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MDCXLVII." Pp. 76.
The writer professes to have translated his work from the English of
one Mr. D'Avisson (Davidson?) although there is a terrible ambiguity
in the statement. "J' en ai eu," says he "l'original de Monsieur
D'Avisson, medecin des mieux versez qui soient aujourd'huy dans la
cònoissance des Belles Lettres, et sur tout de la Philosophic
Naturelle. Je lui ai cette obligation entre les autres, de m' auoir
non seulement mis en main cc Livre en anglois, mais encore le
Manuscrit du Sieur Thomas D'Anan, gentilhomme Eccossois,
recommandable pour sa vertu, sur la version duquel j' advoue que j'
ay tiré le plan de la mienne."
After some irrelevant adventures, much in the manner of Gil Blas, and
which occupy the first thirty pages, the author relates that, being
ill during a sea voyage, the crew abandoned him, together with a
negro servant, on the island of St. Helena. To increase the chances
of obtaining food, the two separate, and live as far apart as
possible. This brings about a training of birds, to serve the purpose
of carrier-pigeons between them. By and by these are taught to carry
parcels of some weight-and this weight is gradually increased. At
length the idea is entertained of uniting the force of a great number
of the birds, with a view to raising the author himself. A machine is
contrived for the purpose, and we have a minute description of it,
which is materially helped out by a steel engraving. Here we perceive
the Signor Gonzales, with point ruffles and a huge periwig, seated
astride something which resembles very closely a broomstick, and
borne aloft by a multitude of wild swans _(ganzas) _who had strings
reaching from their tails to the machine.
The main event detailed in the Signor's narrative depends upon a very
important fact, of which the reader is kept in ignorance until near
the end of the book. The _ganzas, _with whom he had become so
familiar, were not really denizens of St. Helena, but of the moon.
Thence it had been their custom, time out of mind, to migrate
annually to some portion of the earth. In proper season, of course,
they would return home; and the author, happening, one day, to
require their services for a short voyage, is unexpectedly carried
straight tip, and in a very brief period arrives at the satellite.
Here he finds, among other odd things, that the people enjoy extreme
happiness; that they have no _law; _that they die without pain; that
they are from ten to thirty feet in height; that they live five
thousand years; that they have an emperor called Irdonozur; and that
they can jump sixty feet high, when, being out of the gravitating
influence, they fly about with fans.
I cannot forbear giving a specimen of the general _philosophy _of the
volume.
"I must not forget here, that the stars appeared only on that side of
the globe turned toward the moon, and that the closer they were to it
the larger they seemed. I have also me and the earth. As to the
stars, _since there was no night where I was, they always had the
same appearance; not brilliant, as usual, but pale, and very nearly
like the moon of a morning. _But few of them were visible, and these
ten times larger (as well as I could judge) than they seem to the
inhabitants of the earth. The moon, which wanted two days of being
full, was of a terrible bigness.
"I must not forget here, that the stars appeared only on that side
of the globe turned toward the moon, and that the closer they were to
it the larger they seemed. I have also to inform you that, whether it
was calm weather or stormy, I found myself always immediately
between the moon and the earth. I_ _was convinced of this for two
reasons-because my birds always flew in a straight line; and because
whenever we attempted to rest, _we were carried insensibly around the
globe of the earth. _For I admit the opinion of Copernicus, who
maintains that it never ceases to revolve _from the east to the west,
_not upon the poles of the Equinoctial, commonly called the poles of
the world, but upon those of the Zodiac, a question of which I
propose to speak more at length here-after, when I shall have leisure
to refresh my memory in regard to the astrology which I learned at
Salamanca when young, and have since forgotten."
Notwithstanding the blunders italicized, the book is not without some
claim to attention, as affording a naive specimen of the current
astronomical notions of the time. One of these assumed, that the
"gravitating power" extended but a short distance from the earth's
surface, and, accordingly, we find our voyager "carried insensibly
around the globe," etc.
There have been other "voyages to the moon," but none of higher merit
than the one just mentioned. That of Bergerac is utterly meaningless.
In the third volume of the "American Quarterly Review" will be found
quite an elaborate criticism upon a certain "journey" of the kind in
question--a criticism in which it is difficult to say whether the
critic most exposes the stupidity of the book, or his own absurd
ignorance of astronomy. I forget the title of the work; but the
_means _of the voyage are more deplorably ill conceived than are even
the _ganzas _of our friend the Signor Gonzales. The adventurer, in
digging the earth, happens to discover a peculiar metal for which the
moon has a strong attraction, and straightway constructs of it a box,
which, when cast loose from its terrestrial fastenings, flies with
him, forthwith, to the satellite. The "Flight of Thomas O'Rourke," is
a _jeu d' esprit _not altogether contemptible, and has been
translated into German. Thomas, the hero, was, in fact, the
gamekeeper of an Irish peer, whose eccentricities gave rise to the
tale. The "flight" is made on an eagle's back, from Hungry Hill, a
lofty mountain at the end of Bantry Bay.
In these various _brochures _the aim is always satirical; the theme
being a description of Lunarian customs as compared with ours. In
none is there any effort at _plausibility _in the details of the
voyage itself. The writers seem, in each instance, to be utterly
uninformed in respect to astronomy. In "Hans Pfaall" the design is
original, inasmuch as regards an attempt at _verisimilitude, _in the
application of scientific principles (so far as the whimsical nature
of the subject would permit), to the actual passage between the earth
and the moon.
{*2} The zodiacal light is probably what the ancients called Trabes.
Emicant Trabes quos docos vocant. -- Pliny, lib. 2, p. 26.
{*3} Since the original publication of Hans Pfaall, I find that Mr.
Green, of Nassau balloon notoriety, and other late aeronauts, deny
the assertions of Humboldt, in this respect, and speak of a
decreasing inconvenience, -- precisely in accordance with the theory
here urged in a mere spirit of banter.
{*4} Havelius writes that he has several times found, in skies
perfectly clear, when even stars of the sixth and seventh magnitude
were conspicuous, that, at the same altitude of the moon, at the same
elongation from the earth, and with one and the same excellent
telescope, the moon and its maculae did not appear equally lucid at
all times. From the circumstances of the observation, it is evident
that the cause of this phenomenon is not either in our air, in the
tube, in the moon, or in the eye of the spectator, but must be looked
for in something (an atmosphere?) existing about the moon.
What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad !
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
--All in the Wrong.
MANY years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William
Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been
wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To
avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New
Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at
Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. This Island is a
very singular one. It consists of little else than the sea sand, and
is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter
of a mile. It is separated from the main land by a scarcely
perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and
slime, a favorite resort of the marsh hen. The vegetation, as might
be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any
magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort
Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings,
tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust and
fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole
island, with the exception of this western point, and a line of hard,
white beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of
the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horticulturists of England.
The shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet,
and forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burthening the air with its
fragrance.
In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern
or more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small
hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his
acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship - for there was much
in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well
educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy,
and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy.
He had with him many books, but rarely employed them. His chief
amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach
and through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological
specimens; - his collection of the latter might have been envied by a
Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually accompanied by an old
negro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted before the reverses of
the family, but who could be induced, neither by threats nor by
promises, to abandon what he considered his right of attendance upon
the footsteps of his young "Massa Will." It is not improbable that
the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in
intellect, had contrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with
a view to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very
severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when a
fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18-, there
occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset
I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend,
whom I had not visited for several weeks - my residence being, at
that time, in Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the Island,
while the facilities of passage and re-passage were very far behind
those of the present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my
custom, and getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was
secreted, unlocked the door and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon
the hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I
threw off an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling
logs, and awaited patiently the arrival of my hosts.
Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome.
Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some
marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits - how else
shall I term them? - of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve,
forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and
secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scarabæus which he believed to
be totally new, but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion
on the morrow.
"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze,
and wishing the whole tribe of scarabæi at the devil.
"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's
so long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay
me a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met
Lieutenant G--, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the
bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning.
Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is
the loveliest thing in creation!"
"What? - sunrise?"
"Nonsense! no! - the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color - about
the size of a large hickory-nut - with two jet black spots near one
extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other.
The antennæ are - "
"Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you,"
here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole bug, solid, ebery bit of
him, inside and all, sep him wing - neber feel half so hebby a bug in
my life."
"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more
earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded, "is that any
reason for your letting the birds burn? The color" - here he turned
to me - "is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never
saw a more brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit - but of
this you cannot judge till tomorrow. In the mean time I can give you
some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated himself at a small
table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some
in a drawer, but found none.
"Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer;" and he
drew from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very
dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While
he did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly.
When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I
received it, a loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the
door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to
Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with
caresses; for I had shown him much attention during previous visits.
When his gambols were over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak the
truth, found myself not a little puzzled at what my friend had
depicted.
"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this is
a strange scarabæus, I must confess: new to me: never saw anything
like it before - unless it was a skull, or a death's-head - which it
more nearly resembles than anything else that has come under my
observation."
"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand -"Oh - yes - well, it has
something of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper
black spots look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like
a mouth - and then the shape of the whole is oval."
"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I
must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of
its personal appearance."
"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw
tolerably - should do it at least - have had good masters, and
flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead."
"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, "this is a
very passable skull - indeed, I may say that it is a very excellent
skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of
physiology - and your scarabæus must be the queerest scarabæus in the
world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit of
superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug
scarabæus caput hominis, or something of that kind - there are many
similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the antennæ
you spoke of?"
"The antennæ!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting
unaccountably warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the
antennæ. I made them as distinct as they are in the original insect,
and I presume that is sufficient."
"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have - still I don't see
them;" and I handed him the paper without additional remark, not
wishing to ruffle his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn
affairs had taken; his ill humor puzzled me - and, as for the drawing
of the beetle, there were positively no antennæ visible, and the
whole did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a
death's-head.
He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple
it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the
design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face
grew violently red - in another as excessively pale. For some minutes
he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At
length he arose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to seat
himself upon a sea-chest in the farthest corner of the room. Here
again he made an anxious examination of the paper; turning it in all
directions. He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly
astonished me; yet I thought it prudent not to exacerbate the growing
moodiness of his temper by any comment. Presently he took from his
coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper carefully in it, and deposited
both in a writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew more composed in
his demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite
disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As the
evening wore away he became more and more absorbed in reverie, from
which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been my intention
to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but,
seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did
not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with
even more than his usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had
seen nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from
his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so
dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my
friend.
"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now? - how is your
master?"
"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought
be."
"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain
of?"
"Dar! dat's it! - him neber plain of notin - but him berry sick
for all dat."
"Very sick, Jupiter! - why didn't you say so at once? Is he
confined to bed?"
"No, dat he aint! - he aint find nowhar - dat's just whar de shoe
pinch - my mind is got to be berry hebby bout poor Massa Will."
"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking
about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails
him?"
"Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad about de matter -
Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him - but den what
make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he
soldiers up, and as white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon all de
time - "
"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"
"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate - de queerest figgurs
I ebber did see. Ise gittin to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to
keep mighty tight eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip fore
de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stick
ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did come - but
Ise sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all - he look so berry
poorly."
"Eh? - what? - ah yes! - upon the whole I think you had better
not be too severe with the poor fellow - don't flog him, Jupiter - he
can't very well stand it - but can you form no idea of what has
occasioned this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has
anything unpleasant happened since I saw you?"
"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin unpleasant since den - 'twas fore
den I'm feared - 'twas de berry day you was dare."
"How? what do you mean?"
"Why, massa, I mean de bug - dare now."
"The what?"
"De bug, - I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere
bout de head by dat goole-bug."
"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?"
"Claws enuff, massa, and mouth too. I nebber did see sick a
deuced bug - he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa
Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I
tell you - den was de time he must ha got de bite. I did n't like de
look oh de bug mouff, myself, no how, so I would n't take hold ob him
wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I
rap him up in de paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff - dat was de
way."
"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the
beetle, and that the bite made him sick?"
"I do n't tink noffin about it - I nose it. What make him dream
bout de goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Ise
heerd bout dem goole-bugs fore dis."
"But how do you know he dreams about gold?"
"How I know? why cause he talk about it in he sleep - dat's how I
nose."
"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate
circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to-day?"
"What de matter, massa?"
"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand "
"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;" and here Jupiter handed me
a note which ran thus:
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