Just so, too, Jacobus Hugo has
satisfied himself that, by Euenis, Homer meant to insinuate John Calvin;
by Antinous, Martin Luther; by the Lotophagi, Protestants in general;
and, by the Harpies, the Dutch.
satisfied himself that, by Euenis, Homer meant to insinuate John Calvin;
by Antinous, Martin Luther; by the Lotophagi, Protestants in general;
and, by the Harpies, the Dutch.
Poe - 5
But, as usual, he walked to and fro, and
during the day did not pass from out the turmoil of that street. And,
as the shades of the second evening came on, I grew wearied unto death,
and, stopping fully in front of the wanderer, gazed at him steadfastly
in the face. He noticed me not, but resumed his solemn walk, while I,
ceasing to follow, remained absorbed in contemplation. "This old man," I
said at length, "is the type and the genius of deep crime. He refuses to
be alone. [page 228:] He is the man of the crowd. It will be in vain to
follow; for I shall learn no more of him, nor of his deeds. The worst
heart of the world is a grosser book than the 'Hortulus Animae,' {*1} and
perhaps it is but one of the great mercies of God that 'er lasst sich
nicht lesen. '"
{*1} The "_Hortulus Animae cum Oratiunculis Aliquibus Superadditis_" of
Grunninger
NEVER BET THE DEVIL YOUR HEAD
A Tale With a Moral.
"_CON tal que las costumbres de un autor_," says Don Thomas de las
Torres, in the preface to his "Amatory Poems" _"sean puras y castas,
importo muy poco que no sean igualmente severas sus obras"_--meaning,
in plain English, that, provided the morals of an author are pure
personally, it signifies nothing what are the morals of his books. We
presume that Don Thomas is now in Purgatory for the assertion. It would
be a clever thing, too, in the way of poetical justice, to keep him
there until his "Amatory Poems" get out of print, or are laid definitely
upon the shelf through lack of readers. Every fiction should have a
moral; and, what is more to the purpose, the critics have discovered
that every fiction has. Philip Melanchthon, some time ago, wrote a
commentary upon the "Batrachomyomachia," and proved that the poet's
object was to excite a distaste for sedition. Pierre la Seine, going
a step farther, shows that the intention was to recommend to young
men temperance in eating and drinking.
Just so, too, Jacobus Hugo has
satisfied himself that, by Euenis, Homer meant to insinuate John Calvin;
by Antinous, Martin Luther; by the Lotophagi, Protestants in general;
and, by the Harpies, the Dutch. Our more modern Scholiasts are
equally acute. These fellows demonstrate a hidden meaning in "The
Antediluvians," a parable in Powhatan, "new views in Cock Robin," and
transcendentalism in "Hop O' My Thumb. " In short, it has been shown that
no man can sit down to write without a very profound design. Thus to
authors in general much trouble is spared. A novelist, for example,
need have no care of his moral. It is there--that is to say, it is
somewhere--and the moral and the critics can take care of themselves.
When the proper time arrives, all that the gentleman intended, and all
that he did not intend, will be brought to light, in the "Dial," or the
"Down-Easter," together with all that he ought to have intended, and
the rest that he clearly meant to intend:--so that it will all come very
straight in the end.
There is no just ground, therefore, for the charge brought against me by
certain ignoramuses--that I have never written a moral tale, or, in more
precise words, a tale with a moral. They are not the critics predestined
to bring me out, and develop my morals:--that is the secret. By and by
the "North American Quarterly Humdrum" will make them ashamed of their
stupidity. In the meantime, by way of staying execution--by way
of mitigating the accusations against me--I offer the sad history
appended,--a history about whose obvious moral there can be no question
whatever, since he who runs may read it in the large capitals which form
the title of the tale. I should have credit for this arrangement--a
far wiser one than that of La Fontaine and others, who reserve the
impression to be conveyed until the last moment, and thus sneak it in at
the fag end of their fables.
Defuncti injuria ne afficiantur was a law of the twelve tables, and De
mortuis nil nisi bonum is an excellent injunction--even if the dead in
question be nothing but dead small beer. It is not my design, therefore,
to vituperate my deceased friend, Toby Dammit. He was a sad dog, it is
true, and a dog's death it was that he died; but he himself was not to
blame for his vices.
during the day did not pass from out the turmoil of that street. And,
as the shades of the second evening came on, I grew wearied unto death,
and, stopping fully in front of the wanderer, gazed at him steadfastly
in the face. He noticed me not, but resumed his solemn walk, while I,
ceasing to follow, remained absorbed in contemplation. "This old man," I
said at length, "is the type and the genius of deep crime. He refuses to
be alone. [page 228:] He is the man of the crowd. It will be in vain to
follow; for I shall learn no more of him, nor of his deeds. The worst
heart of the world is a grosser book than the 'Hortulus Animae,' {*1} and
perhaps it is but one of the great mercies of God that 'er lasst sich
nicht lesen. '"
{*1} The "_Hortulus Animae cum Oratiunculis Aliquibus Superadditis_" of
Grunninger
NEVER BET THE DEVIL YOUR HEAD
A Tale With a Moral.
"_CON tal que las costumbres de un autor_," says Don Thomas de las
Torres, in the preface to his "Amatory Poems" _"sean puras y castas,
importo muy poco que no sean igualmente severas sus obras"_--meaning,
in plain English, that, provided the morals of an author are pure
personally, it signifies nothing what are the morals of his books. We
presume that Don Thomas is now in Purgatory for the assertion. It would
be a clever thing, too, in the way of poetical justice, to keep him
there until his "Amatory Poems" get out of print, or are laid definitely
upon the shelf through lack of readers. Every fiction should have a
moral; and, what is more to the purpose, the critics have discovered
that every fiction has. Philip Melanchthon, some time ago, wrote a
commentary upon the "Batrachomyomachia," and proved that the poet's
object was to excite a distaste for sedition. Pierre la Seine, going
a step farther, shows that the intention was to recommend to young
men temperance in eating and drinking.
Just so, too, Jacobus Hugo has
satisfied himself that, by Euenis, Homer meant to insinuate John Calvin;
by Antinous, Martin Luther; by the Lotophagi, Protestants in general;
and, by the Harpies, the Dutch. Our more modern Scholiasts are
equally acute. These fellows demonstrate a hidden meaning in "The
Antediluvians," a parable in Powhatan, "new views in Cock Robin," and
transcendentalism in "Hop O' My Thumb. " In short, it has been shown that
no man can sit down to write without a very profound design. Thus to
authors in general much trouble is spared. A novelist, for example,
need have no care of his moral. It is there--that is to say, it is
somewhere--and the moral and the critics can take care of themselves.
When the proper time arrives, all that the gentleman intended, and all
that he did not intend, will be brought to light, in the "Dial," or the
"Down-Easter," together with all that he ought to have intended, and
the rest that he clearly meant to intend:--so that it will all come very
straight in the end.
There is no just ground, therefore, for the charge brought against me by
certain ignoramuses--that I have never written a moral tale, or, in more
precise words, a tale with a moral. They are not the critics predestined
to bring me out, and develop my morals:--that is the secret. By and by
the "North American Quarterly Humdrum" will make them ashamed of their
stupidity. In the meantime, by way of staying execution--by way
of mitigating the accusations against me--I offer the sad history
appended,--a history about whose obvious moral there can be no question
whatever, since he who runs may read it in the large capitals which form
the title of the tale. I should have credit for this arrangement--a
far wiser one than that of La Fontaine and others, who reserve the
impression to be conveyed until the last moment, and thus sneak it in at
the fag end of their fables.
Defuncti injuria ne afficiantur was a law of the twelve tables, and De
mortuis nil nisi bonum is an excellent injunction--even if the dead in
question be nothing but dead small beer. It is not my design, therefore,
to vituperate my deceased friend, Toby Dammit. He was a sad dog, it is
true, and a dog's death it was that he died; but he himself was not to
blame for his vices.
