Page 39 - Collected_Works_of_Poe.pdf

Bergerac is utterly meaningless. In the third volume of the "American Quarterly Review" will be found quite
an elaborate criticism upon a certain "journey" of the kind in question--a criticism in which it is difficult to
say whether the critic most exposes the stupidity of the book, or his own absurd ignorance of astronomy. I
forget the title of the work; but the _means _of the voyage are more deplorably ill conceived than are even the
_ganzas _of our friend the Signor Gonzales. The adventurer, in digging the earth, happens to discover a
peculiar metal for which the moon has a strong attraction, and straightway constructs of it a box, which, when
cast loose from its terrestrial fastenings, flies with him, forthwith, to the satellite. The "Flight of Thomas
O'Rourke," is a _jeu d' esprit _not altogether contemptible, and has been translated into German. Thomas, the
hero, was, in fact, the gamekeeper of an Irish peer, whose eccentricities gave rise to the tale. The "flight" is
made on an eagle's back, from Hungry Hill, a lofty mountain at the end of Bantry Bay.

In these various _brochures _the aim is always satirical; the theme being a description of Lunarian customs as
compared with ours. In none is there any effort at _plausibility _in the details of the voyage itself. The writers
seem, in each instance, to be utterly uninformed in respect to astronomy. In "Hans Pfaall" the design is
original, inasmuch as regards an attempt at ^verisimilitude, _in the application of scientific principles (so far
as the whimsical nature of the subject would permit), to the actual passage between the earth and the moon.

{*2} The zodiacal light is probably what the ancients called Trabes. Emicant Trabes quos docos vocant. -­
Pliny, lib. 2, p. 26.

{*3} Since the original publication of Hans Pfaall, I find that Mr. Green, of Nassau balloon notoriety, and
other late aeronauts, deny the assertions of Humboldt, in this respect, and speak of a decreasing
inconvenience, -- precisely in accordance with the theory here urged in a mere spirit of banter.

{*4} Havelius writes that he has several times found, in skies perfectly clear, when even stars of the sixth and
seventh magnitude were conspicuous, that, at the same altitude of the moon, at the same elongation from the
earth, and with one and the same excellent telescope, the moon and its maculae did not appear equally lucid at
all times. From the circumstances of the observation, it is evident that the cause of this phenomenon is not
either in our air, in the tube, in the moon, or in the eye of the spectator, but must be looked for in something
(an atmosphere?) existing about the moon.

THE GOLD-BUG

What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad !

He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.

_--All in the Wrong._

MANY years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot
family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the
mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his
residence at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. This Island is a very singular one. It consists
of little else than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a
mile. It is separated from the main land by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness
of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh hen. The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at
least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie
stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives from
Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception
of this western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of
the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the height of
fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burthening the air with its fragrance.