 | Tales of the grotesque and arabesque |  |
THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY.
Old Saying.
Every body 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
evident, 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 the 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
present preserves. Of the date of this origin, however,
I grieve that I can only speak with that species
of indefinite definitiveness which mathematicians are,
at times, forced to put up with in certain algebraic
formulæ. 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—
“Vondervotteimittiss: Vonder, lege Donder: Votteimittiss,
quasi und Bleitziz—Bleitziz obsol: pro
Blitzen.” This derivation, 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 further 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 Vondervotteimittiss,
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, of 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 circular paths, a sundial,
and twenty-four cabbages. The buildings
themselves are all so precisely alike, that one can in
no manner be distinguished from the other. Owing
to their vast antiquity, the style of architecture is
somewhat odd—but is not for that reason the less
strikingly picturesque. They are fashioned of hardburned
little bricks, red, with black ends, so that the
walls look like chess-boards upon a great scale. The
gables are turned to the front, and there are cornices
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 wood-work, 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 excellently 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 tables and chairs of black-looking
wood with thin crooked legs and puppy feet.
The mantel-pieces 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
tickling, on 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 big
belly, with a great round hole in it, through which is
seen the dial-plate of a watch.
The fire-places 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
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 the calf 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 sauer-kraut 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 woollen stockings, heavy
shoes with big silver buckles, and long surtout coats
with large buttons of mother-of-pearl. Each, too,
has a pipe in his mouth, and a dumpy little 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
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 that 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 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 the 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
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 all 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 belfryman
whose sole duty is to attend it; but this duty is
the most perfect of sinecures, for the clock of Vondervotteimittiss
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 is
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,
reverence. His coat-tail is very far longer—his
pipe, his shoe-buckles, his eyes, and his belly, very
far bigger than those of any 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 to 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 of
noon the droll object in question was clearly 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 finnicky little personage that had ever
been seen in Vondervotteimittiss. His countenance
was of a dark snuff colour, 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,
mustaches 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
silk 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 fantastical
steps, he took snuff incessantly with an air of
the greatest possible self-satisfaction. God bless me!
here was a sight for the eyes of the sober 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 odd
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
when, just as it wanted half a minute of noon, the rascal
bounced, as I say, right into the midst of them, gave
a chazzez 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 stupified 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 belfryman
being so fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you
would have sworn 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 manœuvres,
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 the 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 fellows.
“Twelve!” said the bell.
“Dvelf!” they replied, perfectly satisfied, and
dropping their voices.
“Und dvelf it iss!” 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—it is Dirteen o'clock!!”
What is the use of attempting to describe the
terrible scene which ensued? All Vondervotteimittis
flew at once into a lamentable state of uproar.
“Vot is cum'd to mein pelly?” roared all the boys
—“I've been an ongry for dis hour!”
“Vot is cum'd to mein kraut?” screamed all the
vrows—“It has been done to rags for dis hour!”
“Vot is cum'd to mein pipe?” swore all the little
old gentlemen—“Donder und 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 an impenetrable
smoke.
Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the
face, and it seemed as if the old Nick himself had
taken possession of everything in the shape of a
time-piece. The clocks carved upon the furniture
got 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 it was really horrible to see. But, worse than
all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put up any
longer with the outrageous 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 it if he could more abominable,
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
belfry upon the belly of the belfry-man, who was
lying flat upon his back. In his teeth he 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 his 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 good 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 chap from the steeple.
| Tales of the grotesque and arabesque | |