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[page 251:]
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MYSTIFICATION.
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Slid, if these be your "passados"
and "montantes," I'll
have none of
them.
NED KNOWLES.
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THE Baron Ritzner von Jung
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 of which Tieck,
a scion
of the house, has given a vivid, although by no means the most vivid
exemplifications.
My acquaintance with Ritzner commenced at the magnificent Chateau Jung,
into which a train of droll adventures, not to be made public, threw me
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 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 which 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,
that it was deemed impertinent 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, [page 252:]
persons, purses, and
propensities
of the whole community which surrounded him, an influence the most
extensive
and despotic, yet at the same time the most indefinite 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."
Upon his advent to G——n, he sought me out in amy
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. He was by no
means a handsome
man — perhaps 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 entirely,
and so singly, the idea of unmitigated gravity, solemnity and repose.
It will be perceived, no doubt, from what I have already
said, that
the Baron was 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 reknowned 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 [page 253:]
were 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 mystifique, lay in that consummate ability (resulting
from an
almost
intuitive knowledge of human nature, and a 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 endeavors, would suffuse every lineament
of
his countenance, left not the slightest room for doubt of his sincerity
in the bosoms of even his most skeptical 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. In no instance before
that
of which I speak, have I known the habitual mystific escape the natural
consequence of his manœvres — 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.
During the epoch of his residence at G——n it really
appeared that the
demon of the dolce far niente lay like an incubus upon the
university.
Nothing, at least, was done, 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 the Baron. Our carousals here were many, and boisterous, and
long,
and never unfruitful of events.
Upon one occasion we had protracted our sitting until
nearly
daybreak,
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 connection, of great family pride,
and
all alive with an [page 254:] exaggerated sense of honor. They
abounded in the most
ultra German opinions respecting the duello. To these Quixotic
notions
some recent Parisian publications, backed by three or four desperate,
and
fatal rencontres at G——n, had given new vigor 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
ardor, an eloquence, an impressiveness, and 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 duelling 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 every respect — except, perhaps, in the single particular
that he was a very great fool. 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. As a duellist he had acquired great
reknown, even at G——n. I forget the precise number of viticms 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 honor, 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 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 [page 255:]
nature was upon the tapis with my friend, and that Hermann was
its
especial
object.
As the former proceeded in his discourse, or rather
monologue, I
perceived
the excitement of the latter momently 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 bit 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 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 afterward he stood erect, confronting Hermann;
and
so total an alteration of countenance in so short a period I certainly
never saw 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. [page 256:]
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 this 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 endeavor 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,
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 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 duelist accepted my aid with his 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 tiresome harangue in his ordinary style, he took down
from his book-shelves a number of musty volumes on the subject of the
duello,
and entertained me for a long time with their contents; reading aloud,
and commenting earnestly as he read. I can just remember the titles of
some of the works. There were the "Ordonnance of Philip le Bel on
Single
Combat;" the "Theatre of Honor," by Favyn, and a treatise "On the
Permission
of Duels," by Andiguier. He displayed, also, with much pomposity,
Brantome's
"Memoirs of Duels," published at Cologne, 1666, in [page 257:]
the types of
Elzevir — a precious and unique vellum-paper volume, with a fine
margin, and
bound
by Derôme. But he requested my attention particularly, and with
an air
of mysterious sagacity, to a 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 "Injuriæ per applicationem, per
constructionem,
et
per se," about half of which, he averred, was strictly applicable
to
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, M. 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.
With sentiments of
perfect respect,
Your most humble servant,
JOHAN HERMANN.
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To the Baron Ritzner Von Jung,
August 18th, 18—.
Not knowing what better to do, I called upon Ritzner
with this
epistle.
He bowed as I presented it; then, with a grave countenance, motioned me
to a seat. Having perused the cartel, he wrote the following reply,
which
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 [page 258:] 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 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 Sieur
Hedelin,
as set forth in the ninth paragraph of the chapter of "Injuria [[Injuriae]]
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, will be
sufficient, I am assured, to convince you that the mere
circumstance of
me referring you to this admirable passage, ought to satisfy your
request,
as a man of honor, for explanation.
With sentiments of
profound respect,
Your most obedient
servant,
VON JUNS
[[JUNG]].
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The Herr Johan Hermann
August 18th, 18—.
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 Injuriæ per applicationem, per
constructionem,
et per se. Having finished reading, he begged me, with the blandest
of
all possible smiles, 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 behavior, and, in that of second, to assure him that the
explanation
offered was of the fullest, the most honorable, 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 [page 259:] 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
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 prima 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 profundity, while in fact not a shadow of meaning existed. 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 a single combat
as practised in modern times.
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
merit. Upon this hint he proceeded. Hermann would have died a thousand
deaths rather than acknowledge his inability to understand anything and
everything in the universe that had ever been written about the duello.
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