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Edgar Allan Poe: The Devil In the Belfry
Up to the EServer | The Complete Works of Edgar Allan
Poe
THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY
by Edgar Allan Poe
What o'clock is it?
Old Saying.
EVERYBODY knows, in a general way, that the finest place in the world
is–or, alas, was–the Dutch borough of Vondervotteimittiss. Yet as it lies
some distance from any of the main roads, being in a somewhat out-of-the-way
situation, there are perhaps very few of my readers who have ever paid it a
visit. For the benefit of those who have not, therefore, it will be only
proper that I should enter into some account of it. And this is indeed the
more necessary, as with the hope of enlisting public sympathy in behalf of
the inhabitants, I design here to give a history of the calamitous events
which have so lately occurred within its limits. No one who knows me will
doubt that the duty thus self-imposed will be executed to the best of my
ability, with all that rigid impartiality, all that cautious examination
into facts, and diligent collation of authorities, which should ever
distinguish him who aspires to the title of historian.
By the united aid of medals, manuscripts, and inscriptions, I am enabled
to say, positively, that the borough of Vondervotteimittiss has existed,
from its origin, in precisely the same condition which it at present
preserves. Of the date of this origin, however, I grieve that I can only
speak with that species of indefinite definiteness which mathematicians are,
at times, forced to put up with in certain algebraic formulae. The date, I
may thus say, in regard to the remoteness of its antiquity, cannot be less
than any assignable quantity whatsoever.
Touching the derivation of the name Vondervotteimittiss, I confess
myself, with sorrow, equally at fault. Among a multitude of opinions upon
this delicate point–some acute, some learned, some sufficiently the
reverse–I am able to select nothing which ought to be considered
satisfactory. Perhaps the idea of Grogswigg–nearly coincident with that of
Kroutaplenttey–is to be cautiously preferred.–It
runs:–Vondervotteimittis–Vonder, lege Donder- Votteimittis, quasi und
Bleitziz–Bleitziz obsol:–pro Blitzen." This derivative, to say the truth, is
still countenanced by some traces of the electric fluid evident on the
summit of the steeple of the House of the Town-Council. I do not choose,
however, to commit myself on a theme of such importance, and must refer the
reader desirous of information to the "Oratiunculae de Rebus
Praeter-Veteris," of Dundergutz. See, also, Blunderbuzzard "De
Derivationibus," pp. 27 to 5010, Folio, Gothic edit., Red and Black
character, Catch-word and No Cypher; wherein consult, also, marginal notes
in the autograph of Stuffundpuff, with the Sub-Commentaries of
Gruntundguzzell.
Notwithstanding the obscurity which thus envelops the date of the
foundation of Vondervotteimittis, and the derivation of its name, there can
be no doubt, as I said before, that it has always existed as we find it at
this epoch. The oldest man in the borough can remember not the slightest
difference in the appearance of any portion of it; and, indeed, the very
suggestion of such a possibility is considered an insult. The site of the
village is in a perfectly circular valley, about a quarter of a mile in
circumference, and entirely surrounded by gentle hills, over whose summit
the people have never yet ventured to pass. For this they assign the very
good reason that they do not believe there is anything at all on the other
side.
Round the skirts of the valley (which is quite level, and paved
throughout with flat tiles), extends a continuous row of sixty little
houses. These, having their backs on the hills, must look, of course, to the
centre of the plain, which is just sixty yards from the front door of each
dwelling. Every house has a small garden before it, with a circular path, a
sun-dial, and twenty-four cabbages. The buildings themselves are so
precisely alike, that one can in no manner be distinguished from the other.
Owing to the vast antiquity, the style of architecture is somewhat odd, but
it is not for that reason the less strikingly picturesque. They are
fashioned of hard-burned little bricks, red, with black ends, so that the
walls look like a chess-board upon a great scale. The gables are turned to
the front, and there are cornices, as big as all the rest of the house, over
the eaves and over the main doors. The windows are narrow and deep, with
very tiny panes and a great deal of sash. On the roof is a vast quantity of
tiles with long curly ears. The woodwork, throughout, is of a dark hue and
there is much carving about it, with but a trifling variety of pattern for,
time out of mind, the carvers of Vondervotteimittiss have never been able to
carve more than two objects–a time-piece and a cabbage. But these they do
exceedingly well, and intersperse them, with singular ingenuity, wherever
they find room for the chisel.
The dwellings are as much alike inside as out, and the furniture is all
upon one plan. The floors are of square tiles, the chairs and tables of
black-looking wood with thin crooked legs and puppy feet. The mantelpieces
are wide and high, and have not only time-pieces and cabbages sculptured
over the front, but a real time-piece, which makes a prodigious ticking, on
the top in the middle, with a flower-pot containing a cabbage standing on
each extremity by way of outrider. Between each cabbage and the time-piece,
again, is a little China man having a large stomach with a great round hole
in it, through which is seen the dial-plate of a watch.
The fireplaces are large and deep, with fierce crooked-looking fire-dogs.
There is constantly a rousing fire, and a huge pot over it, full of
sauer-kraut and pork, to which the good woman of the house is always busy in
attending. She is a little fat old lady, with blue eyes and a red face, and
wears a huge cap like a sugar-loaf, ornamented with purple and yellow
ribbons. Her dress is of orange-colored linsey-woolsey, made very full
behind and very short in the waist–and indeed very short in other respects,
not reaching below the middle of her leg. This is somewhat thick, and so are
her ankles, but she has a fine pair of green stockings to cover them. Her
shoes–of pink leather–are fastened each with a bunch of yellow ribbons
puckered up in the shape of a cabbage. In her left hand she has a little
heavy Dutch watch; in her right she wields a ladle for the sauerkraut and
pork. By her side there stands a fat tabby cat, with a gilt toy-repeater
tied to its tail, which "the boys" have there fastened by way of a quiz.
The boys themselves are, all three of them, in the garden attending the
pig. They are each two feet in height. They have three-cornered cocked hats,
purple waistcoats reaching down to their thighs, buckskin knee-breeches, red
stockings, heavy shoes with big silver buckles, long surtout coats with
large buttons of mother-of-pearl. Each, too, has a pipe in his mouth, and a
little dumpy watch in his right hand. He takes a puff and a look, and then a
look and a puff. The pig–which is corpulent and lazy–is occupied now in
picking up the stray leaves that fall from the cabbages, and now in giving a
kick behind at the gilt repeater, which the urchins have also tied to his
tail in order to make him look as handsome as the cat.
Right at the front door, in a high-backed leather-bottomed armed chair,
with crooked legs and puppy feet like the tables, is seated the old man of
the house himself. He is an exceedingly puffy little old gentleman, with big
circular eyes and a huge double chin. His dress resembles that of the
boys–and I need say nothing farther about it. All the difference is, that
his pipe is somewhat bigger than theirs and he can make a greater smoke.
Like them, he has a watch, but he carries his watch in his pocket. To say
the truth, he has something of more importance than a watch to attend to–and
what that is, I shall presently explain. He sits with his right leg upon his
left knee, wears a grave countenance, and always keeps one of his eyes, at
least, resolutely bent upon a certain remarkable object in the centre of the
plain.
This object is situated in the steeple of the House of the Town Council.
The Town Council are all very little, round, oily, intelligent men, with big
saucer eyes and fat double chins, and have their coats much longer and their
shoe-buckles much bigger than the ordinary inhabitants of
Vondervotteimittiss. Since my sojourn in the borough, they have had several
special meetings, and have adopted these three important resolutions:
"That it is wrong to alter the good old course of things:"
"That there
is nothing tolerable out of Vondervotteimittiss:" and-
"That we will
stick by our clocks and our cabbages."
Above the session-room of the Council is the steeple, and in the steeple
is the belfry, where exists, and has existed time out of mind, the pride and
wonder of the village–the great clock of the borough of Vondervotteimittiss.
And this is the object to which the eyes of the old gentlemen are turned who
sit in the leather-bottomed arm-chairs.
The great clock has seven faces–one in each of the seven sides of the
steeple–so that it can be readily seen from all quarters. Its faces are
large and white, and its hands heavy and black. There is a belfry-man whose
sole duty is to attend to it; but this duty is the most perfect of
sinecures–for the clock of Vondervotteimittis was never yet known to have
anything the matter with it. Until lately, the bare supposition of such a
thing was considered heretical. From the remotest period of antiquity to
which the archives have reference, the hours have been regularly struck by
the big bell. And, indeed the case was just the same with all the other
clocks and watches in the borough. Never was such a place for keeping the
true time. When the large clapper thought proper to say "Twelve o'clock!"
all its obedient followers opened their throats simultaneously, and
responded like a very echo. In short, the good burghers were fond of their
sauer-kraut, but then they were proud of their clocks.
All people who hold sinecure offices are held in more or less respect,
and as the belfry–man of Vondervotteimittiss has the most perfect of
sinecures, he is the most perfectly respected of any man in the world. He is
the chief dignitary of the borough, and the very pigs look up to him with a
sentiment of reverence. His coat-tail is very far longer–his pipe, his
shoe–buckles, his eyes, and his stomach, very far bigger–than those of any
other old gentleman in the village; and as to his chin, it is not only
double, but triple.
I have thus painted the happy estate of Vondervotteimittiss: alas, that
so fair a picture should ever experience a reverse!
There has been long a saying among the wisest inhabitants, that "no good
can come from over the hills"; and it really seemed that the words had in
them something of the spirit of prophecy. It wanted five minutes of noon, on
the day before yesterday, when there appeared a very odd-looking object on
the summit of the ridge of the eastward. Such an occurrence, of course,
attracted universal attention, and every little old gentleman who sat in a
leather-bottomed arm-chair turned one of his eyes with a stare of dismay
upon the phenomenon, still keeping the other upon the clock in the
steeple.
By the time that it wanted only three minutes to noon, the droll object
in question was perceived to be a very diminutive foreign-looking young man.
He descended the hills at a great rate, so that every body had soon a good
look at him. He was really the most finicky little personage that had ever
been seen in Vondervotteimittiss. His countenance was of a dark snuff-color,
and he had a long hooked nose, pea eyes, a wide mouth, and an excellent set
of teeth, which latter he seemed anxious of displaying, as he was grinning
from ear to ear. What with mustachios and whiskers, there was none of the
rest of his face to be seen. His head was uncovered, and his hair neatly
done up in papillotes. His dress was a tight-fitting swallow-tailed black
coat (from one of whose pockets dangled a vast length of white
handkerchief), black kerseymere knee-breeches, black stockings, and
stumpy-looking pumps, with huge bunches of black satin ribbon for bows.
Under one arm he carried a huge chapeau-de-bras, and under the other a
fiddle nearly five times as big as himself. In his left hand was a gold
snuff-box, from which, as he capered down the hill, cutting all manner of
fantastic steps, he took snuff incessantly with an air of the greatest
possible self-satisfaction. God bless me!–here was a sight for the honest
burghers of Vondervotteimittiss!
To speak plainly, the fellow had, in spite of his grinning, an audacious
and sinister kind of face; and as he curvetted right into the village, the
old stumpy appearance of his pumps excited no little suspicion; and many a
burgher who beheld him that day would have given a trifle for a peep beneath
the white cambric handkerchief which hung so obtrusively from the pocket of
his swallow-tailed coat. But what mainly occasioned a righteous indignation
was, that the scoundrelly popinjay, while he cut a fandango here, and a
whirligig there, did not seem to have the remotest idea in the world of such
a thing as keeping time in his steps.
The good people of the borough had scarcely a chance, however, to get
their eyes thoroughly open, when, just as it wanted half a minute of noon,
the rascal bounced, as I say, right into the midst of them; gave a chassez
here, and a balancez there; and then, after a pirouette and a pas-de-zephyr,
pigeon-winged himself right up into the belfry of the House of the Town
Council, where the wonder-stricken belfry-man sat smoking in a state of
dignity and dismay. But the little chap seized him at once by the nose; gave
it a swing and a pull; clapped the big chapeau de-bras upon his head;
knocked it down over his eyes and mouth; and then, lifting up the big
fiddle, beat him with it so long and so soundly, that what with the
belfry-man being so fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you would have
sworn that there was a regiment of double-bass drummers all beating the
devil's tattoo up in the belfry of the steeple of Vondervotteimittiss.
There is no knowing to what desperate act of vengeance this unprincipled
attack might have aroused the inhabitants, but for the important fact that
it now wanted only half a second of noon. The bell was about to strike, and
it was a matter of absolute and pre-eminent necessity that every body should
look well at his watch. It was evident, however, that just at this moment
the fellow in the steeple was doing something that he had no business to do
with the clock. But as it now began to strike, nobody had any time to attend
to his manoeuvres, for they had all to count the strokes of the bell as it
sounded.
"One!" said the clock.
"Von!" echoed every little old gentleman in every leather-bottomed
arm-chair in Vondervotteimittiss. "Von!" said his watch also; "von!" said
the watch of his vrow; and "von!" said the watches of the boys, and the
little gilt repeaters on the tails of the cat and pig.
"Two!" continued the big bell; and
"Doo!" repeated all the repeaters.
"Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!" said the bell.
"Dree! Vour! Fibe! Sax! Seben! Aight! Noin! Den!" answered the
others.
"Eleven!" said the big one.
"Eleben!" assented the little ones.
"Twelve!" said the bell.
"Dvelf!" they replied perfectly satisfied, and dropping their voices.
"Und dvelf it is!" said all the little old gentlemen, putting up their
watches. But the big bell had not done with them yet.
"Thirteen!" said he.
"Der Teufel!" gasped the little old gentlemen, turning pale, dropping
their pipes, and putting down all their right legs from over their left
knees.
"Der Teufel!" groaned they, "Dirteen! Dirteen!!–Mein Gott, it is Dirteen
o'clock!!"
Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued? All
Vondervotteimittiss flew at once into a lamentable state of uproar.
"Vot is cum'd to mein pelly?" roared all the boys–"I've been ongry for
dis hour!"
"Vot is com'd to mein kraut?" screamed all the vrows, "It has been done
to rags for this hour!"
"Vot is cum'd to mein pipe?" swore all the little old gentlemen, "Donder
and Blitzen; it has been smoked out for dis hour!"–and they filled them up
again in a great rage, and sinking back in their arm-chairs, puffed away so
fast and so fiercely that the whole valley was immediately filled with
impenetrable smoke.
Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it seemed as
if old Nick himself had taken possession of every thing in the shape of a
timepiece. The clocks carved upon the furniture took to dancing as if
bewitched, while those upon the mantel-pieces could scarcely contain
themselves for fury, and kept such a continual striking of thirteen, and
such a frisking and wriggling of their pendulums as was really horrible to
see. But, worse than all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put up any
longer with the behavior of the little repeaters tied to their tails, and
resented it by scampering all over the place, scratching and poking, and
squeaking and screeching, and caterwauling and squalling, and flying into
the faces, and running under the petticoats of the people, and creating
altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it is possible for a
reasonable person to conceive. And to make matters still more distressing,
the rascally little scape-grace in the steeple was evidently exerting
himself to the utmost. Every now and then one might catch a glimpse of the
scoundrel through the smoke. There he sat in the belfry upon the belfry-man,
who was lying flat upon his back. In his teeth the villain held the
bell-rope, which he kept jerking about with his head, raising such a clatter
that my ears ring again even to think of it. On his lap lay the big fiddle,
at which he was scraping, out of all time and tune, with both hands, making
a great show, the nincompoop! of playing "Judy O'Flannagan and Paddy
O'Rafferty."
Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in disgust, and
now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time and fine kraut. Let us
proceed in a body to the borough, and restore the ancient order of things in
Vondervotteimittiss by ejecting that little fellow from the steeple.
THE END
Edgar Allan Poe: The Devil In the Belfry
Up to the EServer | The Complete Works of Edgar Allan
Poe
THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY
by Edgar Allan Poe
What o'clock is it?
Old Saying.
EVERYBODY knows, in a general way, that the finest place in the world
is–or, alas, was–the Dutch borough of Vondervotteimittiss. Yet as it lies
some distance from any of the main roads, being in a somewhat out-of-the-way
situation, there are perhaps very few of my readers who have ever paid it a
visit. For the benefit of those who have not, therefore, it will be only
proper that I should enter into some account of it. And this is indeed the
more necessary, as with the hope of enlisting public sympathy in behalf of
the inhabitants, I design here to give a history of the calamitous events
which have so lately occurred within its limits. No one who knows me will
doubt that the duty thus self-imposed will be executed to the best of my
ability, with all that rigid impartiality, all that cautious examination
into facts, and diligent collation of authorities, which should ever
distinguish him who aspires to the title of historian.
By the united aid of medals, manuscripts, and inscriptions, I am enabled
to say, positively, that the borough of Vondervotteimittiss has existed,
from its origin, in precisely the same condition which it at present
preserves. Of the date of this origin, however, I grieve that I can only
speak with that species of indefinite definiteness which mathematicians are,
at times, forced to put up with in certain algebraic formulae. The date, I
may thus say, in regard to the remoteness of its antiquity, cannot be less
than any assignable quantity whatsoever.
Touching the derivation of the name Vondervotteimittiss, I confess
myself, with sorrow, equally at fault. Among a multitude of opinions upon
this delicate point–some acute, some learned, some sufficiently the
reverse–I am able to select nothing which ought to be considered
satisfactory. Perhaps the idea of Grogswigg–nearly coincident with that of
Kroutaplenttey–is to be cautiously preferred.–It
runs:–Vondervotteimittis–Vonder, lege Donder- Votteimittis, quasi und
Bleitziz–Bleitziz obsol:–pro Blitzen." This derivative, to say the truth, is
still countenanced by some traces of the electric fluid evident on the
summit of the steeple of the House of the Town-Council. I do not choose,
however, to commit myself on a theme of such importance, and must refer the
reader desirous of information to the "Oratiunculae de Rebus
Praeter-Veteris," of Dundergutz. See, also, Blunderbuzzard "De
Derivationibus," pp. 27 to 5010, Folio, Gothic edit., Red and Black
character, Catch-word and No Cypher; wherein consult, also, marginal notes
in the autograph of Stuffundpuff, with the Sub-Commentaries of
Gruntundguzzell.
Notwithstanding the obscurity which thus envelops the date of the
foundation of Vondervotteimittis, and the derivation of its name, there can
be no doubt, as I said before, that it has always existed as we find it at
this epoch. The oldest man in the borough can remember not the slightest
difference in the appearance of any portion of it; and, indeed, the very
suggestion of such a possibility is considered an insult. The site of the
village is in a perfectly circular valley, about a quarter of a mile in
circumference, and entirely surrounded by gentle hills, over whose summit
the people have never yet ventured to pass. For this they assign the very
good reason that they do not believe there is anything at all on the other
side.
Round the skirts of the valley (which is quite level, and paved
throughout with flat tiles), extends a continuous row of sixty little
houses. These, having their backs on the hills, must look, of course, to the
centre of the plain, which is just sixty yards from the front door of each
dwelling. Every house has a small garden before it, with a circular path, a
sun-dial, and twenty-four cabbages. The buildings themselves are so
precisely alike, that one can in no manner be distinguished from the other.
Owing to the vast antiquity, the style of architecture is somewhat odd, but
it is not for that reason the less strikingly picturesque. They are
fashioned of hard-burned little bricks, red, with black ends, so that the
walls look like a chess-board upon a great scale. The gables are turned to
the front, and there are cornices, as big as all the rest of the house, over
the eaves and over the main doors. The windows are narrow and deep, with
very tiny panes and a great deal of sash. On the roof is a vast quantity of
tiles with long curly ears. The woodwork, throughout, is of a dark hue and
there is much carving about it, with but a trifling variety of pattern for,
time out of mind, the carvers of Vondervotteimittiss have never been able to
carve more than two objects–a time-piece and a cabbage. But these they do
exceedingly well, and intersperse them, with singular ingenuity, wherever
they find room for the chisel.
The dwellings are as much alike inside as out, and the furniture is all
upon one plan. The floors are of square tiles, the chairs and tables of
black-looking wood with thin crooked legs and puppy feet. The mantelpieces
are wide and high, and have not only time-pieces and cabbages sculptured
over the front, but a real time-piece, which makes a prodigious ticking, on
the top in the middle, with a flower-pot containing a cabbage standing on
each extremity by way of outrider. Between each cabbage and the time-piece,
again, is a little China man having a large stomach with a great round hole
in it, through which is seen the dial-plate of a watch.
The fireplaces are large and deep, with fierce crooked-looking fire-dogs.
There is constantly a rousing fire, and a huge pot over it, full of
sauer-kraut and pork, to which the good woman of the house is always busy in
attending. She is a little fat old lady, with blue eyes and a red face, and
wears a huge cap like a sugar-loaf, ornamented with purple and yellow
ribbons. Her dress is of orange-colored linsey-woolsey, made very full
behind and very short in the waist–and indeed very short in other respects,
not reaching below the middle of her leg. This is somewhat thick, and so are
her ankles, but she has a fine pair of green stockings to cover them. Her
shoes–of pink leather–are fastened each with a bunch of yellow ribbons
puckered up in the shape of a cabbage. In her left hand she has a little
heavy Dutch watch; in her right she wields a ladle for the sauerkraut and
pork. By her side there stands a fat tabby cat, with a gilt toy-repeater
tied to its tail, which "the boys" have there fastened by way of a quiz.
The boys themselves are, all three of them, in the garden attending the
pig. They are each two feet in height. They have three-cornered cocked hats,
purple waistcoats reaching down to their thighs, buckskin knee-breeches, red
stockings, heavy shoes with big silver buckles, long surtout coats with
large buttons of mother-of-pearl. Each, too, has a pipe in his mouth, and a
little dumpy watch in his right hand. He takes a puff and a look, and then a
look and a puff. The pig–which is corpulent and lazy–is occupied now in
picking up the stray leaves that fall from the cabbages, and now in giving a
kick behind at the gilt repeater, which the urchins have also tied to his
tail in order to make him look as handsome as the cat.
Right at the front door, in a high-backed leather-bottomed armed chair,
with crooked legs and puppy feet like the tables, is seated the old man of
the house himself. He is an exceedingly puffy little old gentleman, with big
circular eyes and a huge double chin. His dress resembles that of the
boys–and I need say nothing farther about it. All the difference is, that
his pipe is somewhat bigger than theirs and he can make a greater smoke.
Like them, he has a watch, but he carries his watch in his pocket. To say
the truth, he has something of more importance than a watch to attend to–and
what that is, I shall presently explain. He sits with his right leg upon his
left knee, wears a grave countenance, and always keeps one of his eyes, at
least, resolutely bent upon a certain remarkable object in the centre of the
plain.
This object is situated in the steeple of the House of the Town Council.
The Town Council are all very little, round, oily, intelligent men, with big
saucer eyes and fat double chins, and have their coats much longer and their
shoe-buckles much bigger than the ordinary inhabitants of
Vondervotteimittiss. Since my sojourn in the borough, they have had several
special meetings, and have adopted these three important resolutions:
"That it is wrong to alter the good old course of things:"
"That there
is nothing tolerable out of Vondervotteimittiss:" and-
"That we will
stick by our clocks and our cabbages."
Above the session-room of the Council is the steeple, and in the steeple
is the belfry, where exists, and has existed time out of mind, the pride and
wonder of the village–the great clock of the borough of Vondervotteimittiss.
And this is the object to which the eyes of the old gentlemen are turned who
sit in the leather-bottomed arm-chairs.
The great clock has seven faces–one in each of the seven sides of the
steeple–so that it can be readily seen from all quarters. Its faces are
large and white, and its hands heavy and black. There is a belfry-man whose
sole duty is to attend to it; but this duty is the most perfect of
sinecures–for the clock of Vondervotteimittis was never yet known to have
anything the matter with it. Until lately, the bare supposition of such a
thing was considered heretical. From the remotest period of antiquity to
which the archives have reference, the hours have been regularly struck by
the big bell. And, indeed the case was just the same with all the other
clocks and watches in the borough. Never was such a place for keeping the
true time. When the large clapper thought proper to say "Twelve o'clock!"
all its obedient followers opened their throats simultaneously, and
responded like a very echo. In short, the good burghers were fond of their
sauer-kraut, but then they were proud of their clocks.
All people who hold sinecure offices are held in more or less respect,
and as the belfry–man of Vondervotteimittiss has the most perfect of
sinecures, he is the most perfectly respected of any man in the world. He is
the chief dignitary of the borough, and the very pigs look up to him with a
sentiment of reverence. His coat-tail is very far longer–his pipe, his
shoe–buckles, his eyes, and his stomach, very far bigger–than those of any
other old gentleman in the village; and as to his chin, it is not only
double, but triple.
I have thus painted the happy estate of Vondervotteimittiss: alas, that
so fair a picture should ever experience a reverse!
There has been long a saying among the wisest inhabitants, that "no good
can come from over the hills"; and it really seemed that the words had in
them something of the spirit of prophecy. It wanted five minutes of noon, on
the day before yesterday, when there appeared a very odd-looking object on
the summit of the ridge of the eastward. Such an occurrence, of course,
attracted universal attention, and every little old gentleman who sat in a
leather-bottomed arm-chair turned one of his eyes with a stare of dismay
upon the phenomenon, still keeping the other upon the clock in the
steeple.
By the time that it wanted only three minutes to noon, the droll object
in question was perceived to be a very diminutive foreign-looking young man.
He descended the hills at a great rate, so that every body had soon a good
look at him. He was really the most finicky little personage that had ever
been seen in Vondervotteimittiss. His countenance was of a dark snuff-color,
and he had a long hooked nose, pea eyes, a wide mouth, and an excellent set
of teeth, which latter he seemed anxious of displaying, as he was grinning
from ear to ear. What with mustachios and whiskers, there was none of the
rest of his face to be seen. His head was uncovered, and his hair neatly
done up in papillotes. His dress was a tight-fitting swallow-tailed black
coat (from one of whose pockets dangled a vast length of white
handkerchief), black kerseymere knee-breeches, black stockings, and
stumpy-looking pumps, with huge bunches of black satin ribbon for bows.
Under one arm he carried a huge chapeau-de-bras, and under the other a
fiddle nearly five times as big as himself. In his left hand was a gold
snuff-box, from which, as he capered down the hill, cutting all manner of
fantastic steps, he took snuff incessantly with an air of the greatest
possible self-satisfaction. God bless me!–here was a sight for the honest
burghers of Vondervotteimittiss!
To speak plainly, the fellow had, in spite of his grinning, an audacious
and sinister kind of face; and as he curvetted right into the village, the
old stumpy appearance of his pumps excited no little suspicion; and many a
burgher who beheld him that day would have given a trifle for a peep beneath
the white cambric handkerchief which hung so obtrusively from the pocket of
his swallow-tailed coat. But what mainly occasioned a righteous indignation
was, that the scoundrelly popinjay, while he cut a fandango here, and a
whirligig there, did not seem to have the remotest idea in the world of such
a thing as keeping time in his steps.
The good people of the borough had scarcely a chance, however, to get
their eyes thoroughly open, when, just as it wanted half a minute of noon,
the rascal bounced, as I say, right into the midst of them; gave a chassez
here, and a balancez there; and then, after a pirouette and a pas-de-zephyr,
pigeon-winged himself right up into the belfry of the House of the Town
Council, where the wonder-stricken belfry-man sat smoking in a state of
dignity and dismay. But the little chap seized him at once by the nose; gave
it a swing and a pull; clapped the big chapeau de-bras upon his head;
knocked it down over his eyes and mouth; and then, lifting up the big
fiddle, beat him with it so long and so soundly, that what with the
belfry-man being so fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you would have
sworn that there was a regiment of double-bass drummers all beating the
devil's tattoo up in the belfry of the steeple of Vondervotteimittiss.
There is no knowing to what desperate act of vengeance this unprincipled
attack might have aroused the inhabitants, but for the important fact that
it now wanted only half a second of noon. The bell was about to strike, and
it was a matter of absolute and pre-eminent necessity that every body should
look well at his watch. It was evident, however, that just at this moment
the fellow in the steeple was doing something that he had no business to do
with the clock. But as it now began to strike, nobody had any time to attend
to his manoeuvres, for they had all to count the strokes of the bell as it
sounded.
"One!" said the clock.
"Von!" echoed every little old gentleman in every leather-bottomed
arm-chair in Vondervotteimittiss. "Von!" said his watch also; "von!" said
the watch of his vrow; and "von!" said the watches of the boys, and the
little gilt repeaters on the tails of the cat and pig.
"Two!" continued the big bell; and
"Doo!" repeated all the repeaters.
"Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!" said the bell.
"Dree! Vour! Fibe! Sax! Seben! Aight! Noin! Den!" answered the
others.
"Eleven!" said the big one.
"Eleben!" assented the little ones.
"Twelve!" said the bell.
"Dvelf!" they replied perfectly satisfied, and dropping their voices.
"Und dvelf it is!" said all the little old gentlemen, putting up their
watches. But the big bell had not done with them yet.
"Thirteen!" said he.
"Der Teufel!" gasped the little old gentlemen, turning pale, dropping
their pipes, and putting down all their right legs from over their left
knees.
"Der Teufel!" groaned they, "Dirteen! Dirteen!!–Mein Gott, it is Dirteen
o'clock!!"
Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued? All
Vondervotteimittiss flew at once into a lamentable state of uproar.
"Vot is cum'd to mein pelly?" roared all the boys–"I've been ongry for
dis hour!"
"Vot is com'd to mein kraut?" screamed all the vrows, "It has been done
to rags for this hour!"
"Vot is cum'd to mein pipe?" swore all the little old gentlemen, "Donder
and Blitzen; it has been smoked out for dis hour!"–and they filled them up
again in a great rage, and sinking back in their arm-chairs, puffed away so
fast and so fiercely that the whole valley was immediately filled with
impenetrable smoke.
Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it seemed as
if old Nick himself had taken possession of every thing in the shape of a
timepiece. The clocks carved upon the furniture took to dancing as if
bewitched, while those upon the mantel-pieces could scarcely contain
themselves for fury, and kept such a continual striking of thirteen, and
such a frisking and wriggling of their pendulums as was really horrible to
see. But, worse than all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put up any
longer with the behavior of the little repeaters tied to their tails, and
resented it by scampering all over the place, scratching and poking, and
squeaking and screeching, and caterwauling and squalling, and flying into
the faces, and running under the petticoats of the people, and creating
altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it is possible for a
reasonable person to conceive. And to make matters still more distressing,
the rascally little scape-grace in the steeple was evidently exerting
himself to the utmost. Every now and then one might catch a glimpse of the
scoundrel through the smoke. There he sat in the belfry upon the belfry-man,
who was lying flat upon his back. In his teeth the villain held the
bell-rope, which he kept jerking about with his head, raising such a clatter
that my ears ring again even to think of it. On his lap lay the big fiddle,
at which he was scraping, out of all time and tune, with both hands, making
a great show, the nincompoop! of playing "Judy O'Flannagan and Paddy
O'Rafferty."
Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in disgust, and
now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time and fine kraut. Let us
proceed in a body to the borough, and restore the ancient order of things in
Vondervotteimittiss by ejecting that little fellow from the steeple.
THE END
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