The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Rudolf Raspe

The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen - Rudolf Raspe


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of my whip. This unexpected attack in his

      rear frightened him so much, that he leaped forward with all his might:

      the horse’s carcase dropped on the ground, but in his place the wolf

      was in the harness, and I on my part whipping him continually: we

      both arrived in full career safe at St. Petersburg, contrary to our

      respective expectations, and very much to the astonishment of the

      spectators.

      I shall not tire you, gentlemen, with the politics, arts, sciences, and

      history of this magnificent metropolis of Russia, nor trouble you with

      the various intrigues and pleasant adventures I had in the politer

      circles of that country, where the lady of the house always receives the

      visitor with a dram and a salute. I shall confine myself rather to

      the greater and nobler objects of your attention, horses and dogs, my

      favourites in the brute creation; also to foxes, wolves, and bears, with

      which, and game in general, Russia abounds more than any other part of

      the world; and to such sports, manly exercises, and feats of gallantry

      and activity, as show the gentleman better than musty Greek or Latin, or

      all the perfume, finery, and capers of French wits or _petit-maîtres_.

      CHAPTER III

      _An encounter between the Baron’s nose and a door-post, with its

      wonderful effects – Fifty brace of ducks and other fowl destroyed by one

      shot – Flogs a fox out of his skin – Leads an old sow home in a new way,

      and vanquishes a wild boar._

      It was some time before I could obtain a commission in the army, and

      for several months I was perfectly at liberty to sport away my time and

      money in the most gentleman-like manner. You may easily imagine that I

      spent much of both out of town with such gallant fellows as knew how to

      make the most of an open forest country. The very recollection of

      those amusements gives me fresh spirits, and creates a warm wish for

      a repetition of them. One morning I saw, through the windows of my

      bed-room, that a large pond not far off was covered with wild ducks. In

      an instant I took my gun from the corner, ran down-stairs and out of

      the house in such a hurry, that I imprudently struck my face against

      the door-post. Fire flew out of my eyes, but it did not prevent my

      intention; I soon came within shot, when, levelling my piece, I observed

      to my sorrow, that even the flint had sprung from the cock by the

      violence of the shock I had just received. There was no time to be lost.

      I presently remembered the effect it had on my eyes, therefore opened

      the pan, levelled my piece against the wild fowls, and my fist against

      one of my eyes. [The Baron’s eyes have retained fire ever since, and

      appear particularly illuminated when he relates this anecdote.] A hearty

      blow drew sparks again; the shot went off, and I killed fifty brace of

      ducks, twenty widgeons, and three couple of teals. Presence of mind is

      the soul of manly exercises. If soldiers and sailors owe to it many of

      their lucky escapes, hunters and sportsmen are not less beholden to it

      for many of their successes. In a noble forest in Russia I met a fine

      black fox, whose valuable skin it would have been a pity to tear by ball

      or shot. Reynard stood close to a tree. In a twinkling I took out my

      ball, and placed a good spike-nail in its room, fired, and hit him so

      cleverly that I nailed his brush fast to the tree. I now went up to him,

      took out my hanger, gave him a cross-cut over the face, laid hold of my

      whip, and fairly flogged him out of his fine skin.

      Chance and good luck often correct our mistakes; of this I had a

      singular instance soon after, when, in the depth of a forest, I saw a

      wild pig and sow running close behind each other. My ball had missed

      them, yet the foremost pig only ran away, and the sow stood motionless,

      as fixed to the ground. On examining into the matter, I found the latter

      one to be an old sow, blind with age, which had taken hold of her pig’s

      tail, in order to be led along by filial duty. My ball, having passed

      between the two, had cut his leading-string, which the old sow continued

      to hold in her mouth; and as her former guide did not draw her on

      any longer, she had stopped of course; I therefore laid hold of the

      remaining end of the pig’s tail, and led the old beast home without any

      further trouble on my part, and without any reluctance or apprehension

      on the part of the helpless old animal.

      Terrible as these wild sows are, yet more fierce and dangerous are

      the boars, one of which I had once the misfortune to meet in a forest,

      unprepared for attack or defence. I retired behind an oak-tree just when

      the furious animal levelled a side-blow at me, with such force, that his

      tusks pierced through the tree, by which means he could neither repeat

      the blow nor retire. Ho, ho! thought I, I shall soon have you now! and

      immediately I laid hold of a stone, wherewith I hammered and bent his

      tusks in such a manner, that he could not retreat by any means, and must

      wait my return from the next village, whither I went for ropes and a

      cart, to secure him properly, and to carry him off safe and alive, in

      which I perfectly succeeded.

      CHAPTER IV

      _Reflections on Saint Hubert’s stag – Shoots a stag with cherry-stones;

      the wonderful effects of it – Kills a bear by extraordinary dexterity;

      his danger pathetically described – Attacked by a wolf, which he turns

      inside out – Is assailed by a mad dog, from which he escapes – The Baron’s

      cloak seized with madness, by which his whole wardrobe is thrown into

      confusion._

      You have heard, I dare say, of the hunter and sportsman’s saint and

      protector, St. Hubert, and of the noble stag, which appeared to him

      in the forest, with the holy cross between his antlers. I have paid my

      homage to that saint every year in good fellowship, and seen


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