Cagatayisil/tiny_edgar_allan_poe · Datasets at Hugging Face

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THE UNPARALLELED ADVENTURES OF ONE HANS PFAAL (*1)


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.

It appears that on the—— day of—— (I am not positive about the
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 corner of his mouth,
and cocking up his right eye towards the phenomenon, puffed,
paused, waddled about, and grunted significantly—then waddled
back, grunted, paused, and finally—puffed again.

In the meantime, however, lower and still lower toward the goodly
city, came the object of so much curiosity, and the cause of so
much smoke. In a very few minutes it arrived near enough to be
accurately discerned. It appeared to be—yes! it was undoubtedly a
species of balloon; but surely no such balloon had ever been seen
in Rotterdam before. For who, let me ask, ever heard of a balloon
manufactured entirely of dirty newspapers? No man in Holland
certainly; yet here, under the very noses of the people, or
rather at some distance above their noses was the identical thing
in question, and composed, I have it on the best authority, of
the precise material which no one had ever before known to be
used for a similar purpose. It was an egregious insult to the
good sense of the burghers of Rotterdam. As to the shape of the
phenomenon, it was even still more reprehensible. Being little or
nothing better than a huge foolscap turned upside down. And this
similitude was regarded as by no means lessened when, upon nearer
inspection, there was perceived a large tassel depending from its
apex, and, around the upper rim or base of the cone, a circle of
little instruments, resembling sheep-bells, which kept up a
continual tinkling to the tune of Betty Martin. But still worse.
Suspended by blue ribbons to the end of this fantastic machine,
there hung, by way of car, an enormous drab beaver hat, with a
brim superlatively broad, and a hemispherical crown with a black
band and a silver buckle. It is, however, somewhat remarkable
that many citizens of Rotterdam swore to having seen the same hat
repeatedly before; and indeed the whole assembly seemed to regard
it with eyes of familiarity; while the vrow Grettel Pfaall, upon
sight of it, uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise, and
declared it to be the identical hat of her good man himself. Now
this was a circumstance the more to be observed, as Pfaall, with
three companions, had actually disappeared from Rotterdam about
five years before, in a very sudden and unaccountable manner, and
up to the date of this narrative all attempts had failed of
obtaining any intelligence concerning them whatsoever. To be
sure, some bones which were thought to be human, mixed up with a
quantity of odd-looking rubbish, had been lately discovered in a
retired situation to the east of Rotterdam, and some people went
so far as to imagine that in this spot a foul murder had been
committed, and that the sufferers were in all probability Hans
Pfaall and his associates. But to return.

The balloon (for such no doubt it was) had now descended to
within a hundred feet of the earth, allowing the crowd below a
sufficiently distinct view of the person of its occupant. This
was in truth a very droll little somebody. He could not have been
more than two feet in height; but this altitude, little as it
was, would have been sufficient to destroy his equilibrium, and
tilt him over the edge of his tiny car, but for the intervention
of a circular rim reaching as high as the breast, and rigged on
to the cords of the balloon. The body of the little man was more
than proportionately broad, giving to his entire figure a
rotundity highly absurd. His feet, of course, could not be seen
at all, although a horny substance of suspicious nature was
occasionally protruded through a rent in the bottom of the car,

THE UNPARALLELED ADVENTURES OF ONE HANS PFAAL (*1)

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.

It appears that on the—— day of—— (I am not positive about the

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 corner of his mouth,

and cocking up his right eye towards the phenomenon, puffed,

paused, waddled about, and grunted significantly—then waddled

back, grunted, paused, and finally—puffed again.

In the meantime, however, lower and still lower toward the goodly

city, came the object of so much curiosity, and the cause of so

much smoke. In a very few minutes it arrived near enough to be

accurately discerned. It appeared to be—yes! it was undoubtedly a

species of balloon; but surely no such balloon had ever been seen

in Rotterdam before. For who, let me ask, ever heard of a balloon

manufactured entirely of dirty newspapers? No man in Holland

certainly; yet here, under the very noses of the people, or

rather at some distance above their noses was the identical thing

in question, and composed, I have it on the best authority, of

the precise material which no one had ever before known to be

used for a similar purpose. It was an egregious insult to the

good sense of the burghers of Rotterdam. As to the shape of the

phenomenon, it was even still more reprehensible. Being little or

nothing better than a huge foolscap turned upside down. And this

similitude was regarded as by no means lessened when, upon nearer

inspection, there was perceived a large tassel depending from its

apex, and, around the upper rim or base of the cone, a circle of

little instruments, resembling sheep-bells, which kept up a

continual tinkling to the tune of Betty Martin. But still worse.

Suspended by blue ribbons to the end of this fantastic machine,

there hung, by way of car, an enormous drab beaver hat, with a

brim superlatively broad, and a hemispherical crown with a black

band and a silver buckle. It is, however, somewhat remarkable

that many citizens of Rotterdam swore to having seen the same hat

repeatedly before; and indeed the whole assembly seemed to regard

it with eyes of familiarity; while the vrow Grettel Pfaall, upon

sight of it, uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise, and

declared it to be the identical hat of her good man himself. Now

this was a circumstance the more to be observed, as Pfaall, with

three companions, had actually disappeared from Rotterdam about

five years before, in a very sudden and unaccountable manner, and

up to the date of this narrative all attempts had failed of

obtaining any intelligence concerning them whatsoever. To be

sure, some bones which were thought to be human, mixed up with a

quantity of odd-looking rubbish, had been lately discovered in a

retired situation to the east of Rotterdam, and some people went

so far as to imagine that in this spot a foul murder had been

committed, and that the sufferers were in all probability Hans

Pfaall and his associates. But to return.

The balloon (for such no doubt it was) had now descended to

within a hundred feet of the earth, allowing the crowd below a

sufficiently distinct view of the person of its occupant. This

was in truth a very droll little somebody. He could not have been

more than two feet in height; but this altitude, little as it

was, would have been sufficient to destroy his equilibrium, and

tilt him over the edge of his tiny car, but for the intervention

of a circular rim reaching as high as the breast, and rigged on

to the cords of the balloon. The body of the little man was more

than proportionately broad, giving to his entire figure a

rotundity highly absurd. His feet, of course, could not be seen

at all, although a horny substance of suspicious nature was

occasionally protruded through a rent in the bottom of the car,