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THE ANGEL OF THE ODD — AN
EXTRAVAGANZA.
——
BY EDGAR A. POE.
——
IT was
a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually
hearty dinner, of which the dispeptic truffe [[truffé]]
formed not the
least
important item, and was sitting alone in the dining[[-]]room, with my
feet
upon the fender, and at my elbow a small table, which I had rolled up
to
the fire, and upon which were some apologies for dessert, with some
miscellaneous
bottles of wine, spirit and liqueur. In the morning I had
been reading Glover's "Leonidas," Wickliffe's [[Wilkie's]] "Epigoniad,"
Lamartine's
"Pilgrimage," Barlow's "Columbiad," and Griswold's "Curiosities";
I am willing to confess, therefore, that I now felt a little
stupid. I made effort to arouse myself by aid of frequent Lafitte, and,
all
failing,
I betook myself to a stray newspaper in despair. Having carefully
perused the column of "houses to let," and the column of "dogs lost,"
and
then the two columns of "wives and apprentices runaway," I attacked
with
great resolution the editorial matter, and, reading it from beginning
to
end without understanding a syllable, conceived the possibility of its
being Chinese, and so re-read it from the end to the beginning, but
with
no more satisfactory result. I was about throwing away in
disgust,
This folio of four pages,
happy
work
Which not even critics criticise, |
when I felt my attention somewhat aroused by the paragraph which
follows:
"The avenues to death are numerous
and
strange.
A London paper mentions the decease of a person from a singular
cause.
He was playing at 'puff the dart,' which is played with a long needle
inserted
in some worsted, and blown at a target through a
tin
tube. He placed the needle at the wrong end of the tube, and
drawing
his breath strongly to puff the dart forward with force, drew the
needle
into his throat. It entered the lungs, and in a few days killed
him."
Upon seeing this I fell into a great
rage,
without
exactly knowing why. "This thing," I exclaimed, "is a
contemptible
falsehood — a poor hoax — the lees of the invention of some pitiable
penny-a-liner
— of some wretched concoctor of accidents in Cocaigne. These
fellows,
knowing the extravagant gullibility of the age, set their wits to work
in the imagination of improbable possibilities — of odd accidents, as
they
term them; but to a reflecting intellect (like mine," I added, in
parenthesis,
putting my forefinger unconsciously to the [column 2:]
side of my nose,) "to a contemplative understanding, such as I myself
possess,
it seems evident at once that the marvellous increase of late in these
'odd
accidents' is by far the oddest accident of all. For my own part,
I intend to believe nothing henceforward that has anything of the
'singular'
about it."
"Mein Gott, den, vat a vool you bees
for dat!' [["]]
replied
one of the most remarkable voices I ever heard. At first I took
it
for a rumbling in my ears — such as a man sometimes experiences when
getting
very drunk — but, upon second thought, I considered the sound as more
nearly
resembling that which proceeds from an empty barrel beaten with a big
stick;
and, in fact, this I should have concluded it to be, but for the
articulation
of the syllables and words. I am by no means naturally nervous,
and
the very few glasses of Lafitte which I had sipped served to embolden
me
no little, so that I felt nothing of trepidation, but merely uplifted
my
eyes with a leisurely movement, and looked carefully around the room
for
the intruder. I could not, however, perceive any one at all.
"Humph!" resumed the voice, as I
continued my
survey,
"you mus pe so dronk as de pig, den, for not zee me as I zit here at
your
zide."
Hereupon I bethought me of looking
immediately
before
my nose, and there, sure enough, confronting me at the table sat a
personage
nondescript, although not altogether indescribable. His body was
a wine-pipe or a rum-puncheon, or something of that character, and had
a truly Falstaffian air. In its nether extremity were inserted
two
kegs, which seemed to answer all the purposes of legs. For arms
there
dangled from the upper portion of the carcass two tolerably long
bottles,
with the necks outward for hands. All the head that I saw the monster
possessed
of was one of those Hessian canteens which resemble a large snuff-box
with
a hole in the middle of the lid. This canteen (with a funnel on
its
top, like a cavalier cap slouched over the eyes) was set on edge upon
the
puncheon, with the hole toward myself; and through this hole, which
seemed
puckered up like the mouth of a very precise old maid, the creature was
emitting certain rumbling and grumbling noises which he evidently
intended
for intelligible talk.
"I zay," said he, "you mos pe dronk
as de pig,
vor
zit dare and not zee me zit ere; and I zay, doo, [page 159:] you
mos pe pigger vool as de goose, vor to dispelief vat iz print in de
print.
'Tiz de troof — dat it iz — eberry vord ob it."
"Who are you, pray?" said I, with
much dignity,
although somewhat puzzled; "how did you get here? and what is it
you are talking about?"
"As vor ow I com'd ere," replied the
figure, "dat
iz none ob your pizziness; and as vor vat I be talking apout, I be talk
apout vat I tink proper; and as vor who I be, vy dat is de very ting I
com'd here for to let you zee for yourzelf."
"You are a drunken vagabond," said I,
"and I
shall
ring the bell and order my footman to kick you out into the street."
"He! he! he!" said the
fellow, "hu! hu! hu! dat you can't do."
"Can't do!" said I, "what do you
mean? —
I can't do what?"
"Ring de pell;" he replied,
attempting a grin
with
his little villanous [[villainous]] mouth.
Upon this I made an effort to get up,
in order to
put my threat into execution; but the ruffian just reached across the
table
very deliberately, and hitting me a tap on the forehead with the neck
of
one of the long bottles, knocked me back into the arm-chair from which
I had half arisen. I was utterly astounded; and, for a moment,
was
quite at a loss what to do. In the meantime he continued his
talk.
"You zee," said he, "it iz te bess
vor zit still;
and now you shall know who I pe. Look at me! zee! I
am te Angel ov te Odd.[["]]
"And odd enough, too," I ventured to
reply; "but
I was always under the impression that an angel had wings."
"Te wing!" he cried, highly
incensed, "vat
I pe do mit te wing? Mein Gott! do you take me vor a
shicken?"
"No — oh no!" I replied, much
alarmed, "you are
no chicken — certainly not."
"Well, den, zit still and pehabe
yourself, or
I'll
rap you again mid me vist. It iz te shicken ab te wing, und te
owl
ab te wing, und te imp ab te wing, und te head-teuffel ab te
wing. Te angel ab not te wing, and I am te Angel ov te Odd."
"And your business with me at present
is — is" —
"My pizziness!" ejaculated the
thing, "vy vat a
low pred buppy you mos pe vor to ask a gentleman und an angel apout his
pizziness!"
This language was rather more than I
could bear,
even from an angel; so, plucking up courage, I seized a salt[[-]]cellar
which
lay within reach, and hurled it at the head of the intruder.
Either
he dodged, however, or my aim was inaccurate; for all I accomplished
was
the demolition of the crystal which protected the dial of the clock
upon
the mantel[[-]]piece. As for the Angel he evinced his sense of my
assault
by giving me two or three hard consecutive raps upon the forehead as
before. [column 2:] These reduced me at
once
to
submission,
and I am almost ashamed to confess that either through pain or
vexation,
there came a few tears into my eyes.
"Mein Gott!" said the Angel of the
Odd,
apparently
much softened at my distress; "mein Gott, te man is eder ferry dronk or
ferry zorry. You mos not trink it so strong — you mos put te
water
in te wine. Here, trink dis, like a goot veller, und don't gry
now
— don't!"
Hereupon the Angel of the Odd
replenished my
goblet
(which was about a third full of Port) with a colorless fluid that he
poured
from one of his hand bottles. I observed that these bottles had
labels
about their necks, and that these labels were inscribed
"Kirschenwasser."
The considerate kindness of the Angel
mollified
me
in no little measure; and, aided by the water with which he diluted my
Port more than once, I at length regained sufficient temper to listen
to
his very extraordinary discourse. I cannot pretend to recount all
that he told me, but I gleaned from what he said that he was the genius
who presided over the contre temps of mankind, and whose
business
it was to bring about the odd accidents which are continually
astonishing
the skeptic. Once or twice, upon my venturing to express my total
incredulity in respect to his pretensions, he grew very angry indeed,
so
that at length I considered it the wiser policy to say nothing at all,
and let him have his own way. He talked on, therefore, at great
length,
while I merely leaned back in my chair with my eyes shut, and amused
myself
with munching raisins and fillipping the stems about the room. But,
by and bye, the Angel suddenly construed this behavior of mine into
contempt. He arose in a terrible passion, slouched his funnel down over
his eyes,
swore a vast oath, uttered a threat of some character which I did not
precisely
comprehend, and finally made me a low bow and departed, wishing me, in
the language of the archbishop in Gil-Blas, "beaucoup de bonheur et
un peu plus de bon sens."
His departure afforded me
relief. The very
few glasses of Lafitte that I had sipped had the effect of rendering me
drowsy, and I felt inclined to take a nap of some fifteen or twenty
minutes,
as is my custom after dinner. At six I had an appointment of
consequence,
which it was quite indispensable that I should keep. The policy
of
insurance for my dwelling house had expired the day before; and, some
dispute
having arisen, it was agreed that, at six, I should meet the board of
directors
of the company and settle the terms of a renewal. Glancing upward
at the clock on the mantel-piece, (for I felt too drowsy to take out my
watch,) I had the pleasure to find that I had still twenty-five minutes
to spare. It was half past five; I could easily walk to the insurance
office
in [page 160:] five minutes; and my usual post
prandian
siestas had never been known to exceed five and twenty. I felt
sufficiently
safe, therefore, and composed myself to my slumbers forthwith.
Having completed them to my
satisfaction, I again
looked toward the time-piece and was half inclined
to believe in the possibility of odd accidents when I found that,
instead
of my ordinary fifteen or twenty minutes, I had been dozing only three;
for it still wanted seven and twenty of the appointed hour. I
betook
myself again to my nap, and at length a second time awoke, when, to my
utter amazement, it still wanted twenty-seven minutes of
six. I jumped up to examine the clock, and found that it had ceased
running. My watch informed me that it was half past seven; and, of
course,
having
slept two hours, I was too late for my appointment. "It will make
no difference," I said; "I can call at the office in the morning
and apologize; in the meantime what can be the matter with the clock?"
Upon examining it I discovered that one of the raisin stems which I had
been fillipping about the room during the discourse of the Angel of the
Odd, had flown through the fractured crystal and lodging, singularly
enough,
in the key-hole, with an end projecting outward, had thus arrested the
revolution of the minute hand.
"Ah!" said I, "I see how it
is. This thing
speaks for itself. A natural accident, such as will
happen
now and then!"
I gave the matter no farther
consideration, and
at
my usual hour retired to bed. Here, having placed the candle upon a
reading stand at the bed head, and having made an attempt to peruse
some
pages of the "Omnipresence of the Deity," I unfortunately fell asleep
in
less than twenty seconds, leaving the light burning as it was.
My dreams were terrifically disturbed
by visions
of the Angel of the Odd. Methought he stood at the foot of the
couch,
drew aside the curtains, and, in the hollow, detestable tones of a rum
puncheon, menaced me with the bitterest vengeance for the contempt with
which I had treated him. He concluded a long harangue by taking
off
his funnel-cap, inserting the tube in [[into]] my gullet, and thus
deluging me
with an ocean of Kirschenwässer, which he poured, in a continuous
flood, from one of the long-necked bottles that stood him instead of an
arm. My agony was at length insufferable, and I awoke just in
time
to perceive that a rat had run off with the lighted candle from the
stand,
but not in season to prevent his making his escape with it
through his hole. Very soon, a strong suffocating odor assailed
my
nostrils; the house, I clearly perceived, was on fire. In a few minutes
the
blaze broke forth with violence, and in an incredibly brief period the
entire building was wrapped in flames. All egress from my
chamber,
except through a window, [column 2:] was cut
off.
The crowd, however, quickly procured and raised a long ladder. By
means of this I was descending rapidly, and in apparent safety, when a
huge hog, about whose rotund stomach, and indeed about whose whole air
and physiognomy, there was something which reminded me of the Angel of
the Odd — when this hog, I say, which hitherto had been quietly
slumbering
in the mud, took it suddenly into his head that his left shoulder
needed
scratching, and could find no more convenient rubbing[[-]]post than
that
afforded
by the foot of the ladder. In an instant I was precipitated and
had
the misfortune to fracture my arm.
This accident, with the loss of my
insurance, and
with the more serious loss of my hair, the whole of which had been
singed
off by the fire, predisposed me to serious impressions, so that,
finally,
I made up my mind to take a wife. There was a rich widow
disconsolate
for the loss of her seventh spouse, and to her wounded spirit I
offered
the balm of my vows. She yielded a reluctant consent to my
prayers.
I knelt at her feet in gratitude and adoration. She blushed and
bowed
her luxuriant tresses into close contact with those supplied me,
temporarily,
by Grandjean. I know not how the entanglement took place, but so it
was. I arose with a shining pate, wigless; she in disdain and wrath,
half buried in alien hair. Thus ended my hopes of the widow by an
accident which could not have been anticipated, to be sure, but which
the
natural sequence of events had brought about.
Without despairing, however, I
undertook the
siege
of a less implacable heart. The fates were again propitious for a
brief period; but again a trivial incident interfered. Meeting my
betrothed in an avenue thronged with the elite [[élite]]
of the
city,
I was hastening to greet her with one of my best considered bows, when
a small particle of some foreign matter, lodging in the corner of my
eye,
rendered me, for the moment, completely blind. Before I could
recover
my sight, the lady of my love had disappeared — irreparably affronted
at
what she chose to consider my premeditated rudeness in passing her by
ungreeted. While I stood bewildered at the suddenness of this accident,
(which
might
have happened, nevertheless, to any one under the sun,) and while I
still
continued incapable of sight, I was accosted by the Angel of the Odd,
who
proffered me his aid with a civility which I had no reason to
expect.
He examined my disordered eye with much gentleness and skill, informed
me that I had a drop in it, and (whatever a "drop" was) took it out,
and
afforded me relief.
I now considered it time to die,
(since fortune
had
so determined to persecute me,) and accordingly made my way to the
nearest
river. Here, divesting myself of my clothes, (for there is no
reason
why we cannot die as we were born,) I threw [page 261:] myself
headlong into the current; the sole witness of my fate being a solitary
crow that had been seduced into the eating of brandy-saturated corn,
and
so had staggered away from his fellows. No sooner had I entered
the
water than this bird took it into its head to fly away with the most
indispensable
portion of my apparel. Postponing, therefore, for the present, my
suicidal
design, I just slipped my nether extremities into the sleeves of my
coat,
and betook myself to a pursuit of the felon with all the nimbleness
which
the case required and its circumstances would admit. But my evil
destiny attended me still. As I ran at full speed, with my nose up in
the
atmosphere, and intent only upon the purloiner of my property, I
suddenly
perceived that my feet rested no longer upon terra-firma; the
fact
is, I had thrown myself over a precipice, and should inevitably have
been
dashed to pieces but for my good fortune in grasping the end of a long
guide-rope which depended from a passing balloon.
As soon as I sufficiently recovered
my senses to
comprehend the terrific predicament in which I stood or rather hung, I
exerted all the power of my lungs to make that predicament known to the
æronaut overhead. But for a long time I exerted myself in
vain.
Either the fool could not, or the villain would not perceive me.
Meantime the machine rapidly soared, while my strength even more
rapidly
failed. I was upon the point of resigning myself to my fate, and
dropping quietly into the sea, when my spirits were suddenly revived by
hearing a hollow voice from above, which seemed to be lazily humming an
opera air. Looking up, I perceived the Angel of the Odd. He
was leaning, with his arms folded, over the rim of the car; and
with
a pipe in his mouth, at which he puffed leisurely, seemed to be upon
excellent
terms with himself and the universe. I was too much exhausted to speak,
so I merely regarded him with an imploring air.
For several minutes, although he
looked me full
in
the face, he said nothing. At length removing carefully his
meerschaum
from the right to the left corner of his mouth, he condescended to
speak.
"Who pe you?" he asked, "und what der
teuffel you
pe do dare?"
To this piece of impudence, cruelty
and
affectation,
I could reply only by ejaculating the monosyllable "Help!"
"Elp!" echoed the ruffian — "not
I. Dare
iz
te pottle — elp yourself, und pe tam'd!"
With these words he let fall a heavy
bottle of
Kirschenwasser
which, dropping precisely upon the crown of my head, caused me to
imagine
that my brains were entirely knocked out. Impressed with this
idea,
I was about to relinquish my hold and give up the ghost with a good
grace,
when I [column 2:] was arrested by the cry of the
Angel,
who bade me hold on.
"Old on!" he said; "don't pe in te
urry — don't.
Will you pe take de odder pottle, or ave you pe got zober yet and come
to your zenzes?"
I made haste, hereupon, to nod my
head twice —
once
in the negative, meaning thereby that I would prefer not taking the
other
bottle at present — and once in the affirmative, intending thus to
imply
that I was sober and had positively come to my
senses.
By these means I somewhat softened the Angel.
"Und you pelief, ten," he inquired,
"at te last?
You pelief, ten, in te possibilty of te odd?"
I again nodded my head in assent.
"Und you ave pelief in me, te
Angel of te
Odd?"
I nodded again.
"Und you acknowledge tat you pe te
blind dronk
and
te vool?"
I nodded once more.
"Put your right hand into your left
hand preeches'
pocket, ten, in token ov your vull zubmizzion unto te Angel ov te Odd."
This thing, for very obvious reasons,
I found it
quite impossible to do. In the first place, my left arm had been
broken in my fall from the ladder, and, therefore, had I let go my hold
with the right hand, I must have let go altogether. In the second
place, I could have no breeches until we came across the crow. I
was therefore obliged, much to my regret, to shake my head in the
negative
— intending thus to give the Angel to understand that I found it
inconvenient,
just at that moment, to comply with his very reasonable demand!
No sooner, however, had I ceased shaking my head than —
"Go to der teuffel, ten!" roared the
Angel of
the
Odd.
In pronouncing these words, he drew a
sharp knife
across the guide-rope by which I was suspended, and as we then happened
to be precisely over my own house, (which, during my peregrinations,
had
been handsomely rebuilt,) it so occurred that I tumbled headlong down
the
ample chimney and alit upon the dining-room hearth.
Upon coming to my senses, (for the
fall had very
thoroughly stunned me,) I found it about four o'clock in the
morning. I lay outstretched where I had fallen from the balloon.
My head
grovelled
in the ashes of an extinguished fire, while my feet reposed upon the
wreck
of a small table, overthrown, and amid the fragments of a miscellaneous
dessert, intermingled with a newspaper, some broken glass and shattered
bottles, and an empty jug of the Schiedam Kirschenwasser. Thus
revenged
himself the Angel of the Odd. |
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