE DEVIL IN A NUNNERY</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCIS OSCAR MANN<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_IN_A_NUNNERY1">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>According to a German legend, the devil is master of all +arts, and certainly he has given sufficient proof of his musical +talent. Certain Church Fathers ascribed, not without good reason, +the origin of music to Satan. “The Devil,” says Mr. +Huneker in his diabolical story “The Supreme Sin” (1920), “is +the greatest of all musicians,” and Rowland Hill long ago +admitted the fact that the devil has all the good tunes. Perhaps +his greatest composition is the <i>Sonata del Diavolo</i>, which Tartini +wrote down in 1713. This diabolical master-piece is the +subject of Gérard de Nerval’s story <i>La Sonate du Diable</i> +(1830). While the devil plays all instruments equally well, +he seems to prefer the violin. Satan appears as fiddler in the +poem “Der Teufel mit der Geige,” which has been ascribed to +the Swiss anti-Papist Pamphilus Gengenbach of the sixteenth +century. In Leanu’s <i>Faust</i> (1836) Mephistopheles takes the +violin out of the hands of one of the musicians at a peasant-wedding +and plays a diabolical <i>czardas</i>, which fills the hearts +of all who hear it with voluptuousness. An opera <i>Un Violon +du Diable</i> was played in Paris in 1849. <i>The Devil’s Violin</i>, +an extravaganza in verse by Benjamin Webster, was performed +the same year in London. In his story “Les Tentations ou +Eros, Plutus et la Gloire” Baudelaire presents the Demon +of Love as holding in his left hand a violin “which without +doubt served to sing his pleasures and pains.” The devil +also appears as limping fiddler in a California legend, which +appeared under the title “The Devil’s Fiddle” in a Californian +magazine in 1855. Death, the devil’s first cousin, if not his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +<i>alter ego</i>, has the souls, in the Dance of Death, march off to +hell to a merry tune on his violin. Death appears as a musician +also in the Piper of Hamlin. In this legend, well known +to the English world through Browning’s poem “Pied Piper of +Hamelin” (1843) and Miss Peabody’s play <i>The Piper</i> (1909), +the rats are the human souls, which Death charms with his +music into following him. In the Middle Ages the soul was +often represented as leaving the body in the form of a mouse. +The soul of a good man comes out of his mouth as a white +mouse, while at the death of a sinner the soul escapes as a +black mouse, which the devil catches and brings to hell. Mephistopheles, +it will be recalled, calls himself “the lord of rats +and mice” (<i>Faust</i>, 1, 1516). Devil-Death has inherited this +wind instrument from the goat-footed Pan.</p> + +<p>“The Devil is more busy in the convents,” we are told by +J. K. Huysmans in his novel <i>En route</i> (1895), “than in the +cities, as he has a harder job on hand.”</p> + + + +<h2><a name="BELPHAGOR_N" id="BELPHAGOR_N"></a>BELPHAGOR<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI<span class="sidenote"><a href="#BELPHAGOR">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>This story of the devil Belphagor, who was sent by his infernal +chief Pluto up to earth, where he married an earthly +wife, but finally left her in disgust to go back to hell, is also +of mediaeval origin. It was first printed by Giovanni Brevio +in 1545, and appeared for the second time with the name of +Machiavelli in 1549, twenty-two years after the death of the +diabolical statesman. The two authors did not borrow from +each other, but had a common source in a mediaeval Latin +manuscript, which seems to have first fallen into the hands of +Italians, but was later brought to France where it has been lost. +The tale of the marriage of the devil appeared in several other +Italian versions during the sixteenth century. Among the Italian +novelists, who retold it for the benefit of their married +friends, may be mentioned Giovan-Francesco Straparola, Francesco +Sansovino, and Gabriel Chappuys. In England this story +was no less popular. Barnabe Riche inserted it in his collection +of narratives in 1581, and we meet it again later in the +following plays: <i>Grim, the Collier of Croydon</i>, ascribed to Ulpian +Fulwell (1599); <i>The Devil and his Dame</i> by P. M. Houghton +(1600); <i>Machiavel and the Devil</i> by Daborne and Henslowe +(1613); <i>The Devil is an Ass</i> by Ben Jonson (1616); and +<i>Belphagor, or the Marriage of the Devil</i> (1690). In France +the story was treated in verse by La Fontaine (1694), and in +Germany it served the Nuremberg poet Hans Sachs as the subject +for a farce (1557).</p> + +<p>The <i>Encyclopaedia Britannica</i> is authority for the statement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +that Machiavelli’s own married life had nothing to do with the +plot of his story.</p> + +<p>“The notion of this story is ingenious, and might have been +made productive of entertaining incident, had Belphagor been +led by his connubial connections from one crime to another. +But Belphagor is only unfortunate, and in no respect guilty; +nor did anything occur during his abode on earth that testified +to the power of woman in leading us to final condemnation. +The story of the peasant and the possession of the princesses +bears no reference to the original idea with which the tale commences, +and has no connection with the object of the infernal +deputy’s terrestrial sojourn” (J. C. Dunlop, <i>History of Fiction</i>). +To this criticism Mr. Thomas Roscoe replies that “part of the +humour of the story seems to consist in Belphagor’s earthly career +being cut short before he had served the full term of his +apprenticeship. But from the follies and extravagances into +which he had already plunged, we are now authorized to believe +that, even if he had been able longer to support the asperities +of the lady’s temper, he must, from the course he was pursuing, +have been led from crime to crime, or at least from folly to +folly, to such a degree that he would infallibly have been condemned” +(T. Roscoe, <i>Italian Novelists</i>).</p> + +<p>The demon of Machiavelli offers no features of a deep psychology, +but he distinguishes himself from the other demons +of his period by his elegant manners. Like creator, like creature.</p> + +<p>Belphagor, the god of the Moabites, like all other pagan +gods, joined the infernal forces of Satan when driven off the +earth by the Church Triumphant.</p> + +<p>The parliament of devils, which we find in this story, was +taken from the mystery-plays where the ruler of hell is represented +as holding occasional receptions when he listens to +the reports of their recent achievements on his behalf, and consults +their opinion on matters of state. Satan, who has always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +wished to rival God, has instituted the infernal council in imitation +of the celestial council described in the Book of Job. +The source for the parliament of devils is the apocryphal book +<i>Evangelium Nicodemi</i>. An early metrical tract under the title +of the <i>Parlement of Devils</i> was printed two or three times in +London about 1520. A “Pandemonium” is also found in +Tasso, Milton, and Chateaubriand. The <i>Parlement of Foules</i> +(14th century) is but a modification of the <i>Parlement of Devils</i>, +for the devil and the fool were originally identical in person +and may be traced back to the demonic clown of the ancient +heathen cult (cf. the present writer’s book, <i>The Origin of the +German Carnival Comedy</i>, p. 37). A far echo is Thomas Chatterton’s +poem <i>The Parliament of Sprites</i>.</p> + +<p>This story recalls to us the saying that the heart of a beautiful +woman is the most beloved hiding-place of at least seven +devils.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER_N" id="THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER_N"></a>THE DEVIL AND TOM WALKER<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WASHINGTON IRVING<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_AND_TOM_WALKER2">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>By his interest in popular legends the first of the great American +writers shows his sympathy with the Romantic movement, +which prevailed in his time in all the countries of Europe. +His devil, however, has not been imported from the lands +across the Atlantic, but is a part of the superstitions of the +New World. The author himself did not believe in “Old +Scratch.” The real devils for him were the slave-traders and +the witch-hunters of Salem fame. It is interesting now to read +a contemporary critic of Washington Irving’s devil-story: “If +Mr. Irving believes in the existence of Tom Walker’s master, +we can scarcely conceive how he can so earnestly jest about +him; at all events, we would counsel him to beware lest his own +spells should prove fatal to him” (<i>Eclectic Review</i>, 1825). +Few people in those days had the courage to take Old Nick +good-naturedly. “Even the clever Madame de Staël,” said +Goethe, “was greatly scandalized that I kept the devil in such +good-humour.”</p> + +<p>The devil appears in many colours, principally, however, in +black and red. It is a common belief in Scotland that the +devil is a black man, as may also be seen in Robert Louis +Stevenson’s story “Thrawn Janet.” There is no warrant in the +biblical tradition for a black devil. Satan, however, appeared +as an Ethiopian as far back as the days of the Church Fathers. +The black colour presumably is intended to suggest his place +of abode, whereas red denotes the scorching fires of hell. The +devil was considered as a sort of eternal Salamander. In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +New Testament he is described as a fiery fiend. Red was considered +by Oriental nations as a diabolical colour. In Egypt +red hair and red animals of all kinds were considered infernal. +The Apis was also red-coloured. Satan’s red beard recalls +the Scandinavian god Donar or Thor, who is of Phoenician origin. +Judas was always represented in mediaeval mystery-plays +with a red beard; and down to the present day red hair +is the mark of a suspicious character. The devil also appears +as yellow, and even blue, but never as white or green. The +yellow devil is but a shade less bright than his fiery brother. +The blue devil is a sulphur-constitutioned individual. He is +the demon of melancholy, and fills us with “the blues.” As the +spirit of darkness and death, the devil cannot assume the colours +of white or green, which are the symbols of light and +life. The devil’s dragon-tail is, according to Sir Walter Scott, +of biblical tradition, coming from a literal interpretation of a +figurative expression.</p> + +<p>A few interesting remarks on the expression “The Devil +and Tom Walker” current in certain parts of this country as a +caution to usurers will be found in Dr. Blondheim’s article +“The Devil and Doctor Foster” in <i>Modern Language Notes</i> for +1918.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN_N" id="FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN_N"></a>FROM THE MEMOIRS OF SATAN<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WILHELM HAUFF<span class="sidenote"><a href="#FROM_THE_MEMOIRS_OF_SATAN">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Wilhelm Hauff, the author of this book, ranks honourably +among the members of the Romantic School in Germany. As +the work of a man of only twenty-two years, just out of the +university, the book is a credit to its author. It must be +admitted, however, that it was not altogether original with +him. The idea was taken from E. Th. A. Hoffmann,—Devil-Hoffmann, +as he was called by his contemporaries,—who in his +short-story “Der Teufel in Berlin” also has the devil travel incognito +in Germany; and the title was borrowed from Jean +Paul Richter, who also claimed to edit <i>Selections from the +Devil’s Papers</i> (<i>Auswahl aus des Teufels Papieren, 1789</i>). +There were others, too, who claimed to have been honoured +by his Satanic Majesty to edit his “journal.” J. R. Beard, a +Unitarian minister, published in 1872 an <i>Autobiography of +Satan</i>. Another autobiography of Satan is said to have been +found among the posthumous works of Leonid Andréev, +author of that original diabolical work <i>Anathema, a tragedy</i> +(Engl. tr. 1910). This book has just appeared in English +under the title <i>Satan’s Diary</i>. Frédéric Soulié’s <i>Les Mémoires +du Diable</i> (1837/8) consist of memoirs not of the devil himself, +but of other people, which the Count de Luizzi, the human +partner to the diabolical pact, is very anxious to know. Hauff’s +book consists of a series of papers, which are but loosely connected. +In certain passages we hear nothing of the autobiographer. +The Suavian writer apparently could digest the Diabolical +only in homeopathic doses. His Satan, moreover, is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +very youthful and quite harmless devil. He is nothing but a +personified echo of the author’s student-days. The book by +Hauff is perhaps the most popular personification of the devil +in German literature.</p> + +<p>The passage presented here shows the phantastic element +of the book at its best. The short introductory synopsis will +give an idea of its satirical aspect. The humorous aspect +has pretty nearly been lost in translation. Professor Brander +Matthews has aptly said: “The German humour is like the +simple Italian wines—it will not stand export.”</p> + +<p>Of all the peoples, the Germans seem to have had the most +kindly feelings towards the devil. This is because they knew +him better. To judge from the many bridges and cathedrals, +which the demon, according to legends, has built in Germany, +he must have been a frequent visitor to that country. In +Frankfort, where with his own hands our author received the +memoirs from the autobiographer, there is a gilded cock above +the bridge in memory of the bargain the bridge-builder once +made with Satan to give him the first living thing that should +cross the river. The day the bridge was finished, a cock fluttered +from a woman’s market-basket and ran over the bridge. +A claw-like hand reached down and claimed the prize.</p> + +<p>The distinguished personage, whose adventures form the subject +of this book, does not figure in it under his own name, nor +does he appear here in the gala attire of tail, horns and cloven +foot with which he graces the revels on the Blocksberg. He +borrows for the nonce a tall, gentlemanly figure, surmounted +by delicate features, dresses well, is fastidious about his ring +and linen, travels post and stops at the best hotels. He begins +his earthly career by studying at the renowned university +of ——. As he can boast of abundant means, a handsome +wardrobe and the name of Herr von Barbe, it is no wonder +that on the first evening he should be politely received, the +next morning have a confidential friend, and the second evening +embrace “brothers till death.” He becomes much puzzled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +at the extraordinary manners of the students, and at their +language, so different from that of every rational German. +He remarks: “Over a glass of beer they often fell into singularly +transcendental investigations, of which I understood little +or nothing. However, I observed the principal words, and +when drawn into a conversation, replied with a grave air—‘Freedom, +Fatherland, Nationality.’” He attends the lectures +of a celebrated professor, whose profundity of thought and +terseness of style are so astounding, that the German world +set him down as possessed; the critical student, however, differs +somewhat from that conclusion, observing—</p> + +<p>“I have borne a great deal in the world. I have even entered +into swine,” (“The devil,” said Luther, “knows Scripture +well and he uses it in argument”) “but into such a philosopher? +No, indeed! I had rather be excused.”</p> + +<p>The episode here reprinted occurred in a hotel in Frankfort, +where our incognito is known as Herr von Natas (which, it will +be noticed, is his more familiar name read backwards). His +brilliant powers of conversation, his adroit flattery, courteous +gallantry, and elegant, though wayward flights of imagination, +soon rendered him the delight of the whole <i>table d’hôte</i>. +All guests, including our author, were fascinated by the +mysterious stranger. But we will let the author himself tell his +story.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="ST_JOHNS_EVE_N" id="ST_JOHNS_EVE_N"></a>ST. JOHN’S EVE<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY NIKOLÁI VASILÉVICH GÓGOL<span class="sidenote"><a href="#ST_JOHNS_EVE3">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>This story, taken from <i>Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka</i>, a +series of sketches of the life of the Ukrainian peasants, offers a +good illustration of the author’s art, which was a combination +of the romantic and realistic elements. In these pages Gógol +wished to record the myths and legends still current among +the plain folk of his beloved Ukrainia. The devil naturally +enough peeps out here and there through the pages of this +book. Gógol’s devil is a product of the Russian soil, “the +spirit of mischief and cunning, whom Russian literature is always +trying to outplay and overcome” (Mme. Jarintzow, <i>Russian +Poets and Poems</i>).</p> + +<p>According to European superstition St. John’s Eve is the +only evening in the year when his Satanic Majesty reveals himself +in his proper shape to the eyes of men. If you wish to +behold his Highness face to face, stand on St. John’s Eve at midnight +near a mustard-plant. It is suggested by Sir James +Frazer in his <i>Golden Bough</i> that, in the chilly air of the upper +world, this prince from a warmer clime may be attracted by +the warmth of the mustard.</p> + +<p>It is believed in many parts of Europe that treasures can be +found on St. John’s Eve by means of the fern-seed. Even without +the use of this plant treasures are sometimes said to bloom +or burn in the earth, or to reveal their presence by a bluish +flame on Midsummer Eve. As guardian of treasures the devil +is the successor of the gnome.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_WAGER_N" id="THE_DEVILS_WAGER_N"></a>THE DEVIL’S WAGER<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_WAGER">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p><i>The Devil’s Wager</i> is Thackeray’s earliest attempt at story-writing, +was contributed to a weekly literary paper with the imposing +title <i>The National Standard, and Journal of Literature, +Science, Music, Theatricals, and the Fine Arts</i>, of which he +was proprietor and editor, and was reprinted in the <i>Paris +Sketch Book</i> (1840). The story first ended with the very +Thackerayesque touch: “The moral of this story will be given +in several successive numbers.” In the <i>Paris Sketch Book</i> the +last three words are changed into “the second edition.” This +comical tale was illustrated by an excellent wood-cut, representing +the devil as sailing through the air, dragging after +him the fat Sir Roger de Rollo by means of his tail, which is +wound round Sir Roger’s neck.</p> + +<p>In the “Advertisement to the First Edition” of his <i>Paris +Sketch Book</i>, Thackeray admits the French origin of this as +well as of his other devil-story, <i>The Painter’s Bargain</i>, to be +found in the same volume. It was Thackeray’s good fortune to +live in Paris during the wildest and most brilliant years of +Romanticism; and while his attitude towards this movement +and its leaders, as presented in the <i>Paris Sketch Book</i>, is not +wholly sympathetic, he is indebted to it for his interest in +supernatural subjects. The Romanticism of Thackeray has +been denied with great obstinacy and almost passion, for like +Heinrich Heine, the chief of German Romantic ironists, he +poked fun at this movement. But “to laugh at what you love,” +as Mr. George Saintsbury has pointed out in his <i>History of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +the French Novel</i>, “is not only permissible, but a sign of the +love itself.”</p> + +<p>Mercurius makes a pun on the familiar quotation “rara avis” +from Horace (<i>Sat.</i> 2, 2. 26), where it means a rare bird. This +expression is commonly applied to a singular person. It is +also found in the <i>Satires</i> of Juvenal (VI, 165).</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN_N" id="THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN_N"></a>THE PAINTER’S BARGAIN<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_PAINTERS_BARGAIN">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>The belief in compacts with the devil is of great antiquity. +Satan, contending with God for the possession of the human +race, was supposed to have developed a passion for catching +souls. At the death of every man a real fight takes place over +his soul between an angel, who wishes to lead it to heaven, and +a devil, who attempts to drag it to hell (Jude 9). In order to +assure the soul for himself in advance, Satan attempts to purchase +it from the owner while he is still living—<i>vivente corpore</i>, +as he tells the <i>restaurateur</i> in Poe’s story. As prince of +this world he can easily grant even the most extravagant wishes +of man in exchange for his soul. Office, wealth and pleasure +are mainly the objects for which a man enters into a pact with +the Evil One. Count de Luizzi in Frédéric Soulié’s <i>Les Mémoires +du Diable</i> sells his soul to the devil for an uncommon +consideration. It is not wealth or pleasure that tempts him. +What he wants in exchange for his soul is to know the past +lives of his fellowmen and women, “a thing,” as Mr. Saintsbury +well remarks, “which a person of sense and taste would +do anything, short of selling himself to the devil, <i>not</i> to know.” +The devil fulfils every wish of his contractor for a stipulated +period of time, at the expiration of which the soul becomes his. +Pope Innocent VIII, in his fatal bull “Summis desiderantes” of +the year 1484, officially recognized the possibility of a compact +with the devil. Increase Mather, the New England preacher, +also affirms that many men have made “cursed covenants with +the prince of darkness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>St. Theophilus, of Cilicia, in the sixth century, was the first +to make the notable discovery that a man could enter into a +pact of this nature. The price he set for his soul was a bishopric. +This story has been superseded during the Renaissance +period by a similar legend concerning the German Dr. Faustus. +Other famous personages reputed to have sold their souls to +the devil for one consideration or another are Don Juan in +Spain, Twardowski in Poland, Merlin in England, and Robert +le Diable in France. Socrates, Apuleius, Scaliger and Cagliostro +are also said to have entered into compacts with him.</p> + +<p>In devil-contracts the Evil One insists that his human negotiator +sign the deed with his own blood, while the man never +requires the devil to sign it even in ink. The human party to +the transaction has always had full confidence in the word of +the fiend. There is a universal belief that the devil invariably +fulfils his engagement. In no single instance of folk-lore has +Satan tried to evade the fulfilment of his share in the agreement. +But the man, in violation of the written pact, has often +cheated the devil out of his legal due by technical quibbles. +“It is peculiar to the German tradition,” says Gustav Freytag, +“that the devil endeavours to fulfil zealously and honestly his +part of the contract; the deceiver is man.” In regard to fidelity +to his word, the father of lies has always set an example to his +victims. “You men,” said Satan, “are cheats; you make all +sorts of promises so long as you need me, and leave me in the +lurch as soon as you have got what you wanted.” Mediaeval +man had no scruples about his breach of contract with the +devil. He always considered the legal document signed with +his own blood as “a scrap of paper.” “But still the pact is +with the enemy; the man is not bound beyond the letter, and +may escape by any trick. It is still the ethics of war. We are +very close to the principle that a man by stratagem or narrow +observance of the letter may escape the eternal retribution +which God decrees conditionally and the devil delights in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>” +(H. D. Taylor, <i>Mediaeval Mind</i>). We now can understand +why in Eugene Field’s story “Daniel and the Devil” it seems to +Satan so strange that he should be asked for a written guarantee +that he too would fulfil his part of the contract. Apparently +this was the first time that the devil had any transactions +with an American business man, who has not even faith +in Old Nick.</p> + +<p>Reference is made in this story by the devil himself to the +popular saying that the devil is not so black as he is painted. +Even the devout George Herbert wrote—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“We paint the devil black, yet he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath some good in him all agree.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This story recalls to us the proverb: “Talk of the devil, and +he will either come or send.”</p> + +<p>Washington Irving, as we have seen, thinks that he is not +always very obliging.</p> + +<p>Satan, the father of lies, is said to be the patron of lawyers. +The men of the London bar formed a “Temple” corps, which +was dubbed “The Devil’s Own.” The tavern of the lawyers on +Fleet Street in London was called “The Devil.”</p> + + + +<h2><a name="BON-BON_N" id="BON-BON_N"></a>BON-BON<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY EDGAR ALLAN POE<span class="sidenote"><a href="#BON-BON">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>This writer, to whom the inner world was more of a reality +than the external world, had many visions, especially of the +devil. The two seem to have been on a familiar footing. The +devil, we must admit, filled Poe’s imagination even if we will +not go so far as to agree with his critics that he had Satan substituted +for soul. His contemporaries, as is well known, would +say of him: “He hath a demon, yea, seven devils are entered +into him.” His detractors actually regarded this unhappy poet +as an incarnation of the ruler of Hades (cf. <i>North American +Review</i>, 1856; <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, 1858; <i>Dublin University +Magazine</i>, 1875). It was but recently that a writer in the <i>New +York Times</i> declared Poe to have been “grub-staked by demons.”</p> + +<p>The story “Bon-Bon” offers a specimen of Poe’s grimly grotesque +humour. It first appeared in the <i>Broadway Journal</i> of +August, 1835.</p> + +<p>The devil of this most un-American of all American authors +is not the child of New World fancy, but part of European +imagination. The scenery of the story is aptly laid in the +land of Robert le Diable.</p> + +<p>Poe’s description of the devil is, on the whole, fully in +accord with the universally accredited conception of his ordinary +appearance. His brutal hoofs and savage horns and +beastly tail are all there, only discreetly hid under a dress +which any gentleman might wear. The devil is very proud of +this epithet given him by William Shakespeare; and from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +that time on, it has been his greatest ambition to be a gentleman, +in outer appearance at least; and to his credit it must +be said that he has so well succeeded in his efforts to resemble +a gentleman that it is now very hard to tell the two apart. The +devil is accredited in popular imagination with long ears, a +long (sometimes upturned) nose, a wide mouth, and teeth of a +lion. It is on account of his fangs that Satan has been called +a lion by the biblical writers. But although the prince of darkness +can assume any form in the heavens above, in the earth +beneath, and in the waters under the earth, he has never appeared +as a lion. This, I believe, is out of deference to Judah, +whom his father also called a lion. Hairiness is a pretty general +characteristic of the devil. His hairy skin he probably inherited +from the ancient fauns and satyrs. Esau is believed to +have been a hairy demon. “Old Harry” is a corruption of +“Old Hairy.” As a rule, Old Nick is not pictured as bald, +but has a head covered with locks like serpents. These snaky +tresses, which already “Monk” Lewis wound around the devil’s +head, are borrowed, according to Sir Walter Scott, from the +shield of Minerva. His face, however, is usually hairless. A +beard has rarely been accorded to Satan. His red beard on the +mediaeval stage probably came from Donar, whom, as Jacob +Grimm says, the modern notions of the devil so often have in +the background. Long bearded devils are nowhere normal except +in the representations of the Eastern Church of the monarch +of hell as counterpart of the monarch of heaven. The +eyeless devil is original with our writer. His disciple Baudelaire +in his story <i>Les Tentations ou Eros, Plutus et la Gloire</i> +presents the second of these three Tempters as an eyeless monster. +The mediaeval devil had saucer eyes. According to a +Russian legend, the all-seeing spirit of evil is all covered with +eyes. The cadaverous aspect of the devil is traditional. With +but one remarkable exception (the Egyptian Typhon), demons +are always represented lean. “A devil,” said Caesarius of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +Heisterbach of the thirteenth century, “is usually so thin as to +cast no shadow” (<i>Dialogus Miraculorum</i>, iii). This characteristic +is a heritage of the ancient hunger-demon, who, himself a +shadow, casts no shadow. In the course of the centuries, however, +the devil has gained flesh. His faded suit of black cloth +recalls the mediaeval devil who appeared “in his fethers all +ragged and rent.”</p> + +<p>It is not altogether improbable that the ecclesiastical appearance +of the devil in this story was not wholly unintentional, as +the author believes. While Satan cannot be said to be “one of +those who take to the ministry mostly,” he often likes to slip +into priestly robes. In the “Temptation of Jesus” by Lucas van +Leyden the devil is habited as a monk with a pointed cowl.</p> + +<p>In the comparison of a soul with a shadow there is a reminiscence +of Adalbert von Chamisso, whose <i>Peter Schlemihl</i> +(1814) sells his shadow to the devil. In his story <i>The Fisherman +and His Soul</i> Oscar Wilde considers the shadow of the +body as the body of the soul.</p> + +<p>That the devils in hell eat the damned consigned there for +punishment is also in accord with mediaeval tradition. This +idea probably is of Oriental origin. The seven Assyrian evil +spirits have a predilection for human flesh and blood. Ghouls +and vampires belong to this class of demons.</p> + +<p>The devil’s pitchfork is not the forked sceptre of Pluto supplemented +by another tine, as is commonly assumed. It is the +ancient sign of fertility, which is still used as a fertility charm +by the Hindus in India and the Zuñi and Aztec Indians of North +America and Mexico. A related symbol is the trident of +Poseidon or Neptune. This symbol was recently carried in a +children’s May Day parade through Central Park in New York.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL_N" id="THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL_N"></a>THE PRINTER’S DEVIL<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span><span class="sidenote" style="font-size: 60%"><a href="#THE_PRINTERS_DEVIL">Story</a></span></h2> + + +<p>The term “Printer’s Devil” is usually accounted for by the +fact that Aldus Manutius, the great Venetian printer, employed +in his printing shop (about 1485) a black slave, who was +popularly thought to be an imp of Satan. This expression +may have a deeper significance. It may owe its origin to +the fact that Fust, the inventor of the printing press, was believed +to have connections with the Evil One. It will be remembered +that during the Middle Ages and, in Catholic countries, +even for a long time afterwards every discovery of science, +every invention of material benefit to man, was believed to +have been secured by a compact with the devil. Our ancestors +deemed the human mind incapable, without the aid of the Evil +One, of producing anything beyond their own comprehension. +The red letters which Fust used at the close of his +earliest printed volumes to give his name, with the place and +date of publication, were interpreted in Paris as indications of +the diabolical origin of the works so easily produced by him. +(M. D. Conway, <i>Demonology and Devil-Lore</i>.) Sacred days, +as is well known, are printed in the Catholic calendar with +red letters, and the devil has also employed them in books of +magic. This is but another instance of the mimicry by “God’s +Ape” of the sanctities of the Church.</p> + +<p>In the infernal economy, where a strict division of labour +prevails, the printer’s devil is the librarian of hell. The books +over which he has charge must be as numerous as the sands +on the sea-shore. For nearly every book written without +priestly command was associated in the good old days with the +devil. The assertion that Satan hates nothing so much as writing +or printer’s ink apparently is a very great calumny. He +has often even been accused of stealing manuscripts in order to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +prevent their publication. The prince of darkness naturally +rather shuns than courts inquiry. On one occasion Joseph +Görres, the defender of Catholicism, complained that the devil, +provoked by his interference in Satanic affairs (he is the +author of <i>Die christliche Mystik</i>, which is a rich source for +diabolism, diabolical possession and exorcism), had stolen one +of his manuscripts; it was, however, found some time afterwards +in his bookcase, and the devil was completely exonerated.</p> + +<p>The concluding paragraph of this story is especially interesting +in the light of the present agitation for unbound books +and a eulogy of the old Franklin Square Library.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW_N" id="THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW_N"></a>THE DEVIL’S MOTHER-IN-LAW<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY FERNÁN CABALLERO<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_MOTHER-IN-LAW16">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Fernán Caballero is the pseudonym of Mrs. Cecilia Böhl von +Faber, Marchioness de Arco-Hermoso, who was a Swiss by +birth, daughter of the literary historian Johann Böhl von Faber, +the Johannes of Campe’s <i>Robinson</i> (1779). Her father initiated +her early into Spanish literature, which he interpreted +for her in the spirit of the Romantic movement of those early +days. The interest in mediaeval traditions, which she owes to +this early training, increased when, later, she went to Catholic +Spain. The charm of her popular Andalusian tales consists +in the fact that she fully shares with the Catholic peasants of +that province an implicit faith in the truth of these mediaeval +legends. In her stories we find perhaps the purest expression +of mediaevalism in modern times. Fernán Caballero gradually +drifted to the extreme Right in all questions of religion, +art and life. She hated every liberal expression in matters of +faith or art with the fanaticism of a Torquemada. This author +not only shared the somewhat general Catholic view that all +Protestants were eternally damned, but she naïvely believed +that every son of Israel had a tail (Julian Schmidt).</p> + +<p>The story of woman’s triumph over the Devil is well characteristic +of the Land of the Blessed Lady, as Andalusia is commonly +called.</p> + +<p>The legend of a devil imprisoned in a phial is also found in +the work of the Spaniard Luis Velez de Guevara called <i>El +Diablo cojuelo</i> (1641), from whom Alain Le Sage borrowed +both title and plot for his novel <i>Le Diable boiteux</i> (1707).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +Asmodeus, liberated from a bottle, into which he had been +confined by a magician, entertains his deliverer with the secret +sights of a big city at midnight, by unroofing the houses of +the Spanish capital and showing him the life that was going +on in them. The legend was introduced into Spain from the +East by the Moors and finally acclimated to find a place in +local traditions. From that country it spread over the whole +of Europe. The Asiatics believed that by abstinence and special +prayers evil spirits could be reduced into obedience and +confined in black bottles. The tradition forms a part of the +Solomonic lore, and is frequently told in esoteric works. In +the cabalistic book <i>Vinculum Spirituum</i>, which is of Eastern +origin, it is said that Solomon discovered, by means of a certain +learned book, the valuable secret of inclosing in a bottle +of black glass three millions of infernal spirits, with seventy-two +of their kings, of whom Beleh was the chief, Beliar (<i>alias</i> +Belial) the second, and Asmodeus the third. Solomon afterwards +cast this bottle into a deep well near Babylon. Fortunately +for the contents, the Babylonians, hoping to find a +treasure in the well, descended into it, broke the bottle, and +freed the demons (cf. also <i>The Little Key of Rabbi Solomon, +containing the Names, Seals and Characters of the 72 Spirits +with whom he held converse, also the Art Almadel of Rabbi +Solomon, carefully copied by “Raphael,”</i> London, 1879). +This legend is also found in the tale of the Fisherman and the +Djinn in the <i>Arabian Nights</i>, which was also treated by the +German poet Klopstock in his poem “Wintermärchen” (1776).</p> + +<p>The devil, as it is said in this story, has a mortal hatred of +the sound of bells. The origin of ringing the church bells +was, according to Sir James Frazer, to drive away devils and +witches. The devil in Poe’s story “The Devil in the Belfry” +(1839) was, indeed, very courageous in invading the belfry.</p> + +<p>The concluding part of the story is identical with the +Machiavellian tale of Belphagor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> + +<p>This tale of the Devil’s mother-in-law first appeared in the +volume <i>Cuentos y poesias populares Andaluces</i> (Seville, +1859), which was translated the same year into French by +Germond de Lavigne under the title <i>Nouvelles andalouses</i>. An +English translation under the title <i>Spanish Fairy Tales</i> appeared +in 1881. This particular story was rendered again +into English two years later and included in <i>Tales from Twelve +Tongues</i>, translated by a British Museum Librarian [Richard +Garnett?], London, 1883.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER_N" id="THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER_N"></a>THE GENEROUS GAMBLER<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES PIERRE BAUDELAIRE<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_GENEROUS_GAMBLER17">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>This worshipper and singer of Satan shared his American +<i>confrère’s</i> predilection for the devil. He found his models in +the diabolical scenes of Edgar Allan Poe, whom he interpreted +to the Latin world. “Baudelaire,” said Théophile Gautier, his +master and friend, “had a singular prepossession for the devil +as a tempter, in whom he saw a dragon who hurried him into +sin, infamy, crime, and perversity.” To Baudelaire, the trier +of men’s souls, the Tempter, was as real a person as he was to +Job. He believed that the devil had a great deal to do with +the direction of human destinies. “C’est le Diable qui tient +les fils qui nous remuent!” Men are mere puppets in the +hands of the devil. “Baudelaire’s motto,” as Mr. James +Huneker has well remarked, “might be the reverse of Browning’s +lines: The Devil is in his heaven. All’s wrong with the +world.”</p> + +<p>Baudelaire’s devil is a dandy and a boulevardier with wings. +Each author, it has been said, creates the devil in his own image.</p> + +<p>The greatest boon which Satan could offer Baudelaire was to +free him from that great modern monster, <i>Ennui</i>, which selects +as its prey the most highly gifted natures. The boredom of +life—this was, indeed, as this unhappy poet admits, the source +of all his maladies and of all his miseries. He called it the +“foulest of vices” and hoped to escape from it “by dreaming +of the superlative emotional adventure, by indulging in infinite, +indeterminate desire” (Irving Babbit). His preface to the +<i>Flowers of Evil</i>, in which he addresses the reader, ends with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +the following statement in regard to the nature of this modern +beast of prey: “Among the jackals, the panthers, the hounds, +the apes, the scorpions, the vultures, the serpents—the yelling, +howling, growling, grovelling monsters which form the foul +menagerie of our vices—there is one which is the most foul, +the most wicked, the most unclean of all. This vice, although +it uses neither extravagant gestures nor makes a great outcry, +would willingly make a ruin of the earth, and swallow up all +the world in a yawn. This is <i>Ennui!</i> who, with his eye moistened +by an involuntary tear, dreams of scaffolds while smoking +his hookah. Thou knowest him, this delicate monster, +hypocritical reader, my like, my brother!”</p> + +<p>In Gorky’s story “The Devil” the devil himself suffers from +<i>ennui</i>.</p> + +<p>But Baudelaire believed he had good reason to doubt Satan’s +word, and, therefore, prayed to the Lord to make the devil +keep his promise to him. He had little faith in the father of +lies. In his book called <i>Artificial Paradises</i> (1860) Baudelaire +expressed the thought that the devil would say to the +eaters of hashish, the smokers of opium, as he did in the olden +days to our first parents, “If you taste of the fruit, you will be +as the gods,” and that the devil no more kept his word with +them than he did with Adam and Eve, for the next day, the +god, tempted, weakened, enervated, descended even lower than +the beast.</p> + +<p>The representation of the devil in the shape of a he-goat +goes back to far antiquity. Goat-formed deities and spirits of +the woods existed in the religions of India, Assyria, Greece +and Egypt. The Assyrian god was often associated with the +goat, which was supposed to possess the qualities for which +he was worshipped. The he-goat was also the sacred beast +of Donar or Thor, who was brought to Scandinavia by the +Phoenicians. (On the relation of satyrs to goats see also James +G. Frazer, <i>The Golden Bough</i>, vol. VIII, pp. 1 <i>sqq.</i>) At the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +revels on the Blocksberg Satan always appeared as a black +buck.</p> + +<p><i>Le bon diable</i>, which is a favourite phrase in France, points +to his simplicity of mind rather than generosity of spirit. It +generally expresses the half-contemptuous pity with which the +giants, these huge beings with weak minds, were regarded.</p> + +<p>The idea that Satan would gamble for a human soul is of +mediaeval origin and may have been taken by Baudelaire +from Gérard de Nerval, who in his mystery play <i>Le Prince des +Sots</i> (1830) has the devil play at dice with an angel, with +human souls as stakes. As a dice-player Satan resembles +Wuotan. Mr. H. G. Wells in <i>The Undying Fire</i> (1919) has +Diabolus play chess with the Deity in Heaven.</p> + +<p>The devil in this story falls back into speaking Hebrew when +the days of his ancient celestial glory are brought back to his +mind. In Louis Ménard’s <i>Le Diable au café</i> the devil calls +Hebrew a dead language, and as a modern prefers to be called +by the French equivalent of his original Hebrew name. In +the Middle Ages the devil’s favourite language was Latin. +Marlowe’s Mephistopheles also speaks this language. Satan is +known to be a linguist. “It is the Devil by his several languages,” +said Ben Jonson.</p> + +<p>According to popular belief the devil is a learned scholar +and a profound thinker. He has all science, philosophy, and +theology at his tongue’s end.</p> + +<p>The Shavian devil in contradistinction to the Baudelairian +fiend does bitterly complain that he is so little appreciated on +earth. Walter Scott’s devil (in “Wandering Willie’s Tale,” +1824) also complains that he has been “sair miscaa’d in the +world.”</p> + +<p>The preacher to whom our author refers is the Jesuit Ravignan, +who declared that the disbelief in the devil was one of the +most cunning devices of the great enemy himself. (La plus +grande force du diable, c’est d’être parvenu à se faire nier.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +Baudelaire’s disciple J. K. Huysmans similarly expresses in his +novel <i>Là-Bas</i> (1891) the view that “the greatest power of Satan +lies in the fact that he gets men to deny him.” (Cf. the present +writer’s essay “The Satanism of Huysmans” in <i>The Open Court</i> +for April, 1920.) The devil mocks at this theological dictum +in Pierre Veber’s story “L’Homme qui vendit son âme au +Diable” (1918). In Perkins’s story “The Devil-Puzzlers” the +devil expresses his satisfaction over his success in this regard.</p> + +<p>The story “The Generous Gambler” first appeared in the +<i>Figaro</i> of February, 1864, was reprinted under the title of “Le +Diable” in the <i>Revue du Dix-Neuvième Siècle</i> of June, 1866, +and was finally included in <i>Poèmes en Prose</i>. This story +has also been translated into English by Joseph T. Shipley.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES_N" id="THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES_N"></a>THE THREE LOW MASSES<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span><br /> + +<span style="font-size: 70%">A CHRISTMAS STORY</span></h2> + +<h3>BY ALPHONSE DAUDET<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_THREE_LOW_MASSES18">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Daudet and Maupassant furnish the best proof of the assertion +made in the Introduction to this book that even the Naturalists +who, as a rule, disdained the phantastic plots of the +Romanticists, whose imagination was rigorously earth-bound, +felt themselves nevertheless attracted by devil-lore. Although +most of Daudet’s subjects are chosen from contemporary +French life, this short-story treats a devil-legend of the seventeenth +century. This story as “The Pope’s Mule” and “The +Elixir of the Reverend Père Gaucher” obviously has no other +object but to poke fun at the Catholic Church. It belongs to +the literary type known as the Satirical Supernatural.</p> + +<p>This story is characteristic of Daudet’s art, containing as it +does all of his delicacy and daintiness of pathos, of raillery, +of humour. It originally appeared in that delightful group of +stories <i>Lettres de Mon Moulin</i> (1869).</p> + +<p>The horns and tail of his Satanic majesty peep out as vividly +in this book as the disguised devils in Ingoldsby’s <i>Legend of +the North Countrie</i>.</p> + +<p>Although hating all men, the devil has a special hatred for +the priests, and he delights in bringing them to fall. Satan +loathes the priests, because, as Anatole France says, they teach +that “God takes delight in seeing His creatures languish in +penitence and abstain from His most precious gifts” (<i>Les Dieux +ont soif</i>, p. 278).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is evident from this story that the popular belief that the +devil avoids holy edifices is not based on facts. Here the devil +not only enters the church, but even performs the duties of a +sacristan at the foot of the altar. According to mediaeval tradition +the devil has his agents even in the churches. In the +administration of hell where the tasks are carefully parcelled +out among the thousands of imps, the church has been assigned +to the fiend with the poetic name of Tutevillus. It is his duty +to attend all services in order to listen to the gossips and to +write down every word they say. After death these women are +entertained in hell with their own speeches, which this diabolical +church clerk has carefully noted down. Tradition has it +that one fine Sunday this demon was sitting in a church on a +beam, on which he held himself fast by his feet and his tail, +right over two village gossips, who chattered so much during +the Blessed Mass that he soon filled every corner of the parchment +on both sides. Poor Tutevillus worked so hard that the +sweat ran in great drops down his brow, and he was ready to +sink with exhaustion. But the gossips ceased not to sin with +their tongues, and he had no fair parchment left whereon to +record their foul words. So having considered for a little +while, he grasped one end of the roll with his teeth and seized +the other end with his claws and pulled so hard as to stretch +the parchment. He tugged and tugged with all his strength, +jerking back his head mightily at each tug, and at last giving +such a fierce jerk that he suddenly lost his balance and fell +head over heels from the beam to the floor of the church. +(From “The Vision of Saint Simon of Blewberry” in F. O. +Mann’s collection of mediaeval tales.)</p> + + + +<h2><a name="DEVIL-PUZZLERS_N" id="DEVIL-PUZZLERS_N"></a>DEVIL-PUZZLERS<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY FREDERICK BEECHER PERKINS<span class="sidenote"><a href="#DEVIL-PUZZLERS19">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Through Asmodeus the devil became associated with humour +and gallantry. Asmodeus sharpened his wits in his conversations +with the wisest of kings. It will be recalled that this +demon was the familiar spirit of Solomon, whose throne, according +to Jewish legend, he occupied for three years. Perhaps +it was not Solomon after all but this diabolical usurper +who gathered around himself a thousand wives. It is said +that Asmodeus is as dangerous to women as Lilith is to men. +He loves to decoy young girls in the shape of a handsome young +man. His love for the beautiful Sarah is too well known to +need any comment. He is a fastidious devil, and will not +have the object of his passion subject to the embrace of any +other mortal or immortal.</p> + +<p>Reference is made by the author to Albert Réville’s epitome +of Georg Roskoff’s <i>Geschichte des Teufels</i> (Leipzig, 1869), a +standard work on the history of the devil. The review by this +French Protestant first appeared in the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i> +for 1870, and was translated into English the following year. +A second edition appeared six years later. Roskoff’s book, +on the other hand, has never appeared in translation.</p> + +<p>It is not easy to grasp the scholastic subtleties of mediaeval +schoolmen. Dr. Ethel Brewster suggests the following interpretations: +<i>An chimoera bombinans in vacuo devorat secundas +intentiones</i>. Whether a demon buzzing in the air devours our +good intentions. This will correspond to our saying that hell +is paved with good intentions. <i>An averia carrucae capta in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +vetito nomio sint irreplegibilia.</i> Whether the carriers of a +[bishop’s] carriage caught in a forbidden district should be +punished. We can well understand how even the devil might +be puzzled by such questions.</p> + +<p>Professor Brander Matthews aptly calls this story “diabolically +philosophical.”</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVILS_ROUND_N" id="THE_DEVILS_ROUND_N"></a>THE DEVIL’S ROUND<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span><br /> + +<span style="font-size: 70%">A TALE OF FLEMISH GOLF</span></h2> + +<h3>BY CHARLES DEULIN<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVILS_ROUND20">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>The modern devil is an accomplished gentleman. He is the +most all-round being in creation. Mynheer van Belzébuth, as +he is called in this story, is indeed the greatest gambler that +there is upon or under the earth. On the golf-field as at the +roulette-table he is hard to beat. It was the devil who invented +cards, and they are, therefore, called the Devil’s +Bible, and it was also he who taught the Roman soldiers how +to cast lots for the raiment of Christ (John xix, 24). Dice +are also called the devil’s bones.</p> + +<p>The devil carries the souls in a sack on his back also in the +legend of St. Medard. It is told that this saint, while promenading +one day on the shore of the Red Sea in Egypt, saw +Satan carrying a bag full of damned souls on his back. The +heart of this saint was filled with compassion for the poor +souls and he quickly slit the devil’s bag open, whereupon the +souls scrambled for liberty:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Away went the Quaker—away went the Baker,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away went the Friar—that fine fat Ghost,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose marrow Old Nick Had intended to pick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dressed like a Woodcock, and served on toast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Away went the nice little Cardinal’s Niece<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pretty Grisettes, and the Dons from Spain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the Corsair’s crew, And the coin-cliping Jew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they scamper’d, like lamplighters, over the plain!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Witches’ Sabbath is the annual reunion of Satan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +and his worshippers on earth. The witches, mounted on goats +and broomsticks, flock to desolate heaths and hills to hold +high revel with their devil.</p> + +<p>Beelzebub swears in this story by the horns of his grandfather. +While the devil is known to have a grandmother, there +has never been found a trace of his grandfather. Satan has +probably been adopted by the grandmother of Grendel, the +Anglo-Saxon evil demon. The horns have been inherited by +Satan from Dionysos. This Greek god had bull-feet and bull’s +horns.</p> + +<p>The reader, who is interested in the origin of the European +Carnival (Shrove Tuesday) customs, is referred to the editor’s +monograph <i>The Origin of the German Carnival Comedy</i> (New +York: G. E. Stechert & Co., 1920).</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL_N" id="THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL_N"></a>THE LEGEND OF MONT ST.-MICHEL<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_LEGEND_OF_MONT_ST-MICHEL">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>No greater proof of the permanence and persistence of the +devil as a character in literature can be adduced than the fact +that this writer, in whom we find the purest expression of Naturalism, +for whom the visible world was absolutely all that +there is, was attracted by a devil-legend. But on this point +he had a good example in his god-father and master Gustave +Flaubert, who, though a realist of realists, showed deep interest +in the Tempter of St. Anthony.</p> + +<p>This legend of the fraudulent bargain between a sprite and +a farmer as to alternate upper- and under-ground crops, with +which “the great vision of the guarded mount” is here connected, +is of Northern origin, but has travelled South as far as +Arabia. It will be found in Grimm’s <i>Fairy Tales</i> (No. 189); +Thiele’s <i>Danish Legends</i> (No. 122), and T. Sternberg’s <i>The +Dialect and Folk-Lore of Northampshire</i> (p. 140). Rabelais +used it as a French legend, and in its Oriental form it served +as a subject for a poem by the German Friedrich Rückert (“Der +betrogene Teufel”). In all these versions the agreement is +entered into between the devil (in the Northampshire form it +is a bogie or some other field spirit) and a peasant. It was +reserved for Maupassant to make St. Michael get the better +of Satan on earth as in heaven.</p> + +<p>According to this legend the devil broke his leg when, in his +flight from St. Michael, he jumped off the roof of the castle +into which he had been lured by the saint. The traditional +explanation for the devil’s broken leg is his fall from heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +“I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven” (Luke x, 18). +All rebellious deities, who were universally supposed to have +fallen from heaven, have crooked or crippled legs. Hephaestos, +Vulcan, Loki and Wieland, each has a broken leg. +This idea has probably been derived from the crooked lightning +flashes. The devil’s mother in the mediaeval German +mystery-plays walks on crutches. Asmodeus, the Persian +demon Aeshma daeva, also had a lame foot. In Le Sage’s +book <i>Le Diable boiteux</i> Asmodeus appears as a limping gentleman, +who uses two sticks as crutches. According to rabbinical +tradition this demon broke his leg when he hurried to +meet King Solomon. In addition to his broken leg the devil +inherited the goat-foot from Pan, the bull-foot from Dionysius +and the horse-foot from Loki. The Ethiopic devil’s right foot +is a claw, and his left a hoof.</p> + +<p>The devil is erroneously represented in this story as very +lazy. Industry, it has been said, is the great Satanic virtue. +“If we were all as diligent and as conscientious as the devil,” +observed an old Scotch woman to her minister, “it wad be +muckle better for us.”</p> + +<p>The highest peak of a mountain is always consecrated to +St. Michael. The Mont St.-Michel on the Norman Coast +played a conspicuous part in the wars of the sons of William +the Conqueror. Maupassant uses it as the background for several +of the chapters of his novel <i>Notre Coeur</i> (1890). The +mountain also figures in his story “Le Horla” (1886).</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEMON_POPE_N" id="THE_DEMON_POPE_N"></a>THE DEMON POPE<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY RICHARD GARNETT<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEMON_POPE26">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>The following two stories by Richard Garnett have been +taken from his book <i>The Twilight of the Gods</i>, which was first +published anonymously in 1888, and in a “new and augmented +edition,” with the author’s name, in 1902. The title recalls +Richard Wagner’s opera <i>Götterdämmerung</i>, but may have been +directly suggested by Elémir Bourges, whose novel <i>Le Crépuscule +des dieux</i> appeared four years earlier than Garnett’s +collection of stories. In his book Richard Garnett plays havoc +with all religions. The demons, naturally enough, fare worse +at his hands than the gods. <i>The Twilight of the Gods</i> is a +panorama of human folly and farce. Franz Cumont has said +that human folly is a more interesting study than ancient wisdom. +The author finds a great joy in pointing out all the mysterious +cobwebs which have collected on the ceiling of man’s +brain in the course of the ages. Mr. Arthur Symons rightly +calls this book “a Punch and Judy show of the comedy of +civilization.”</p> + +<p>The story of “The Demon Pope” is based upon a legend of +a compact between a Pope and the devil. It is believed that +Gerbert, who later became Pope Silvester II, sold his soul to +Satan in order to acquire a knowledge of physics, arithmetic +and music. The fullest account of this legend will be found +in J. J. Dollinger’s <i>Fables Respecting the Popes of the Middle +Ages</i> (Engl. Translation, 1871). <i>The History of the Devil and +the Idea of Evil</i> by Paul Carus (1900) contains the following +passages on this legend:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“An English Benedictine monk, William of Malmesbury, says of +Pope Sylvester II., who was born in France, his secular name being +Gerbert, that he entered the cloister when still a boy. Full of ambition, +he flew to Spain where he studied astrology and magic among +the Saracens. There he stole a magic-book from a Saracen philosopher, +and returned flying through the air to France. Now he opened a +school and acquired great fame, so that the king himself became one +of his disciples. Then he became Bishop of Rheims, where he had a +magnificent clock and an organ constructed. Having raised the treasure +of Emperor Octavian which lay hidden in a subterrenean vault at +Rome, he became Pope. As Pope he manufactured a magic head +which replied to all his questions. This head told him that he would +not die until he had read Mass in Jerusalem. So the Pope decided +never to visit the Holy Land. But once he fell sick, and, asking his +magic head, was informed that the church’s name in which he had +read Mass the other day was ‘The Holy Cross of Jerusalem.’ The +Pope knew at once that he had to die. He gathered all the cardinals +around his bed, confessed his crime, and, as a penance, ordered his +body to be cut up alive, and the pieces to be thrown out of the church +as unclean.</p> + +<p>“Sigabert tells the story of the Pope’s death in a different way. +There is no penance on the part of the Pope, and the Devil takes his +soul to hell. Others tell us that the Devil constantly accompanied +the Pope in the shape of a black dog, and this dog gave him the +equivocal prophecy.</p> + +<p>“The historical truth of the story is that Gerbert was unusually +gifted and well educated. He was familiar with the wisdom of the +Saracens, for Borell, Duke of Hither Spain, carried him as a youth to +his country where he studied mathematics and astronomy. He came +early in contact with the most influential men of his time, and became +Pope in 999. He was liberal enough to denounce some of his unworthy +predecessors as ‘monsters of more than human iniquity,’ and +as ‘Antichrist, sitting in the temple of God and playing the part of +the Devil’ (the text inadvertently reads: and playing the part of God); +but at the same time he pursued an independent and vigorous papal +policy, foreshadowing in his aims both the pretensions of Gregory the +Great and the Crusades.”</p></div> + + + +<h2><a name="MADAM_LUCIFER_N" id="MADAM_LUCIFER_N"></a>MADAM LUCIFER<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY RICHARD GARNETT<span class="sidenote"><a href="#MADAM_LUCIFER27">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>Perhaps the most fascinating—and the most dangerous—character +in the infernal world is this <i>Mater tenebrarum</i>—Our +Lady of Darkness. “A lady devil,” says Daniel Defoe, “is +about as dangerous a creature as one could meet.” When +Lucifer fails to bring a man to his fall, he hands the case over +to his better half, and it is said that no man has ever escaped +the siren seductions of this Diabo-Lady. A poem, <i>The Diabo-Lady, +or a Match in Hell</i>, appeared in London in 1777.</p> + +<p>According to Teutonic mythology, this diabolical Madonna +is the mother or the grandmother of Satan. The mother or +grandmother of Grendel, the Anglo-Saxon evil demon, became +Satan’s mother or grandmother by adoption. A mother was +a necessary part of the devil’s equipment. Having set his +mind to equal Christ in every detail of his life, Satan had to +get a mother somehow. In his story “The Vision Malefic” +(1920) Mr. Huneker tells of the appearance of this counterfeit +Madonna on a Christmas Eve to the organist of a Roman +Catholic church in New York. Partly out of devotion to her +and partly also because he could not obtain the sacramental +blessing of the Church, Satan was forced to remain single. +In the story “Devil-Puzzlers” by Fred B. Perkins the demon +Apollyon appears as an old bachelor. “I have a mother, but +no wife,” he tells the charming Mrs. Hicok. The synagogue +was more lenient towards the devil. The rabbis did not hesitate +to perform the marriage ceremony for the diabolical pair. +According to Jewish tradition the chief of the fallen angels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +married Lilith, Adam’s first wife. She is said to have been in +her younger days a woman of great beauty, but with a heart +of ice. Now, of course, she is a regular hell-hag. If we can +trust Rossetti, who painted her Majesty’s portrait, she still is a +type of beauty whose fascination is fatal. This woman was +created by the Lord to be the help-meet of Adam, but mere man +had no attraction for this superwoman. She is said to have +started the fight for woman’s emancipation from man, and +contested Adam’s right to be the head of the family. Their +married life was very brief. Their incompatibility of character +was too great. One fine morning Adam found that his +erstwhile angelical wife had deserted him and run away with +Lucifer, whom she had formerly known in heaven.</p> + +<p>The King-Devil apparently always succeeded somehow or +other in breaking the chains with which, according to legend, +he had repeatedly been bound and sealed in the lowest depths +of hell. From antediluvian times the demons appear to have +been attracted by the daughters of men and to have come frequently +up to earth to pay court to them. The only devil who +must always remain in hell is the stoker, Brendli by name. +The fires of hell must not be allowed to go out.</p> + +<p>The anatomically melancholic Burton also tells of a devil +who was in love with a mortal maiden. Jacques Cazotte tells +the story of Beelzebub as a woman in love with an earth-born +man.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="LUCIFER_N" id="LUCIFER_N"></a>LUCIFER<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY ANATOLE FRANCE<span class="sidenote"><a href="#LUCIFER28">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>This writer has a great sympathy for devil-lore, and many +of his characters show the cloven hoof. An analyst of illusions, +he has a profound interest in the greatest of illusions. +An assailant of every form of superstition, he has a tender +affection for the greatest of superstitions. An exponent of the +radical and ironical spirit in French literature, he feels irresistibly +drawn to the eternal Denier and Mocker.</p> + +<p>The story of the Florentine painter Spinello Spinelli, to +whom Lucifer appeared in a dream to ask him in what place +he had beheld him under so brutish a form as he had painted +him, is told in Giorgio Vasari’s <i>Vite de’ più eccellenti Pittori, +Scultori, ed Architteti</i> (1550), which is the basis of the history +of Italian art. It was treated by Barrili in his novel <i>The +Devil’s Portrait</i> (1882; Engl. tr. 1885), from whom Anatole +France may have got the idea for his story. But there is also +a mediaeval French legend about a monk (<i>Du moine qui +contrefyt l’ymage du Diable, qui s’en corouça</i>), who was +forced by the indignant devil to paint him in a less ugly +manner.</p> + +<p>The devil is very sensitive in regard to his appearance. On +a number of occasions he expressed his bitter resentment at the +efforts of a certain class of artists to represent him in a hideous +form (cf. M. D. Conway, <i>Demonology and Devil-Lore</i>). +Daniel Defoe has well remarked that the devil does not think +that the people would be terrified half so much if they were to +converse face to face with him. “Really,” this biographer of +Satan goes on to say, “it were enough to fright the devil himself +to meet himself in the dark, dressed up in the several figures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +which imagination has formed for him in the minds of men.” +It makes us, indeed, wonder why the devil was always represented +in a hideous and horrid form. Rationally conceived, +the devil should by right be the most fascinating object in +creation. One of his essential functions, temptation, is destroyed +by his hideousness. To do the work of temptation a +demon might be expected to approach his intended victim in +the most fascinating form he could command. This fact is an +additional proof that the devil was for the early Christians but +the discarded pagan god, whom they wished to represent as +ugly and as repulsive as they could.</p> + +<p>The earliest known representation of the devil in human +form is found on an ivory diptych of the time of Charles the +Bald (9th century). Many artists have since then painted his +Majesty’s portrait. Schongauer, Dürer, Michelangelo, Titian, +Raphael, Rubens, Poussin, Van Dyck, Breughel and other +masters on canvas vied with each other to present us with a +real likeness of Satan. None has, however, equalled the power +of Gustave Doré in the portrayal of the Diabolical. This +Frenchman was at his best as an artist of the infernal (Dante’s +“Great Dis” and Milton’s “Satan at the gates of Hell”).</p> + +<p>Modern artists frequently represent the devil as a woman. +Félicien Rops, Max Klinger, and Franz Stuck may be cited as +illustrations. Apparently the devil has in modern times +changed sex as well as custom and costume. Victor Hugo has +said:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Dieu s’est fait homme; soit.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Le diable s’est fait femme.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Lucifer,” as well as the other stories which form the volume +<i>The Well of St. Claire</i>, is told by the abbé Jérôme Coignard on +the edge of Santa Clara’s well at Siena. The book was first +published serially in the <i>Echo de Paris</i> (1895). It has just +been rendered into Spanish (<i>El Pozo de Santa Clara</i>).</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_N" id="THE_DEVIL_N"></a>THE DEVIL<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY MAXIM GORKY<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL30">Story</a></span></h3> + + +<p>This story shows reminiscences of Le Sage’s <i>Le Diable +boiteux</i>. It will be recalled that Asmodeus also lifts the roofs +of the houses of Madrid and exhibits their interior to his benefactor.</p> + +<p>The fate of a Russian author was, indeed, a very sad affair. +“In all lands have the writers drunk of life’s cup of bitterness, +have they been bruised by life’s sharp corners and torn by life’s +pointed thorns. Chill penury, public neglect, and ill health +have been the lot of many an author in countries other than +Russia. But in the land of the Czars men of letters had to face +problems and perils which were peculiarly their own, and +which have not been duplicated in any other country on the +globe.... Every man of letters was under suspicion. The +government of Russia treated every author as its natural enemy, +and made him feel frequently the weight of its heavy hand. +The wreath of laurels on the brow of almost every poet was +turned by the tyrants of his country into a crown of thorns.” +(From the present writer’s essay “The Gloom and Glory of +Russian Literature” in <i>The Open Court</i> for July, 1918.)</p> + + + +<h2><a name="THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN_N" id="THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN_N"></a>THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN MASEFIELD<span class="sidenote"><a href="#THE_DEVIL_AND_THE_OLD_MAN31">Story</a></span></h3> + +<h3><i>POSTCRIPT</i></h3> + + +<p>For the benefit of the gentle reader, who is about to shed a +tear or two over the demise of the devil, the following episode +from Anatole France’s <i>My Friend’s Book</i> is retold here:</p> + +<p>Pierre Nozière (Anatole France) takes his baby-girl to a +Punch and Judy show, the culmination point of which always +consists of the duel to the death between Punch and the Devil. +The terrible battle ends, of course, with the death of the Devil. +The spectators applaud the heroic act of Punch, but Pierre +Nozière is not happy over the result of the fight. He thinks +that it is rather a pity that the Devil has been slain. Paying no +heed to Suzanne sitting by his side, he goes on musing:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“The Devil being dead, good-bye to sin! Perhaps Beauty, the Devil’s +ally, would have to go, too. Perhaps we should never more behold the +flowers that enchant us, and the eyes for love of which we would lay +down our lives. What, if that is so, what in the world would become +of us? Should we still be able to practise virtue? I doubt it. Punch +did not sufficiently bear in mind that Evil is the necessary counterpart +of Good, as darkness is of light, that virtue wholly consists of +effort, and that if there is no more any Devil to fight against, the +Saints will remain as much out of work as the Sinners. Life will be +mortally dull. I tell you that when he killed the Devil, Punch +committed an act of grave imprudence.</p> + +<p>“Well, Pulchinello came on and made his bow, the curtain fell, and +all the little boys and girls went home; but still I sat on deep in meditation. +Mam’zelle Suzanne, perceiving my thoughtful mien, concluded +that I was in trouble.... Very gently and tenderly she takes hold of +my hand and asks me why I am unhappy. I confess that I am sorry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +that Punch has slain the Devil. Then she puts her little arms round +my neck, and putting her lips to my ears, she whispers:</p> + +<p>“‘I tell you somefin: Punch, he killed the nigger, but he has not +killed him for good.’”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p></div> + + + +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></h2> + + +<p>[List of authors and titles contained in the Notes. Names +are alphabeted after omission of <i>de</i> or <i>von</i>, and titles are +entered without their initial article. Each title is followed by +the author’s name in parentheses.]</p> + +<ul> +<li><i>Ambrosio, or the Monk</i> (Lewis), <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li><i>Anathema</i> (Andréev), <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Anatomy of Melancholy</i> (Burton), <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> + +<li>Andréev, Leonid, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Artificial Paradises</i> (Baudelaire), <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> + +<li><i>Auswahl aus des Teufels Papieren</i> (Richter), <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Autobiography of Satan</i> (Beard), <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Barham, Richard Harris (<a href="#Page_307">307</a>)</li> + +<li>Barrili, Anton Giulio, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> + +<li>Baudelaire, Charles Pierre, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>-<a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li>Beard, J. R., <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Belphagor, or the Marriage of the Devil</i> (Machiavelli), <a href="#Page_281">281</a>-<a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li><i>Belphagor</i> (an English play), <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li><i>Betrogener Teufel</i> (Rückert), <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li><i>Bon-Bon</i> (Poe), <a href="#Page_295">295</a>-<a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li>Bourges, Elémir, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li>Brevio, Giovanni, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> + +<li>Browning, Robert, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> + +<li>Burton, Richard, <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Caballero, Fernán, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>-<a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li>Caesarius of Heisterbach, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>-<a href="#Page_297">297</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></li> + +<li>Campe, Joachim Heinrich, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> + +<li>Carus, Paul, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li>Cazotte, Jacques, <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> + +<li>Chamisso, Adalbert, <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li>Chappuys, Gabriel, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Chateaubriand, François Auguste René, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li>Chatterton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li><i>Christliche Mystik</i> (Görres), <a href="#Page_299">299</a></li> + +<li>Conway, Moncure Daniel, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> + +<li><i>Crépuscule des Dieux</i> (Bourges), <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li>Cumont, Franz, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Daborne, Robert, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li><i>Daniel and the Devil</i> (Field), <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> + +<li><i>Danish Legends</i> (Thiele), <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li>Dante Alighieri, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> + +<li>Daudet, Alphonse, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>-<a href="#Page_308">308</a></li> + +<li>Defoe, Daniel, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> + +<li><i>Demon Pope</i> (Garnett), <a href="#Page_315">315</a>-<a href="#Page_316">316</a></li> + +<li><i>Demonology and Devil-Lore</i> (Conway), <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> + +<li><i>Demonology and Witchcraft</i> (W. Scott), <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li>Deulin, Charles, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>-<a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil</i> (Gorky), <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil; his Origin, Greatness and Decadence</i> (Réville), <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil and his Dame</i> (Houghton), <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil and the Old Man</i> (Masefield), <a href="#Page_322">322</a>-<a href="#Page_323">323</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil and Tom Walker</i> (Irving), <a href="#Page_284">284</a>-<a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil in a Nunnery</i> (Mann), <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil in Germany</i> (Freytag), <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil in the Belfry</i> (Poe), <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil is an Ass</i> (Jonson), <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil-Puzzlers</i> (Perkins), <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>-<a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil’s Fiddle</i>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil’s Mother-in-Law</i> (Caballero), <a href="#Page_300">300</a>-<a href="#Page_302">302</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></li> + +<li><i>Devil’s Portrait</i> (Barrili), <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil’s Round</i> (Deulin), <a href="#Page_311">311</a>-<a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil’s Violin</i> (Webster), <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Devil’s Wager</i> (Thackeray), <a href="#Page_290">290</a>-<a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> + +<li><i>Diable</i> (Baudelaire), <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li><i>Diable au café</i> (Ménard), <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li><i>Diable boiteux</i> (Le Sage), <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> + +<li><i>Diablo cojuelo</i> (Guevara), <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> + +<li><i>Diabo-Lady, or a Match in Hell</i>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> + +<li><i>Dialect and Folk-Lore of Northampshire</i> (Sternberg), <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li><i>Dialogus Miraculorum</i> (Caesarius), <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li><i>Dieux ont soif</i> (France), <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> + +<li>Dollinger, J. J., <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li><i>Du moine qui countrefyt l’ymage du Diable</i>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> + +<li>Dunlop, J. C., <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Elixir of the Reverend Père Gaucher</i> (Daudet), <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> + +<li><i>En Route</i> (Huysmans), <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> + +<li><i>Evangelium Nicodemi</i>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li><i>Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka</i> (Gógol), <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Fables Respecting the Popes of the Middle Ages</i> (Dollinger), <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li><i>Fairy Tales</i> (Grimm), <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li><i>Faust</i> (Goethe), <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> + +<li><i>Faust</i> (Lenau), <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Faustus</i> (Marlowe), <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Field, Eugene, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> + +<li><i>Fisherman and his Soul</i> (Wilde), <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li>Flaubert, Gustave, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li><i>Flowers of Evil</i> (Baudelaire), <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> + +<li>France, Anatole, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>-<a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>-<a href="#Page_323">323</a></li> + +<li>Frazer, James George, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> + +<li>Freytag, Gustav, <a href="#Page_293">293</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></li> + +<li><i>From the Memoirs of Satan</i> (Hauff), <a href="#Page_286">286</a>-<a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> + +<li>Fulwell, Ulpian, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Goethe, Wolfgang, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> + +<li>Gógol, Nikolái Vasilévich, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li><i>Golden Bough</i> (Frazer), <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> + +<li>Gorky, Maxím, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> + +<li>Görres, Joseph, <a href="#Page_299">299</a></li> + +<li><i>Götterdämmerung</i> (Wagner), <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li><i>Grim, the Collier of Croydon</i> (Fulwell), <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Grimm, Jacob, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li>Guevara, Luis Velez, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Hauff, Wilhelm, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>-<a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> + +<li>Heine, Heinrich, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> + +<li>Henslowe, Philip, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Herbert, George, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> + +<li>Hill, Rowland, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>History of Fiction</i> (Dunlop), <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> + +<li><i>History of the Devil and the Idea of Evil</i> (Carus), <a href="#Page_315">315</a>-<a href="#Page_316">316</a></li> + +<li><i>History of the French Novel</i> (Saintsbury), <a href="#Page_290">290</a>-<a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> + +<li>Hoffmann, E. Th. A., <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Homme qui vendit son âme au Diable</i> (Veber), <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li>Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus), <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> + +<li><i>Horla</i> (Maupassant), <a href="#Page_314">314</a></li> + +<li>Houghton, P. M., <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Hugo, Victor, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> + +<li>Huneker, James, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> + +<li>Huysmans, Joris Karl, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Ingoldsby Legends or Mirth and Marvels</i> (Barham), <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> + +<li>Irving, Washington, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>-<a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> + +<li><i>Italian Novelists</i> (Roscoe), <a href="#Page_282">282</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Jarintzow, Mme., <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li>Jonson, Ben, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Là-Bas</i> (Huysmans), <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li>La Fontaine, Jean, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Lavigne, Germond, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li><i>Legend of Mont St.-Michel</i> (Maupassant), <a href="#Page_313">313</a>-<a href="#Page_314">314</a></li> + +<li>Lenau, Nikolaus, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li>Le Sage, Alain, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> + +<li>Lewis, (“Monk”) Matthew, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li><i>Lettres de mon Moulin</i> (Daudet), <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> + +<li><i>Little Key of Rabbi Solomon</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li><i>Lucifer</i> (France), <a href="#Page_319">319</a>-<a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Machiavel and the Devil</i> (Daborne and Henslowe), <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Machiavelli, Niccolò, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>-<a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li><i>Madam Lucifer</i> (Garnett), <a href="#Page_317">317</a>-<a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> + +<li><i>Man and Superman</i> (Shaw), <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Mann, Francis Oscar, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a></li> + +<li>Marlowe, Christopher, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Masefield, John, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>-<a href="#Page_323">323</a></li> + +<li>Maupassant, Guy, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>-<a href="#Page_314">314</a></li> + +<li><i>Mediaeval Mind</i> (Taylor), <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> + +<li><i>Mémoires du Diable</i> (Soulié), <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> + +<li><i>Memoirs of Satan</i> (Hauff), <a href="#Page_286">286</a>-<a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> + +<li>Ménard, Louis, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Milton, John, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> + +<li><i>My Friend’s Book</i> (France), <a href="#Page_322">322</a>-<a href="#Page_323">323</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Nerval [Labrunie], Gérard, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li><i>Notre Coeur</i> (Maupassant), <a href="#Page_314">314</a></li> + +<li><i>Nouvelles andalouses</i> (Caballero), <a href="#Page_301">301</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Origin of German Carnival Comedy</i> (Rudwin), <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Painter’s Bargain</i> (Thackeray), <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> + +<li><i>Paris Sketch Book</i> (Thackeray), <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> + +<li><i>Parlement of Devils</i>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li><i>Parlement of Foules</i>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li>Parliament of Sprites (Chatterton), <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li>Peabody, Josephine Preston, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> + +<li>Perkins, Frederick Beecher, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>-<a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> + +<li><i>Peter Schlemihl</i> (Chamisso), <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li><i>Pied Piper of Hamelin</i> (Browning), <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> + +<li><i>Piper</i> (Peabody), <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> + +<li>Poe, Edgar Allan, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>-<a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> + +<li><i>Poèmes en Prose</i> (Baudelaire), <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li><i>Pope’s Mule</i> (Daudet), <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> + +<li><i>Pozo de Santa Clara</i> (France), <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> + +<li><i>Prince des Sots</i> (Nerval), <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li><i>Printer’s Devil</i>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>-<a href="#Page_299">299</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Rabelais, François, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li>Réville, Albert, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> + +<li>Riche, Barnabe, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Richter, Jean Paul, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Robinson der Jüngers</i> (Campe), <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> + +<li>Roscoe, Thomas, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> + +<li>Roskoff, Georg, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> + +<li>Rückert, Friedrich, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li>Rudwin, Maximilian J., <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> + +<li><i>Russian Poets and Poems</i> (Jarintzow), <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Sachs, Hans, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li><i>St. John’s Eve</i> (Gógol), <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li>Saintsbury, George, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> + +<li>Sansovino, Francesco, <a href="#Page_281">281</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></li> + +<li><i>Satan’s Diary</i> (Andréev), <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Satanism of Huysmans</i> (Rudwin), <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li><i>Satires</i> (Horace), <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> + +<li>Schmidt, Julian, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> + +<li>Scott, Walter, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li><i>Selections from the Devil’s Papers</i> (Richter), <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li>Shakespeare, William, <a href="#Page_295">295</a></li> + +<li>Shaw, George Bernard, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Shipley, Joseph T., <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li><i>Sonata del Diavolo</i> (Tartini), <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Sonate du Diable</i> (Nerval), <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li>Soulié, Frédéric, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> + +<li><i>Spanish Fairy Tales</i> (Caballero), <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li>Staël, Madame, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> + +<li>Sternberg, T., <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li>Stevenson, Robert Louis, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> + +<li>Straparola, Giovan-Francesco, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li><i>Supreme Sin</i> (Huneker), <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li>Symons, Arthur, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Tales from Twelve Tongues</i> (Garnett?), <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li>Tartini, Giuseppe, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li>Tasso, Torquato, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li>Taylor, H. D., <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> + +<li><i>Temptation of St. Anthony</i> (Flaubert), <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li><i>Tentations ou Eros, Plutus et la Gloire</i> (Baudelaire), <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li><i>Teufel in Berlin</i> (Hoffmann), <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><i>Teufel mit der Geige</i> (Gengenbach), <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Teutonic Mythology</i> (Grimm), <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li>Thackeray, William Makepeace, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>-<a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> + +<li>Thiele, Just Mathias, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li><i>Thrawn Janet</i> (Stevenson), <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> + +<li><i>Three Low Masses</i> (Daudet), <a href="#Page_307">307</a>-<a href="#Page_308">308</a></li> + +<li><i>Twilight of the Gods</i> (Garnett), <a href="#Page_315">315</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><i>Undying Fire</i> (Wells), <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Vasari, Giorgio, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></li> + +<li>Veber, Pierre, <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li><i>Vinculum Spirituum</i>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li><i>Violon du Diable</i>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Vision Malefic</i> (Huneker), <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> + +<li><i>Vision of Saint Simon of Blewberry</i> (Mann), <a href="#Page_308">308</a></li> + +<li><i>Vite de’ più eccellenti Pittori, Scultori, ed Architteti</i> (Vasari), <a href="#Page_319">319</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Wagner, Richard, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li><i>Wandering Willie’s Tale</i> (Scott), <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Webster, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li><i>Well of St. Claire</i> (France), <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> + +<li>Wells, H. G., <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Wilde, Oscar, <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li><i>Wintermärchen</i> (Klopstock), <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> +</ul> + + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 80%; padding-top: 4em">THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Devil Stories, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEVIL STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 31754-h.htm or 31754-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/7/5/31754/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> |