Hesperus; or, Forty-Five Dog-Post-Days: A Biography. Vol. I.Jean Paul
General
Hesperus; or, Forty-Five Dog-Post-Days: A Biography. Vol. I.
Jean Paul
Fiction
As Flamin and Victor passed down into the sitting-prinking-summer and
winter-room, from amidst none but glad faces protruded one sullen one,
which belonged to the Parson, who was plunging about like one
possessed: there were two things which he could not possibly nose
out,--his Bible and his powder-puff. Three minutes before he had thus
lamented: "Am not I and my wretched life then singled out for a true
Passion-history? Let an urn of fortune be given me, from which anybody
else would claw out, as if he were crabbing, whole kingdoms. So soon as
the Archfiend sees it to be me, he drops his dung in; and I claw that
out instead of crabs and kingdoms, and nothing more. It would have gone
finely to-day, the Devil saw,--we should have had until four o'clock in
the afternoon no fun, but dog's-work; but then we should have broken
loose; then would have come the dinner in the summer-house, the
congratulation and salutation and real jollity.... And for you all
this is still waiting; but to me, if the puff and the Bible do not
appear, just send some of the soot and ashes (the leavings of the
evening-feast) that I may brush therewith Fox's [his horse's] bit, and
in the evening I can weed radishes by the summer-house."
At this moment, he had to salute, with the dipped flag of his poll, his
tasselled cap, the Briton just entering,--when the gesture shook out of
the cap a hair-tuft, which, to be sure, was not the long-sought Bible,
but was the puff, which had been given up for lost. That is to say, the
thinking and reading world, to which one does not often disclose the
weightier facts, must at least come at this one,--that the Court
Chaplain, just as men are snatched from among men to overtop and master
the rest, precisely so bound up the hairs which his comb plucked out,
into a skin-fascicle or hair-union, in order to powder therewith the
others that were left standing,--which now could not, of course, by
this most exalted spirit and pentameter,[60] be well christened
anything else than a hair-puff. Nevertheless, Eymann's face was longer
than his cap; he let this syringe of the coloring powder of his head
lie and cool there, and said, "If I don't ferret out the Bible, then I
don't see how this tuft alone is to get me out of the scrape."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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