Томас де Квинси
The Uncollected Writings of Thomas de Quincey, Vol. 2
CHAPTER XXIII.
IN WHICH MISFORTUNE EMPTIES HER LAST VIAL UPON THE HEAD OF MR. SCHNACKENBERGER
Exhausted by the misfortunes of the day, towards evening Mr. Jeremiah was reposing at his length, and smoking in the window-seat of his room. Solemn clouds of smoke expressed the gloomy vapours which rested on his brain. The hours of Juno's life, it seemed to him, were numbered; every soul in B– was her sworn foe—bipeds and quadrupeds, men, women, dogs, cats, children, kittens, deputy-recorders, rabbits, cooks, legs-of-mutton, to say nothing of goose-livers, sausages, haunches of venison, and 'quilts.'—If he were to take country-lodgings for her, and to send her out of B–, what awaited her there? Whither could she go, but some butcher—some butterwoman—some rough-rider or other had a private account to settle with her?—'Unhappy creature!' ejaculated the student, 'torment of my life!'
At this moment Mr. Schnackenberger's anxious ruminations were further enforced by the appearance of the town-crier under his window: inert as the town-council were in giving effect to their own resolutions, on this occasion it was clear that they viewed the matter as no joke; and were bent on rigorously following up their sentence. For the crier proclaimed the decree by beat of drum; explained the provisos of the twelve hours' truce, and enjoined all good citizens, and worthy patriots, at the expiration of that period, to put the public enemy to the sword, wherever she should be found, and even to rise en masse, if that should be necessary, for the extermination of the national robber—as they valued their own private welfare, or the honour and dignity of the state.
'English fiend!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, 'will nothing reclaim thee? Now that I am rid of my German plague, must I be martyred by my English plague?' For be it mentioned that, on our hero's return from the council, he had received some little comfort in his afflictions from hearing that Mrs. Sweetbread had, upon her return to B–, testified her satisfaction with the zealous leader of the butchers' boys, by forthwith bestowing upon him her widowed hand and heart, together with the Sow and its appurtenances. 'English fiend!' resumed Mr. Schnackenberger, 'most edacious and audacious of quadrupeds! can nothing be done for thee? Is it impossible to save thy life?' And again he stopped to ruminate. For her metaphysics it was hopeless to cure; but could nothing be done for her physics? At the university of X– she had lived two years next door neighbour to the Professor of Moral Philosophy, and had besides attended many of his lectures without any sort of benefit to her morals, which still continued of the very worst description. 'But could no course of medical treatment,' thought her master, 'correct her inextinguishable voracity? Could not her pulse be lowered? Might not her appetite, or her courage, be tamed? Would a course of tonics be of service to her? Suppose I were to take her to England to try the effect of her native air; would any of the great English surgeons or physicians be able to prescribe for her effectually? Would opium cure her? Yet there was a case of bulimy at Toulouse, where the French surgeons caught the patient and saturated him with opium; but it was of no use; for he ate26 as many children after it as before. Would Mr. Abernethy, with his blue pill and his Rufus pill, be of any service to her? Or the acid bath—or the sulphate of zinc—or the white oxide of bismuth?—or soda-water? For, perhaps, her liver may be affected. But, lord! what talk I of her liver? Her liver's as sound as mine. It's her disposition that's in fault; it's her moral principles that are relaxed; and something must be done to brace them. Let me consider.'
At this moment a cry of 'murder, murder!' drew the student's eyes to the street below him; and there, to afflict his heart, stood his graceless Juno, having just upset the servant of a cook's shop, in the very act of rifling her basket; the sound of the drum was yet ringing through the streets; the crowd collected to hear it had not yet withdrawn from the spot; and in this way was Juno expressing her reverence for the proclamation of the town-council of B–.
'Fiend of perdition!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, flinging his darling pipe at her head, in the anguish of his wrath, and hastening down to seize her. On arriving below, however, there lay his beautiful sea-foam pipe in fragments upon the stones; but Juno had vanished—to reappear no more in B–.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AND SET YOU DOWN THAT IN ALEPPO ONCE—OTHELLO
The first thing Mr. Schnackenberger did was to draw his purse-strings, and indemnify the cook-maid. The next thing Mr. Schnackenberger did was to go into the public-room of the Gun, call for a common pipe, and seat himself growling in a corner.—Of all possible privileges conferred by the laws, the very least desirable is that of being created game: Juno was now invested with that 'painful pre-eminence;' she was solemnly proclaimed game: and all qualified persons, i. e. every man, woman, and child, were legally authorised to sink—burn—or destroy her. 'Now then,' said Mr. Schnackenberger to himself, 'if such an event should happen—if any kind soul should blow out the frail light of Juno's life, in what way am I to answer the matter to her purchaser, Mr. Fabian Sebastian?' Such were the thoughts which fumed away from the anxious mind of Mr. Schnackenberger in surging volumes of smoke.
Together with the usual evening visitors of the public-rooms at the Gun, were present also Mr. Von Pilsen, and his party. Inflamed with wine and insolence, Mr. Von Pilsen began by advancing the following proposition: That in this sublunary world there are marvellous fools. 'Upon this hint' he spake: and 'improving' his text into a large commentary, he passed in review various sketches from the life of Mr. Schnackenberger in B–, not forgetting the hunting scene; and everywhere threw in such rich embellishments and artist-like touches, that at last the room rang with laughter.
Mr. Jeremiah alone sat moodily in his corner, and moved no muscle of his face; so that even those, who were previously unacquainted with the circumstances, easily divined at whose expense Mr. Von Pilsen's witty performance proceeded.
At length Von Pilsen rose and said, 'Gentlemen, you think, perhaps, that I am this day in the best of all possible humours. Quite the contrary, I assure you: pure fiction—mere counterfeit mirth—put on to disguise my private vexation; for vexed I am, and will be, that I can find nobody on whom to exercise my right arm. Ah! what a heavenly fate were mine, if any man would take it into his head to affront me; or if any other man would take it into his head to think that I had affronted him, and would come hither to demand satisfaction!' So saying, he planted himself in a chair in the very middle of the saloon; and ever and anon leered at Mr. Schnackenberger in so singular a manner, that no one could fail to see at whom his shafts were pointed.
Still it seemed as if our hero had neither ears nor eyes. For he continued doggedly to work away at his 'cloud-compelling' pipe (νεφεληγερετα Σχνακενβεργερ), without ever looking at his challenger.
When at length he rose, everybody supposed that probably he had had badgering enough by this time, and meant to decamp quietly. All present were making wry faces, in order to check their bursting laughter, until Mr. Schnackenberger were clear of the room; that done, each prepared to give free vent to his mirth and high compliments to Mr. Von Pilsen, upon the fine style in which he had 'done execution upon Cawdor.' Decamping, however, entered not into Mr. Schnackenberger's military plans; he rather meant to encamp over against Von Pilsen's position: calmly, therefore, with a leisurely motion, and gradu militari, did he advance towards his witty antagonist. The latter looked somewhat paler than usual: but, as this was no time for retreating, and he saw the necessity of conducting the play with spirit to its dénouement,—he started up, and exclaimed: 'Ah! here is the very man I was wishing for! framed after my very heart's longing. Come, dear friend, embrace me: let us have a fraternal hug.'
'Basta!' cried Mr. Jeremiah, attaching his shoulder, and squeezing him, with a right hand of 'high pressure,' down into his chair—'This is a very good story, Mr. Von Pilsen, that you have told us: and pity it were that so good a story should want a proper termination. In future, therefore, my Pilsen,
When you shall these unhappy deeds relate,
be sure you do not forget the little sequel which I shall furnish: tell it to the end, my Pilsen:
And set you down that in Aleppo once—'
Here the whole company began to quake with the laughter of anticipation—
'And set you down that in Aleppo once—
when a fribble—a coxcomb—a puppy dared to traduce a student from the university of X–
I took the circumcised dog by the nose, And smote him thus–'
at the same time breaking his pipe calmly on the very prominent nose of Mr. Von Pilsen.
Inextinguishable laughter followed from all present: Mr. Von Pilsen quitted the room forthwith: and next morning was sought for in vain in B–.
CHAPTER XXV.
WHICH CONTAINS A DUEL—AND A DEATH
Scarcely had Mr. Schnackenberger withdrawn to his apartment, when a pair of 'field-pieces' were heard clattering up-stairs—such and so mighty as, among all people that on earth do dwell, no mortal wore, himself only except, and the student, Mr. Fabian Sebastian. Little had he thought under his evening canopy of smoke, that Nemesis was treading so closely upon his heels.
'Sir, my brother,' began Mr. Student Fabian, 'the time is up: and here am I, to claim my rights. Where is the dog? The money is ready: deliver the article: and payment shall be made.'
Mr. Schnackenberger shrugged his shoulders.
'Nay, my brother, no jesting (if you please) on such serious occasions: I demand my article.'
'What, if the article have vanished?'
'Vanished!' said Mr. Fabian; 'why then we must fight, until it comes back again.—Sir, my brother, you have acted nefariously enough in absconding with goods that you had sold: would you proceed to yet greater depths in nefariousness, by now withholding from me my own article?'
So saying, Mr. Fabian paid down the purchase money in hard gold upon the table. 'Come, now, be easy,' said Mr. Schnackenberger, 'and hear me.'
'Be easy, do you say? That will I not: but hear I will, and with all my heart, provided it be nothing unhearable—nor anything in question of my right to the article: else, you know, come knocks.' 'Knocks!' said Jeremiah: 'and since when, I should be glad to know, has the Schnackenberger been in the habit of taking knocks without knocking again, and paying a pretty large per centage?'
'Ah! very likely. That's your concern. As to me, I speak only for myself and for my article.' Hereupon Mr. Schnackenberger made him acquainted with the circumstances, which were so unpalatable to the purchaser of 'the article,' that he challenged Mr. Schnackenberger to single combat there and then.
'Come,' said Mr. Fabian; 'but first put up the purchase money: for I, at least, will practise nothing that is nefarious.'
Mr. Schnackenberger did so; redeemed his sword from Mrs. Sweetbread by settling her bill; buckled it on; and attended Mr. Fabian to the neighbouring forest.
Being arrived at a spot suitable to their purpose, and their swords drawn, Mr. Schnackenberger said—'Upon my word it's a shocking thing that we must fight upon this argument: not but it's just what I have long expected. Junonian quarrels I have had, in my time, 747; and a Junonian duel is nothing more than I have foreseen for this last week. Yet, after all, brother, I give you my honour that the brute is not worth a duel: for, fools as we have been in our rivalship about her, between ourselves she is a mere agent of the fiend, and minister of perdition, to him who is so unhappy as to call her his.'
'Like enough, my brother; haven't a doubt you're in the right, for you know her best: still it would be nefarious in a high degree if our blades were to part without crossing each other. We must tilt a bit: Sir, my brother, we must tilt. So lunge away at me; and never fear but I'll lunge as fast as you.'
So said—so done: but scarce had Mr. Sebastian pushed his first 'carte over the arm,' which was well parried by his antagonist, when, with a loud outcry, in rushed Juno; and, without troubling herself about the drawn swords, she drove right at the pit of Mr. Sebastian's stomach, knocked the breath out of his body, the sword out of his hand, and himself upon his back.
'Ah! my goddess, my Juno!' cried Mr. Schnackenberger; 'Nec vox hominem sonat, oh Dea certe!'
'Nec vox hominem sonat?' said Mr. Fabian, rising: 'Faith, you're right there; for I never heard a voice more like a brute's in my life.'
'Down then, down, Juno,' said Mr. Schnackenberger, as Juno was preparing for a second campaign against Mr. Fabian's stomach: Mr. Fabian, on his part, held out his hand to his brother student—saying, 'all quarrels are now ended.' Mr. Jeremiah accepted his hand cordially. Mr. Fabian offered to resign 'the article,' however agitating to his feelings. Mr. Jeremiah, though no less agitated, protested he should not. 'I will, by all that's magnanimous,' said Mr. Fabian. 'By the memory of Curtius, or whatever else is most sacred in self-sacrifice, you shall not,' said Mr. Jeremiah. 'Hear me, thou light of day,' said Mr. Fabian kneeling. 'Hear me,' interrupted Mr. Jeremiah, kneeling also: yes, the Schnackenberger knelt, but carefully and by circumstantial degree; for he was big and heavy as a rhinoceros, and afraid of capsizing, and perspired freely. Mr. Fabian kneeled like a dactyle: Mr. Jeremiah kneeled like a spondee, or rather like a molossus. Juno, meantime, whose feelings were less affected, did not kneel at all; but, like a tribrach, amused herself with chasing a hare which just then crossed one of the forest ridings. A moment after was heard the report of a fowling-piece. Bitter presentiment of the truth caused the kneeling duelists to turn their heads at the same instant. Alas! the subject of their high-wrought contest was no more: English Juno lay stretched in her blood! Up started the 'dactyle;' up started the 'spondee;' out flew their swords; curses, dactylic and spondaic, began to roll; and the gemini of the university of X, side by side, strode after the Junonicide, who proved to be a forester. The forester wisely retreated, before the storm, into his cottage; from an upper window of which he read to the two coroners, in this inquest after blood, a section of the forest-laws, which so fully justified what he had done—that, like the reading of the English riot act, it dispersed the gemini, both dactylic and spondaic, who now held it advisable to pursue the matter no further.
'Sir, my brother,' said Mr. Fabian, embracing his friend over the corpse of Juno, 'see what comes of our imitating Kotzebue's plays! Nothing but our nefarious magnanimity was the cause of Juno's untimely end. For had we, instead of kneeling (which by the way seemed to "punish" you a good deal), had we, I say, vested the property in one or other of us, she, instead of diverting her ennui by hunting, would have been trotting home by the side of her master—and the article would have been still living.'
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE FUNERAL GAMES
'Now then,' said Mr. Schnackenberger, entering the Double-barrelled Gun with his friend,—'Now, waiter, let us have Rhenish and Champagne, and all other good things with which your Gun is charged: fire off both barrels upon us: Come, you dog, make ready—present; for we solemnise a funeral to-day:' and, at the same time, he flung down the purchase-money of Juno upon the table. The waiter hastened to obey his orders.
The longer the two masters of Juno drank together, the more did they convince themselves that her death was a real blessing to herself, who had thus obviously escaped a life of severe cudgelling, which her voracity would have entailed upon her: 'yes,' they both exclaimed; 'a blessing to herself—to her friends in particular—and to the public in general.'
To conclude, the price of Juno was honourably drunk up to the last farthing, in celebration of her obsequies at this one sitting.
Ὡς ὁι γ' αμφιεπον ταφον Ἑκτορος ἱπποδαμοιο.
END OF 'MR. SCHNACKENBERGER.'
ANGLO-GERMAN DICTIONARIES
The German dictionaries, compiled for the use of Englishmen studying that language, are all bad enough, I doubt not, even in this year 1823; but those of a century back are the most ludicrous books that ever mortal read: read, I say, for they are well worth reading, being often as good as a jest book. In some instances, I am convinced that the compilers (Germans living in Germany) had a downright hoax put upon them by some facetious Briton whom they had consulted; what is given as the English equivalent for the German word being not seldom a pure coinage that never had any existence out of Germany. Other instances there are, in which the words, though not of foreign manufacture, are almost as useless to the English student as if they were; slang-words, I mean, from the slang vocabulary, current about the latter end of the seventeenth century. These must have been laboriously culled from the works of Tom Brown, Sir Roger L'Estrange, Echard, Jeremy Collier, and others, from 1660 to 1700, who were the great masters of this vernacular English (as it might emphatically be called, with a reference to the primary27 meaning of the word vernacular): and I verily believe, that, if any part of this slang has become, or ever should become a dead language to the English critic, his best guide to the recovery of its true meaning will be the German dictionaries of Bailey, Arnold, &c. in their earliest editions. By one of these, the word Potztausend (a common German oath) is translated, to the best of my remembrance, thus:—'Udzooks, Udswiggers, Udswoggers, Bublikins, Boblikins, Splitterkins,' &c. and so on, with a large choice of other elegant varieties. Here, I take it, our friend the hoaxer had been at work: but the drollest example I have met with of their slang is in the following story told to me by Mr. Coleridge. About the year 1794, a German, recently imported into Bristol, had happened to hear of Mrs. X., a wealthy widow. He thought it would be a good speculation to offer himself to the lady's notice as well qualified to 'succeed' to the late Mr. X.; and accordingly waited on the lady with that intention. Having no great familiarity with English, he provided himself with a copy of one of the dictionaries I have mentioned; and, on being announced to the lady, he determined to open his proposal with this introductory sentence—Madam, having heard that Mr. X., late your husband, is dead: but coming to the last word 'gestorben' (dead), he was at a loss for the English equivalent; so, hastily pulling out his dictionary (a huge 8vo.), he turned to the word 'sterben,' (to die),—and there found–; but what he found will be best collected from the dialogue which followed, as reported by the lady:—
German. Madam, hahfing heard that Mein Herr X., late your man, is–(these words he kept chiming over as if to himself, until he arrived at No. 1 of the interpretations of 'sterben,'—when he roared out, in high glee at his discovery)–is, dat is—has, kicked de bucket.
Widow. (With astonishment.)—'Kicked the bucket,' Sir!—what—
German. Ah! mein Gott!—Alway Ich make mistake: I vou'd have said—(beginning again with the same solemnity of tone)—since dat Mein Herr X., late your man, hav—hopped de twig—(which words he screamed out with delight, certain that he had now hit the nail upon the head).
Widow. Upon my word, Sir, I am at a loss to understand you: 'Kicked the bucket,' and 'hopped the twig–!'
German. (Perspiring with panic.) Ah, Madam! von—two—tree—ten tousand pardon: vat sad, wicket dictionary I haaf, dat alway bring me in trouble: but now you shall hear—(and then, recomposing himself solemnly for a third effort, he began as before)—Madam, since I did hear, or wash hearing, dat Mein Herr X., late your man, haaf—(with a triumphant shout) haaf, I say, gone to Davy's locker——
Further he would have gone; but the widow could stand no more: this nautical phrase, familiar to the streets of Bristol, allowed her no longer to misunderstand his meaning; and she quitted the room in a tumult of laughter, sending a servant to show her unfortunate suitor out of the house, with his false friend the dictionary; whose help he might, perhaps, invoke for the last time, on making his exit, in the curses—'Udswoggers, Boblikins, Bublikins, Splitterkins!'
N.B. As test words for trying a modern German dictionary, I will advise the student to look for the words—Beschwichtigen Kulisse, and Mansarde. The last is originally French, but the first is a true German word; and, on a question arising about its etymology, at the house of a gentleman in Edinburgh, could not be found in any one, out of five or six modern Anglo-German dictionaries.
