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————
BY E. A. POE. ————  I BELIEVE there are some
young Americans even now in Gotham who were at the University of G——n
during "the domination of the Baron Ritzner Von Jung." If so, these
will not fail to remember him, and well; but they may be at a loss,
nevertheless, to understand why I choose to dub the extraordinary
personage in question with the odd title which forms the heading of
this article. Thereby hangeth, however, a tale.My friend, the
Baron, was of a noble Hungarian family, every member of which (at
least
as far back into antiquity as any certain records extend,) was more or
less
remarkable for talent of some description — the majority for that
species
of grotesquerie in conception [page 563:] of which
Tieck, a scion of the
house,
has given some vivid, although by no means the most vivid
exemplifications.
My acquaintance with him — with Ritzner — commenced at the magnificent
Chateau Jung, into which a train of droll adventures, not to be made
public,
threw me par hazard during the summer months of the year 18—. Here it
was
I obtained a place in his regard, and here, with somewhat more
difficulty,
a partial insight into his mental conformation. In later days this
insight
grew more clear, as the intimacy which had at first permitted it became
more close; and when, after three year's [[years]] separation, we met
at G——n, I
knew
all that it was necessary to know of the character of the Baron Ritzner
Von Jung. I remember the buzz of curiosity his advent
excited within the college precincts on the night of the twenty-fifth
of June. I remember still more
distinctly,
that while he was pronounced by all parties at first sight "the most
remarkable
man in the world," no person made any attempt at accounting for this
opinion.
That he was unique appeared so undeniable, it was deemed not
pertinent
to inquire wherein the uniquity consisted. But, letting this matter
pass
for the present, I will merely observe that, from the first moment of
his
setting foot within the limits of the University, he began to exercise
over the habits, manners, persons, purses, moral feelings, intellectual
faculties, and physical
propensities of the whole community which surrounded him, an influence
the most extensive, the most absolutely despotic, yet at the same time
the
most
indefinitive, inappreciable, and altogether unaccountable. Thus the
brief period of his
residence at the University forms an era in its annals, and is
characterized
by all classes of people appertaining to it or its dependencies as
"that
very extraordinary epoch forming the domination of the Baron Ritzner
Von Jung." I have seen — and be it here borne in
mind that
gentlemen
still living in Gotham who have been with myself witness of these
things
will have full recollection of the passages to which I now merely
allude
— I have seen, then, the most outrageously preposterous of events
brought
about by the most intangible and apparently inadequate of means. I have
seen — what, indeed, have I not seen? I have seen Villanova, the
danseuse,
lecturing in the chair of National Law, and I have seen D——, P——, T——,
and Von C——, all enraptured with her profundity.
I have seen the protector, the consul, and the whole faculty aghast at
the convolutions of a weathercock. I have seen Sontag received with
hisses,
and a hurdy-gurdy with sighs. I have seen an ox-cart, with oxen, on the
summit of the Rotunda. I have seen all the pigs of G——n in periwigs,
and
all her cows in canonicals. I have seen fifteen hundred vociferous [page
564:] cats
in the steeple of St. P——. I have seen the college chapel bombarded — I
have seen the college ramparts most distressingly placarded — I have
seen
the whole world by the ears — I have seen old Wertemuller in tears —
and,
more than all, I have seen such events come to be regarded as the most
reasonable, commendable, and inevitable things in creation, through the
silent, yet all-pervading and magical influence of the dominator Baron
Ritzner Von Jung. Upon the Baron's advent to G——n, he
sought me
out
in my apartments. He was then of no particular age — by which I mean
that
it was impossible to form a guess respecting his age by any data
personally
afforded. He might have been fifteen or fifty, and was
twenty-one years
and seven months. In stature he was about my own height, say five feet
eight inches. He
was
by no means a handsome man — perhaps rather the reverse. The contour of
his face was somewhat angular and harsh. His forehead was lofty and
very
fair; his nose a snub; his eyes large, heavy, glassy and meaningless.
About
the mouth there was more to be observed. The lips were gently
protruded,
and rested the one upon the other after such fashion that it is
impossible to conceive any, even the most
complex,
combination of human features, conveying so utterly, and so singly,
the
idea of unmitigated gravity, solemnity, and repose. My readers have
thus
the physical baron before them. What I shall add respecting those
mental
peculiarities to which I have as yet only partially adverted, will be
told
in my own words — for I find that, in speaking of my friend, I have
been
falling unwittingly into one of the many odd literary mannerisms of the
dominator Baron Ritzner Von Jung. It will be perceived, no doubt, from
what I have
already said, that the Baron was neither more nor less than one of
those
human anomalies now and then to be found, who make the science of mystification
the study and the business of their lives. For this science a peculiar
turn of mind gave him instinctively the cue, while his physical
appearance
afforded him unusual facilities for carrying his projects into effect.
I firmly believe that no student at G——n, during that renowned epoch so
quaintly termed the domination of the Baron Ritzner Von Jung, ever
rightly
entered into the mystery which overshadowed his character. I truly
think
that no person at the University, with the exception of myself, ever
suspected
him to be capable of a joke, verbal or practical — the old bull-dog at
the garden-gate would sooner have been accused — the ghost of
Heraclitus
— or the wig of the Emeritus Professor of Theology. This, too, when it
was evident that the most egregious and unpardonable of all conceivable
tricks, whimsicalities, and
buffooneries
were [page 565:] brought about, if not directly by him, at
least plainly through
his
intermediate agency or connivance. The beauty, if I may so call it, of
his art mystisique lay in that consummate ability (resulting
from
an almost intuitive knowledge of human nature, and the most wonderful
self-possession,)
by means of which he never failed to make it appear that the drolleries
he was occupied in bringing to a point, arose partly in spite, and
partly
in consequence of the laudable efforts he was making for their
prevention,
and for the preservation of the good order and dignity of Alma Mater.
The
deep, the poignant, the overwhelming mortification which, upon each
such
failure of his praiseworthy endeavours, would suffuse every lineament
of
his countenance, left not the slightest room for doubt of his sincerity
in the bosoms of even his most sceptical companions. The adroitness,
too,
was no less worthy of observation by which he contrived to shift the
sense
of the grotesque from the creator to the created — from his own person
to the absurdities to which he had given rise. How this difficult point
was accomplished I have become fully aware by means of a long course of
observation on the oddities of my friend, and by means of frequent
dissertations
on the subject from himself; but upon this matter I cannot dilate. In
no
instance, however, before that of which I speak, have I known the
habitual
mystific escape the natural consequence of his manœuvres, an attachment
of the ludicrous to his own character and person. Continually enveloped
in an atmosphere of whim, my friend
appeared
to live only for the severities of society; and not even his own
household
have for a moment associated other ideas than those of the rigid and
august
with the memory of the Baron Ritzner Von Jung. To enter fully into the labyrinths of
the Baron's
finesse, or even to follow him in that droll career of practical
mystification
which gave him so wonderful an ascendency over the mad spirits of G——n,
would lead me to a far greater length than I have prescribed to myself
in this article. I may dwell upon these topics hereafter, and then not in
petto. I am well aware that in tracing minutely
and
deliberately
to their almost magical results the operations of an intellect like
that
of Ritzner, wherein an hereditary and cultivated taste for the bizarre
was allied with an intuitive acumen in regard to the every-day impulses
of the heart — (acumen which amounted to positive morbidity,) an
untrodden field would be found to lie open before me,
rich in novelty and vigour, of emotion and incident, and abounding in
rare
food for both speculation and analysis. But this, I have already said,
could not be accomplished in little space. Moreover, the Baron is still
living in Belgium, and it is not without the limits of the possible
that
his eye may rest upon what I am now [page 566:] writing. I
shall be careful,
therefore,
not to disclose, at least thus and here, the mental machinery
which he
has a pleasure, however whimsical, in keeping concealed. An anecdote at
random, however, may convey some idea of the spirit of his pratique.
The method varied ad infinitum; and in this well-sustained
variety
lay chiefly the secret of that
unsuspectedness
with which his multifarious operations were conducted. During the epoch of the domination it
really
appeared
that the demon of the dolce far niente lay like an incubus upon
the University. Nothing was done, at least, beyond eating and drinking,
and making merry. The apartments of the students were converted into so
many pot-houses, and there was no pot-house of them all more famous or
more frequented than that of your humble servant, and the Baron Ritzner
Von Jung — for it must be understood that we were chums. Our carousals
here were many, and boisterous, and long, and never unfruitful of
events. Upon one occasion we had protracted
our sitting
until
nearly day-break, and an unusual quantity of wine had been drunk. The
company
consisted of seven or eight individuals besides the Baron and myself.
Most
of these were young men of wealth, of high connexion, of great family
pride,
and all alive with an exaggerated sense of honour. They abounded in the
most ultra German opinions respecting the duello. To these
Quixottic
notions some recent Parisian publications, backed by three or four
desperate
and fatal rencontres at G——n, had given new vigour and impulse; and
thus
the conversation during the greater part of the night had run wild
upon
the all-engrossing topic of the times. The Baron, who had been
unusually
silent and abstracted in the earlier portion of the evening, at length
seemed to be aroused from his apathy, took a leading part in the
discourse, and dwelt upon the
benefits, and more
especially
upon the beauties, of the received code of etiquette in passages of
arms,
with an ardour, an eloquence, an impressiveness, and if I may so speak,
an affectionateness of manner which elicited the warmest enthusiasm
from his hearers in general, and absolutely staggered even myself, who
well knew him to be at heart a ridiculer of those very points for which
he contended, and especially to hold the entire fanfaronade of
etiquette in the sovereign contempt which it deserves. Looking around me during a pause in
the Baron's
discourse,
(of which my readers may gather some faint idea when I say that it
bore
resemblance to the fervid, chanting, monotonous, yet musical sermonic
manner of Coleridge,) I perceived symptoms of even more than the
general
interest in the countenance of one of the party. This gentleman, whom I
shall call Hermann, was an original in [page 567:] every
respect, except perhaps in
the single particular that he was one of the greatest asses in all
Christendom.
He contrived to bear, however, among a particular set at the
University,
a reputation for deep metaphysical thinking, and, I believe, for some
logical
talent. His personal appearance was so peculiar that I feel confident
my
outline of him will be recognized at once by all who have been in
company
with the model. He was one of the tallest men I have ever seen, being
full
six feet and a half. His proportions were singularly mal-apropos.
His legs were brief, bowed, and very slender; while above them arose a
trunk worthy of the Farnesian
Hercules.
His shoulders, nevertheless, were round, his neck long although thick,
and a general stoop forward gave him a slouching air. His head was of
colossal
dimensions, and overshadowed by a dense mass of straight raven hair,
two
huge locks of which, stiffly plastered with pomatum, extended with a
lachrymose
air down the temples, and partially over the cheek bones — a fashion
which
of late days has wormed itself (the wonder is that it has not arrived
here
before) into the good graces of the denizens of Gotham. But
the face itself was the chief oddity. The upper region was finely
proportioned,
and gave indication of the loftiest species of intellect. The forehead
was massive and broad, the organs of ideality over the temples, as well
as those of causality, comparison, and eventuality, which betray
themselves
above the os frontis, being so astonishingly developed as to attract
the
instant notice of every person who saw him. The eyes were full,
brilliant,
beaming with what might be mistaken for intelligence, and well relieved
by the short, straight, picturesque-looking eyebrow, which is perhaps
one
of the surest indications of general ability. The aquiline nose, too,
would have done honour to a Hebrew medallion; certainly nothing more
magnificent was ever beheld, nothing
more
delicate nor more exquisitely modelled. All these things were well
enough,
as I have said; it was the inferior portions of the visage which
abounded
in deformity, and which gave the lie instanter to the tittle-tattle of
the superior. The upper lip (a huge lip in length) had the appearance
of being swollen as by the sting of a bee, and was
rendered
still more atrocious by a little spot of very black mustachio
immediately
beneath the nose. The under lip, apparently disgusted with the gross
obesity
of its fellow, seemed bent upon resembling it as little as might be,
and
getting as far removed from it as possible. It was accordingly very
curt
and thin, hanging back as if utterly ashamed of being seen; while the
chin,
retreating still an inch or two farther, might have been taken for —
any thing
in the universe but a chin. In this abrupt transition, or rather
descent, in
regard to character, from the upper to the lower regions of the face,
an
analogy was [page 568:] preserved between the face itself and
the body at large,
whose
peculiar construction I have spoken of before. The result of the entire
conformation was, that opinions directly conflicting were daily
entertained
in respect to the personal appearance of Hermann. Erect, he was
absolutely
hideous, and seemed to be, what in fact he really was, a fool. At
table,
with his hands covering the lower part of his visage, (an attitude of
deep
meditation which he much affected,) truly I never witnessed a more
impressive tableau than his general appearance presented. As a
duellist he
had acquired great renown, even at G——n. I forget the precise number of
victims who had fallen at his hands — but they were many. He was a man
of courage undoubtedly. But it was upon his minute acquaintance with
the
etiquette of the duello, and the nicety of his sense of honour,
that
he most especially prided himself. These
things were a hobby which he rode to the death. To Ritzner, ever upon
the
look-out for the grotesque, his peculiarities, bodily and mental, had
for
a long time past afforded food for mystification. Of this, however, I
was
not aware, although in the present instance I saw clearly that
something
of a whimsical nature was upon the tapis with my chum, and that
Hermann was its especial object. As the former proceeded in his
discourse, or
rather
monologue, I perceived the excitement of Hermann momentairly
increasing.
At
length he spoke, offering some objection to a point insisted upon by
R.,
and giving his reasons in detail. To these the Baron replied at length
(still maintaining his exaggerated tone of sentiment), and concluding,
in what I thought very bad taste, with a sarcasm and a sneer. The hobby
of Hermann now took the reins in his teeth. This I could discern by the
studied
hair-splitting farrago of his rejoinder. His last words I distinctly
remember.
"Your opinions, allow me to say, Baron Von Jung, although in the main
correct,
are in many nice points discreditable to yourself and to the University
of which you are a member. In a few respects they are even unworthy of
serious refutation. I would say more than this, Sir, were it not for
the
fear of giving you offence, (here the speaker smiled blandly,) I would
say, Sir, that your opinions are not the opinions to be expected from a
gentleman." As Hermann completed this equivocal
sentence, all
eyes were turned upon the Baron. He became very pale, then excessively
red, then, dropping his pocket-handkerchief, stooped to recover it,
when I caught a glimpse of his countenance while
it could be seen by no one else at the table. It was radiant with the
quizzical
expression which was its natural character, but which I had never seen
it assume except when we were alone together, and when he unbent
himself
freely. In an instant afterwards he stood erect, confronting [page
569:] Hermann,
and
so total an alteration of countenance in so short a period I certainly
never witnessed before. For a moment I even fancied that I had
misconceived
him, and that he was in sober earnest. He appeared to be stifling with
passion, and his face was cadaverously white. For a short time he
remained
silent, apparently striving to master his emotion. Having at length
seemingly
succeeded, he reached a decanter which stood near him, saying, as he
held
it firmly clenched — "The language you have thought proper to employ,
Mynheer
Hermann, in addressing yourself to me, is objectionable in so many
particulars,
that I have neither temper nor time for specification. That my
opinions,
however, are not the opinions to be expected from a gentleman, is an
observation
so directly offensive, as to allow me but one line of conduct. Some
courtesy,
nevertheless, is due to the presence of this company, and to yourself,
at the present moment, as my guest. You will pardon me, therefore, if,
upon this consideration, I deviate slightly from the general usage
among
gentlemen in similar cases of personal affront. You will forgive me for
the moderate tax I shall make upon your imagination, and endeavour to
consider, for an instant, the
reflection of your
person in yonder mirror as the living Mynheer Hermann himself. This
being
done there will be no difficulty whatever. I shall discharge this
decanter
of wine at your image in yonder mirror, and thus fulfil all the spirit,
if not the exact letter, of resentment for your insult, while the
necessity
of physical violence to your real person will be obviated." With these
words he hurled the decanter full of wine furiously against the mirror
which hung directly opposite Hermann, striking the reflection of his
person
with great precision, and of course shattering the glass into
fragments.
The whole company at once started to their feet, and, with the
exception
of myself and Ritzner, took their hats for departure. As Hermann went
out,
the Baron whispered me that I should follow him and make an offer of my
services. To this I agreed, not knowing precisely what to make of so
ridiculous
a piece of business. The duellist accepted my aid with his
usual
stiff,
and ultra-recherché air, and taking my arm, led me to his
apartment.
I could hardly forbear laughing in his face while he proceeded to
discuss
with the profoundest gravity what he termed "the refinedly peculiar
character"
of the insult he had received. After a long harangue in his
ordinary
style, he took down from his book[[-]]shelves a pretty thick octavo,
written in barbarous Latin by one Hedelin
a Frenchman, and having the quaint title, "Duelli Lex scripta, et
non,
aliterque." From this he read me one of the drollest chapters in
the
world concerning "Injuriœ per applicationem, per constructionem, et
per se," about half of which, he averred, was strictly applicable
to [page 570:]
his own "refinedly peculiar" case, although not one syllable of the
whole
matter could I understand for the life of me. Having finished the
chapter
he closed the book, and demanded what I thought necessary to be done. I
replied that I had entire confidence in his superior delicacy of
feeling,
and would abide by what he proposed. With this answer he seemed
flattered,
and sat down to write a note to the Baron. It ran thus: "Sir, My friend, Mr. P——, will hand you
this note. I
find
it incumbent upon me to request, at your earliest convenience, an
explanation
of this evening's occurrences at your chambers. In the event of your
declining this request, Mr. P. will be happy to
arrange
with any friend whom you may appoint, the steps preliminary to a
meeting.
Not knowing what better to do, I
called upon
Ritzner
with this epistle. He bowed as I presented it, and, with a grave
countenance,
motioned me to a seat. He then said that he was aware of the contents
of
the note, and that, of course, it would be unnecessary for him to
peruse it. With this, to my great
astonishment, he repeated the letter nearly verbatim, handing me, at
the
same time, an already written reply. This, which ran as follows, I
carried
to Hermann."Sir, Through our common friend, Mr. P., I have received
your note of this evening. Upon due reflection I frankly admit the
propriety
of the explanation you suggest. This being admitted, I still find great
difficulty, (owing to the refinedly peculiar nature of our
disagreement,
and of the personal affront offered on my part,) in so wording what I
have
to say by way of apology, as to meet all the minute exigencies, and, as
it were, all the variable shadows of the case. I have great reliance,
however,
on that extreme delicacy of discrimination, in matters appertaining to
the rules of etiquette, for
which you
have
been so long and so pre-eminently distinguished. With perfect
certainty,
therefore,
of being comprehended, I beg leave, in lieu of offering any sentiments
of my own, to refer you to the opinions of the Sieur Hedelin, as set
forth
in the ninth paragraph of the chapter on "Injuriœ per applicationem,
per constructionem, et per se" in his "Duelli Lex scripta, et
non,
aliterque." The nicety of your discernment in all the matters here
treated of will be sufficient, I am assured, to convince you that
the
mere
circumstance alone [page 571:] of my referring you
to this admirable passage ought to
satisfy
your request, as a man of honour, for explanation.
Hermann commenced the perusal of this
epistle
with
a scowl, which, however, was converted into a smile of the most
ludicrous
self-complacency as he came to the rigmarole about Injuriœ per
applicationem,
per constructionem, et per se. Having finished reading, he begged
me,
with the blandest of all possible airs, to be seated while he made
reference
to the treatise in question. Turning to the passage specified, he read
it with great care to himself, then closed the book, and desired me, in
my character of confidential acquaintance, to express to the Baron Von
Jung his exalted sense of his chivalrous behaviour, and, in that of
second, to assure him that the explanation offered
was of the fullest, the most honourable, and the most unequivocally
satisfactory
nature. Somewhat amazed at all this I made my retreat to the Baron. He
seemed to receive Hermann's amicable letter as a matter of course, and,
after a few words of general conversation, went to an inner room and
brought
out the everlasting treatise "Duelli Lex scripta, et non, aliterque."
He handed me the volume and asked me to look over some portion of it. I
did so, but to little purpose, not being able to gather the least
particle
of definite meaning. He then took the book himself, and read me a
chapter
aloud. To my surprise what he read proved to be a most horribly absurd
account of a duel between two baboons. He now explained the mystery,
showing
that the volume, as it appeared primâ facie, was written
upon
the plan of the nonsense verses of Du Bartas; that is to say, the
language
was ingeniously framed so as to present to the ear all the outward
signs
of intelligibility, and even of profound analysis, while in fact not a
shadow of meaning existed, except in insulated sentences. The key to
the
whole was found in leaving out every second and third word alternately,
when there appeared a series of ludicrous quizzes upon the duello. The Baron afterwards informed me that
he had
purposely
thrown the treatise in Hermann's way two or three weeks before the
adventure,
and that he was satisfied from the general tenor of his conversation
that
he had studied it with the deepest attention, and firmly believed it to
be a work of unusual profundity. Upon this hint
he
proceeded. Hermann would have died a thousand deaths rather than
acknowledge
his inability to understand any and every thing in the universe that
had
ever been written about the duello. |
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