Upon finishing the perusal of this very extraordinary document,
Professor Rub-a-dub, it is said, dropped his pipe upon the ground in
the extremity of his surprise, and Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk,
having taken off his spectacles, wiped them, and deposited them in his
pocket, so far forgot both himself and his dignity, as to turn round
three times upon his heel in the quintescence of astonishment and
admiration. There was no doubt about the matter--the pardon should be
obtained. So at least swore with a round oath, Professor Rub-a-dub,
and so finally thought the illustrious Von Underduk, as he took the
arm of his brother in science, and without saying a word, began to
make the best of his way home to deliberate upon the measures to be
adopted. Having reached the door, however, of the burgomaster's
dwelling, the Professor ventured to suggest, that as the messenger had
thought proper to disappear--no doubt frightened to death by the
savage appearance of the burghers of Rotterdam--the pardon would be of
little use, as no one but a man of the moon would undertake a voyage
to so horrible a distance. To the truth of this observation the
burgomaster assented, and the matter was therefore at an end. Not so,
however, rumors and speculations. The letter, having been published,
gave rise to a variety of gossip and opinion. Some of the overwise
even made themselves ridiculous, by decrying the whole business as
nothing better than a hoax. But hoax, with these sort of people, is, I
believe, a general term for all matters above their comprehension. For
my part I cannot conceive upon what data they have founded such an
accusation. Let us see what they say:
Imprimis. That certain wags in Rotterdam have certain especial
antipathies to certain burgomasters and astronomers.
Don't understand at all.
Secondly. That an odd little dwarf and bottle conjurer, both of whose
ears, for some misdemeanor, have been cut off close to his head, has
been missing for several days from the neighboring city of Bruges.
Well--what of that?
Thirdly. That the newspapers which were stuck all over the little
balloon were newspapers of Holland, and therefore could not have been
made in the moon. They were dirty papers--very dirty--and Gluck, the
printer, would take his bible oath to their having been printed in
Rotterdam.
He was mistaken--undoubtedly--mistaken.
Fourthly. That Hans Phaall himself, the drunken villain, and the three
very idle gentlemen styled his creditors, were all seen, no longer
than two or three days ago, in the tippling house in the suburbs,
having just returned, with money in their pockets, from a trip beyond
the sea.
Don't believe it--don't believe a word of it.
Lastly. That it is an opinion very generally received, or which ought
to be generally received, that the College of Astronomers in the city
of Rotterdam--as well as all other Colleges in all other parts of the
world--not to mention Colleges and Astronomers in general--are, to say
the least of the matter, not a whit better, nor greater, nor wiser
than they ought to be.
The d----l, you say! Now that's too bad. Why, hang the people, they
should be prosecuted for a libel. I tell you, gentlemen, you know
nothing about the business. You are ignorant of Astronomy--and of
things in general. The voyage was made--it was indeed--and made, too,
by Hans Phaall. I wonder, for my part, you do not perceive at once
that the letter--the document--is intrinsically--is astronomically
true--and that it carries upon its very face the evidence of its own
authenticity.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.