H. Lovecraft - The Music of Erich Zann

The Music of Erich Zann
Название: The Music of Erich Zann
Автор:
Жанры: Мистика | Современная зарубежная литература | Зарубежная классика
Серии: Нет данных
ISBN: Нет данных
Год: Не установлен
О чем книга "The Music of Erich Zann"

A university student is forced, by his lack of funds, to take the only lodging he can afford. In a strange part of the city he had never seen before, on a street named "Rue d'Auseil", he finds an apartment in an almost empty building. One of the few other tenants is an old German man named Erich Zann. The old man is mute and plays the viol with a local orchestra. He lives on the top floor and when alone at night, plays strange melodies never heard before.

Бесплатно читать онлайн The Music of Erich Zann


The Music Of Erich Zann

I have examined maps of the city with the greatest care, yet have never again found the Rue d’Auseil. These maps have not been modern maps alone, for I know that names change. I have, on the contrary, delved deeply into all the antiquities of the place, and have personally explored every region, of whatever name, which could possibly answer to the street I knew as the Rue d’Auseil. But despite all I have done, it remains an humiliating fact that I cannot find the house, the street, or even the locality, where, during the last months of my impoverished life as a student of metaphysics at the university, I heard the music of Erich Zann.

That my memory is broken, I do not wonder; for my health, physical and mental, was gravely disturbed throughout the period of my residence in the Rue d’Auseil, and I recall that I took none of my few acquaintances there. But that I cannot find the place again is both singular and perplexing; for it was within a half-hour’s walk of the university and was distinguished by peculiarities which could hardly be forgotten by any one who had been there. I have never met a person who has seen the Rue d’Auseil.

The Rue d’Auseil lay across a dark river bordered by precipitous brick blear-windowed warehouses and spanned by a ponderous bridge of dark stone. It was always shadowy along that river, as if the smoke of neighboring factories shut out the sun perpetually. The river was also odorous with evil stenches which I have never smelled elsewhere, and which may some day help me to find it, since I should recognize them at once. Beyond the bridge were narrow cobbled streets with rails; and then came the ascent, at first gradual, but incredibly steep as the Rue d’Auseil was reached.

I have never seen another street as narrow and steep as the Rue d’Auseil. It was almost a cliff, closed to all vehicles, consisting in several places of flights of steps, and ending at the top in a lofty ivied wall. Its paving was irregular, sometimes stone slabs, sometimes cobblestones, and sometimes bare earth with struggling greenish-grey vegetation. The houses were tall, peaked-roofed, incredibly old, and crazily leaning backward, forward, and sidewise. Occasionally an opposite pair, both leaning forward, almost met across the street like an arch; and certainly they kept most of the light from the ground below. There were a few overhead bridges from house to house across the street.

The inhabitants of that street impressed me peculiarly; At first I thought it was because they were all silent and reticent; but later decided it was because they were all very old. I do not know how I came to live on such a street, but I was not myself when I moved there. I had been living in many poor places, always evicted for want of money; until at last I came upon that tottering house in the Rue d’Auseil kept by the paralytic Blandot. It was the third house from the top of the street, and by far the tallest of them all.

My room was on the fifth story; the only inhabited room there, since the house was almost empty. On the night I arrived I heard strange music from the peaked garret overhead, and the next day asked old Blandot about it. He told me it was an old German viol-player, a strange dumb man who signed his name as Erich Zann, and who played evenings in a cheap theater orchestra; adding that Zann’s desire to play in the night after his return from the theater was the reason he had chosen this lofty and isolated garret room, whose single gable window was the only point on the street from which one could look over the terminating wall at the declivity and panorama beyond.

Thereafter I heard Zann every night, and although he kept me awake, I was haunted by the weirdness of his music. Knowing little of the art myself, I was yet certain that none of his harmonies had any relation to music I had heard before; and concluded that he was a composer of highly original genius. The longer I listened, the more I was fascinated, until after a week I resolved to make the old man’s acquaintance.

One night as he was returning from his work, I intercepted Zann in the hallway and told him that I would like to know him and be with him when he played. He was a small, lean, bent person, with shabby clothes, blue eyes, grotesque, satyr-like face, and nearly bald head; and at my first words seemed both angered and frightened. My obvious friendliness, however, finally melted him; and he grudgingly motioned to me to follow him up the dark, creaking and rickety attic stairs. His room, one of only two in the steeply pitched garret, was on the west side, toward the high wall that formed the upper end of the street. Its size was very great, and seemed the greater because of its extraordinary barrenness and neglect. Of furniture there was only a narrow iron bedstead, a dingy wash-stand, a small table, a large bookcase, an iron music-rack, and three old-fashioned chairs. Sheets of music were piled in disorder about the floor. The walls were of bare boards, and had probably never known plaster; whilst the abundance of dust and cobwebs made the place seem more deserted than inhabited. Evidently Erich Zann’s world of beauty lay in some far cosmos of the imagination.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Полный текст доступен на www.litres.ru


С этой книгой читают
"The Colour Out of Space" is a 1st-person narrative written from the perspective of an unnamed Boston surveyor. In order to prepare for the construction of a new reservoir in Massachusetts, he surveys a rural area that is to be flooded near Lovecraft's fictional town of Arkham. He comes across a mysterious patch of land, an abandoned five-acre farmstead, which is completely devoid of all life.
"The Statement of Randolph Carter" is a short story by H. P. Lovecraft which tells of a traumatic event in the life of Randolph Carter, a student of the occult loosely representing Lovecraft himself.
The Call of Cthulhu, the tale of a horrifying underwater monster coming to life and threatening mankind, is H.P. Lovecraft's most famous and most widely popular tale, spawning an entire mythology, with the power to strike terror into the hearts of even the Great Old Ones.
A lighthouse keeper named Basil Elton engages upon a peculiar fantasy in which a bearded man piloting a mystical white ship is found sailing upon a bridge of moonlight. Elton joins the bearded man on this ship, and together they explore a mystical chain of islands unlike anything that can be found on Earth.
Родион родился в Тишине. Всю жизнь он пытался разгадать её тайну. Родной дом – древняя секта, заточенная в лесу, и жизнь заведомо готовит к самым неожиданным неприятностям. Вряд ли старые друзья поверят Родиону, что за стенами леса существует другая жизнь, а магия и чародейство – всего лишь продукты технического прогресса.
Девушка расстроенная ссорой со своим парнем, оказывается в странном кафе, где на стене висит картина мрачного города. Рассматривая ее, она замечает, что в окнах нарисованных домов, загорается и гаснет свет. Прикосновение к картине, каким-то таинственным образом переносит ее в этот самый город. Ее исчезновение не оставляет в покое ее парня, который не теряет надежды, чтобы найти девушку. Его собственное расследование заходит в тупик, но рассказ но
Дмитрий – знаменитый вратарь легендарной футбольной команды. Когда-то он блистал на полях России и Европы, но в один момент его карьера рухнула. Алкоголь и сигареты – вместо мяча и перчаток… Странный мир, в котором он оказывается каждую ночь… Поступок, изменивший не только его жизнь…Любовь – забытая и вновь обретённая…Сможет ли Дима изменить себя и мир вокруг? Простит ли себе и другим то, что давно было пора забыть? Что за город является в его сн
Версия романа с элементами мистической фантазии, погружает в историю России периода Гражданской войны. Жестокие испытания, выпавшие на долю главного героя, не дают возможности выполнить возложенную на него миссию. Однако, ему удается сокрыть бесценные образцы наград колчаковской армии, за которыми ведется большая охота. Доверяя мистической силе старого Сибирского шамана, он завещает «тайные знания» своей еще не родившейся дочери, имя которой Варв
Сирарпи Миграновна Тер-Нерсесян, профессор, член Американской академии Средневековья, член Национального общества антиквариев Франции и член Академии Армении, долгое время преподавала в Сорбонне и в Гарвардском университете. В своей книге она рассказывает об истории развития армянского этноса начиная с бронзового века. Исследователь делает панорамный обзор влияния других культур на общество, экономику, архитектуру и искусство вплоть до раннего Ср
Автор этой книги попытался реконструировать социальную структуру и каждодневную жизнь варваров на основе обобщающих выводов археологов, наблюдений искусствоведов и лингвистов. Рассматривается промежуток времени от II в. до н. э., когда цивилизованные народы впервые обратили внимание на варваров, до периода Великого Переселения народов IV–VI веков н. э.
Молодому федеральному агенту поручают расследовать дело о контрабанде драгоценностей. Сможет ли он распутать дело, которое оказалось невозможным для других агентов.
Отсидевший в тюрьме по ложному обвинению Крест рад бы начать все сначала, однако не все готовы забыть его статью. Его жизнь разрушена, а вот та, за чье якобы изнасилование он когда-то сел, живет припеваючи. Где справедливость? Под минутным порывом он вторгается в спокойную жизнь девушки, пытаясь стрясти с нее «долг». Вот только кто кому должен на самом деле?Содержит нецензурную брань.