The Devil's Elixir, Vol. 1 (of 2)Hoffmann, E. T. A. (Ernst Theodor Amadeus)
Science
The Devil's Elixir, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Hoffmann, E. T. A. (Ernst Theodor Amadeus)
Devil -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction, German -- Translations into English; Gothic fiction; Monks -- Fiction
"At last, the innkeeper, with a sly wink at me, led the discourse to
national peculiarities, and asked me, whether I had ever been
acquainted with an Irishman, or knew what was meant by Irish bulls, for
which that country was celebrated? 'Unquestionably,' said I; 'I have
heard many such;' and a whole string of these blunders came at once into
my head. I then told the story of the Irishman, who, when asked why he
wore stockings with the wrong side out, answered, 'Because there was a
hole in the other side;'--of the still better anecdote of another
disciple of St Patrick, who was sleeping in the same bed with a choleric
Scotch Highlander. An English wag, who was lodged in the same room, by
way of a practical joke, took one of the Irishman's spurs, and,
perceiving that he wast fast asleep, buckled it on his heel. Soon after,
the Irishman happening to turn round, tore the Scotchman's legs with his
spur; whereupon the latter, in great wrath, gave his companion a violent
box on the ear, and the Englishman had the satisfaction of hearing
betwixt them the following ingenious discourse:--
"'What devil,' said the Irishman, 'has got possession of you? and why
are you beating me?'--'Because,' said the other, 'you have torn me with
your spurs.'--'How is that possible? I took off my clothes.'--'And yet
it is so--see only here.'--'Damnation!--you are in the right. The
rascally waiter has pulled off my boots, but left on the spurs!'
"The story, however old, was new to the innkeeper, who broke out into
immoderate laughter; but the stranger, who had now wound up his dinner
with a great draught of beer from a glass as high as a church tower,
looked at me gravely, and said--'You have spoken well, sir. The Irishmen
certainly do make these bulls; but this by no means depends on the
character of the people, who are ingenious and witty, but on the cursed
air of that damp country, which infects one with them, as with coughs
and catarrhs. I myself, sir, am an Englishman, though born and bred in
Ireland, and therefore am, on that account, subjected to the vile
propensity of making bulls.'
"Hereupon the innkeeper laughed more and more, and I was obliged to join
him heartily, for it was delightful that the Irishman, gravely lecturing
on bulls, should _unconsciously_ give us one of the very best as a
specimen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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