"Hans Phaall" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

1850
HANS PHAALL
by Edgar Allan Poe

There is, strictly speaking, but little similarity between this
sketchy trifle and the very celebrated and very beautiful "Moon-story"
of Mr. Locke- but as both have the character of hoaxes, (although one
is in the tone of banter, the other of downright earnest) and as
both hoaxes are on the same subject, the moon- the author of "Hans
Phaall" thinks it necessary to say, in self-defence, that his own
jeu-d'esprit was published, in the Southern Literary Messenger,
about three weeks previously to the appearance of Mr. L's in the New
York "Sun." Fancying a similarity which does not really exist, some of
the New York papers copied "Hans Phaall," and collated it with the
Hoax- with the view of detecting the writer of the one in the writer
of the other.

By late accounts from Rotterdam, that city seems to be in a high
state of philosophical excitement. Indeed, phenomena have there
occurred of a nature so completely unexpected- so entirely novel- so
utterly at variance with preconceived opinions- as to leave no doubt
on my mind that long ere this all Europe is in an uproar, all physics
in a ferment, all reason and astronomy together by the ears.
date), a vast crowd of people, for purposes not specifically
mentioned, were assembled in the great square of the Exchange in the
well-conditioned city of Rotterdam. The day was warm- unusually so
for the season- there was hardly a breath of air stirring; and the
multitude were in no bad humor at being now and then besprinkled
with friendly showers of momentary duration, that fell from large
white masses of cloud which chequered in a fitful manner the blue
vault of the firmament. Nevertheless, about noon, a slight but
remarkable agitation became apparent in the assembly: the clattering
of ten thousand tongues succeeded; and, in an instant afterward, ten
thousand faces were upturned toward the heavens, ten thousand pipes
descended simultaneously from the corners of ten thousand mouths,
and a shout, which could be compared to nothing but the roaring of
Niagara, resounded long, loudly, and furiously, through all the
environs of Rotterdam.
The origin of this hubbub soon became sufficiently evident. From
behind the huge bulk of one of those sharply-defined masses of cloud
already mentioned, was seen slowly to emerge into an open area of blue
space, a queer, heterogeneous, but apparently solid substance, so
oddly shaped, so whimsically put together, as not to be in any
manner comprehended, and never to be sufficiently admired, by the host
of sturdy burghers who stood open-mouthed below. What could it be?
In the name of all the vrows and devils in Rotterdam, what could it
possibly portend? No one knew, no one could imagine; no one- not even
the burgomaster Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk- had the slightest clew
by which to unravel the mystery; so, as nothing more reasonable
could be done, every one to a man replaced his pipe carefully in the