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The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy by Brian Stableford

Author:Brian Stableford

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 9781910213322

Publisher: SCB Distributors

Published: 2015-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

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The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy by Brian Stableford

Chapter VII

The Baron Muggzwig was fat. Far be it from the humble author of these pages to insinuate that his fatness exceeded the bounds of proportion, or the manly beauty of the human figure, but he certainly was fat, and of that fact there is not the shadow of a doubt. It may perhaps have been owing to this fatness of body that a certain thickness and obtuseness of intellect was at times perceptible in the noble Baron. In his ordinary conversation he was, to say the least of it, misty and obscure, but after dinner or when at all excited his language certainly verged on the incomprehensible. This was perhaps owing to his liberal use of the parenthesis without any definite pause to mark the different clauses of the sentence. He used to consider his arguments unanswerable, and they certainly were so perplexing, and generally reduced his hearers to such a state of bewilderment and stupefaction, that few ever ventured to attempt an answer to them.

He usually however compensated in length for what his speeches wanted in clearness, and it was owing to this cause that his visitors, on the morning we are speaking of had to blow the trumpet at the gate three times before they were admitted, as the footman was at that moment undergoing a lecture from his master, supposed to have reference to the yesterday’s dinner, but which, owing to a slight admixture of extraneous matter in the discourse, left on the footman’s mind a confused impression that his master had been partly scolding him for not keeping a stricter watch on the fishing trade, partly setting forth his own private views on the management of railway shares, and partly finding fault with the bad arrangement of financial affairs in the moon.

 

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The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy by Brian Stableford

Author:Brian Stableford , Date: June 14, 2019

,Views: 53

Author:Brian Stableford

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 9781910213322

Publisher: SCB Distributors

Published: 2015-04-08T16:00:00+00:00
Chapter VII

The Baron Muggzwig was fat. Far be it from the humble author of these pages to insinuate that his fatness exceeded the bounds of proportion, or the manly beauty of the human figure, but he certainly was fat, and of that fact there is not the shadow of a doubt. It may perhaps have been owing to this fatness of body that a certain thickness and obtuseness of intellect was at times perceptible in the noble Baron. In his ordinary conversation he was, to say the least of it, misty and obscure, but after dinner or when at all excited his language certainly verged on the incomprehensible. This was perhaps owing to his liberal use of the parenthesis without any definite pause to mark the different clauses of the sentence. He used to consider his arguments unanswerable, and they certainly were so perplexing, and generally reduced his hearers to such a state of bewilderment and stupefaction, that few ever ventured to attempt an answer to them.

He usually however compensated in length for what his speeches wanted in clearness, and it was owing to this cause that his visitors, on the morning we are speaking of had to blow the trumpet at the gate three times before they were admitted, as the footman was at that moment undergoing a lecture from his master, supposed to have reference to the yesterday’s dinner, but which, owing to a slight admixture of extraneous matter in the discourse, left on the footman’s mind a confused impression that his master had been partly scolding him for not keeping a stricter watch on the fishing trade, partly setting forth his own private views on the management of railway shares, and partly finding fault with the bad arrangement of financial affairs in the moon.

In this state of mind it is not surprising that his first answer to their question, “Is the Baron at home?” should be, “The fish, sir, was the cook’s affair, I had nothing whatsumdever to do with it,” which on reflection he immediately afterwards corrected to, “the trains was late, so it was unpossible as the wine could come sooner.” “The man is surely mad or drunk!” angrily exclaimed one of the strangers, no other than the mysterious man in a cloak: “Not so,” was the reply in gentle voice, as the great magician stepped forward, “but let me interrogate him – ho! fellow!” he continued in a louder tone, “is thy master at home?” The man gazed at him for a moment like one in a dream, and then suddenly recollecting himself he replied, “I begs pardon, gentleman, the Baron is at home: would you please to walk in?” and with these words he ushered them up stairs.

On entering the room they made a low obeisance, and the Baron starting from his seat exclaimed with singular rapidity, “And even if you have called on behalf of Slogdod that infatuated wretch and I’m sure I’ve often told him -” “We have called,” gravely interrupted

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