The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 4 Read online

  THE MAN THAT WAS USED UP.

  A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN.

  _Pleurez, pleurez, mes yeux, et fondez vous en eau!_

  _La moitie; de ma vie a mis l' autre au tombeau._

  CORNEILLE.

  I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintanceof that truly fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B.C. Smith. Some one _did_ introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure--atsome public meeting, I know very well--held about something of greatimportance, no doubt--at some place or other, I feel convinced,--whosename I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is--that the introductionwas attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious embarrassment whichoperated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. Iam constitutionally nervous--this, with me, is a family failing, and Ican't help it. In especial, the slightest appearance of mystery--of anypoint I cannot exactly comprehend--puts me at once into a pitiable stateof agitation.

  There was something, as it were, remarkable--yes, _remarkable_, althoughthis is but a feeble term to express my full meaning--about the entireindividuality of the personage in question. He was, perhaps, six feetin height, and of a presence singularly commanding. There was an _airdistingue_ pervading the whole man, which spoke of high breeding, andhinted at high birth. Upon this topic--the topic of Smith's personalappearance--I have a kind of melancholy satisfaction in being minute.His head of hair would have done honor to a Brutus;--nothing could bemore richly flowing, or possess a brighter gloss. It was of a jettyblack;--which was also the color, or more properly the no color ofhis unimaginable whiskers. You perceive I cannot speak of these latterwithout enthusiasm; it is not too much to say that they were thehandsomest pair of whiskers under the sun. At all events, theyencircled, and at times partially overshadowed, a mouth utterlyunequalled. Here were the most entirely even, and the most brilliantlywhite of all conceivable teeth. From between them, upon every properoccasion, issued a voice of surpassing clearness, melody, and strength.In the matter of eyes, also, my acquaintance was pre-eminently endowed.Either one of such a pair was worth a couple of the ordinary ocularorgans. They were of a deep hazel, exceedingly large and lustrous; andthere was perceptible about them, ever and anon, just that amount ofinteresting obliquity which gives pregnancy to expression.

  The bust of the General was unquestionably the finest bust I eversaw. For your life you could not have found a fault with its wonderfulproportion. This rare peculiarity set off to great advantage a pair ofshoulders which would have called up a blush of conscious inferiorityinto the countenance of the marble Apollo. I have a passion for fineshoulders, and may say that I never beheld them in perfection before.The arms altogether were admirably modelled. Nor were the lower limbsless superb. These were, indeed, the _ne plus ultra_ of good legs. Everyconnoisseur in such matters admitted the legs to be good. There wasneither too much flesh, nor too little,--neither rudeness nor fragility.I could not imagine a more graceful curve than that of the _os femoris_,and there was just that due gentle prominence in the rear of the_fibula_ which goes to the conformation of a properly proportioned calf.I wish to God my young and talented friend Chiponchipino, the sculptor,had but seen the legs of Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith.

  But although men so absolutely fine-looking are neither as plenty asreasons or blackberries, still I could not bring myself to believe that_the remarkable_ something to which I alluded just now,--that the oddair of _je ne sais quoi_ which hung about my new acquaintance,--layaltogether, or indeed at all, in the supreme excellence of his bodilyendowments. Perhaps it might be traced to the _manner_;--yet here againI could not pretend to be positive. There _was_ a primness, not tosay stiffness, in his carriage--a degree of measured, and, if I mayso express it, of rectangular precision, attending his every movement,which, observed in a more diminutive figure, would have had the leastlittle savor in the world, of affectation, pomposity or constraint, butwhich noticed in a gentleman of his undoubted dimensions, was readilyplaced to the account of reserve, _hauteur_--of a commendable sense, inshort, of what is due to the dignity of colossal proportion.

  The kind friend who presented me to General Smith whispered in my earsome few words of comment upon the man. He was a _remarkable_ man--a_very_ remarkable man--indeed one of the _most_ remarkable men of theage. He was an especial favorite, too, with the ladies--chiefly onaccount of his high reputation for courage.

  "In _that_ point he is unrivalled--indeed he is a perfect desperado--adown-right fire-eater, and no mistake," said my friend, here droppinghis voice excessively low, and thrilling me with the mystery of histone.

  "A downright fire-eater, and _no_ mistake. Showed _that_, I should say,to some purpose, in the late tremendous swamp-fight away down South,with the Bugaboo and Kickapoo Indians." [Here my friend opened hiseyes to some extent.] "Bless my soul!--blood and thunder, and allthat!--_prodigies_ of valor!--heard of him of course?--you know he's theman"--

  "Man alive, how _do_ you do? why, how _are_ ye? _very_ glad to see ye,indeed!" here interrupted the General himself, seizing my companion bythe hand as he drew near, and bowing stiffly, but profoundly, as I waspresented. I then thought, (and I think so still,) that I never hearda clearer nor a stronger voice, nor beheld a finer set of teeth: but I_must_ say that I was sorry for the interruption just at that moment,as, owing to the whispers and insinuations aforesaid, my interest hadbeen greatly excited in the hero of the Bugaboo and Kickapoo campaign.

  However, the delightfully luminous conversation of Brevet BrigadierGeneral John A. B. C. Smith soon completely dissipated this chagrin. Myfriend leaving us immediately, we had quite a long _tete-a-tete_, andI was not only pleased but _really_--instructed. I never heard a morefluent talker, or a man of greater general information. With becomingmodesty, he forebore, nevertheless, to touch upon the theme I had justthen most at heart--I mean the mysterious circumstances attending theBugaboo war--and, on my own part, what I conceive to be a proper senseof delicacy forbade me to broach the subject; although, in truth, I wasexceedingly tempted to do so. I perceived, too, that the gallant soldierpreferred topics of philosophical interest, and that he delighted,especially, in commenting upon the rapid march of mechanical invention.Indeed, lead him where I would, this was a point to which he invariablycame back.

  "There is nothing at all like it," he would say; "we are awonderful people, and live in a wonderful age. Parachutes andrail-roads--man-traps and spring-guns! Our steam-boats are upon everysea, and the Nassau balloon packet is about to run regular trips (fareeither way only twenty pounds sterling) between London and Timbuctoo.And who shall calculate the immense influence upon social life--uponarts--upon commerce--upon literature--which will be the immediate resultof the great principles of electro magnetics! Nor, is this all, let meassure you! There is really no end to the march of invention. The mostwonderful--the most ingenious--and let me add, Mr.--Mr.--Thompson, Ibelieve, is your name--let me add, I say, the most _useful_--the mosttruly _useful_ mechanical contrivances, are daily springing uplike mushrooms, if I may so express myself, or, more figuratively,like--ah--grasshoppers--like grasshoppers, Mr. Thompson--about us andah--ah--ah--around us!"

  Thompson, to be sure, is not my name; but it is needless to say thatI left General Smith with a heightened interest in the man, with anexalted opinion of his conversational powers, and a deep sense ofthe valuable privileges we enjoy in living in this age of mechanicalinvention. My curiosity, however, had not been altogether satisfied,and I resolved to prosecute immediate inquiry among my acquaintancestouching the Brevet Brigadier General himself, and particularlyrespecting the tremendous events _quorum pars magna fuit_, during theBugaboo and Kickapoo campaign.

  The first opportunity which presented itself, and which (_horrescoreferens_) I did not in the least scruple to seize, occurred atthe Church of the Reverend Doctor Drummummupp, where I found myselfestablished, one Sunday, just at sermon time, not only in the pew, butby the side, of that worthy and communica
tive little friend of mine,Miss Tabitha T. Thus seated, I congratulated myself, and with muchreason, upon the very flattering state of affairs. If any person knewanything about Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith, thatperson, it was clear to me, was Miss Tabitha T. We telegraphed a fewsignals, and then commenced, _soto voce_, a brisk _tete-a-tete_.

  "Smith!" said she, in reply to my very earnest inquiry; "Smith!--why,not General John A. B. C.? Bless me, I thought you _knew_ all about_him!_ This is a wonderfully inventive age! Horrid affair that!--abloody set of wretches, those Kickapoos!--fought like a hero--prodigiesof valor--immortal renown. Smith!--Brevet Brigadier General John A. B.C.! why, you know he's the man"--

  "Man," here broke in Doctor Drummummupp, at the top of his voice, andwith a thump that came near knocking the pulpit about our ears; "manthat is born of a woman hath but a short time to live; he cometh up andis cut down like a flower!" I started to the extremity of the pew, andperceived by the animated looks of the divine, that the wrath which hadnearly proved fatal to the pulpit had been excited by the whispers ofthe lady and myself. There was no help for it; so I submitted with agood grace, and listened, in all the martyrdom of dignified silence, tothe balance of that very capital discourse.

  Next evening found me a somewhat late visitor at the Rantipole theatre,where I felt sure of satisfying my curiosity at once, by merely steppinginto the box of those exquisite specimens of affability and omniscience,the Misses Arabella and Miranda Cognoscenti. That fine tragedian,Climax, was doing Iago to a very crowded house, and I experienced somelittle difficulty in making my wishes understood; especially, as our boxwas next the slips, and completely overlooked the stage.

  "Smith?" said Miss Arabella, as she at length comprehended the purportof my query; "Smith?--why, not General John A. B. C.?"

  "Smith?" inquired Miranda, musingly. "God bless me, did you ever beholda finer figure?"

  "Never, madam, but _do_ tell me"--

  "Or so inimitable grace?"

  "Never, upon my word!--But pray inform me"--

  "Or so just an appreciation of stage effect?"

  "Madam!"

  "Or a more delicate sense of the true beauties of Shakespeare? Be sogood as to look at that leg!"

  "The devil!" and I turned again to her sister.

  "Smith?" said she, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horrid affair that,wasn't it?--great wretches, those Bugaboos--savage and so on--but welive in a wonderfully inventive age!--Smith!--O yes! great man!--perfectdesperado--immortal renown--prodigies of valor! _Never heard!_" [Thiswas given in a scream.] "Bless my soul! why, he's the man"--

  "-----mandragora Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owd'st yesterday!"

  here roared our Climax just in my ear, and shaking his fist in my faceall the time, in a way that I _couldn't_ stand, and I _wouldn't_. I leftthe Misses Cognoscenti immediately, went behind the scenes forthwith,and gave the beggarly scoundrel such a thrashing as I trust he willremember to the day of his death.

  At the _soiree_ of the lovely widow, Mrs. Kathleen O'Trump, Iwas confident that I should meet with no similar disappointment.Accordingly, I was no sooner seated at the card-table, with my prettyhostess for a _vis-a-vis_, than I propounded those questions thesolution of which had become a matter so essential to my peace.

  "Smith?" said my partner, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horridaffair that, wasn't it?--diamonds, did you say?--terrible wretches thoseKickapoos!--we are playing _whist_, if you please, Mr. Tattle--however,this is the age of invention, most certainly _the_ age, onemay say--_the_ age _par excellence_--speak French?--oh, quite ahero--perfect desperado!--_no hearts_, Mr. Tattle? I don't believeit!--immortal renown and all that!--prodigies of valor! _Neverheard!!_--why, bless me, he's the man"--

  "Mann?--_Captain_ Mann?" here screamed some little feminine interloperfrom the farthest corner of the room. "Are you talking about CaptainMann and the duel?--oh, I _must_ hear--do tell--go on, Mrs. O'Trump!--donow go on!" And go on Mrs. O'Trump did--all about a certain CaptainMann, who was either shot or hung, or should have been both shot andhung. Yes! Mrs. O'Trump, she went on, and I--I went off. There was nochance of hearing anything farther that evening in regard to BrevetBrigadier General John A. B. C. Smith.

  Still I consoled myself with the reflection that the tide of ill luckwould not run against me forever, and so determined to make a boldpush for information at the rout of that bewitching little angel, thegraceful Mrs. Pirouette.

  "Smith?" said Mrs. P., as we twirled about together in a _pas dezephyr_, "Smith?--why, not General John A. B. C.? Dreadful business thatof the Bugaboos, wasn't it?--dreadful creatures, those Indians!--_do_turn out your toes! I really am ashamed of you--man of great courage,poor fellow!--but this is a wonderful age for invention--O dear me,I'm out of breath--quite a desperado--prodigies of valor--_neverheard!!_--can't believe it--I shall have to sit down and enlightenyou--Smith! why, he's the man"--

  "Man-_Fred_, I tell you!" here bawled out Miss Bas-Bleu, as I led Mrs.Pirouette to a seat. "Did ever anybody hear the like? It's Man-_Fred_,I say, and not at all by any means Man-_Friday_." Here Miss Bas-Bleubeckoned to me in a very peremptory manner; and I was obliged, will Inill I, to leave Mrs. P. for the purpose of deciding a dispute touchingthe title of a certain poetical drama of Lord Byron's. Although Ipronounced, with great promptness, that the true title was Man-_Friday_,and not by any means Man-_Fred_, yet when I returned to seek Mrs.Pirouette she was not to be discovered, and I made my retreat from thehouse in a very bitter spirit of animosity against the whole race of theBas-Bleus.

  Matters had now assumed a really serious aspect, and I resolved to callat once upon my particular friend, Mr. Theodore Sinivate; for I knewthat here at least I should get something like definite information.

  "Smith?" said he, in his well-known peculiar way of drawling out hissyllables; "Smith?--why, not General John A. B. C.? Savage affair thatwith the Kickapo-o-o-os, wasn't it? Say! don't you think so?--perfectdespera-a-ado--great pity, 'pon my honor!--wonderfully inventiveage!--pro-o-odigies of valor! By the by, did you ever hear about CaptainMa-a-a-a-n?"

  "Captain Mann be d--d!" said I; "please to go on with your story."

  "Hem!--oh well!--quite _la meme cho-o-ose_, as we say in France. Smith,eh? Brigadier-General John A. B. C.? I say"--[here Mr. S. thought properto put his finger to the side of his nose]--"I say, you don't mean toinsinuate now, really and truly, and conscientiously, that you don'tknow all about that affair of Smith's, as well as I do, eh? Smith? JohnA-B-C.? Why, bless me, he's the ma-a-an"--

  "_Mr_. Sinivate," said I, imploringly, "_is_ he the man in the mask?"

  "No-o-o!" said he, looking wise, "nor the man in the mo-o-on."

  This reply I considered a pointed and positive insult, and so left thehouse at once in high dudgeon, with a firm resolve to call my friend,Mr. Sinivate, to a speedy account for his ungentlemanly conduct andill-breeding.

  In the meantime, however, I had no notion of being thwarted touching theinformation I desired. There was one resource left me yet. I would go tothe fountain-head. I would call forthwith upon the General himself,and demand, in explicit terms, a solution of this abominable piece ofmystery. Here, at least, there should be no chance for equivocation. Iwould be plain, positive, peremptory--as short as pie-crust--as conciseas Tacitus or Montesquieu.

  It was early when I called, and the General was dressing; but I pleadedurgent business, and was shown at once into his bed-room by an old negrovalet, who remained in attendance during my visit. As I entered thechamber, I looked about, of course, for the occupant, but did notimmediately perceive him. There was a large and exceedingly odd-lookingbundle of something which lay close by my feet on the floor, and, as Iwas not in the best humor in the world, I gave it a kick out of the way.

  "Hem! ahem! rather civil that, I should say!" said the bundle, in oneof the smallest, and altogether the funniest little voices, between asqueak and a whistle, th
at I ever heard in all the days of my existence.

  "Ahem! rather civil that, I should observe."

  I fairly shouted with terror, and made off, at a tangent, into thefarthest extremity of the room.

  "God bless me! my dear fellow," here again whistled the bundle,"what--what--what--why, what _is_ the matter? I really believe you don'tknow me at all."

  What _could_ I say to all this--what _could_ I? I staggered into anarm-chair, and, with staring eyes and open mouth, awaited the solutionof the wonder.

  "Strange you shouldn't know me though, isn't it?" presently re-squeakedthe nondescript, which I now perceived was performing, upon the floor,some inexplicable evolution, very analogous to the drawing on of astocking. There was only a single leg, however, apparent.

  "Strange you shouldn't know me, though, isn't it? Pompey, bring me thatleg!" Here Pompey handed the bundle, a very capital cork leg, alreadydressed, which it screwed on in a trice; and then it stood up before myeyes.

  "And a bloody action it _was_," continued the thing, as if in asoliloquy; "but then one mustn't fight with the Bugaboos and Kickapoos,and think of coming off with a mere scratch. Pompey, I'll thank you nowfor that arm. Thomas" [turning to me] "is decidedly the best hand at acork leg; but if you should ever want an arm, my dear fellow, you mustreally let me recommend you to Bishop." Here Pompey screwed on an arm.

  "We had rather hot work of it, that you may say. Now, you dog, slipon my shoulders and bosom! Pettitt makes the best shoulders, but for abosom you will have to go to Ducrow."

  "Bosom!" said I.

  "Pompey, will you _never_ be ready with that wig? Scalping is a roughprocess after all; but then you can procure such a capital scratch at DeL'Orme's."

  "Scratch!"

  "Now, you nigger, my teeth! For a _good_ set of these you had better goto Parmly's at once; high prices, but excellent work. I swallowed somevery capital articles, though, when the big Bugaboo rammed me down withthe butt end of his rifle."

  "Butt end! ram down!! my eye!!"

  "O yes, by-the-by, my eye--here, Pompey, you scamp, screw it in ! ThoseKickapoos are not so very slow at a gouge; but he's a belied man, thatDr. Williams, after all; you can't imagine how well I see with the eyesof his make."

  I now began very clearly to perceive that the object before me wasnothing more nor less than my new acquaintance, Brevet Brigadier GeneralJohn A. B. C. Smith. The manipulations of Pompey had made, I mustconfess, a very striking difference in the appearance of the personalman. The voice, however, still puzzled me no little; but even thisapparent mystery was speedily cleared up.

  "Pompey, you black rascal," squeaked the General, "I really do believeyou would let me go out without my palate."

  Hereupon, the negro, grumbling out an apology, went up to his master,opened his mouth with the knowing air of a horse-jockey, and adjustedtherein a somewhat singular-looking machine, in a very dexterous manner,that I could not altogether comprehend. The alteration, however, in theentire expression of the General's countenance was instantaneous andsurprising. When he again spoke, his voice had resumed all that richmelody and strength which I had noticed upon our original introduction.

  "D--n the vagabonds!" said he, in so clear a tone that I positivelystarted at the change, "D--n the vagabonds! they not only knocked in theroof of my mouth, but took the trouble to cut off at least seven-eighthsof my tongue. There isn't Bonfanti's equal, however, in America, forreally good articles of this description. I can recommend you to himwith confidence," [here the General bowed,] "and assure you that I havethe greatest pleasure in so doing."

  I acknowledged his kindness in my best manner, and took leave of him atonce, with a perfect understanding of the true state of affairs--with afull comprehension of the mystery which had troubled me so long. It wasevident. It was a clear case. Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C.Smith was the man--was _the man that was used up_.