Lionizing

by Edgar Allan Poe

　　

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-------- all people wentUpon their ten toes in wild wonderment.-- Bishop Hall's Satires .I AM - that is to say I was - a great man; but I am neither theauthor of Junius nor the man in the mask; for my name, I believe, isRobert Jones, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge.The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose withboth hands. My mother saw this and called me a genius: my father weptfor joy and presented me with a treatise on Nosology. This I masteredbefore I was breeched.I now began to feel my way in the science, and soon came tounderstand that, provided a man had a nose sufficiently conspicuoushe might, by merely following it, arrive at a Lionship. But myattention was not confined to theories alone. Every morning I gave myproboscis a couple of pulls and swallowed a half dozen of drams.When I came of age my father asked me, one day, If I would stepwith him into his study."My son," said he, when we were seated, "what is the chief end ofyour existence?""My father," I answered, "it is the study of Nosology.""And what, Robert," he inquired, "is Nosology?""Sir," I said, "it is the Science of Noses.""And can you tell me," he demanded, "what is the meaning of anose?""A nose, my father;" I replied, greatly softened, "has beenvariously defined by about a thousand different authors." [Here Ipulled out my watch.] "It is now noon or thereabouts - we shall havetime enough to get through with them all before midnight. To commencethen: - The nose, according to Bartholinus, is that protuberance --that bump - that excrescence - that - ""Will do, Robert," interrupted the good old gentleman. "I amthunderstruck at the extent of your information - I am positively --upon my soul." [Here he closed his eyes and placed his hand upon hisheart.] "Come here!" [Here he took me by the arm.] "Your educationmay now be considered as finished - it is high time you shouldscuffle for yourself - and you cannot do a better thing than merelyfollow your nose -- so - so - so - " [Here he kicked me down stairsand out of the door] - "so get out of my house, and God bless you!"As I felt within me the divine afflatus, I considered thisaccident rather fortunate than otherwise. I resolved to be guided bythe paternal advice. I determined to follow my nose. I gave it a pullor two upon the spot, and wrote a pamphlet on Nosology forthwith.All Fum-Fudge was in an uproar."Wonderful genius!" said the Quarterly."Superb physiologist!" said the Westminster."Clever fellow!" said the Foreign."Fine writer!" said the Edinburgh."Profound thinker!" said the Dublin."Great man!" said Bentley."Divine soul!" said Fraser."One of us!" said Blackwood."Who can he be?" said Mrs. Bas-Bleu."What can he be?" said big Miss Bas-Bleu."Where can he be?" said little Miss Bas-Bleu. - But I paid thesepeople no attention whatever - I just stepped into the shop of anartist.The Duchess of Bless-my-Soul was sitting for her portrait; theMarquis of So-and-So was holding the Duchess' poodle; the Earl ofThis-and-That was flirting with her salts; and his Royal Highness ofTouch-me-Not was leaning upon the back of her chair.I approached the artist and turned up my nose."Oh, beautiful!" sighed her Grace."Oh my!" lisped the Marquis."Oh, shocking!" groaned the Earl."Oh, abominable!" growled his Royal Highness."What will you take for it?" asked the artist."For his nose!" shouted her Grace."A thousand pounds," said I, sitting down."A thousand pounds?" inquired the artist, musingly."A thousand pounds," said I."Beautiful!" said he, entranced."A thousand pounds," said I."Do you warrant it?" he asked, turning the nose to the light."I do," said I, blowing it well."Is it quite original?" he inquired; touching it with reverence."Humph!" said I, twisting it to one side."Has no copy been taken?" he demanded, surveying it through amicroscope."None," said I, turning it up."Admirable!" he ejaculated, thrown quite off his guard by the beautyof the manoeuvre."A thousand pounds," said I."A thousand pounds?" said he."Precisely," said I."A thousand pounds?" said he."Just so," said I."You shall have them," said he. "What a piece of virtu!" So he drewme a check upon the spot, and took a sketch of my nose. I engagedrooms in Jermyn street, and sent her Majesty the ninety-ninth editionof the "Nosology," with a portrait of the proboscis. - That sadlittle rake, the Prince of Wales, invited me to dinner.We were all lions and recherchs.There was a modern Platonist. He quoted Porphyry, Iamblicus,Plotinus, Proclus, Hierocles, Maximus Tyrius, and Syrianus.There was a human-perfectibility man. He quoted Turgot, Price,Priestly, Condorcet, De Stael, and the "Ambitious Student in IllHealth."There was Sir Positive Paradox. He observed that all fools werephilosophers, and that all philosophers were fools.There was stheticus Ethix. He spoke of fire, unity, and atoms;bi-part and pre-existent soul; affinity and discord; primitiveintelligence and homomeria.There was Theologos Theology. He talked of Eusebius and Arianus;heresy and the Council of Nice; Puseyism and consubstantialism;Homousios and Homouioisios.There was Fricasse from the Rocher de Cancale. He mentioned Muritonof red tongue; cauliflowers with velout sauce; veal la St.Menehoult; marinade la St. Florentin; and orange jellies enmosiques.There was Bibulus O'Bumper. He touched upon Latour and Markbrnnen;upon Mousseux and Chambertin; upon Richbourg and St. George; uponHaubrion, Leonville, and Medoc; upon Barac and Preignac; upon Grve,upon Sauterne, upon Lafitte, and upon St. Peray. He shook his head atClos de Vougeot, and told, with his eyes shut, the difference betweenSherry and Amontillado.There was Signor Tintontintino from Florence. He discoursed ofCimabu, Arpino, Carpaccio, and Argostino - of the gloom ofCaravaggio, of the amenity of Albano, of the colors of Titian, of thefrows of Rubens, and of the waggeries of Jan Steen.There was the President of the Fum-Fudge University. He was ofopinion that the moon was called Bendis in Thrace, Bubastis in Egypt,Dian in Rome, and Artemis in Greece. There was a Grand Turk fromStamboul. He could not help thinking that the angels were horses,cocks, and bulls; that somebody in the sixth heaven had seventythousand heads; and that the earth was supported by a sky-blue cowwith an incalculable number of green horns.There was Delphinus Polyglott. He told us what had become of theeighty-three lost tragedies of schylus; of the fifty-four orationsof Isus; of the three hundred and ninety-one speeches of Lysias; ofthe hundred and eighty treatises of Theophrastus; of the eighth bookof the conic sections of Apollonius; of Pindar's hymns anddithyrambics; and of the five and forty tragedies of Homer Junior.There was Ferdinand Fitz-Fossillus Feltspar. He informed us all aboutinternal fires and tertiary formations; about eriforms, fluidiforms,and solidiforms; about quartz and marl; about schist and schorl;about gypsum and trap; about talc and calc; about blende andhorn-blende; about mica-slate and pudding-stone; about cyanite andlepidolite; about hematite and tremolite; about antimony andcalcedony; about manganese and whatever you please.There was myself. I spoke of myself; - of myself, of myself, ofmyself; - of Nosology, of my pamphlet, and of myself. I turned up mynose, and I spoke of myself."Marvellous clever man!" said the Prince."Superb!" said his guests: - and next morning her Grace ofBless-my-Soul paid me a visit."Will you go to Almack's, pretty creature?" she said, tapping meunder the chin."Upon honor," said I."Nose and all?" she asked."As I live," I replied."Here then is a card, my life. Shall I say you will be there?""Dear Duchess, with all my heart.""Pshaw, no! - but with all your nose?""Every bit of it, my love," said I: so I gave it a twist or two, andfound myself at Almack's. The rooms were crowded to suffocation."He is coming!" said somebody on the staircase."He is coming!" said somebody farther up."He is coming!" said somebody farther still."He is come!" exclaimed the Duchess. "He is come, the little love!" -and, seizing me firmly by both hands, she kissed me thrice upon thenose. A marked sensation immediately ensued."Diavolo!" cried Count Capricornutti."Dios guarda!" muttered Don Stiletto."Mille tonnerres!" ejaculated the Prince de Grenouille."Tousand teufel!" growled the Elector of Bluddennuff.It was not to be borne. I grew angry. I turned short uponBluddennuff."Sir!" said I to him, "you are a baboon.""Sir," he replied, after a pause, "Donner und Blitzen!"This was all that could be desired. We exchanged cards. AtChalk-Farm, the next morning, I shot off his nose - and then calledupon my friends."Bte!" said the first."Fool!" said the second."Dolt!" said the third."Ass!" said the fourth."Ninny!" said the fifth."Noodle!" said the sixth."Be off!" said the seventh.At all this I felt mortified, and so called upon my father."Father," I asked, "what is the chief end of my existence?""My son," he replied, "it is still the study of Nosology; but inhitting the Elector upon the nose you have overshot your mark. Youhave a fine nose, it is true; but then Bluddennuff has none. You aredamned, and he has become the hero of the day. I grant you that inFum-Fudge the greatness of a lion is in proportion to the size of hisproboscis - but, good heavens! there is no competing with a lion whohas no proboscis at all."

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