Essential Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (27 page)

“The tone metaphysical is also a good one. If you know any big words this is your chance for them. Talk of the Ionic and Eleatic schools—of Archytas, Gorgias, and Alcmæon.
^fa
Say something about objectivity and subjectivity. Be sure and abuse a man named Locked.
^fb
Turn up your nose at things in general, and when you let slip any thing a little too absurd, you need not be at the trouble of scratching it out, but just add a foot-note and say that you are indebted for the above profound observation to the
‘Kritik
der
reinem Vernunft,’
or to the
‘Metaphysische Anfangsgründe
der
Naturwissenschaft.’
^fc
This will look erudite and—and—and frank.

“There are various other tones of equal celebrity, but I shall mention only two more—the tone transcendental and the tone heterogeneous. In the former the merit consists in seeing into the nature of affairs a very great deal farther than anybody else. This second sight is very efficient when properly managed. A little reading of the
Dial
^fd
will carry you a great way. Eschew, in this case, big words; get them as small as possible, and write them upside down. Look over Channing’s poems and quote what he says about a ‘fat little man with a delusive show of Can.’
^fe
Put in something about the Supernal Oneness. Don’t say a syllable about the Infernal Twoness. Above all, study innuendo. Hint everything—assert nothing. If you feel inclined to say ‘bread and butter,’ do not by any means say it outright. You may say any thing and every thing approaching to ‘bread and butter.’ You may hint at buckwheat cake, or you may even go so far as to insinuate oat-meal porridge, but if bread and butter be your real meaning, be cautious, my dear Miss Psyche, not on any account to say ‘bread and butter’!”

I assured him that I should never say it again as long as I lived. He kissed me and continued:

“As for the tone heterogeneous, it is merely a judicious mixture, in equal proportions, of all the other tones in the world, and is consequently made up of every thing deep, great, odd, piquant, pertinent, and pretty.

“Let us suppose now you have determined upon your incidents and tone. The most important portion—in fact, the soul of the whole business, is yet to be attended to,—I allude to
the filling up.
It is not to be supposed that a lady, or gentleman either, has been leading the life of a book-worm. And yet above all things it is necessary that your article ticle have an air of erudition, or at least afford evidence of extensive general reading. Now I’ll put you in the way of accomplishing this point. See here!” (pulling down some three or four ordinary-looking volumes, and opening them at random). ”By casting your eye down almost any page of any book in the world, you will be able to perceive at once a host of little scraps of either learning or
bel-esprit-ism,
which are the very thing for the spicing of a Blackwood article. You might as well note down a few while I read them to you. I shall make two divisions: first,
Piquant Facts for the Manufacture of Similes;
and second,
Piquant Expressions to be introduced as occasion may require.
Write now!—” and I wrote as he dictated.

“PIQUANT FACTS FOR SIMILES. ‘There were originally but three Muses
^ff
—Melete, Mneme, Aœde—meditation, memory, and singing.’ You may make a good deal of that little fact if properly worked. You see it is not generally known, and looks
recherché.
You must be careful and give the thing with a downright improviso air.

“Again. ‘The river Alpheus
^fg
passed beneath the sea, and emerged without injury to the purity of its waters.’ Rather stale that, to be sure, but, if properly dressed and dished up, will look quite as fresh as ever.

“Here is something better. ‘The Persian Iris
^fh
appears to some persons to possess a sweet and very powerful perfume, while to others it is perfectly scentless.’ Fine that, and very delicate! Turn it about a little, and it will do wonders. We’ll have some thing else in the botanical line. There’s nothing goes down so well, especially with the help of a little Latin. Write!

“
‘The Epidendrum Flos Aeris,
^fi
of Java, bears a very beautiful flower, and will live when pulled up by the roots. The natives suspend it by a cord from the ceiling, and enjoy its fragrance for years.’ That’s capital! That will do for the similes. Now for the Piquant Expressions.

“PIQUANT EXPRESSIONS.
‘The Venerable
Chinese novel
Ju-Kiao-Li.’
^fj
Good! By introducing these few words with dexterity you will evince your intimate acquaintance with the language and literature of the Chinese. With the aid of this you may possibly get along without either ther Arabic, or Sanscrit, or Chickasaw. There is no passing muster, however, without Spanish, Italian, German, Latin, and Greek. I must look you out a little specimen of each. Any scrap will answer, because you must depend upon your own ingenuity to make it fit into your article. Now write!

“‘Aussi tendre que Zaire’
—as tender as Zaire—French. Alludes to the frequent repetition of the phrase,
la tendre Zaire,
in the French tragedy of that name.
^fk
Properly introduced, will show not only your knowledge of the language, but your general reading and wit. You can say, for instance, that the chicken you were eating (write an article about being choked to death by a chicken-bone) was not altogether
aussi tendre que Zaire.
Write!

“That’s Spanish—from Miguel de Cervantes.
^fl
‘Come quickly, O death! but be sure and don’t let me see you coming, lest the pleasure I shall feel at your appearance should unfortunately bring me back again to life.’ This you may slip in quite
à propos
when you are struggling in the last agonies with the chicken-bone. Write!

“That’s Italian, you perceive—from Ariosto.
^fm
It means that a great hero, in the heat of combat, not perceiving that he had been fairly killed, continued to fight valiantly, dead as he was. The application of this to your own case is obvious—for I trust, Miss Psyche, that you will not neglect to kick for at least an hour and a half after you have been choked to death by that chicken-bone. Please to write!

“That’s German—from Schiller.
^fn
‘And if I die, at least I die—for thee—for thee!’ Here it is clear that you are apostrophizing the
cause
of your disaster, the chicken. Indeed what gentleman (or lady either) of sense,
wouldn’t
die, I should like to know, for a well fattened capon of the right Molucca breed, stuffed with capers and mushrooms, and served up in a salad-bowl, with orange-jellies en
mosaïques.
^fo
Write! (You can get them that way at Tortoni’s.)
^fp
—Write, if you please!

“Here is a nice little Latin phrase, and rare too (one can’t be too
recherché
^fq
or brief in one’s Latin, it’s getting so common)
ignoratio elenchi.
^fr
He has committed an
ignoratio elenchi
—that is to say, he has understood the words of your proposition, but not the idea. The man was
a fool,
you see. Some poor fellow whom you address while choking with that chicken-bone, and who therefore didn’t precisely understand what you were talking about. Throw the
ignoratio elenchi
in his teeth, and, at once, you have him annihilated. If he dares to reply, you can tell him from Lucan (here it is) that speeches are mere
anemonœ verborum,
anemone words. The anemone, with great brilliancy, has no smell. Or, if he begins to bluster, you may be down upon him with
insomnia
Jovis,
reveries of Jupiter—a phrase which Silius Italicus (see here!) applies to thoughts pompous and inflated.
¹¹
This will be sure and cut him to the heart. He can do nothing but roll over and die. Will you be kind enough to write?

“In Greek we must have some thing pretty—from Demosthenes, for example. A
[Anero pheugon kai palin makesetai.] There is a tolerably good translation of it in Hudibras—

In a
Blackwood
article nothing makes so fine a show as your Greek. The very letters have an air of profundity about them. Only observe, madam, the astute look of that Epsilon! That Phi ought certainly to be a bishop! Was ever there a smarter fellow than that Omicron? Just twig that Tau!
^fs
In short, there is nothing like Greek for a genuine sensation-paper. In the present case your application is the most obvious thing in the world. Rap out the sentence, with a huge oath, and by way of
ultimatum
at the good-for-nothing dunder-headed villain who couldn’t understand your plain English in relation to the chicken-bone. He’ll take the hint and be off, you may depend upon it.”

These were all the instructions Mr. B. could afford me upon the topic in question, but I felt they would be entirely sufficient. I was, at length, able to write a genuine
Blackwood
article, and determined to do it forthwith. In taking leave of me, Mr. B. made a proposition for the purchase of the paper when written; but as he could offer me only fifty guineas a sheet, I thought it better to let our society have it, than sacrifice it for so paltry a sum. Notwithstanding this niggardly spirit, however, the gentleman showed his consideration for me in all other respects, and indeed treated me with the greatest civility. His parting words made a deep impression upon my heart, and I hope I shall always remember them with gratitude.

“My dear Miss Zenobia,” he said, while the tears stood in his eyes, “is there
any
thing else I can do to promote the success of your laudable undertaking? Let me reflect! It is just possible that you may not be able, so soon as convenient, to—to—get yourself drowned, or—choked with a chicken-bone, or—or hung,—or—bitten by a—but stay! Now I think me of it, there are a couple of very excellent bulldogs in the yard—fine fellows, I assure you—savage, and all that—indeed just the thing for your money—they’ll have you eaten up,
auriculas
and all, in less than five minutes (here’s my watch!)—and then only think of the sensations! Here! I say—Tom!—Peter!—Dick, you villain!—let out those”—but as I was really in a great hurry, and had not another moment to spare, I was reluctantly forced to expedite my departure, and accordingly took leave at
once
—somewhat more abruptly, I admit, than strict courtesy would have otherwise allowed.

It was my primary object upon quitting Mr. Blackwood, to get into some immediate difficulty, pursuant to his advice, and with this view I spent the greater part of the day in wandering about Edinburgh, seeking for desperate adventures—adventures adequate to the intensity of my feelings, and adapted to the vast character of the article I intended tended to write. In this excursion I was attended by one negro-servant, Pompey, and my little lap-dog Diana, whom I had brought with me from Philadelphia. It was not, however, until late in the afternoon that I fully succeeded in my arduous undertaking. An important event then happened of which the following
Blackwood
article, in the tone heterogeneous, is the substance and result.

What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?

—
Comus
^ft

 

IT WAS A QUIET and still afternoon when I strolled forth in the goodly city of Edina.
^fu
The confusion and bustle in the streets were terrible. Men were talking. Women were screaming. Children were choking. Pigs were whistling. Carts they rattled. Bulls they bellowed. Cows they lowed. Horses they neighed. Cats they caterwauled. Dogs they danced.
Danced!
Could it then be possible?
Danced!
Alas, thought I,
my
dancing days are over! Thus it is ever. What a host of gloomy recollections will ever and anon be awakened in the mind of genius and imaginative contemplation, especially of a genius doomed to the everlasting, and eternal, and continual, and, as one might say, the—
continued
—yes, the
continued and continuous,
bitter, harassing, disturbing, and, if I may be allowed the expression, the
very
disturbing influence of the serene, and god-like, and heavenly, and exalting, and elevated, and purifying effect of what may be rightly termed the most enviable, the most
truly
enviable—nay! the most benignly beautiful, the most deliciously ethereal, and, as it were, the most
pretty
(if I may use so bold an expression)
thing
(pardon me, gentle reader!) in the world—but I am always led away by my feelings. In such a mind, I repeat, what a host of recollections are stirred up by a trifle! The dogs danced!
I
—I could not! They frisked—I wept. They capered—I sobbed aloud. Touching circumstances! which cannot fail to bring to the recollection of the classical reader that exquisite passage in relation to the fitness of things, which is to be found in the commencement of the third volume of that admirable and venerable Chinese novel the
Jo-Go-Slow.
^fv