Motley, John Lothrop, 1814-1877 [1839], Morton's hope, or, The memoirs of a provincial, volume 2 (Harper & Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf284v2].
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MORTON'S HOPE.
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CHAPTER XIII. THE PROFESSOR'S SUPPER.
Contrary to my expectations, I do not find that I
have preserved any thing remarkable concerning the
supper at Poodleberg's. I should have passed it over
without a comment, if it had not been necessary to show
the beginning of a plot of Pappenheim's, which was frustrated.
This plot, in conjunction with another undertaken
about the same time by Trump Von Toggenburg,
led mainly to a singular event, which I shall soon have
occasion to detail, and with which it is my purpose to
conclude this portion of my biography.
I arrived with Lackland at the house of the professor
at about nine o'clock. This establishment was on a decidedly
more extensive scale than Frau Von Rumplestern's.
A servant in a porter's gala dress presented himself
at the door on our arrival, and I immediately recognised
by his voice, my acquaintance, Diedrich. We
were announced in due form, and on ascending to the
drawing-room, found the company already assembled.
His “Magnificence,” the Pro-Rector, Professor, Counsellor,
and Baron Von Poodleberg, advanced in a dignified
manner to receive us. I found it very difficult to
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address him with the elaborate accuracy which etiquette
demanded. I mingled his “excellency” and his “magnificence,”
in a very incongruous manner. The one
was his by virtue of his title, the other by that of his
temporary office; but the former I believe ought to have
taken precedence.
No where, in fact, are such fine distinctions in the
forms of address observed as in Germany. The system
is complicated, and extends from the lowest to the highest
grades of society. If you write, for example, to a
shoe-maker or a tailor, you address the “well-born” tailor
Schneiderff, or his “well-born-ship” the shoe-maker
Braun; but if to a gentleman, whose name has the
magical prefix, Von, you style him the “highly-well-born,”
Mr. Von Katzenjammer. A count of the empire
is “high-born;” a prince is not born at all, but is addressed
as His Serenity, or (literally) His Transparency,
(Durchlaucht;) a minister of state, or an ambassador,
is His Excellency; but the pro-rector of a university is
His Magnificence.
Of course His Magnificence was too great a man to
recollect our names, so I introduced Lackland, and then
Lackland introduced me. After this we were permitted
to pay our respects to his daughter, Fräulein Ida.
She blushed excessively as I approached her, and I
at once deduced the conclusion that Pappenheim had
found time, even in this short interval, to give her a key
to the mysterious events of the preceding evening. I
was able, however, only to exchange with her a few common-place
observations, for the approach of other persons
prevented any confidential communication. Accordingly,
after a very short colloquy, I turned from her,
and surveyed the company.
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The first person I noticed was Pappenheim. His dress
was so totally different from mine, that the resemblance
between us was hardly striking, and I could hardly believe
it possible that so decided a mistake could have
been made. He begged to speak a few words with me
after supper, as he had something of importance to communicate,
and then left me to enjoy a hurried intercourse
with Ida.
The next person whom I observed, was little Popp,
the librarian. He seemed overjoyed to meet me, and
earnestly requested my opinion of the great works of the
great Mr. Von Poodleberg, which, as the reader may recollect,
he had sent me. I was ashamed to confess
that I had not even looked at the title page of any of
them, and so thought myself safe in bestowing unlimited
and unqualified praise upon every line of them.
“And the work of Professor Noodleberg?” asked
Popp. “You have found time to master that also?”
“Why;—why, no,—to say the truth, I have not entirely
finished that,” I replied.
“I knew it—I knew it,” cried Popp, rubbing his
hands triumphantly. “I knew you would be entirely
absorbed with my great patron, the great Baron Von
Poodleberg. Psha! how ridiculous to make any comparison
between the genius of Poodleberg and Noodleberg!”
“Yes; how very ridiculous!” I replied, glad to get
out of the scrape on any terms.
I passed from the humble toady of the great Poodleberg,
to pay my respects to a really great man, the Professor
and Historian Harlem. He was a plain, demurelooking
little man, with silver hair, and a placid and benevolent
cast of features. His age was at that time at
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least eighty, and yet the temperate and regular habits,
peculiar to the literati of Germany, had preserved his
constitution, and enabled him to retain the hale and robust
appearance of a healthy sexagenarian. His lectures,—
which, in the midst of my idleness and dissipation,
I never neglected regularly to attend, were still full
of youthful fire and enthusiasm, and the collection of
his printed works, which he was just about completing,
had filled a vacuum in the historical world, which had
existed for many centuries,—centuries unable to produce
a man equal to the gigantic task which this simple-looking
and simple-minded man had accomplished. His
conversation was vivacious, and almost child like in its
earnestness and its simplicity. His modesty was so perfect,
that you were apt yourself, for an instant, to forget
that you were conversing with so distinguished a historian;
and his justice and his liberality were so great,
that he had even found something to praise in the treatises
of Professor Poodleberg.
Besides these, there were present two or three painters,
a sculptor, half a dozen professors, and a nose-making
doctor. There were no ladies but Ida, and no young
men but Pappenheim, Lackland, and myself.
Supper was now announced, and the Professor, leaning
on the trusty Popp, led the way to the next room.
The rest followed, helter-skelter, and Pappenheim remained
for a few seconds tête-à-tête with Ida, who I
found, to my infinite disappointment, was not to make
one at the supper-table. On entering the room, we
found the table covered with silver, and a bottle of Rhenish
to each plate.
Two or three servants in the Poodleberg livery (which
was crimson and orange turned up with scarlet, with a
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poodle rampant on the button) were in attendance, and
the clatter of knives and forks soon began.
Whatever had been my opinion of the Professor's
literary achievements, I could not help paying profound
reverence to the excellence of his cook. It was among
the few instances in which I had found the German
cuisine (which in general is only a caricature of the
French) to my taste, and the Rhenish was certainly
magnificent.
“I am glad you approve of this Marcobrunner,” said
Poodleberg to Pappenheim. “It was a present from my
particular friend, the elector of Hesse Cassel.”
“It is worthy of the Emperor's table,” said Pappenheim,
with enthusiasm.
“Why, it is a fair wine —very fair Hock—very fair,”
said Poodleberg pompously. “Nothing, however, to
compare with some in my cellar—that which I reserve
for guests of distinction.—Is it Popp?” said he, appealing
to his today.
“Oh! no comparison, your excellency,” said the deputy-librarian.
“This is a good Rüdesheimer, Mr. Lackland,” passing
him a bottle of splendid Rhenish of that denomination.
“It is also a present. It was sent me last Wednesday
by the Archbischop of Brandenburg.”
“Yes, yes,” said Lackland, after tasting it carelessly,
“A fair wine—very fair Hock—very fair.”
The Professor looked annoyed — for it was his finest
wine; but Lackland was fond of mortifying people of the
Professor's character. It was a long time, however,
before he received another invitation from Baron Poodleberg.
The conversation was aesthetic, as may be supposed
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The pictures of Vetsch and Brandermier were discussed,
as also the poems of Offendorf, and the great tragedy of
Professor Funk. In short, the conversation was pretty
nearly on the same topics, and discussed in nearly the
same manner, as at the conversaziones of Madame de
Rumplestern.
I happened to sit near the Professor, and amused myself
for a few minutes in admiring his dress. His hair
was frizzed and powdered in an elaborate manner, and he
wore a voluminous cravat of the finest cambric, together
with ostentatious ruffles, apparently from the manufactory
of my friend the coffin-maker. His coat was of velvet,
and he wore at least a dozen orders on his left breast.
I asked him, very imprudently, as I soon discovered, the
order of which a large diamond star, the most conspicuous
of his decorations, was the symbol, and “upon that
hint he spake.”
“That star, Mr. Morton, is the sign of a Knight Grand
Cross of the Three-tailed Tiger, of the first class — an
order, Sir, which is worn almost exclusively by crowned
heads, and which, in fact, has only been bestowed on
three subjects in Europe, of which I have the honour to
be one. It was presented to me exactly six years and
nine months ago by the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg, on
the publication of my treatise on the `Comparative Anatomy
of Philology.'
“This smaller cross, Sir,” he continued, holding it up
in his thumb and finger, “is the emblem of the order of
the Polar Bear, presented to me on the same occasion by
the Emperor of all the Russias. This next is the
`Golden Jackass,' an order bestowed exclusively on literati;
and this is the great double-headed ostrich, third
class, which I have just receive from the Emperor of
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Austria. Besides these, you perceive I have many others;
but I will not fatigue you at present with their history.”
“Thank God, you have some conscience,” thought I,
as I expressed my gratitude for his condescension.
In the mean time, Professor Harlem had slipped off,
as well as several other of the guests, among whom was
Lackland.
At a moment when the Professor was engaged in a
pompous explanation of a certain disputed chapter in his
last treatise to Popp and half-a-dozen others of his
warmest admirers, Pappenheim made me a sign, and together
we made our escape.
“Wait for me an instant in the street,” said he, when
he had shut the door. “I wish to exchange half-a-dozen
words with Ida, and then, as our way home is the same,
I can tell you what I wish.”
“I went down stairs, and stepped into the porter's room,
where I had left my cloak. On pretence of looking for
a stick, which I had not brought with me, I took a survey
of the inmates of the room — Diedrich, namely, and his
wife, Gretel.
“You keep the Baron pretty safe, Master Diedrich,”
said I, taking up the ponderous house-key. No fear of
housebreakers, I suppose, in this peaceful city.”
“Ah! Herr Jesus!” said the porter's wife. Not as
peaceful as you may suppose, Sir.”
“Why, how so?” said I.
“This house, Sir,” resumed Gretel solemnly, was
broken open yesterday night.”
“Ah! indeed!” “No damage done, I hope.”
“None Sir; but all owing to the valour of my husband
Diedrich. Twelve men, Sir, if you will believe me
assaulted the house. The gate was broken open, and one
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rushed rapidly up the stairs; before any of the rest had
found time to follow him, my husband, Diedrich, sprang
from this room, and disputed the passage. After over-throwing
seven, he was at last set upon and discomfited
by the rest, who immediately decamped carrying with
them all the silver spoons. We followed them, but could
not come up with them; and on our return we found
half-a dozen more, who had secreted themselves in the
passage during our absence. These my husband Diedrich
succeeded in thrusting out, after incredible exertions,
just as the Professor's carriage came up to the door.”
I presented her husband Diedrich with a gulden, in
recompense for his broken head the night before, and
herself with another, for her ingenious version of the
story, and then I left the house.
As I stood waiting for Pappenheim, in the shadow of
the house, two figures passed me, engaged in earnest
conversation. They were muffled in cloaks; but I recognized
in them the Jew Potiphar, and Skamp the coffin-maker.
Directly afterwards Pappenheim joined me, and we
took our way homewards.
“You will not be surprised,” said he, “considering
the singular circumstances of our acquaintance, if I admit
you at once to my confidence, particularly as accident
has already almost taken the task off my hands.”
“Well,” thought I, “here I am, a confidant, for the
third time; and it is a little odd that I should be the
chosen depositary of the secrets of three such different
persons as Rabenmark, Trump, and Pappenheim.”
“We have not time,” he continued, “to enter into
particulars. All that is necessary for you to know, however,
till to-morrow, I can say in three words. My
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purpose is to marry Ida Von Poodleberg. Her father will
not consent, because I am poor, and dependent on my
uncle, who he thinks is also poor. It is a mistake, however,
for he is rich. My uncle, however, will not consent,
for Poodleberg is a plebeian—a baronized butcher's
boy, (his original trade) whose muddy blood should never
flow in the pure veins of the Pappenheims. The consequence
is, we are determined to elope, and gain the
consent of the other parties afterwards.
“To do this, however, is no easy matter, and I very
much desire the assistance of one trusty friend.—Will
you be that friend?”
“With pleasure.”
“Thank you. It will, perhaps, afford you some
amusement to know that our principal colleague in the
enterprise is your friend Popp, the librarian. Here is
my room—it is too late, I suppose, to invite you in. Will
you try to come here punctually at ten to-morrow
night?”
“Yes—good-night.”
“Sleep well,” said Pappenheim.
CHAPTER XIV. THE PLOT.
“Hallo Mein Herr Morton!” said Trump Von Toggenburg,
out of his window to me, as I passed down the
Weender Strasse the next morning. “Hallo—I wish
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to consult with you on matters of importance. Come up
and smoke a pipe with me—I have some kanaster tobacco,
just sent to me by my cousin Prince Trump Von
Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer-Hapsburg—you shall have a
pipe of it—come.”
I went up stairs, and found the “Count of the Holy
Roman Empire” stretched on his sofa, with a cup of
coffee and the (“Geschichte der Gräflichen Familien
Deutschlands,”) the history of the “count families” of
Germany, on the table before him.
He was dressed in a tawdry smoking-cap, a rather
seedy dressing-gown, and a pair of Russian slipper-boots,
and was smoking with great diligence a handsome
meerschaum.
“This is the best tobacco to colour a meerschaum,”
said he, as I entered. “You see how beautifully I am
managing this pipe. My cousin, who sent me this tobacco,
is a great connoisseur in meerschaums—all my
cousins are—all our family are—all German noblemen
are. My cousin, the prince, has one hundred and twenty-five
meerschaums, all of which he has smoked into
the most exquisite colour. Wait, Caspar shall fill you
a pipe.”
He rang the bell, and an ancient and whimsical-looking
servant, in a shabby livery, presented himself.
“Fill a pipe for Mr. Morton, Caspar.”
“Shall I take your usual tobacco at two groschen the
pound, your excellency?” asked Caspar.
“No, you booby!” said Trump, reddening at this
exposition of his economy; “take the petit kanaster I
received yesterday from my cousin, Prince Von Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer.”
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“Yes, your excellency;” and Caspar filled me the
pipe, and brought another coffee-cup, and departed.
“I have ordered a new livery for Caspar, but the
confounded tailor is so dilatory, that he has got to look
very shabby. The difficulty is in finding the exact
shade of colours necessary. The coat is sky-blue, and
the collar and cuffs should be of a very peculiar shade
of green—very difficult to be found; and you know it
would not do for a servant of the house of Toggenburg
to wear a coat whose colours were not of the exact shade
of the heraldic colours of the family. However, the tailor
has sent to Brunswick, and I have no doubt that
Caspar will soon be fitted out. In the meantime, it
must be confessed, he looks a little shabby. Take another
cup of coffee.”
“Are you going to the ball to-morrow night at the
commandant's?” I asked.
“Yes. I have just procured Judith and her father
an invitation. To think, after all the trouble I am at in
patronising her plebeian of a father, that the Hebrew
blackguard still refuses his consent to our union. However,
I have determined to out-do him, and Judith has
promised to run away with me. After the marriage, I
am convinced he will give his consent. Will you assist
me?”
“Oh, most willingly.”
“Thank you. This was the important matter I wished
to consult you upon. We have not yet fixed upon
our plan. I hope to consult upon the whole affair tomorrow,
with Judith. In the meantime, if you should
happen to think of any plausible method, I hope you
will let me know.”
“Leave it all to me, Trump,” said I, “for the
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present at least. I think I shall be able to devise a plan in
the course of the next twenty-four hours, that will suit
your purpose. In the meantime I am hurried, and must
bid you good morning.”
About ten the same evening I directed my steps to
Pappenheim's. He lived in a house in the Vorstadt.
There was a garden around it, and it was close to the
rampart. I inquired of an old woman at the door, if
Baron Pappenheim lodged there, and was told to ascend
two flights. I did so. It was pitch-dark in the passage,
but I was directed by the sound of a piano. I knocked,
and received no answer. Without further notice, I opened
the door, and walked in. The room was partially
lighted by the moon, and partly by a shaded lamp in
one cornice. There was no one but Pappenheim in the
room. He sat at the piano—his head stretched backwards
in an ecstacy, and playing a wild sort of measure,
in a violent, but masterly manner.
“Hush—hush!” said he, without looking around;
“don't interrupt me. I am composing. Sit down, and
be quiet.”
“Very civil,” thought I—particularly as I am here
at your own bidding, and on your own business. However,
my double seems to be a humourist. I will observe
him.”
Pappenheim continued to play. He touched the instrument
with the hand of a master, and a strain of a
wild and most unearthly melody resounded through the
room. Presently he began to sing a rambling sort of
ballad, changing the metre according to the changing
measure, which was about as uncouth and unmeaning
as the music.
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“Words and music are both your own composition,”
said I, as he concluded, and turned round for applause.
“Oh, yes:—I am a great composer,—I have a passion
for music and for drawing; a little touch of anatomy,
too, as you see,”—pointing to the skeleton and the
head; “however, there is a little hypocrisy in that. My
uncle in Prague is a great naturalist,—full of chemistry,
botany, and more especially anatomy; and the only way
for me to keep on the right side of him, is by appearing
excessively interested in his favourite pursuits. There's
a little of the grand science of diplomacy in that, you see?
That head, by the way, is a present from our mutual
friend, the skinner; and I am going to send it by the
baggage-wagon to my uncle in Prague. It is the head
of Hanswurst the house-breaker, who was executed the
other day, you know.”
“Yes:—Gottlob told me about him, with his regrets
at not superintending the operation.”
“Well,—well;—we have no time to lose.—Let me
tell you my plot.”
“Stay a moment,” said I; “you know of Trump
Von Toggenburg's amour with Miss Potiphar!”
“Yes.”
“How should you like to have him associated in your
enterprise?”
“Trump is a crazy mountebank; but is an honourable
and brave fellow. I have no objection:—but what
good will he do?”
“Trump has the same virtuous intentions with regard
to Miss Potiphar,” said I, “as you with the Fräulein
Ida. Now, by making a common job of it, I should
think you might mutually assist each other. How did
you propose managing your elopement?”
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“In this way,” answered Pappenheim; “you know
Popp, the librarian, is a most trusty and confidential adherent
of old Poodleberg?”
“Yes.”
“Well; the Professor has a married sister living in
Brunswick;—Ida is to pay a visit to her:—she is to depart
the day after the ball at Wallenstein's, in a postchaise:—
Popp is to be her escort:—there will be no one
else in the carriage, but Ida's old woman-servant.”
“Madame Meerschaum?” said I.
“How the deuce did you know her name?”—Ah! I
forgot: — a-hem,—well,—no matter:—Ida has told me
all about it, and about the presents she gave you, without
intending it:—no matter!—
“Well, then: Popp and Madame Meerschaum are
to be the escorts,—two foes who are not very formidable.
Now, I propose, that you and I should put on masks;
attack the carriage, in the guise of robbers; knock
down the postillions; empty out Mother Meerschaum
and the deputy librarian; and mount the horses ourselves,
and drive to Eckendorf, a town only fifteen miles
from here. There shall be a parson in waiting, and
every thing shall be done in the most orthodox and romantic
manner.”
“Well:—let me suggest a change in your plan. Do
you and Trump contrive to get the postillions drunk,
and take their places on starting. Miss Potiphar must
be disguised as a lady's maid, and smuggled into the
carriage. Popp's permission to this will be easily obtained
on some plausible pretext. Then I will myself
ride forward on horseback; and Lackland, who is always
ready for a lark, will accompany me. A few miles
from Einbeck, we will put on our masks, and attack the
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carriage. You, of course, as postillions, will be frightened
to death, and stop. I shall open the carriage, and
insist on all the passengers alighting. We will then secure
Popp, and mother Meerschaum, and then you have
the coast clear, and may go when and where you
please.”
“Excellent!—this will do very well: but, of course,
we must have a consultation with Trump?”
“Certainly. He is now occupied in concocting some
plan of his own in his own wise head; but as I have
begged him to defer all definite measures, till he hears
from us, there is no doubt that he will agree to it all.”
“Very well:—we will settle all the preliminaries tomorrow,
and the plan shall be carried into execution on
the day after the commandant's ball.”
CHAPTER XV. A THÉ DANSANT.
The Commandant Von Wallenstein gave his periodical
ball. He was, as I have said, a stern, grave man, and
interested himself but little in matters of society. His
position, however, rendered it necessary for him to entertain
occasionally, and he therefore had been in the habit
of setting aside a certain evening, in each half-year,
when the whole of Göttingen were invited.
This party was called a “dancing-tea,” (or thé dansant,”
in the French, which was of course affected by
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the fashionables there, as every where,) because they
drank tea, and danced; in opposition to the “aesthetic
tea” of Frau Von Rumplestern, and others, where they
drank tea, and talked aesthetics.
And they did dance with a vengeance! I hardly know
why people have a fancy for calling the Germans dull!
Certainly, as far as my experience goes, they are all,
high and low, rich and poor, noble and simple, among
the gayest, the most enthusiastic, and the most mercurial
of the nations of earth. As for dancing, it always
seems to me that no other people dance at all.
A German ball, in a provincial town, is the only party
I have ever seen, where people apparently meet for the
sake of dancing, and for that alone.
I went at six in the evening, being determined to see
the whole ceremony, and found a large company already
assembled. The guests were received by the Commandant,
and his daughter, the Countess Bertha, in a small
boudoir, which communicated with a dancing-saloon of
noble dimensions, into which they were immediately
afterwards ushered.
Bertha was beautiful that night;—she was a perfect
incarnation of Germany,—the blonde, blue-eyed, fair-haired
Germany. She was in white; but a dark chaplet
of oak-leaves, and red ivy berries, contrasted finely
with her sunny tresses, and with the exquisite whiteness
of her skin.
Her father was in full uniform, with a bunch of orders
dangling at his breast.
I made my bow to her on entering, and her wandering
eyes lighted up with an emotion of pleasure. “I
am so glad to see you,” she cried, “for I know you are
an intimate friend of —” and here she blushed and
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faltered a little,—“of my father's,” concluded she, with a
laugh, and turning me over to the Commandant.
“Otto will be here soon,” I whispered; “I left him
an hour ago.”
“I am afraid to ask you how he was employed,—at little
of good, I fear. Alas, poor Otto!—why must his glorious
genius, his bravery, his wit, his accomplishments,
be thus thrown away?—why must the materials of a
hero thus prematurely evaporate into the vapid and uncertain
smoke, which is a student's existence?”
“These very metaphysical questions, gracious Fraulein,”
I replied, “have but one answer. I would make
that answer,—but here comes one more qualified.” And
as Otto Von Rabenmark made his bow, I made my exit
into the dancing-room.
There was an immense circle of dancers, which reached
entirely round the saloon;—nearly all the company
present were upon the floor. A few remained on the
seats that were ranged round the wall, but they were
apparently the lame, the halt, and the blind. All the
able-bodied, from sixteen to ninety-six, were divided into
couples, and standing at their posts.
A band of music was stationed in the gallery, and a
glorious overture of Mozart's rose and floated through the
vaulted saloon. Ah! Germany is indeed the Paradise of
Music, and with that luxury in unbounded and endless
profusion, what other earthly dainty is there that we
may not forego? I felt the influence of those god-like
strains upon every fibre of my soul. All present felt it,
and were happy, they knew not why. Those glorious
harmonies swept like a south wind of music over every
human bosom, and caused the hearts of all to dance and
flutter, and vibrate and sigh, like linden-leaves in the
passing breeze.
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'Twas finished!—those sweet and solemn strains
were hushed; and ere the last dying cadence had melted
in the air, the music of a mirthful and bewildering
waltz whirled from its fainting echoes, and circled round
the room in rapid eddies of heart-inspiring melody. All
were drawn at once into the vortex, and glided round the
hall, responsive to the merry measure.
What music is so gladdening, so intoxicating, as a
German waltz played by a German band? My heels
flew up incontinently, and I looked round for a partner.
They were all engaged, except a woman with one leg,
and another who was blind. Madame de Rumpelstern
was there, to be sure; but as I knew she was eighty,
she was, of course, not to be thought of. I went up to
her, however, to beg her advice and influence in securing
a partner, when suddenly a tall student danced out of the
crowd, and flung his arms round her waist. The amiable
octagenarian, nothing loth, abandoned herself to his
guidance, and after waiting a few seconds for an opening
in the whirlpool, away they span, “like two cockchafers
spitted on one pin.”
After this I could not deny that Germany was the
land of dancing as well as of music, and I determined to
ask the lady with the cork leg. She was afraid to venture,
however with a partner she was not used to; and
as I found the blind woman was deaf into the bargain,
and could not hear a word of my invitation, I gave up the
point altogether.
I wandered into an adjoining room and found several
old gentlemen playing whist. Poodleberg was there
explaining his orders; Harlem was eating an ice, and
the Commandant and Professor Noodleberg were playing
ecarté. There was nothing for me to do but be a spectator.
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Luckily, as I returned into the dancing saloon, I found
Trump and Pappenheim, who were both dancing with
their mistresses. In accordance with a convenient German
custom, (called hospitiren,) I borrowed Miss Potiphar
for a round or two, and after a slight repose, I
requested the loan of Ida Poodleberg for a few minutes
of her lover. This was, of course, granted. Ida danced
exquisitely. In the course of the waltz she found time
to thank me in the warmest manner for the interest I had
taken and was to take in her affairs, and after I had
promised that we would all have a consultation together
next day respecting the grand plan for to-morrow, I resigned
her into the arms of her lover Pappenheim.
With a few exceptions, I saw no conversation between
the gentlemen and ladies. This was partly, to be sure,
to be accounted for by the slight intercourse and consequently
slight acquaintance, which had previously existed
between them. The beaux were the officers of the
regiment stationed there, and as many students as were
sufficiently sober that evening to attend, and of course
there were not likely to be many topics of sympathetic
interest between the mass of these latter and the ladies.
Accordingly, when not actually dancing, they stood
together in couples,
“Like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start,”
and patiently and silently waiting till it was their turn to
spin round the room.
There were some exceptions, however, of course; and
I saw a few cases of flirtation and love-making in the
old-fashioned way. I was amused also in watching the
diligent manner in which Trump payed his court to
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Miss Potiphar. I happened to be standing near them
as he brought up to her a stiff-looking gentleman in
white moustanchios.
“Let me introduce to you, Miss Judith,” he said,
“my cousin, the Prince Trump Von Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer-Hapsburg.
I wish you to be acquainted with
as many of my family as possible. Very extensive, however,
are the connections of our house. Perhaps one of
the most interesting exhibitions I have beheld lately was
a tea-party at Count Von Toggenburg's, in Dresden.
There were fifty individuals present, and it so happened
that they were all Toggenburgs. Let me see—there
were Count and Countess Toggenburg-Hopsburg; Baron,
Baroness, and the seven little Barons ToggenburgPuffendorf;
the Prince Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer, with
his Princess, and various others. How very interesting!
was it not, dearest Judith?”
“Oh, delightful!” and the Jewess's long black eyes
flashed with joy at the splendid family connection she
was about to make.
After they had waltzed from six till midnight, eight
persons executed a quadrille, called here a francaise, and
then they retired to their seats, while the supper-tables
were brought in.
Long plain wooden tables were arranged through the
whole length of the saloon, and the various component
parts of the supper were expeditiously laid upon them.
An immense tureen of broth, always the main refreshment
at a German ball, towered conspicuous above the
whole. The banquet-table was surrounded by a bevy of
matrons and maids, who were heated, exhausted, and
panting for the homœopathic refreshment.—Their coiffures
had been totally destroyed by their exercise—their
curls had all vanished, and with their long hair drooping
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over their necks and shoulders, and their faces haggard
with fatigue, they reminded me, as they dropped impatiently
around the steaming soup-tureen, of the witches
of Macbeth dancing round their infernal cauldron.
The supper was despatched—the tables cleared away
like magic—and again the music sounded—and again
the waltz began. I waited till the gray tints of morning
began to extinguish the candles; and although the ball
did not break up till much later, (from six P. M. to six A. M.
is a usual allowance for a thé dansant,) I then found myself
exhausted and took myself off.
CHAPTER XVI. TWO ELOPEMENTS.
“And so you think the plan feasible?” said I to Trump,
after detailing to him the Pappenheim plot.
“Perfectly so. You may rely upon me. How did
you think Judith looked last night?”
“As beautiful as Jezebel, and worthy of king Solomon,”
said I.
“Spare me, my good fellow, those Hebrew allusions,
and look upon her only as a Countess Von Toggenburg,
and a future mother of a race of Toggenburgs.”
“Very well—I am off for Popp. Where do you think
I shall find him?”
“Most probably at his own house, packing up his
portmanteau for Paris.”
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“Well—perhaps I may borrow half-a-dozen shirts of
him, for the use of Mr.— what's his travelling
name, Trump?”
“Wildheim—it is a name collaterally connected with
my own.”
“Very well—you will give Mr. Von Wildheim the
necessary instructions then, and hold yourself in readiness.”
“Yes. Good morning.”
I went down the street, and had not advanced twenty
paces, before I met Popp. He was toddling along, with
his nose in the air, and thinking, I suppose, of Paris and
Professor Poodleberg.
“Good morning, Mr. Deputy, Sub-Deputy, and the
rest of it, Popp!”
“Ah, my Cherokee friend, Mr. Morton,—good morning,
Mein Herr—good morning. Is it really true, then,
that you are a sachem and emperor in your own country?
Baron Poodleberg says it is a fact; and if Baron
Poodle—”
“Yes, yes—all true—all true; but we have not time
for that just now. I have a particular request for your
ear, Mr. Deputy, Sub-Deputy, &c. &c. Popp.”
“Plain Popp—plain Popp, among friends. It is only
on formal occasions that the etiquette of society requires
the whole of our German titles.”
“Well then, plain Popp, I am sure your generous
heart will not deny me—”
“Proceed, Mein Herr Morton. I am sure that I shall
be proud to gratify you. There is no person I have a
more profound respect for than yourself. Baron Poodleberg
says your pronunciation of the Chickasaw and
Squantabago is perfect. When I get to Paris, whither I
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am going directly after having conveyed the charming
daughter of Baron Poodleberg to Brunswick, I shall certainly
mention your—”
“Very well, very well—my obligations will be great—
my request touches your immediate journey. There
is a young friend of mine, Baron Wildheim, who is proceeding
to Brunswick, on a matter of—”
“To Brunswick! my mission is also thither. The
great Baron Poo—”
“D—n the great Baron Poodleberg! Mr. Popp, do
have the kindness to listen to me an instant;” and so
Mr. Popp, struck perfectly aghast at the idea of any one,
not even excepting a Cherokee chieftain, presuming to
d—n Baron Poodleberg, at last was silenced, and listened
with tolerable composure. I represented to him that Mr.
Wildheim was a young gentleman in the diplomatic
line, the bearer of important despatches; that he was in
a hurry to get to Brunswick—that his carriage had
broken down, his servant fallen sick, and a parcel of rigmarole,
concluding with my express conviction that the
peace of Europe would infallibly be endangered if the
young gentleman's journey were delayed twenty-four
hours longer; and that the only possible means of
avoiding that catastrophe, was his obtaining the spare
seat in Popp's carriage.
Finding that he should have a general war on his
conscience, if he did not accede, and a little pleased too,
it may be, with the prospect of having so important a
travelling companion, Popp, after a little hesitation, complied.
“Of course you understand it is to be a profound secret,”
said I. “Not a word to the great Baron Poodleberg.”
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“Very well—good bye, Mr. Morton—perhaps we shall
meet in Paris.”
“We shall meet a little sooner than that, Mr. Popp,”
thought I, as I hastened to Pappenheim.
I told him of my success with Popp, and that the
journey was fixed for that evening. They were to start
at eight.
“You must take care to execute your designs on the
postillions.”
“Oh, apropos of that. Your friend Lackland has
suggested a plan for that part of the business, which, by
the way, seemed to me, on reflection, not a little difficult.”
“Yes—to be sure. A German postillion is not so
easily vanquished, even by a German student. What
is Lackland's plan?”
“We were talking it over, and almost despairing,
when he luckily thought of `crooked Skamp,' the coffin-maker—
he can do any thing. He can drink the ocean
dry. Besides, there are certain drugs for possets, which
no one understands better than he.”
“Excellent!—but has Lackland seen him?”
“Yes, and has already given him a retaining fee, and
admitted him to our confidence. He promises to settle
the whole matter in the most expeditious manner.”
“Very well. I will go to Lackland's; and do you
settle every thing with Fräulein Ida.”
Some hours after this, I found myself on horse-back,
with a silk mask over my face, in company with Lackhand
and the respectable Skamp, who had insisted on
accompanying us, and whom we found a most trusty
ally.
There was a thick wood which extended to a
-- 027 --
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considerable distance on the right-hand side of the road.
We had placed ourselves under its shadow, and were
waiting impatiently for the approach of the carriage.
“Allow me, your excellencies,” said the coffin-maker,
“to be the first to accost the carriage. Much may be
done by civility on these occasions, and much is to be
gained by experience.”
“By experience, Mr. Skamp,” I exclaimed; “then
this seems not to be the first time you have been engaged
on expeditions of the same meritorious character?”
“Why,—a-hem,—why, you see I have served in the
cavalry,—and—a-hem,—but hark! I think I hear the
carriage-wheels.”
We listened. The carriage was evidently approaching.
It was no time to deliberate; but I at once settled
that my amiable companion, had at times, united the
functions of highwayman to his other multifarious professions.
“The postillions are—”
“Count Toggenburg and Mr. Von Pappenheim. I
left Messieurs Schmidt and Schnobb, who were to have
officiated, sound asleep at the `swine.' They will hardly
be awake this day-week.”
“Very well! — here they come, — now for it, old
Skamp!” whispered Lackland.
It was a bright moonlight night. We discerned the
carriage in the distance approaching us rapidly. Presently
the psuedo-postillions seemed to recognise us, and
began to slacken their pace. When they reached us,
the horses were trotting very slowly.
As agreed upon, Lackland and I galloped forward,
and seized the heads of the horses. The postillions remonstrated,
and after a sham fight of a few moments, allowed
themselves to be tumbled from their saddles.
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The ladies shrieked, of course; but it was easy
enough for the initiated to distinguish the fictitious cries
of Ida from the genuine and terrified screams of Mother
Meerschaum.
Skamp advanced in his mask to the carriage-window,
which had already been let down, and addressed the
company in the blandest manner.
“Gentlemen and ladies; we have no intention of
robbing or incommoding you. We are weary wayfarers,
and have performed a long journey. We are desirous
for reasons of importance to reach Brunswick to-night.
We are therefore obliged, however much we may regret
it, to request the loan of your carriage for a few hours.
Be assured, that the obligation will be gratefully acknowledged,
and the carriage faithfully restored.”
The civil manner of the supposed highwayman inspired
Popp with a little courage. He had been previously
lying back in the carriage, in a paroxysm of
fear. He now began to bluster. “Perhaps you are
not aware,” said he, “that this carriage belongs to the
great Baron Poodleberg, and that I am the deputy, subdeputy,
&c. Popp, who am proceeding as the especial
escort of the Fräulein Ida Poodleberg, on her journey to
her aunt in Brunswick. After the journey is accomplished,
I shall probably proceed to Par—”
It was Popp's fate to be interrupted on this, as on every
other occasion. As there was no time to be lost, the
coffin-maker thought proper to thrust the barrel of a particularly
long horse-pistol under the nose of the refractory
librarian.
“I am very sorry indeed,” said Skamp, still in the
most gentle and subdued voice. “I am very sorry to
put so respectable a personage to a temporary
-- 029 --
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inconvenience; but circumstances are pressing. It is fortunate,
however, that you mentioned the Baron Poodleberg's
name. The Baron is a particular friend of mine, and I
am happy that I shall soon have an opportunity of expressing
to him my obligations. Have the goodness to
alight.”
Popp, whose courage had completely evaporated under
the influence of Skamp's last argument, got out. He
was very obedient, but very sulky.
“Allow me to bind this cloth round your eyes,” said
Skamp to Popp.
“Very well, sir; very well; I say nothing; but Baron
Poodleberg shall hear of it, I warrant you,” said
Popp to Skamp.
“I hope this does not at all inconvenience you,” said the
coffin-maker. “By the way, I shall be obliged to fasten
you to this tree, for the present. You do not object, I
hope, to bivouacking occasionally in the open air. It is
a fine night, sir,—remarkably fine,” continued he, gravely,
while he was securing him to a tree. “I never saw
brighter moonlight. I have no doubt you will be perfectly
comfortable. But I beg pardon, I am neglecting
my duty to the fair sex most shamefully. Excuse me
for a moment, Mr. Librarian.” And with this he left
Popp, securely tied to the tree, his eyes bound fast with
a thick handkerchief, and again directed his steps to the
carriage.
Madame Meerschaum had screamed herself into hysterics,
and was now lying more dead than alive, in the
corner of the seat.
“Madame,” said Skamp, taking off his hat in the
politest manner, “I am very sorry to incommode so
charming a young lady; but really I must beg you to
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[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]
alight. Your friend, Mr. Popp, already finds himself
quite at ease, and is impatient that you should join him.
Shall I assist you out?”
The old lady aroused herself, and suffered herself to
be taken out of the carriage The same process was
quickly administered to her, in the most expeditious
manner, by the accomplished Skamp Her eyes were
gently but securely bandaged, and she was placed back
to back to Popp, and fastened to the same tree.
“There now!' said Skamp, “what can be more
pleasant? You look quite sociable and happy! I never
saw a more perfect picture of connubial happiness and
friendship! Quite like two turtle-doves in one nest!
What a beautiful night too! What a charming time you
will have! Good night, Madame Meerschaum! Good
night, dear Mr. Popp! By the way, you hardly need to
know the passing hours to-night, your time will pass so
pleasantly, that you will not need your watch.” And
so he concluded by helping himself to a huge silver
watch which dangled by a brass chain from Popps capacious
fob.
A hurried whisper from Lackland, however, who represented
to him how utterly they would be compromised
by such conduct, caused him to relinquish it.
`On second thoughts, however, it may be of use to
you, and it seems valuable,” said he, returning it with
a sigh, to the owner's pocket; “I had wished to retain
some memorial of our delightful acquaintance; but on
the whole, it is unnecessary. But it is past one,—time
presses,—once more, good night, my dear, dear friends.”
Upon this Ida and Judith were packed into the carriage,—
Lackland and I took took the vacant seats of
Popp and Madame Meerschaum, and the postillions
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[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]
remounted. The coffin-maker, having received the immense
gratuity which had been promised him, galloped
off to his virtuous home, while the carriage rattled on
towards Brunswick.
What befel us before we arrived there, will be related
in another chapter.
CHAPTER XVII. THE PLOT DISCOVERED.
“Horses directly—four horses! We have no time for
delay,” said Lackland, as we drove up to the post-house
at Wolfenbüttel.
“Alas, Sir!” said the landlord, “I am afraid you must
be put to a little inconvenience—the horses are all gone
out, and it may be three hours before any arrive.”
“We have nothing for it then,” said I, to Lackland,
“but to go into the house quietly, and wait. I am not
sorry myself, for I had an indifferent dinner, and I see
no reason why you and I, who are not lovers, should not
have our supper and a bottle of Rhenish.”
“None in the world, my dear fellow; but these false
postillions must take care to smuggle themselves into the
room, and change their dresses. It would seem a little
extraordinary to the landlord if the gentlemen and ladies
were found supping with the postillions who brought
them.”
An idle pair of boys was discovered, who engaged for
a gratuity to take our horses back to the last post-town
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[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
Trump and Pappenheim then slipped into the house
and having exchanged their postillion's dress for their
usual habiliments, which they had brought with them,
joined the rest of us in a private parlour of the inn. Lackhand
engaged the very first set of horses that should come
in, and in the mean time ordered supper.
“How delightful it is!” said Ida. What a romantic
adventure! I never enjoyed myself more. I think I
should like to be run away with every day. How funny
Madame Meerschaum looked, tied to old Popp. What
would papa say?”
Judith Potiphar looked superbly in her masquerade.
Her dress, which was fanciful, and which would have
created astonishment in any other quarter of the world,
hardly attracted notice here. The habits of the German
students, and particularly their dress, are to this day so
grotesque, that any masking habiliments, however bizarre
or fanciful, would be hardly so likely to be commented
upon, as would an ordinary and common place array.
Judith had been accordingly left at liberty to decorate
herself in the most becoming manner, and aided by a
rich wardrobe and a tolerable taste in costume, she had
succeeded admirably.
“How do I look in this pretty dress?” said she, addressing
her lover.
“Divinely! By the way, dearest Judith, do you know
that in that cap and waistcoat you are so like my great-grandfather,”
answered Trump.
“Oh, what a compliment! those horrid grandfathers
of yours,” said she despondingly.
“My dearest, I mean a beautiful picture by Hans Holbein,
which hangs in the castle at Toggenburg, representing
my great ancestor at the age of seventeen, in a walking-dress.”
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[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]
“Very well,” said Judith, “but did you see how fierce
I looked when the carriage was attacked? I swore twice
at the robbers. Did you hear me swear? How did I
look swearing?”
“How could I possibly see you, when I was being
knocked down in my character of postillion? But here
comes the landlord and the supper after him, I suppose.”
The supper-table was laid, and when operations commenced,
it was found that the events of the evening had
served to sharpen the appetites of all. Even the ladies
were prevailed upon to eat with more good-will than
might be thought becoming on so interesting an occasion.
When we had half finished our repast, the landlord
came in. He observed that there were a couple of strangers
who had stopped there for the night. All his parlours
were engaged but that one and as we only intended
to stop for fresh horses, he must beg us to allow the
stranger gentlemen to share our room.
We had nothing for it but to be civil, and Trump, who
was very good natured just then, and thought no harm,
desired the landlord to invite the gentlemen in, and help
finish our supper with us.
The landlord accordingly departed with this polite
request, and presently after the door was again opened.
Trump, who was letting off a bottle of Champagne at
the moment, accidentally held the cork in the direction
of the door As our expected guests entered, it flew from
the bottle like a shot, and hit one of the strangers full on
the nose.
“Holy father Abraham!” exclaimed the wounded
party. “What a concussion!—the bridge of my nose is
fractured!”
It was too late to retreat—the whole truth stood
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[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
revealed, and our confusion may easily be conceived,
beholding, in the two strangers, the Jew Potiphar and
Mr. Steinmann, the uncle of Ida Poodleberg, and the very
person she was going to Brunswick to visit.
I shall not attempt to detail the scenes which occurred.
Of course the disguise of Judith was easily discovered by
her crafty father; and Ida could not fail to be at once
recognized by her relation. Of course, the ladies were
each separately seized by their respective legal proprietors,
and the crest-fallen lovers, together with their respectable
coadjutors Lackland and myself returned to Göttingen.
The presence of Potiphar and Steinmann, so inopportunely
at that time and place, was purely accidental.
Steinmann, who was a man of low extraction, and who
had amassed a considerable sum of money on about the
same plan, and with about as few scruples, as Potiphar,
engaged with the Jew in various speculations. I have
already hinted at the contraband nature of some of these
transactions, and of his connections with our worthy ally,
Mr. Skamp. The nature of such mercantile proceedings
necessarily required much secresy, and it was on an expedition
of peculiar urgency and secresy that Potiphar
had clandestinely left his home to meet his partner at
Wolfenbüttel, on the very night of his daughter's elopement.
Although the details of this particular transaction, as
well as of several others, were subsequently revealed to
me, I do not think it worth while to fatigue the reader
with a recital of them. All that is necessary for him to
know at present I have already mentioned. The concurrence
of the two events was one of those annoying
coincidences which are perfectly natural, and therefore
not worthy further detailing upon.
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Miss Ida was, of course, taken carefully off to Brunswick,
and the Jew and his “backsliding daughter” returned
to Göttingen.
CHAPTER XVIII. A LANDESVATER.
After this adventure, which, as may be supposed, it
was for the interest of all parties concerned to keep sedulously
secret, the course of life of my companions and
myself became utterly reckless. A partial restraint had
been put upon the conduct of Trump and Pappenheim
by their intended pians, and they had mingled more
freely in the society of the place than they would have
otherwise found consistent with their inclinations. As
for me, I had become sick of literary balls and aesthetic
tea-parties. The unhappy circumstances which had
created such a change in my career, and such a revolution
in my character, again recurred to my memory. I
was subject, as it were, to intermittent fits of insanity,
and I flew to scenes of the maddest excitement, the
wildest and most unbounded revelry, for distraction and
relief.
It was the sole end and aim of my existence at this
period, to drag myself out of myself—to escape from my
own consciousness; to annihilate, as it were, my identity.
My memory was a charnel-house,—and was it
strange that I should flee from it, and seek relief abroad?
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[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
I seemed to be walking as in a dream. I laughed and
revelled, and interested myself forcibly in the affairs of
others, and seemed a gay and indifferent man. But
there were moments when my heart would be alone;
no matter how many forms and faces surrounded me;
and it was then that I was indeed a wretch. There
were moments when memory would seize her torch, and
light up the inmost recesses of my soul, till, in its deadly
glare, those misfortunes which had begun to yield to the
influence of time, again presented themselves to my eyes,
in all their original hideousness, and I fled shrieking
from myself.
It is only for this, that I can force myself to palliate
any part of my conduct; and, although I do not mean
to dwell much upon the details of the lawless and abandoned
career to which a few companions and myself devoted
ourselves at this time, yet it is necessary for the
elucidation of the great moral which it is the purpose of
this work to convey, that I should at least offer this
passing comment upon an eventful, but most wasted portion
of my life.
I have already said enough for my purpose; and the
few scenes with which I shall conclude this book, I have
preserved, partly because they contain adventures peculiar
to the country in which I then was, (some of which
it was, perhaps, never the lot of any of my countrymen
to know,) and partly, and principally, because they contain
the sequel of those episodes in which I sought to interest
myself, and which I hope may have created some
corresponding sympathy in my readers.
The Pommeranian club were to hold their semi-annual
“commerz” This ancient and hereditary festival
is peculiar to the German university. It is simply a
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[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
procession concluding with a debauch. The procession is
only more whimsical than most processions, and the debauch
more furious and more protracted than most debauches.
At half-past five o'clock in the afternoon of a lovely
day in October, the Pommeranians, to the number of
one hundred and fifty together with their invited guests,
assembled in the court-yard of a house in the Weender-Strasse.
A band of music was playing martial and
spirit-stirring airs from the balcony, and a silk flag, with
the heraldic devices of the society splendidly emblazoned
upon it, was waving in the midst of the throng. Each
member wore a coat without collar or buttons, and loose
trowsers thrust for the nonce into horseman's boots.
Each wore a loose bag-cap of green and gold, (the colours
of the club) and a broad scarf, embroidered of the
same colours, which passed across the right shoulder,
and was knotted at the left side to the basket-hilt of the
duelling-sword. Each wore long hair, hanging in elflocks
about the face and ears, and each wore all the
moustachios and beard that Heaven had blessed him
withal. Lastly, each member was provided with a powerful-looking
horse, arrayed in trappings corresponding
with those of the riders, and each stood with one foot in
the stirrup, waiting the signal to start.
Presently the trumpet blew a stirring blast, and each
Pommeranian sprang to his seat—another, and the
whole company formed themselves into two lines, leaving
a space between—a third, and a knight in complete
armour, with his lance in rest, and the green-and-gold
pennon waiving from its point, suddenly appeared, galloped
through the alley formed by the double lines, and
took his station at the head of the assembly. This was
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[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
the senior of the club. Next followed, on foot, the band
of music, arrayed in military uniform of green and gold,
marching in cadence to slow and solemn measures. Next
came two buffoons, in chequered clothes, with fools-caps
on their heads, and bells on their heels. They danced
along the lines, mouthing and grimacing, and uttering
gibes and jests on the spectators. Next came a standard
bearer, with a herald's coat, and bearing a splendid
flag. He was followed by the con-senior of the club, in
a suit of silver armour, followed by two pursuivants on
horseback. After these came the Pommeranians, riding
slowly along, two by two, and followed and surrounded,
when they had passed out from the court-yard, by a rabble
rout of boys, and curs, and beggars.
The procession moved slowly through the principal
streets of the town, and after having displayed their
finery to their hearts' content, proceeded with all due
pomp and regularity to the “German Emperor,” the
inn where they were to sup, and conclude the day's entertainment.
We entered an immense hall, where the tables had
already been laid. The band was stationed in the gallery
immediately above the supper table. Another room
of tolerable dimensions communicated with the hall. I
looked in, and found the floor entirely covered with straw,
as if it was intended for a stable.
“What is the meaning of that room?” I asked, of
Rabenmark, with whom I was associated in the procession,
and next whom I was of course seated at supper.
“That is the `Todtenkammer,' (the chamber of the
dead,)” said he.
“And what is the use of the Todtenkammer?”
“It is a receptacle for the dead, of course,—that is to
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say, for the dead-drunk. As soon as any one of the
company drops from his chair, he is rolled into that
chamber, and left till he recovers.”
“Ah! a very excellent and wholesale way of doing
business. Have the kindness to favour me with a kick,
if you find me in need of it.”
“Certainly; with the greatest pleasure.”
The senior and con-senior took their seats at each end
of the table, and the company attacked an excellent supper
without further ceremony. The eating part of the
business lasted about an hour; the band all the while
inspiring the appetites of the club by a series of enlivening
airs.
As soon as the cloth was cleared, and a few preliminary
glasses had been drunk the peculiar ceremony of
the Landesvater commenced.
This is a ceremony which is peculiar to the German
University, and in which, for the life of me, I never could
discover any meaning or moral.
The president rapped on the table for attention, and
then he and his next neighbour drew their swords and
laid them cross-wise on the table. The con-senior and
his neighbour did the same at the other end of the table.
All were silent. The music played the prelude of a
peculiar and most exquisite air. The faces of all present
became enthusiastic The music was repeated.
All arose. The senior again rapped on the table. The
music ceased. The members resumed their seats. All
was again silent.
“Are you all ready?” asked the senior, solemnly.
“All ready,” repeated the con-senior, with equal solemnity.
The senior nodded solemnly to the leader of the
-- 040 --
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orchestra,—the leader of the orchestra solemnly reciprocated
the signal. The music again sounded, and a wild
and singular song resounded through the hall.
During the time when the first stanza was being sung
by all the company present, the senior and con-senior of
the club, rose gravely from their seats, and advanced towards
each other till they met in the centre of the hall.
On meeting, they turned about, and hand in hand advanced
to the senior's place. The first stanza was concluded.
The senior stationed himself behind the person
who sat immediately next him, at the end of the table.
The con-senior stationed himself behind the member
who sat opposite the first student. He likewise rose.
The senior and con-senior laid their swords cross-wise
on the heads of the students. The second stanza was
then sung.
While this was singing, the senior and con-senior each
placed his sword in each student's left hand. Obedient
to the precepts of the oracular ballad, each took his cap
from his right hand, placed it on the top of the schläger,
and forced the blade through the cap entirely to the hilt.
All four then remained in the same position while the
third stanza was sung.
During the singing of this strophe, the two students
seized each an enormous goblet of Rhenish already prepared,
rang them against each other, swallowed them at
a draught, and turned them triumphantly on their nails;
the two dignitaries all the while holding the schlägers
over their heads. At the conclusion, the two kissed
each other affectionately, restored the swords with their
caps sticking upon them to the senior and con-senior,
and then resumed their seats. The chorus was then
sung.
-- 041 --
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As soon as this was finished, and the prelude was
again played by the orchestra, the two presidents then
stationed themselves behind the two next in succession;
and the first, second, and third stanzas with their accompanying
mummery were repeated.
The schlägers passed by loaded with caps, and becoming
heavier at each step in their progress.
When it came to my turn, the sword that was presented
to me, was so encumbered that it was a difficult
matter for me to execute my share in the ceremony.
The blade was stuck over with caps, jammed tightly
together, and reaching from hilt to point. I put as grave
a face as I could on the matter, to avoid having my
throat cut as the penalty,—added my cap to the pile,—
gulped down my wine,—kissed my vis-à-vis, — restored
my schläger to the president, and sat down, after having
got through less clumsily than I expected. During the
time the schlägers were passing down the table, those
not employed in the ceremony, of course found time to
empty a goodly number of bottles, and the chorus was
consequently sung with increased spirit at every step.
As soon as all present had gone through the ordeal,
there was a short interval, and then the second part of
the ceremony commenced. The senior and con-senior
retraced their steps; stationing themselves behind the
last couple who had affixed their caps to the schlägers;
and again placing their swords on their heads, the second
part of the song was then sung in full chorus.
During this, the couple, in obedience to the oracle,
received back their caps and sat down. The song was
then resumed, and the next couple received their property,
and so on, till the conclusion of the whole exhibition.
-- 042 --
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
This was the venerable ceremony of the Landesvater,
which is, I believe, regularly observed, at least once in a
semester, by every club at every German university, and
of which, as I before observed, I was never yet able to
discover the meaning. It is traditional of course; but
whether it is connected with any historical personage or
event, I was never lucky enough to be informed.
After this business was finished, the conversation became
of course general. A thousand uproarious songs
were sung, and incredible quantities of wine were drunk.
Such was the “potency at potting” of the greater number
of those present, that we were far advanced in the
small hours, before any serious defalcation in our numbers
took place. Occasionally a student would quietly
roll out of his chair, and after floundering a few minutes
on the floor, would be kindly kicked by some two or
three of his particular friends into the Todtenkammer,
and left on the straw to sleep off the effects of his debauch.
Towards four or five in the morning, I looked
into that pleasing receptacle, and saw dozens sprawling
about in all possible postures and directions. In one
corner there would be a pile of dead heaped cross-wise
and heterogeneously upon each other. Some lay motionless
as the dead; some struggled and tossed about;
and some snored vehemently in their uneasy slumbers.
The “chamber of the dead” was no unapt designation
for the apartment. A dim lamp, which was suspended
to the wall on one side, cast a feeble and ghastly
light upon the carcasses. The disgusting and sepulchral
appearance of the whole spectacle, reminded me forcibly
of what I had once seen on looking into a public vault
of the Campo Santa at Naples, where the dead bodies
are cast in from above, carelessly and promiscuously,
-- 043 --
[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
and the decency of composing the limbs, and even closing
the eyes, is entirely dispensed with. Occasionally
I saw a prostrate form,—after struggling a few moments
with his lethargy,—at last succeed in throwing it off,
and arise from the heap of corpses, pale as a ghost,
with disordered dress, matted hair, ghastly eyes, livid
lips, and resembling rather a goul than a human body.
As soon as his resurrection was complete, he would hurry
to the scene of action, drain rapidly a half-dozen goblets
to signalize his recovery, and join again in the frantic
revelry under which he had once succumbed.
With the break of day there were still many who had
held out. Some indeed, were sleeping on their elbows,
and some were reclining in their chairs, full of wine and
fatigue. But the numbers at the table were still more
than half. As may be supposed, the freshest of the
party were the resurrectionists, or those who had last
emerged from the Todtenkammer; but all were horribly
drunk.
The waiters appeared,—the shutters were opened,—
the room aired; and those who were able, took advantage
of the interval, to make a hurried and drunken sort
of toilet.
Breakfast was then brought, consisting, of course, of
the most stimulating dishes, such as oysters, caviare and
herring salad; while plenty of claret and Burgundy was
added to the supply of Rhenish. The morning was
passed in drinking, although, of course, with diminished
vigour, and in playing Landsknecht. The doors were,
however, locked by universal acclamation, and no one
allowed to leave the room. Dinner was served at four.
The band of music again resumed their places, and after
dinner the ceremony of the Landesvater was repeated.
-- 044 --
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Of course, no one present had become sober, as there
had been no intermission, but only a slight and temporary
diminution of the debauch since its commencement.
In Germany, the best and only remedy for having
been drunk over-night, seems to be to get drunk the
next morning. This is precept and practice at the universities,
and on this occasion it was certainly carried
out to the full.
On the termination of the Landesvater, the drinking
was desperately resumed. Bocales, holding a bottle,
were passed frequently round the hall, and each member
obliged to drink them at a draught. Again the hall
resounded with uproar and with song. Again the terrible
drunkenness reached its height, and the fiend of debauch
rose triumphant from his slight prostration. One
after another again dropped from their places, and were
kicked into the sepulchre; and one after another of the
revived supplied the places of the last departed.
The second morning appeared,—the second night had
been passed like the first,—and at the third dinner, almost
all the original revellers, haggard, and ghastly, and
drunk, resumed their original seats. The Landesvater
was repeated for the third and last time. Bocales, larger
than ever, went the rounds, and all seemed to make a
furious effort to terminate the carousal in a manner
worthy of its commencement. The quantity of wine
that was drunk was truly frightful. If I should mention
the quantities of bottles that I knew were emptied, my
statistics would be discredited. At half-past twelve
o'clock on the third night, there were but few remaining
at the table. Among them were fox Rabenmark, Trump
Von Toggenburg Pappenheim, Lackland, and myself.
Besides these, were perhaps twenty others.
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“A health to the future plenipotentiary!” cried Rabenmark
to Pappenheim, draining off a large goblet.
It was answered by Pappenheim.
“I wish I had been a soldier instead of a diplomatist,”
said he, when he had finished his goblet.
“I would not be a soldier while there were such scoundrels
in the army as I know,” said Klingspohr, a young
man whose brother had been broken in the army owing
to the severity of some representations made by Count
Wallenstein, who was a great enemy to the whole family.
“I think our army a very respectable body — I know
of no scoundrels in it. Name one,” said Rabenmark.
“Count Wallenstein!” said Klingspohr unhesitatingly,
for he knew nothing of Rabenmark's interest in that
family.
“Wallenstein—Wallenstein!” cried the fox, starting
to his feet. “Retract that, Sir—retract—or by the God
of Heaven”—
“Hey-day, hey-day!” interrupted Klingspohr, “what
the devil do you mean, Mr. Von Rabenmark? Retract!—
what? Who instituted you champion of the Commandant?
Retract, indeed! I tell you that you are
grown insolent since your accidental success with Kopp
and Fizzelberg. You need a little wholesome correction.
Retract!—psha! I tell you, Count Wallenstein is a
base, cowardly, detracting, tyrannical scoundrel; and if
he were here I would tell him so myself. Now, make
the best you can of it, Mr. Fox Rabenmark.”
Rabenmark was furious. Although he knew full well
that the Commandant was no friend of his, yet an aspersion
of the fame of his beloved's father was more
than he could bear. Klingspohr was seated nearly opposite
to him. He hardly concluded his sentence, before
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[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
the fox sprang across the table, and levelled a blow at
his head. He staggered—fell but rose again immediately.
He collected himself, and sat down. German gentlemen
never fight without weapons. An occasional blow like
that given by Rabenmark sometimes happens on great
provocation; but an interchange of fisticuffs is unheard
of.
“This is no common insult, Rabenmark,” he said in
a tone of forced calmness, “and I swear to you that it
shall be avenged in no common manner. But enough
for the present; we shall have time enough to-morrow.”
“And I swear to you, on my word of honour,” said Rabenmark,
“that when we do meet one of us at least shall
be carried from the place.”
I have observed a praiseworthy custom among the
Germans. The word of honour is never given in sport
or on slight occasions. It is rarely used, and hten it is
regarded as a pledge of absolute holiness and solemnity.
I felt certain that before to-morrow night either Klingsphr
or Rabenmark would be a corpse.
This quarrel, with one or two more that had taken
place, had cast a gloom over the assembly. The merriment
gradually subsided, and exhaustion and ennui
succeeded
The third morning shone in upon us at last, and I
think I never saw a more wretched and dissolute-looking
set of youths in all my experience. All were more or
less drunk, and all wearied and exhausted. Those who
at the breaking up of the party were still in the Todtenkammer,
were left to their fate, and the rest staggered
blindly through the streets to their respective dwellings.
Lackland and I had lately taken lodgings together in
the same house, whither we mutually piloted ourselves,
and as soon as we reached home, we hastened to our
beds to recruit our exhausted frames.
-- 047 --
CHAPTER XIX. THIRTEEN AT TABLE.
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
“You must second me,” said Lackland quite cooly,
when we met at breakfast about two o'clock the same
day.
“Have you an affair on your hands?” I asked.
“Yes. I had a quarrel with some blackguard Pommeranian
or other, named Frosch, or Fischer, or some
such name, last night. He was impertinent, and I pulled
his nose very foolishly. But we are all liable to vagaries,
if we will be such children as to get drunk. He has just
sent me a message, and has anticipated my choice of
weapons.”
“Very polite of him.—Well, if Rabenmark's business
comes off the same day, we shall have a gay party.”
It was soon settled that the two duels should be despatched
at once, and a pleasant pic-nic party was arranged
to take place the next day at the ruins of the
Castle Plesse, about five miles from Göttingen.
Schloss Plesse stands on a hill of no great elevation,
and is completely embowered in beautiful woods which
surround it, and extend far along the valley below.
There are two round turrets, and large portions of the
walls of the old baronial castle remaining, and the spot
is one of the most sweetly sequestered and lovely places
I ever saw. Altogether, a more delightful place for our
pleasure party could hardly have been found.
We all breakfasted, according to agreement, at the inn
of a little village at the base of the hill.
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
Just as we had concluded our repast, for which I confess
I had not much appetite, I happened to count the
number of the assembly, and a look of consternation
was visible on many countenances, on observing that
there was exactly thirteen.
Nowhere in the world is the prejudice against that unlucky
number at table so strong as in Germany. We
had not time, however, for further comments, as we
wished to finish the business before the lateness of the
hour exposed us to interruption.
We reached the place, and chose our ground in a
little open space, just below the mound on which the
castle stands.
We cast lots for priority, and it was decided that Lackland
and Mr. Fischer should open the proceedings, and
Klingspohr and Rabenmark finish the game.
Twelve paces were measured off, and I loaded the
pistols for Lackland, while Fischer's second did the same.
I threw down one of my gloves to mark my principal's
position, and Fischer was placed opposite to him by his
second. Lackland, who was near-sighted, although an
excellent shot, was quietly eyeing Fischer through the
glass that always hung round his neck.
“Poor old Fischer!” said he, “how awkwardly he
holds his pistol. I dare say he never saw one before.
Lucy for me that I am not obliged to try the schägers
with him. I hear he is a great swordsman.—Take care
of yourself, Morton, for that chap manages his weapon
in such an extraordinary manner, that he is as likely to
shoot you, or himself, or his second, as me.”
“Are you a shot, Lackland?” I asked, just before retiring.
“Pretty well,” said he; “but I shall try to let him off
as easily as possible.”
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[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
“It was agreed that I should count five, and that
either might fire while I was counting. I began to
count, and I hardly numbered one, before Fischer discharged
his pistol in a great flurry. The ball flew wide
of the mark, and struck among the bushes, at some distance
on the left.
“He is determined not to lose his shot, at all events,”
said Lackland, very cooly adjusting his aim. “He is
right, for I shall not give him another chance.”
He fired as he spoke. The light smoke rolled away,
and Fischer was seen dancing about in the most vivacious
manner. He grimaced with pain, uttered the
most tremendous oaths, and after skipping round for the
space of a minute, like a maniac, concluded by throwing
himself on the ground.
“I succeeded exactly,” said Lackland, who was
standing as calm as a clock, with his glass at his eye.
“I once saw exactly such a case before. He is struck on
the elbow. I was afraid I should not hit so exactly
with those pistols. It is very painful for the moment—
but his arm will only be broken, and he will be well in a
few days.”
The report of the surgeon confirmed what Lackland
said. The wound was very slight, but very painful.
As soon as he had been properly attended to, the other
business came upon the carpet.
Klingspohr and Rabenmark now prepared for action.
They were to fight with sabres, but there was to be no
defensive armour; no caps nor neck-stocks, nor leather
breeches. Each stripped off all clothing but his shirt
and trowsers; each threw his cap upon the ground, and
seized his sabre. The turf where we were standing was
as smooth and level as a carpet, and the space was sufficient
for the purpose.
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
Pappenheim and Affenstein were the seconds, and
the everlasting Dummberg, who was always sure to be
present on such occasions, was the umpire. There was,
however, but little need of any assistants. There were
but few formalities to be observed, for it was a deadly
quarrel, and to be terminated only by the total discomfiture
of one of the parties.
They advanced with their sabres to the spot, and
threw themselves on guard.
“Join your blades!” said Dummberg.
“Joined they are,” said the seconds.
“Los!”
The seconds retreated, and left them to themselves.
The combatants eyed each other a moment, like bloodhounds,
and then rushed furiously to the encounter.
Each struck, and in the very first outset, each received
desperate wounds. The seconds, however, remained in
their places, for the duel was to continue as long as the
combatants could stand. They paused an instant, eyeing
each other all the while—it was but an instant, and
again they flew upon each other. Rabenmark struck a
succession of furious blows, right and left—tierce and
quart—which Klingspohr found impossible to parry.
He sunk under their violence, wounded, and bleeding
desperately. He recovered himself however, in a few
moments, and fastened upon his enemy for the third and
last time. The conflict was deadly—all science was disregarded—
neither thought of parrying: both aimed rapid
and successful blows at each other, and both were already
covered with blood. At last they closed and struggled
with each other—both were of equal strength—
neither could force the other to the earth. Again they
separated, and again their meeting sabres clashed.
-- 051 --
[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
Klingspohr now struck a blow at Rabenmark. It was
partially parried, but glanced along his shoulder. Before
he could recover his guard, Rabenmark, who was
always quick as a ripost, retorted with his furious “deep
tierce.” He struck him in the side—buried his sword's
point in the wound, and then, with a tremendous exertion
of strength, forced the weapon through his body,
till the hilt struck against his side. Klingspohr glared
wildly at him for an instant, and then fell stone dead.
CHAPTER XX. A MARRIAGE AT THE COFFIN-MAKER'S.
“Where is he?”
“He is concealed, and safe for the present, Countess
Bertha.”
“I must see him.”
“Impossible.”
“If he were in his grave, I would join him even
there. Can any thing keep us apart, then, if he be
living?”
“He is concealed in the house of a desperado—a
smuggler—a robber.”
“Let us hasten thither.”
“At midnight we will go. Can you absent yourself
at such a time?”
“Is there any thing I cannot do when Otto is in
danger?”
“But your father—?”
-- 052 --
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
“— Is severe; but his daughter is also a Wallenstein.”
“I will meet you at your own door at a quarter-past
twelve to-night, and conduct you.”
“I shall not fail.”
A little after midnight accordingly, I conducted
Bertha Wallenstein to her lover. He had fled immediately
after the fatal termination of his duel to the
house of the coffin-maker. Lawless and desperate as
were the manners of the university, a man's life was
still held of some importance. If the slain had moreover,
powerful friends, the slayer endangered his own.
Klingspohr was a noble, and his family influential.
There was, moreover, a family pique between the
Klingspohrs and Rabenmarks, who were all Bohemians.
Rabenmark would soon then be exposed to the
most active persecution which grief and revenge could
dictate. The jackalls of the police were already on the
track, but he was at present under the protection of one
who was most crafty in evading and opposing the laws.
The lovers were left to themselves. I held a conversation
with Skamp. He recommended all parties to
keep themselves out of the way. Presently Rabenmark
desired to speak to me. We went aside together, and
he informed me of a resolution he had made. Bertha
had, by the step which she had now taken, entirely
compromised herself. She could not fail to be discovered.
Her character, which he could not bear that the
breath of detraction should even momentarily assail,
would be defamed. It was probable that the commandant
would never consent to their union. Still he
might be induced to pardon his daughter when it was
accomplished. Rabenmark was in want of friends.
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
His connections were powerful at his home, but in the
mean time he might be cast into prison. He must flee—
they must separate; but before separation they were determined
that they would be united; so that it should no
longer be in the power of man to hold them asunder
after his immediate danger was averted. In short, they
had agreed to be married that night.
Skamp, to whom all things were possible, was despatched
for a priest. He engaged to bring one to the
spot in half an hour. I went in search of Pappenheim,
whom Rabenmark wished as a witness, in company
with myself. In less than an hour all was ready.
The smuggler's house was a hovel. It was rudely
constructed of stones, and had but one room, with mud
walls and an earthen floor. It was lighted up by a
single candle of the meanest description.
In that house, at an hour and a half past midnight,
in the presence of Pappenheim, myself, and the coffin-maker,
was the high-born Bertha Wallenstein united to
Otto Von Rabenmark.
CHAPTER XXI. THE COUNTER PLOT.
A week or two had passed since the events recorded in
the last chapter. I now found myself established in a
cavern in one of the most savage and secluded forests of
the Hartz. Rabenmark, Pappenheim, Trump Von Toggenburg,
Lackland, and myself, with a score or two of
others, whom we had persuaded to be our companions,
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
had made our escape from Göttingen. We had more or
less violated the laws—we were all reckless and dissipated
young men. All were panting for an unrestrained
and lawless existence. It is exactly under such circumstances,
and by such wild spirits, that a band of
outlaws was not unfrequently formed in these regions.
Our pioneer and principal captain was the versatile
Skamp. It was not the first time that he had exercised
the profession to which we now devoted ourselves. As
for Pappenheim and Trump, they had both been reduced
to despair by the frustration of their plans on the
occasion which I have recorded, and by a rather serious
quarrel which their subsequent dissolute conduct had occasioned
between themselves and their mistresses.
Rabenmark had remained a day or two concealed in
the town, at the imminent risk of his life. Although he
had on one or two occasions miraculously escaped discovery,
yet it was impossible for him to hope for such
success any longer. It was necessary to separate for a
time from Bertha. She was left to take the important
step she had so long meditated. She returned to her
father. Rabenmark hovered for a few days in the suburbs
of the town. He heard nothing from her.
At last he reluctantly submitted to the solicitations of
Pappenheim and myself, and together we all retired to
the Hartz mountains. Very soon after this we made
an incursion into a neighbouring village for the necessaries
of life. We had no money to buy, and so we committed
depredations. It was found such capital sport,
that we commenced hostilities on all the villages for miles
round. I have no intention to dilate upon adventures,
which, although true, are of a hackneyed description.
Suffice, that we went from one indiscretion to another.
-- 055 --
[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
From nightly forays against granaries and farm-houses,
we proceeded to direct attacks upon passengers on the
road. In a word, we became robbers. It is true, that
we were faithful to the creed of all romantic highwaymen.
We only robbed the rich, that we might give
unto the poor. It was our chief delight to surround a
parcel of peasants and poor devils, and take them off
with many threats to our retreat; after which, we would
present them with the total spoils of some rich hunks
whom we had rifled the day before, and send them
away rejoicing. We most certainly never earned a
groschen by our fatiguing and hazardous profession.
We were only footpads for fun. I will not, however,
vouch for Skamp. He was too much of a man of
business to be contented long as an amateur; but it
was, of course, impossible for us to be rid of him, and he
was allowed to follow his own course.
It was customary for some of us to penetrate, in disguise,
into the very heart of the villages which had been
the scene of our rogueries. It was amusing to join in
the conversation of the peasants, and be entertained by
the exaggerated accounts of our own achievements. On
one occasion, Rabenmark and I had advanced far beyond
the usual limit of such masquerading excursions. We
were so successful, that we resolved, in spite of every
thing, to effect a journey to Göttingen. He hoped to
have an interview with Bertha, and thus to relieve the
anguish of his mind. After a little dissuasion, I found
that his purpose was not to be shaken. I agreed to accompany
him. Lackland was to be associated in the
enterprise.
We reached Göttingen in a few days, without much
difficulty. We were all disguised as peasants. We
-- 056 --
[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]
entered an obscure pot-house on the outskirts of the town.
A long deal table was in the middle of the dirty-looking
public room. A number of persons were seated at it.
Some were drinking schnapps; some were eating an
offensive kind of cheese, much beloved by the lower
classes; some were smoking a filthy sort of tobacco;
some were drinking beer.
We seated ourselves, and ordered portions of the villanous
cheese, beer, and tobacco. We entered into
conversation with the worthies who were assembled
there. I recognised several of the faces. The towncrier
was present. A barber's boy asked him the contents
of a paper he had with him. The crier opened,
and read it in a pompous voice. It was a proclamation
describing the person of the Baron Otto Von Rabenmark,
and offering a thousand rix dollars for his apprehension.
It was signed “Wallenstein.” The fox turned pale for
a moment, but recovering himself suddenly, he began a
colloquy with his next neighbour. It was the postillion
Schnobb. Little by little, Rabenmark led him on to a
description of the Robbery on Baron Poodleberg's carriage.
Schnobb congratulated himself that he had been
indisposed on that occasion, and that another postillion
had been substituted for him.
“By whom do you think the robbery was committed?”
asked Rabenmark.
“Who knows?” said Schnobb. “Perhaps by the
same devil that dwells now up there in the Hartz.”
“What devil?”
“Sacrament! have you not heard of the fiend of the
Hartz? He has appeared in the mountains after an absence
of fifty years. The cottages of the peasants, and
the castles of the nobles, are all pillaged by him.”
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“Then the story that a gang of robbers had taken up
their abode in those regions is not true?”
“Donnerwetter,—no! I tell you it is by the Hartz
devil. He has a tail more than seven yards long, and
lives on the top of the Brocken.”
“Truly an interesting personage. Has any one seen
him?”
“Yes; there is a friend of mine who has been making
a pedling expedition to Gosslar; he was met by this
devil. He was, however, a religious man, and held a
crucifix towards him. The devil uttered a yell, and
disappeared into the earth.”
“Who is your friend?”
“There he is; he is just coming into the room. It is
Mr. Skamp, the coffin-maker.”
All three of us gave an involuntary start. Luckily it
was not observed by any of the company. We directed
our eyes to the door, and the coffin-maker stood indeed
before us.
He walked into the room with the utmost coolness.
He had a pack on his back, and a staff in his hand.
He saluted the company, with most of whom he seemed
familiarly acquainted; nodded carelessly to us, and
then very quietly opened his pack, and exposed his wares
to the company.
“Here, Schnobb,” said he, “here is a silver mouthpiece
for your bugle. I bought it for you on purpose;
the price is two gulden. Buy it; the elector will never
give you one for your skill in melody.”
“Here, Gottlob,” he continued, to the red-headed son
of the executioner; “here is a pair of braces to tie up
your breeches, when you get a pair; and here is a silver
buckle which I bought as a present for your father.
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Here is a tin trumpet for you, Mr. Crier; and here is a
paper of pins that your wife told you to buy for her at
the fair, Mr. Farmer.”
With these last words, he tossed a package to Rabenmark,
which his quick eye instantly told him was a
letter.
“The price is six groschen,” said he.
The fox adroitly haggled a moment about the price.
He at last paid him five groschen. Soon afterwards he
slipped out of the room, whispering to us that he would
soon return.
In the meantime, after Skamp had disposed of most
of his merchandise, he entered into conversation with the
postillion.
“Well, brother-in-law!” said he, “you have not
thanked me for my company on a certain evening last
month. But for me on that occasion, you would have
been indubitably eaten up by that Hartz devil. It was
he, I have since discovered, who made the attack on
Poodleberg's carriage. God alone knows what has become
of the unfortunate postillions who drove that carriage!”
said Skamp, piously lifting his hands and eyes
to heaven.
Lackland and I left the room; we made a sign to
Skamp, and in about half an hour he joined us. It was
dusk. We all walked together, and conferred. We
took care, however, to keep in the neighbourhood of the
tavern, that we might meet Rabenmark.
“In the name of wonder, old Skamp,” said Lackland,
“how the devil came you here?”
“Why, your excellency, when I found that three of
my most promising disciples had engaged in so hazardous
an expedition, it behoved me to be watchful, and to
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keep them, if possible, out of the danger into which their
youth and inexperience might hurry them. I instantly
assumed this disguise that I might follow you and protect
you. Oh my dear children! (if your excellencies
will permit me the endearing expression) you have no
conception of the agitation of mind into which I was
thrown. Unmindful of all dangers, I determined to
watch over you as a hen over an infant brood.”
“But are you not afraid of discovery?” I asked.
“Lord bless you! no. Now that I am here, I affect
no disguise; every body here knows, and, I may add,
respects pious Skamp the coffin-maker.”
“Yes; but I have heard people speak disparagingly
of a certain `Crooked Skamp the smuggler,' and `poaching
Skamp,' and a gentleman who bears a variety of
other nick-names. Is he no relation of yours?” I asked.
“Oh your excellency!” said the rogue, with a grin,
“I cannot deny that I have heard of such a person, and
that I take a deep interest in his welfare. But, jesting
apart, I assure you I am in no sort of danger; they
would as soon suspect Count Wallenstein of a share in
a conspiracy as me.”
“Apropos of Count Wallenstein! what has become
of the fox?” said Lackland.
“Happier than any of us, I suspect,” said the smuggler.
“On arriving here, I was happy enough, by the merest
accident, to convey a letter from the Baron Rabenmark
to the Countess Bertha. He entrusted me with it
some days ago, and I promised to use all exertions to
get it to her as soon as possible. I did not think, then,
that I should take it to this town in person. I found
this afternoon a washerwoman who was going to the
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Commandant's house with a basket. She was an old
gossip of mine. I gave her the letter. It was not a
very sentimental method; but it proved a very efficient
one, as I gave Baron Rabenmark an answer just now.
But enough of this at present. Now give me all your
attention. I have just formed a plan which shall be
both pleasant and profitable. You know, Mr. Lackland,
and I dare say you too, Mr. Morton, that I have been
engaged with the Jew Potiphar in certain mercantile
transactions. These were of a character which the law
unfortunately does not look upon with the same indulgence
that I do. I have always observed that legislators
have very contracted views of life. Suffice, that if these
doings of ours were revealed, and Mein Herr Potiphar
brought to trial, he would suffer a certain imprisonment,
to say nothing of a confiscation of the greater part of his
immense property, which, of course, he would do any
thing to save. I owe old Potiphar a grudge. I am, besides,
particularly incensed against him for his appearance
at Wolfenbüttel so inopportunely. No matter, I
shall yet have my revenge. I shall also have the pleasure
of serving most effectually Count Trump Von Toggenburg,
in whom I take a great interest. There is, in
fact, no one of my protegés in whose welfare I am more
interested than in his. I have no doubt also, that if the
plan, which I am about to mention to you, succeeds, he
will reward me liberally. Count Trump Von Toggenburg
is a generous young nobleman. Now the matter I
have in hand, is this: I have just heard that Potiphar is
to set out the day after to-morrow night, alone, on a journey
to Hamburg. As he wishes to visit a relation in
Gosslar, he must pass directly through the Hartz. His
carriage must pass within a dozen miles of our retreat.
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We will be prepared. We will attack him. We will
drag him up into our retreat. We will threaten him
with disclosures of his doings, and we will be so minute,
that he shall be frightened, although we will take good
care to keep ourselves disguised. We will thus force
him to sign a paper, giving his consent to Count Von
Trump's marriage with his daughter. The Count shall
receive this paper, and hasten to his sweatheart. After
that, perhaps I may induce the old gentleman to confer
a small gratuity upon me.”
The virtuous coffin-maker concluded. Lackland and
I assured him that we gave him all due credit for his ingenuity,
and would do our best to serve Trump's interest
and his own.
To do this effectually, however, it was necessary to
hasten our departure for our retreat. Rabenmark had
not yet returned. What were we to do? After waiting
as long as was prudent, we at last followed the advice of
Skamp. He represented to us that we could do nothing
for Rabenmark; that our waiting only endangered ourselves,
without assisting him, and that the best thing we
had to do, was to beat a retreat as soon as possible. He
promised for his own part, to wait for Rabenmark, and
to meet us all at the cavern in three days.
We were convinced by his reasoning, shook hands
with him, and departed.
CHAPTER XXII. THE JEW'S DILEMMA.
Three days after this, we were all waiting in the cavern.
Skamp appeared punctually to his appointment.
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“Where is Rabenmark?” burst from a dozen mouths.
“The boy is lost!” said the smuggler, despondingly.
“I waited, as agreed upon, for a long time,” continued
he, addressing himself to Lackland and myself,
“and still he did not come. I scoured the town. I went
to the inn and slept; determining not to give him up, if
I lost my life in the attempt. The first news that I
heard in the morning, was, that he had been discovered
and taken. I instantly resolved to repair hither, to engage
a few assistants from our band, and to rescue him
from his bondage.”
Skamp's account was heard with dismay. The heroic
determination with which he concluded, revived, however,
our courage. We swore to dare every thing to
liberate the “Fox.”
In the meantime, a scout came in from an advanced
ambush; he informed us that a carriage was approaching.
We made preparations for an attack. There was no
doubt it was the Jew.
“Alas! alas! that poor Rabenmark is not with us to
enjoy the frolic!” said one of the party.
“Are you sure of that?” cried a joyful voice; and
presently there was a rustling in the thicket, and the fox
sprang through the bushes, and stood before us.
“Welcome! welcome!” shouted a dozen voices.
“But we thought you were in prison,” said Pappenheim.
“So I have been,” was the answer.
“Well—tell us all about it directly.”
“You must know then—” began Rabenmark.
“Stop, my children!” said the phlegmatic Skamp,
“we have now no time for detail. We must act. When
-- 063 --
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we have served the Jew, (and if we are not expeditious,
it will be too late,) we shall have plenty of time to hear
the Baron's story. In the meantime, I hope his excellency
will lead on to the attack.”
The information of our spy was correct. It was, indeed,
the Jew's carriage that was now rapidly ascending
the pass. A systematic plan of attack had been laid
down—we now hastened to execute it. A few words
will tell the tale.
The carriage was surrounded—the postillions were
knocked over—some of us blindfolded and gagged them.
Skamp, in the meantime, amused himself with rifling
the carriage. It was very pretty picking, as he afterwards
informed me. There was, however, little time
lost. We dragged the imploring Jew up into the remotest
part of the forest. When we had arrived, we
blindfolded him, and then took off our masks.
The smuggler, who was an adept in all kinds of disguise,
now addressed him in a feigned voice. The Jew
was tied to a tree, and we were all seated in a semi-circle
around him. Skamp addressed him in a series of
questions. As I am in a hurry, I shall not detail them.
Suffice, that the Jew felt that he was in our power. Besides
this, we frightened him to death; and his anxiety
to save his skin, led him to confess more, and to promise
more, than he might otherwise have done. He became
aware, from the interrogations that were put to him, that
his iniquitous transactions had been revealed. He offered
large sums for his release, and engaged to do every
thing if we would not expose his guilt to the government.
Skamp produced his paper. It was a contract of marriage
between Hermann Adolphus Caspar Ulrich Count
Von Trump Von Toggenburg and Miss Judith Potiphar.
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It was signed by the two parties, and only required the
signature of the father to make it complete.
The Jew, after a few remonstrances, signed the paper,
on promise that he should be released from his bondage
within twelve hours. The contract was delivered to
Trump, who immediately began to caper for joy.
Skamp next read to him a second document, which
was simply a note of hand, promising to pay the bearer
on demand for value received, the sum of ten thousand
dollars.
“Holy father Abraham!” shrieked the Jew, and nearly
fainted. “I will give you two thousand,” said he, at
last, “on condition that I am guaranteed against all disclosures
of the unhappy matters we have been conversing
about.”
“My dear good friend, Moses Potiphar,” said Skamp,
suddenly assuming his natural voice, “I have been an
attentive listener during this conference. You, probably,
recognize the familiar accents of my tongue, and so I
say no more. You can have little doubt for whose benefit
this note of hand is intended. In recompense, I can
assure you that I, in whose power you will see that you
are, will never divulge a syllable of all your d—d nefarious
transactions—transactions which every virtuously disposed
person, like myself, must always look upon with
abhorrence and disgust. I assure you that your most
iniquitous doings shall be kept secret; but in case you
refuse—”
“Well, what is the alternative, my dear good friend
Skamp?” tremblingly demanded the Jew.
“The alternative is, my dear good friend Moses, that
if you refuse—nay, if you hesitate five minutes, I will
instantly chop you into ten thousand pieces, and make
sausages of your misbegotten carcase!”
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The Jew, who knew better than any one, the true and
desperate character of the smuggler, which was concealed
under such a bland and hypocritical demeanour, nearly
fell into convulsions. He eagerly demanded the paper—
signed it with a trembling hand, and delivered it to
Skamp.
The latter promised that he should be liberated, and
sent on his way in safety by the morrow's dawn.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE LOAN OF A SHROUD.
“And now, Fox—tell us all about it.”
We were all seated round a crackling fire of dried
branches. The autumn evenings were chilly in those
elevated regions.
“When I returned from my interview with Bertha,”
began Rabenmark, without any further preface, “I found
that I had, naturally enough, much overstayed the appointed
time. I skulked about in the neighbourhood of
the `Swine,' but could see nothing of Lackland, Morton,
or the coffin-maker. I resolved to set out by myself. It
was about nine o'clock, and a bright moon. I had travelled
about ten miles, when I perceived that I was dogged.
I reached the shadow of a tree, and sprang into a
field. I had been perceived, however, and was immediately
followed by my persecutors. In five minutes I was
attacked by four stout men. At first, I hoped that they
were robbers. I, however, soon recognized in one, an
agent of the police, and presently they all addressed me
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by name. I knocked one down, but the rest were, of
course, too much for me. They took me prisoner, bound
me, and carried me back to the nearest village.
“I was confined for the night in an upper room of a
house of large dimensions. As it was dark when I
went up stairs, I could not exactly understand where I
was. They threw me into a room which was unfurnished,
and locked and double-locked the door. They told
me, on departing, that I should be, to-morrow, conducted
to the common jail. They observed, that I must
be grateful for one night's respite. They helped themselves
to all the money I had with me, as an earnest,
they said, of the thousand dollars they were to have for
my apprehension. They then went away.
“I lay for a long time quiet. I was fatigued, and a
little injured from the rough handling I had received.
At last I shook off my torpor and arose. I found that
my hands had been bound behind my back. I made a
violent exertion, and snapped the cord in twain. I
walked round the room: as I said, it was unfurnished,
and of rather large dimensions. There was a door,
communicating, apparently, with another chamber. A
light streamed through the key-hole. I looked in. A
corpse was laid out on a bed; candles were placed
around, and there were two or three attendants present.
There seemed, however, to be no mourners. From the
conversation of the servants, I gathered that it was the
body of a nobleman, who was a stranger in the place.
It seems, that he had died suddenly; that in dying, he
had made a last request to be buried at once, at the dead
of night, in the most secret manner possible, and in a
designated place, about a mile from one of the city
gates. One of the three persons stated that he had
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received a handsome bequest from the deceased, and had
promised to see his dying wishes fulfilled. The proper
authorities had been notified, and permission of interment
obtained. The others were to assist him in his
undertaking. As it wanted three quarters of an hour
to midnight, they went to another room. They agreed
to meet together exactly at twelve, and in the mean time
went to repose.
“The corpse was left on the bed. The candles were
still burning. I waited a long time. The men went
away talking and laughing. I heard them in the passage.
I listened till I heard their last footfall on the
stairs. All became again as silent as the grave. After
a few minutes a bold idea occurred to me. I hastened
to put it into execution. I knew that no additional
harm could result to me if I should fail. I tried the
door which opened between the two rooms. It was
locked. It was, however, of a slight construction. I
easily kicked out a panel. I crept into the room. I
drew my cloak after me.
“Without a moment's hesitation, I seized upon the
dead man. I dragged him without ceremony from the
bed. I tore off his shroud. I threw around him my
cloak. I placed my large slouched hat upon his head.
I again crept through the door, seized the corpse by the
heels, and pulled him into the room after me. As I was
forcing him through the door, the hat fell off. A ghastly
moonbeam fell full upon his distorted features. The
face assumed an unearthly grin. I felt a little frightened.
I manned myself, however, and completed my
task. I placed the body in a natural sleeping position
in the corner of my room. I folded the cloak closely
about it, and pressed the hat upon its brows. I looked
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at him a moment—was satisfied with the deception, and
left him as my representative. In return, I now hastened
to assume his place. I borrowed and put on his grave
clothes—wrapped myself in his shroud, and laid myself
down on his bed of state. I waited patiently, but not
without some tremors, for the issue. At last the door
opened. In spite of my singular and precarious situation,
I had almost fallen into a doze. The noise, of
course, aroused me. The three men entered. They
were vulgar-looking persons. One was smoking a pipe.
They jested at the absurdity of the old fellow for insisting
on so whimsical a burial. They lifted me from the
bed, and placed me hastily in the coffin which they had
brought with them. They had not the least suspicion
of the trick I had been playing. They carried me down
stairs, and placed me in a hearse. Two of them
mounted the driving-seat—one of them ran on before
with a spade.
“I had been careful to retain my dagger with me.
With this I easily forced off the coffin-lid. Watching
my opportunity, I rolled myself out of the coffin, sprang
from behind upon the two men who were driving, uttered
a hideous yell, and jumped upon the ground.
The men had fallen out on each side. The horse had
stopped. When they perceived, by the light of the moon,
that the coffin had been overturned, and directly afterwards
saw the dead body stalking across the road in his
shroud, they were horror-struck. They fell upon their
knees, and began to pray. Of course, they could not
doubt that it was a ghost.
“Without more ado, I hastened to complete my escape.
I tucked up my winding-sheet with one hand, as
scrupulously as an ancient gentlewoman her petticoats
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on a rainy day, and fled across the fields. After I had
gone I should think five miles, I paused for an instant's
repose. I now threw away my borrowed attire, and
pursued my way more leisurely in my peasant's dress.
After this, I completed my journey hither without interruption.
I esteem myself peculiarly fortunate that I
arrived in time to see the capture of old Potiphar, and
the happiness of my friend Trump.”
“A very pretty and very ingenious escape,” said
Skamp. “I assure you, Herr Baron, that I am proud of
my disciples.”
“I wonder who the old gentleman was whose place
you usurped in so irregular a manner,” said Lackland.
“Did I not mention his name?” said Rabenmark.
I forgot then to tell you what I heard from my friends,
the undertakers. It seems he was a Pommeranian gentleman,
of great wealth, as reported, and a stranger in these
parts. His name was Count Bernard Von Rothenberg.”
“Thousand Donnerwetter!” shouted Pappenheim.
“My old uncle, Rothenberg!”
“Your uncle! your uncle! What uncle?” cried a
dozen voices.
“The very same rich old tyrant of an uncle,” said
Pappenheim, “who has always opposed my union with
Ida on account of her plebeian blood. His estate was
entailed upon me. He could not keep it from me after
his death, so he took devilish good care to make me feel
the want of it during his life. He was a miserly old tyrant.
But no matter. Peace to the dead! Give me joy, my
boys. I am now Count Pappenheim Von Rothenberg,
with twenty thousand dollars a-year.
“Well,” said Trump, “it was as well, after all, my
dear Pappenheim, that our elopements miscarried. We
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had the sport and now my business is settled satisfactorily.
As for you, I suppose there is no doubt about
old Poodleberg's consent to your union with his daughter
in your present improved circumstances.
“Certainly not—certainly not. I shall marry her to-morrow.
I might probably have done so before now, if
I had chosen to demonstrate the certainty of my inheritance
to the satisfaction of the Professor; but Ida
was romantic, and I was obstinate, and so we determined
to elope instead. No matter, it is all over now, and I bid
you all to my wedding.”
It may easily be believed that the happy termination
of Trump and Pappenheim's amours enlivened the assembly.
We had a plentiful supply of wine, and we
devoted ourselves to merriment. The grey tints of morning
were already visible before any of the party sought
repose.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE MODERN HANNIBAL.
A week had passed. Our band had separated. There
has never been the least suspicion thrown upon any of
us. We were accordingly not liable to detection, after we
had once dissolved our body. I took up my abode for a
short time in Brunswick. While there I received a letter
from Skamp: he informed me that there was no danger
in my returning if I chose. Several of the members of
our late honourable society were in Göttingen; among
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the rest Trump Von Toggenburg and Pappenheim.
They were both shortly to be married on the same day.
They were anxious that I should be present at the ceremony.
The latter part of the letter afflicted me deeply.
To my horror and dismay, I was informed that Rabenmark
had returned, had met his brother-in-law, Count
Leopold Wallenstein, the son of the commandant, and
had slain him in the streets. The rest of the history
was to be related to me by word of mouth.
I hastened to Göttingen. I found the smuggler. I
eagerly demanded news of Rabenmark. He told me
that immediately after the murder he had surrendered
himself to justice, and that he was now in prison. His
trial was to take place on the morrow, and that there was
no doubt he would be condemned to death.
“My poor dear disciple!” said the singular narrator,
wiping a real tear from his cheek: “I took such a pride
in him. He was my favourite of all of you. Alas! that
he should die so prematurely.”
Together we went to visit Rabenmark. We found
him chained in a dungeon. He was grown haggard.
His features were sunken, and his eye like a maniac's.
He informed me, in a few words, of his whole horrible
history. Immediately after his last interview with Bertha,
the commandant discovered their intercourse. A
faithless servant betrayed their secret. The Count even
believed that their intercourse had been criminal, for the
infernal servant had concealed, or was ignorant of the
important fact of their marriage.
Incensed at the dishonour which he believed to have
been cast on his illustrious name, the iron-hearted Wallenstein
summoned his daughter. Unmindful of and
disbelieving her protestations of innocence, her entreaties
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and her tears, he immured her in a chamber of his own
house. She refused her food—she became ill. Nothing
softened him. By and by, the same servant who had
betrayed her to her father brought her an exaggerated
history of the capture of her husband. He informed her,
moreover, that the commandant had thrown him in
prison, and had sworn that he should be executed the
next day. The unfortunate Bertha was already, from
the effects of exhaustion and agony of mind, the victim
of a violent fever. She became delirious. In the course
of the night her fever increased to frenzy. In a fit of insanity,
she cast herself from the window, which was in
the topmost story of the house. She was dashed to
pieces.
“I saw her body, Morton,” said the fox, when he had
finished relating, in the calmest manner, this short and
fearful history. “I saw her body, and the next instant I
met her brother. He had ever been my enemy, more
implacable than her father. I slew him on the spot.
Still my vengeance is not quite complete; but the hour
has almost come.”
As he ended, a fearful expression passed across his
features, and then he relapsed into a state of apparent
apathy.
This lasted a few minutes, and presently afterward he
aroused himself, and asked the jailor, who, of course, had
not quitted us, what had become of the coffin-maker?
The smuggler had left the cell for a moment. The jailor
called him and he returned.
“I understand,” said Rabenmark, looking towards the
jailor, “that there is little doubt of my condemnation and
immediate execution.”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
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“I suppose,” he continued with a ghastly kind of mirth,
“the authorities will not object to my bespeaking my own
coffin. I wish to be buried as becomes a gentleman,
although I die a felon's death. Skamp, be sure to place
a silver shield upon the lid, and engrave my arms upon
it. Here is my signet; you can copy from that.”
As he spoke, he drew his seal-ring from his finger, and
gave it to the smuggler. Skamp gave him a significant
look.
Soon after this we all retired. As I took leave of him,
Rabenmark threw his arms about my neck, and kissed
me.
“We shall never meet again, except for a moment in
the judgment-hall to-morrow,” said he.
“I shall visit you afterwards,” I interrupted. “I can
obtain permission easily.”
“Well, well—perhaps. Adieu!—Morton, adieu for
ever!”
I left the place. I was suffocated with emotion. I
passed a sleepless night. The next morning I hastened
to the council-chamber. An early hour had been appointed
for the trial.
I entered the room. The commandant and the civil
government of the town were in their places. The judges
wore a gloomy look. The prisoner was seated, out of
respect to his rank, and perhaps in consideration of his
evident bodily illness. The trial was short. No defence
was made. The judge inquired if he could say
nothing in extenuation of his guilt. He obstinately refused
to speak. The senior judge read with due solemnity
the accusation and the conviction. He concluded by
passing sentence of death on the Baron Otto Von Rabenmark.
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The execution was appointed for the following day
but one.
The guards went forward to conduct the prisoner
back to his dungeon. He motioned them away. They
retired several paces. Rabenmark arose.
“My Lord Judge,” he began, “you have asked me
what I had to urge in extenuation of my offence. I answered
nothing; for there was nothing I could urge.
There is another question which I could have answered
in a manner more satisfactory. I have much to say in
aggravation of my offence. The catalogue of my crimes
is not complete. There are two more deaths which I
shall have to answer for at another tribunal than yours—
if indeed there be a future judgment, as your priests
inform us.”
The judge made a gesture of surprise. Even the
gloomy Wallenstein, who was next him, and within
arm's length of Rabenmark, became attentive, and a little
agitated. The secretary seized his pen to note down
the new disclosures. Rabenmark resumed.
“I am the last of my race. The last of a house,
which has been illustrated by the achievements of a hundred
heroes, ye have condemned to die a felon's death.
But ye have yet to learn that a Rabenmark will at least
be no common felon. If he be crushed, his fall shall at
least be signalized by no ordinary catastrophe. My
bride—my true and lawful bride, the daughter of this
proud man—is dead; and Leopold Wallenstein is dead;
and Otto Von Rabenmark, as ye think, is in two days
to lay down his head on the executioner's block;—but
there is yet another victim whom you dream not of.”
“Whom mean you?—Speak!” cried the judge with
earnestness.
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“The Count of Wallenstein!” shouted Rabenmark,
and as he spoke he suddenly drew a dagger, strode forward
to the commandant, and struck him to the heart.
He fell without a groan. The weapon remained,
buried to the hilt, in the wound. For a moment all present
seemed paralyzed. During the instant's delay, Rabenmark
slipped his signet from his finger, plucked out
the stone, and applied the large hollow ring to his mouth.
All was done with the rapidity of thought.
The judge, recovering himself, shouted to the guard
to secure the murderer.
“You are too late, my lord,” said Rabenmark. “The
executioner is cheated. The felon shall not die a felon's
death. Bertha Wallenstein, thou art revenged!”
As the last words passed his lips, he fell a corpse.
Through the agency of the smuggler, a potent and
subtle poison had been procured, and introduced into the
cavity of the ring. The executioner was baulked.
-- --
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-- --
BOOK III.
“Faust.—
Was bin ich denn, wenn es nicht möglich ist
Der Menschheit Krone zu erringen,
Nach der sich alle Sinne dringen?
Mephistopheles.—
Du bist am Ende—was du bist.
Setz' dir Perrücken auf von Millionen Locken,
Setz' deinen Fuss auf Ellen hohe Socken,
Du bleibst doch immer was du bist.”
Faust.
“Bohemia! said my uncle Toby—musing a long time;—what
became of that story, Trim?
“We lost it, an' please your honour, somehow betwixt us; but your
honour was as free from love then as I am.”
Tristram Shandy.
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Prague.
You are still urgent for me to join you in Vienna.—
What the deuce should I do in Vienna? You tell me
of your gaiety and the beauty of the women; of your
carnival frolics, and all the attractions of the gay world.
I answer with Pistol, “A foutra for the world and worldlings
base!” I am sick of society. I am tired and worn
with travel, and I have taken refuge in this old-fashioned
and most Gothic city for the sake of repose. Prague, you
know, is a town which I had always a passion for, and
I am glad that there has been nothing of late to prevent
me from establishing myself comfortably here.
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I was delighted when I first kicked off my dusty shoes
in this place. Our many years of constant travel had at
last disgusted me, for a time at least, with what I thought
would never surfeit me,—change. I am fairly sick for
the present of “the Alp and Apennine, the Pyrenean
and the River Po,” and desire the variety of beholding
every day the same scenes and faces. To a person who
has lived so long in a whirl, monotony is in itself an excitement.
I pray you, Lackland, leave me to myself for the present.
You must certainly be a little weary of my society.
We shall meet soon enough; but in the meantime
I must be left to occupations with which you have
but little sympathy. We have been long together; we
have tried each other thoroughly; we shall soon meet
again.
Let me see: since we left all those “courageous captains
of compliments,” at the University, six years ago,
we have hardly been a day separated. We have drunk
Tokay together in Hungary, and eaten ortolans in Florence.
We have swum together in a gondola at Venice,
and in a flat-bottomed scow, on the Nile. We have shot
quails together in Egypt, and eaten artichokes in Jerusalem;
in short, we have become “picked men of countries”
in each other's society during our desultory loungings
through the world; and now it is my purpose to sit
quietly down and complete my education. I know you
will laugh at this; but no matter. Even you, who know
me so well, are not aware that instead of being too frivolous
I am only too serious a person. One day you will
find out your mistake, and acknowledge that the greatest
fault of your friend was his gravity.
As I said before, I have a passion for Prague, and I
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shall quit it with regret. It is suited to my present style
of mind. I am a quiet man, and I love a quiet place.
This city is as silent as a cloister. I go to the summit
of the Hradschin almost every day, and spend sometimes
whole mornings in drowsy meditations. It is so
still and noiseless, that you may almost hear the sands of
time rushing through his eternal hour-glass. I have
half a mind to turn monk at once.
Another favourite resort of mine, towards sun-set, is on
the old bridge, which you remember connects the old and
new town. I stand almost every afternoon by the statue
of St. John of Nepomuk, which is nearly in the centre of
the bridge, and on the very spot where the very saintly or
very hypocritical monk was kicked into the river by the
choleric king Wenzel. I do not know whether you
recollect the anecdote, which in brief is this. The said
John of Nepomuk was ghostly confessor to her majesty
of Bohemia, the spouse of Wenzel. The intercourse
between the lady and the priest became at last so constant
and so very intimate, that the monarch had but
one of two things to suppose:—either that his wife must
have an enormous burden of sins on her conscience to
require such a constant closeting with the friar, which
was a disagreeable supposition; or that the saint was no
better, and his wife a great deal worse, than they should
be. Circumstances at last convinced him that he was
on the latter horn of the dilemma, and so one day, having
unluckily happened to meet the clerical gentleman
in the centre of the bridge, he took occasion to toss him
over the parapet. The friar, of course, after this martyrdom,
became a saint, and the legend goes on to say, that
his body never rose to the surface till the ninth day after
the catastrophe. On the evening of that day, however,
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a solitary fisherman was crossing the river in his skiff.
As he reached the spot where the body of the saintly John
had sunk, he saw three stars rise slowly from the water
and ascend to Heaven: soon afterwards he heard a slow
and solemn strain of music, and then the body of the
saint rose quietly to the surface. The fisherman brought
it on shore, where it was of course buried with pompous
obsequies, and the unfortunate monarch loaded with
execrations.
There is hardly a stone in Prague that has not its
legend, and every thing that meets the eye has a smack
of the olden times. There are numberless traditions
which are associated with this very bridge, and it is this,
perhaps, which has made it so favourite a haunt of mine.
There is an ancient and uncouth-looking pillar at the
entrance of the bridge on the old side, and just in front
of the feudal-looking portal which opens into the Hradschin.
It is said that the sword of the puissant
Brunslik is concealed within its shaft, and that when the
hour of the city's greatest danger has arrived, the enchanted
brand will leap from its hiding place, and
destroy all its enemies without mortal assistance.
I suppose there must be some heavy calamity in store
for this devoted city: for there have already been troublous
times in which assistance would have been acceptable;
but in which the sword of the doughty giant has
not thought proper to exhibit itself. One would suppose,
when Fritz the Great was bombarding the town the
other day, and knocking the churches and houses of the
inhabitants about their ears, that the patriotism of this
wonderful sword might have been excited. It was not so,
however. Brunslik kept perfectly quiet, and the heroic
Frederick blazed away unmolested.
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The view up and down the river on a sunny afternoon
is beautiful from the centre of the bridge. The
city is surrounded by a splendid amphitheatre of hills
which are legitimate off-shoots of the “giant mountains”
so celebrated in ancient German story; and the yellow
Moldau sweeps onward through the valley in a broad
and rapid current. The town is built on each bank;
the stone bridges which connect the old and new Stadt
are of massive and ancient architecture, and the principal
one is lined with a double row of colossal statues.
There are two large and beautifully wooded islands
in the centre of the river, which are the favourite promenade
for loungers every afternoon, and of the industrious
burghers and their wives on Sundays. Ferry boats are
constantly plying hither and thither between them and
both shores, and you are almost certain to hear the lively
strains of a full band of music, issuing, towards evening,
from those island-groves. The air is always full of
music in Germany, and there is not a place where you
will enjoy that luxury in greater abundance than in
this, not even excepting your much vaunted Vienna.
As you look up and down from the bridges, the architecture
of the town reminds you every instant of the
middle ages. The houses are high, many-storied and
toppling; the streets narrow, the churches numerous
and most interesting specimens of all kinds of gothic,
and the ancient Hradschin with its cathedral and chapel,
crowning the summit of the mountainous “old town,”
is the most imposing part of the picture.
I wander often at even-tide to the ancient cathedral
on the Hradschin, and attend vespers with almost the
regularity of a good Catholic. It is when I am fairly
within the eternal twilight of this magnificent old
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church that the allusion which is always floating over
me in Prague;—the feeling of antiquity, the presence of
by-gone days.—becomes complete.
As I enter, I feel myself carried softly back into the
midst of the olden time. The present century floats
entirely away, and the buried ages arise from their long
repose, and flit over me on noiseless wings. I feel—
sensibly feel — their existence and their presence.
The dim light streams through the gorgeously painted
windows, catching a thousand brilliant and fantastic
hues. Those windows are adorned with legends from
holy writ, quaint portraits of saints, and armonial bearings
of emperors, and of prelates who were more powerful
than emperors. The paintings are grotesque and
faulty; but the colours are brilliant beyond all emulation
of our day, for the art has not survived the artists of
those times.
As I look upward towards the fretted and far distant
roof, and mark the gothic and pointed arches which
support and increase its height, I recognize the poetry of
that invention, and feel that those arches, in obedience
to the thought of their inventor, do really strive toward
Heaven. The walls are hung with ancient and holy
pictures,—the niches are filled with statues, — the little
chapels are each ornamented with its altar and its saint,
and filled with reliques, votive offerings, and Bohemian
legendary wonders. In yonder time-blackened monument
repose the ashes of five emperors and two kings.
The numerous sarcophagi covered with rude sculpture,
and quaintly wrought in dust-stained marble, which line
every aisle, enclose the monuments of the ancient Ritterschaft.
On each of them reposes, with his mailed
hands piously folded, the figure of some valorous old
German knight.
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The whole of the tesselated floor is covered with half-effaced
inscriptions, with ancient names and chivalrous
escutcheous. The ashes of a hundred forgotten warriors
are beneath your feet.
The twilight deepens,—the small bells tinkle;—the
odour of frankincense is in the air. The robed priests
glide towards the altars,—the solemn peals of the vast
organ roll through the vaulted arches. The floor is
covered with dark and prostrate forms; but no voices
are heard save the chanting of the choristers, and the
low and solemn accents of the priests.
I beg your pardon for all this balderdash and I hardly
know how I slipped into such a rhapsodical vein; but
when you speak to me of the hackneyed delights of
Vienna, and exert all your eloquence to drag me from
my resting place, you see what you bring upon yourself.
I have bored you long enough in all conscience, and
so I shall make no apology for breaking off at once. So
good night, my dear Lackland.
Your true friend,
Uncas Morton.
Vienna, 1777.
For the present then I will leave you to yourself. You
are much mistaken, however, if you think me very gay.
On the contrary, I am bored, as I always am. This
city, however, is as good a place to be bored in as I know.
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You recollect the answer of the Englishman in Paris, to
the solicitations of a friend who wished him to leave his
apartment, and go out into the world. “Merci, mon
ami, je m'ennuie très bien ici.” This is pretty much the
case with me, and with the rest of my countrymen. It
seems to me that one great reason why the English, as
a nation, are such victims of ennui, is, because there is so
large a class who have exactly no other profession. Do
not mistake me. I do not speak of men of large fortunes.
I despise an opulent landholder who is, or affects
to be, an ennuyé. If he be really so it argues a weakness
of intellect, and there is nothing more to be said.
But if he affects it, he excites my indignation, for I consider
it an infringement on my own rights. The class
to which I belong is a large one, and I claim for it the
exclusive monopoly of ennui. It is composed of men of
good birth and small fortune. Younger sons of younger
brothers, and in short, of exactly that sort of people who
have absolutely no niche in society, no place in the universal
machine.
It is exactly this sort of people who, if they are absolutely
destitute of property, seem born for nothing but to
curates in unknown Welsh parishes, or to be knocked
on the head in obscure East Indian campaigns; men
too high born to improve their fortunes in lucrative professions,
too insignificant to be worth a great man's while
to push them up the ladder of promotion. And then if
we have a little miserable competence, as is more particularly
my own case, why so much the worse. It is
then that we are obliged to adopt ennui as a trade. We
cannot hold soul and body together in England on our
stipend, and so we go into exile immediately. We wander
through the world without aim or object; we lounge
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through life doing nothing and expecting nothing, and
when we die, we have not even the satisfaction of diminishing
the population of our native country.
It is odd, but not unnatural, that I never yet have
given you a distinct account of my life previous to our
acquaintance. To tell a man your story face to face is
a bore, particularly if you have nothing extraordinary to
relate. It is, however, an easier matter, when it serves
as a material for a dull pen to fill up a letter withal;
and as you have often requested it, so here goes for a
sketch in the manner of Boccaccio.
Do not, however, be alarmed at my exordium; I promise
to give you my life and adventures in a dozen words.
My father was the Hon. Plantagenet Lackland, the
eighth son of the Earl of Agincourt; my mother was
Lady Griselda Sansterre, the youngest scion of that illustrious
and impoverished house.
When I was a child I was the pet of my grandfather.
The earl was a retired and pedantic old gentleman,
and as I was a boy of studious and quiet habits I suited
his fancy. As I grew up my nature began to develope
itself. As I became more turbulent, my grandfather's
nerves were disturbed, and he grew less fond of me; at
last I took to fox-hunting, and he discarded me altogether.
My father remonstrated with the old gentleman. It was
of no use, but hopes were given that I should be remembered
in his will—of course this was sufficient, and I
took no farther care of the future. Relying upon the
earl's promise, my father, who preceded him to the grave,
made no provision for me. Not long after this my grandfather
died, and I with the rest of the relations, attended
the opening of the will. The facetious old gentleman,
whether in consideration of my partiality for horses, or
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in still deeper satire, left me the legacy of a halter. Instead
of flying into a rage, I took it very good-naturedly,
(for in fact I hardly expected much more,) and sent it to
the livery stable where I kept my only mare.
After this event, I reflected that something must be
done. Some of my relations who had influence at the
War-office, procured me a commission in an infantry
regiment. I rather objected to the “muds,” for as I had
a halter I should have preferred the cavalry. There
was no help for it, however, and soon afterwards the
regiment was ordered to India.
I served through the French war—got three bullets
through my body — nearly died of the country fever, and
returned to England at the peace. As I had been mentioned
in several of the despatches, I was promoted from
an ensign to a lieutenant. With this brilliant reward
for my three years' services, I retired on my half pay.
There were few of my relations for whom I had much
affection. I met them occasionally, but our greetings
were cold and formal. But there was one whom I had
always loved with the tenderest affection—she deserved
it—it was my mother — and the noblest and gentlest of
God's creatures. As soon as I could get away, I hastened
down into the country to meet her. As I passed
through the shrubbery, I plucked hastily a rose from her
favourite bush. I remembered how often I had seen her
tending it, and I kissed it for her sake. I rushed into the
house to embrace her. I came into her little parlour—
her harp stood in the corner— a vase of flowers was on
the table. Her little book-case, her favourite chair, the
picture of my father—all were as I so well remembered
them. A book lay on the table folded down at the place
where she had evidently just finished reading. I
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realized that I was at home. I went into the passage and
called to her, and my heart bounded as I listened for her
coming step. There was no answer—I called again.
A vague feeling of apprehension and of dread came over
me. At last a female servant made her appearance. I
was informed that my mother had died that morning.
I spare you the rest. I beg your pardon for mentioning
this. But there was now nothing I cared for in England,
and the country was hateful to me. One day I
was dining in London, at the table of a very young lieutenant-colonel.
He was my junior in years, and had
entered the army only a month before the peace. He
had, however, risen very rapidly, owing either to his extraordinary
merit or to his being an earl's eldest son.
Just after dinner I received a letter in an unknown
hand. I opened it, and found I had been left a property
of five hundred pounds a year. An old bachelor
uncle, who had been present at the opening of Lord
Agincourt's will, had been pleased with my good-nature
about the halter. He was a humourist, and conceived on
the spot a great liking for me. The eccentric old gentleman,
however, kept his partiality a profound secret
from the whole world during his life-time. On his death,
however, it was discovered that he had made me his sole
heir. This was as much to my surprise as it was to the
total discomfiture of a pack of greedy second cousins and
toad-eaters.
This competence appeared to me a fortune. It was
one; for I had passed the age of excitement. I was independent
for life. There was no danger of my extravagance.
I knew I should always be capable of living
on my income. I should never think of competing with
people of one hundred thousand a-year, which I have
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seen many a silly young man do, with smaller means
than mine. If this legacy had been left to me half a
dozen years before, I should have run the whole through
in six months. But now,—I knew that five hundred
pounds a-year, were nothing more nor less than five
hundred pounds a-year, and there was not the least
danger of my mistaking it for a thousand.
I left England as a matter of course. There was no
place for me there—and I hated it—I hated to have my
own insignificance thrown in my face every moment.
I began to lounge through the world, which I have
continued to do ever since. I discovered very soon the
text of my present homily, that ennui is the profession of
my class—“the badge of all my tribe.”
I was satisfied with it, however, and I am willing to
take the world as I find it. I lead a lazy, idle,
good-for-nothing sort of life, but I have no fault to find
with the world or myself.
The power of changing the scene is, and always will
be, in my possession, and I travel about so leisurely that
I shall never tire of my wandering existence. I am
content to live and die like an Arab; I carry my affections
with me. I pack up my household gods in my
portmanteau, and can make a home in as short a time
as any other man can take out the contents of his dressing
case. In short, I am a cosmopolite and an “ennuyé”
on principle.
I should find it more agreeable to be a “looker-on
here in Vienna,” if you would join me; but as you have
settled into a philosopher, I will leave you to yourself.
Our old friend, Pappenheim von Rothenberg, and his
wife, are making a great figure here. He has been
lately appointed resident minister at the Austrian court.
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The little Ida is as pretty and piquante as ever; she
asks me often about you, and abuses you for not coming
to Vienna. So you see I am not the only one who
wishes your presence.
So, my dear fellow, do have the kindness to “hang
up philosophy” as soon as you can make it convenient,
and cut that musty tumble-down Prague of yours.
Thine by yea and nay, S.L.
Prague, 1777.
I have sent you the music—Walldorff is in the country
at present, but soon after his return he will probably
visit you at Vienna. It is possible that I may accompany
him You know, dearest Ida, how sincerely I
hope it may be so How is Pappenheim? and how do
you like the duties of an ambassadress? I am afraid
you will learn to despise our humdrum ways in Bohemia;
but no matter, I have made up my mind not to let
you off from your visit to Walldorff in the summer.
Among the music you will find a pretty little waltz
composed by your dear old uncle, Baron Kinski. He is as
lively and eccentric as ever. You will see that he has
dedicated it to me, which I consider a great honour.
Apropos of music—Do you know that our barrel-organ
(as you are good-natured enough to denominate our
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Prague Opera-house) has become one of the wonders of
the world; not for any merit of its own, to be sure, for
the boxes are as dingy, the stage as dark, and the decorations
as faded as ever. But, my dear Ida, you have no
idea what a wonderful creature this new singer has
proved to be. Till I attend one of St. Cecilia's own
private concerts I never expect to hear a voice like hers.
She is a contralto. Such sweetness! such compass and
depth, and such execution! Really, some of her tones
appeared not to be human. Moreover she acts divinely,
and is as beautiful as an angel.
Of course Kinski was full of “furore” at the first
note. They have become great friends, for who could
resist the kindness and bonhomie of the excellent old
gentleman? She appears now at almost all his musical
parties, and usually sings once or twice. Of course they
are more the rage now than ever. She is agreeable in
conversation, very accomplished, speaks all the known
languages I believe, ancient and modern; and Kinski
says she composes Latin serenades. She is full of life and
spirits, very young, very beautiful, as I said before, and
moreover of character pure beyond the reach of detraction.
What a paragon! But she shall not come to Vienna,
we are determined. So if you wish to see her you must
come to Prague.
There is a young Bohemian shepherd who has lately
made his appearance as a poet. He has published a small
volume, and has placed himself under my protection.
His verses have really much merit but they have one
defect, nobody can read them. They are written in the
Bohemian dialect which of course I understand, having
passed all my childhood in the heart of my native country,
but which is a dead letter to most readers of poetry.
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As the young man is needy, and really very meritorious,
I have done what I could for him Finding that the
book was lying on hand and not likely to find a purchaser,
I sent to the publishers and bought up the whole edition.
This was of course kept a secret from the author, who is
delighted with the rapid sale of his production. Your
friend Morton, whom you inquire for, is still here, and
likely to be. Accident made me acquainted with him
a long time ago, and since his return we have been great
friends. He is much altered from the singular person
whom you describe as one of the principal heroes of your
Göttingen adventures. He is never moody or misanthropical—
on the contrary, he is the most good-natured
sort of person in the world; but he is very distrait and
very studious. He and old Kinski are the most intimate
friends. He is the old gentleman's prime favourite.
They lodge very near each other, and hardly ever
separate. Kinski, as you know of old, is a man of great
learning; he is a profound student of all the natural
sciences, and, as far as I can learn, has elected himself
a professor on these subjects for the exclusive benefit of
Morton. The latter lives, I believe in a laboratory, and
sometimes, both are seen to disappear into his lodgings, and
are not heard of again for whole days. These freaks, to be
sure, are rare for Kinski, who still keeps up his love of
music and society; but as for Mein Herr Morton, he has
been known not to leave his lair for two months together.
It is said that horrible detonations are sometimes heard
in his apartments, and blue smoke and flames are seen
issuing from the windows. His neighbours take him, I
believe, for a necromancer; but I believe he is only a chemist.
Perhaps he is searching for the philosopher's stone.
In these long seclusions of his he keeps his door
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inexorably fastened, and is never to be seen. All visitors
are turned away by his servant, an uncouth barbarian
with red hair and demoniac aspect, whom he brought
from Göttingen, and who has accompanied him on all
his wanderings for the last six years. This worthy
defends the privacy of his master by force of arms if
necessary; but a sight of him is usually enough, and
all intruders go away convinced that Morton must be
the devil, and Gottlob (his servant) his principal imp.
We see him, however, sometimes in society. When
questioned about the rebellion in the American provinces,
which seems creating such excitement even in the heart
of our despotism, he answers confusedly, and hastens to
change the subject. He at least is evidently no rebel,
and I suspect is as indifferent an Englishman as
American. Although we are so old acquaintances he
will never converse with me on political subjects. Upon
other subjects he is fluent enough, but on this, his only
answer is that he knows nothing about them. Is
not this odd for a man whose country is in such a
state? It is weak at least, not to say imbecile.
So much for Mr. Morton, to whom I should not have
devoted so large a portion of this letter, but that I know
he is an old friend of yours, and that you take much
interest in him. So do I; for to say the truth he is
a most entertaining savage.
Adieu, dearest Ida, and remember your promise
next summer.
Thine ever, Ottilia.
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I thank you for your letter. But you are under two
mistakes, my dear fellow. In the first place, who told
you I was studying metaphysics, and entangling myself
in mystical absurdities? What stuff! No one abominates
the whole abominable science of metaphysics more
than I, and if Germany has done me no more good
than to cure me of all partiality for such enervating
study, it has still done enough. More of my studies
anon; but at present for your second mistake. What
put it into your head that I was a misanthrope? I, a
misanthrope! I—“a gloomy, sarcastic, contemptuous
hermit!” Believe me I have long out-grown such
nonsense. There is a period in adolescence, during
which we seem to be subject to attacks of misanthropy
and disgust for the world; but, thank Heaven, we live
through them all, and are seldom the worse for any.
To be sure my attack was rather more severe than falls
to the lot of the average number. You know the events
which preceded my arrival in this hemisphere, and it
was no matter of surprise to you, that at my age, they
made a deep impression on my character.
To say the truth, at the time when I first knew you,
I was a misanthropic and an unhappy person. I had
been disappointed in more ways than one; humiliated, insulted,
stung to the heart's core, and in my wrath I
hated all my species. When I first stood alone in a
foreign land with the memory of my fresh misfortunes
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crowding upon me, it seemed that my heart was freezing
within me, I could feel the ice forming itself rapidly
around me, and shutting me out from all communications
with my species.
The fact is, it seems to me that there are certain regular
transitions through which the mind must pass before
it reaches maturity, and that each stage is exposed to its
peculiar diseases and sufferings. Like puppies we are
all born blind; but less fortunate than they, it is many
years before our mental vision is able to bear without
winking an exposure to the full sunlight of Truth.
The first decade of our life is a period of sense alone.
The child exists only in its senses. The second is the
age of sentiment,—of imagination,—of exaggeration,—
of aimless and preposterous ambition; the age when the
same splendid phantasmagoria displays itself to the
mind of every one, and which every one believes has
been revealed to him alone.
The next ten years are apt to be years of misery.
The third decade commences with a shock from which
the healthiest and most elastic mind is slow in recovering.
The sun of life's noon-day has at last swept away
the beautiful mirage which enchanted our eyes, and hid
from us the weary waste over which we are journeying,
and we awake, to feel the scorching heat, to see the wide
and hopeless sands, and to be alive to the dull monotonous
course we are to traverse. Then come materialism,
scepticism, and sensuality from principle; so much
worse than the sensuality from instinct which characterized
our earlier life. Then is the moment when that
blighting and inevitable “cui bono” first intrudes upon
the mind; that question which we cannot answer.
Then come its effects; recklessness,—restlessness,—
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excitement-seeking; contempt,—misanthropy. This is
the period, when if the individual be peculiarly irritable
or his misfortunes exceedingly poignant, the consequences
are sometimes extravagant. At this age, some
commit suicide, and some matrimony, and some content
themselves with writing gloomy verses for the newspapers.
After this, however, succeeds an age of good nature, of
bonhomie and placidity. We have outgrown our
youthful follies. We have discovered how many of
what we considered our own extraordinary idiosyncracies
were merely the characteristics of our race, and we begin
to make ourselves quiet and comfortable.
Since I began to study, I will confess that I came near
having a relapse into melancholy. Say what you will
of the delights of dawning wisdom, and the approach
of manhood; it is after all a disagreeable epoch. We
dislike to see one bright delusion after another melt away
like stars before the clear, cold light of morning. The
night of our ignorance attracted our eyes to those bright
constellations; the daylight of our wisdom obscures
those lesser lights, and shows us only the deserts over
which we are wandering.
I got over this, however, very soon, and then I set
myself seriously to study. I am a student now, and an
industrious one—but certainly I am not a metaphysician.
I have discovered that a limit is set to the human intellect,
(or to my own at least,) and I have no wish to
irritate myself by speculations on subjects beyond my
grasp. Under this category I place particularly the
whole science of mental philosophy. It is my fixed determination
to study only that which is palpable. The
earth, the present visible world, is, in my opinion, the
sphere in which the human intellect is to be exercised;
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and just as in the material world, if you ascend too high
beyond the common atmosphere, you are chilled and
sickened, and if you remain, killed; or if you descend
too low, you are overcome and poisoned by mephitic
vapours, which surround and indicate the limits of
human progress; so, in the intellectual world; if our
thoughts aspire above or beyond their proper atmosphere,
the mind is sure to become giddy; to be maddened or
paralyzed.
It is my belief that men are apt to forget, in their
education for heaven, their more immediate and earthly
one. I hold it to be neither blasphemous nor immoral,
for the creature to acknowledge that he has been created
weak, and to leave certain things in their places, till he
is endowed with strength to grapple with them. If we
have been placed upon this earth by a Being of infinite
wisdom, with faculties and capabilities suited to our
sphere, I think we should show more humility and more
faith by exercising our present powers in the best and
most fitting manner, than by arrogantly striving after
those things which he has not thought proper to place
within our reach.
Suppose, for instance, that all mankind were certain
that in some future state of being the power of flying
was to be added to their present physical powers; am I
to believe that he who has spent his life in flapping his
arms in the air, or in making similar preparations for
overcoming a present impossibility, will prove more dexterous
than the man who has patiently and humbly contented
himself with exerting those powers to which God
has for the present limited him?
It is my intention to make nature my school-mistress,
and to study truly those subjects in which she can
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instruct me. I believe that if all mankind were to do
likewise,—if we were all willing to go at once as it
were to the lectures which she is ever reading to us, and
to take notes for ourselves, the sum of knowledge
would be greatly increased. The study of metaphysics,
accordingly, after having pursued it a short time in the
most metaphysical city in the world, I abandoned with
disgust; and it seems to me that it is with men of some
intelligence, a mere excuse for idleness. Any one may
talk about the mind, because there are no facts about
it; and although he may find plenty of disciples who
believe him right, he is sure that there will be no one
who can prove him wrong. The science of ideas must,
I think, infallibly degenerate into a study of words, a
study which is most enervating, and which, if the intellect
be originally strong, will result in madness, or in
imbecility, the most usual case, if the capacity be moderate.
This is apt to be the misfortune of those who
have become enamoured and perplexed with the singular
vagaries of the German transcendentalists; a misfortune
seldom happening to the Germans, but often to
their foreign disciples. A few philosophers of subtlety,
and of strong nerves, have contrived an ingenious and
striking theory of words and ideas. They forget to inform
their apostles (what they themselves are well
aware of,) that the whole science is in reality beyond the
range of the human intellect. The unhappy students
imbibe greedily the draught that is set before them, and
then they begin to babble. Witness in proof the witless
productions that have in latter days been given to the
world by a set of authors, whose ambition is to envelope
common-place in a grotesque and childish garb. When
it is divested of its gaudy and tasteless trappings, it is
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found by the reasonable not to be worth the trouble it
has given; but is admired by a herd of innocent and
misguided readers, who are ever prone to mistake pompous
folly for wisdom.
I have accordingly arrived at the conclusion, that the
most dignified and fitting study is the study of the natural
sciences.
If you recollect, however, my dear Lackland, that I
am only answering your own question, and giving you
only the results of my own inquiries, based perhaps on a
consideration of my own individual organization, you
will acquit me of arrogance or presumption. I am neither
dictating, nor dogmatising, nor promulgating a doctrine.
I care not a fig whether the world would or would
not probably agree with me; but I am only stating for
our mutual gratification the course and the result of my
reflections on the subjects concerning which you have
questioned me. I say, too, that the pursuit of the real or
natural sciences is the most satisfactory of studies.
When I learn a fact which I can prove with a vial of
acid, or a bladder of air, or an iron rod, I feel that I have
learned something which man cannot contradict. I have
been instructed by nature's own lips, and there is no one
to gainsay what she has told me. I feel that these are
pursuits which elevate and invigorate, instead of bewildering
and enervating the mind.
I look with reverence upon the great scientific discoverer,—
on the man of robust genius, who stands in his
laboratory, surrounded by the elements of the universe—
who seizes, enchains, combines, arranges, and makes
subservient to his mighty will, the vast and wonderful
powers of nature; and I feel that even I, while occupied
with my own experiments—my own crude and puerile
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attempts, am yet stepping in the trace of God—I feel that,
however blindly and darkly, I am yet investigating the
mechanism of worlds,—that I am learning to become a
god myself; (for the man of to-day is, in all scientific
matters, a god to the man of a century since,) and I feel
that the man who is fortunate enough to produce any
great discovery, after years of painful study, and in the
agony of the brain, bestows it upon the world as an additional
blessing to those which have emanated directly
from the Creator.
It is for these reasons that I reverence the man who,
from careful study of created things, proceeds himself to
create; and who wastes not his time in idle and painful
speculations.
Recollect that, in the very age when those learned and
metaphysical schoolmen, who had even been to Arabia
to complete their education, were spending years in speculating
“whether fishes think,” “whether stars were
animals, and if so, did they eat,” and other equally profound
and sensible matters of study,—a quiet friar invented
gunpowder. I do not give this as an example of
the beneficent tendency of real or scientific study, but
certainly as one of its vast and stupendous results.
I make occasional tours for weeks long in the Giant
Mountains. I am accompanied always by my faithful
servant “Praise God,” the executioner's son. I assure
you, I have always been glad that I persuaded him, in a
moment of whim, to forswear his father's truculent profession,
and follow my fortunes; for truly he has proved
a most faithful and worthy coadjutor.
During these tours, which I always make on foot, to
make collections and investigations, I pick up a stone—a
shell—a fossil—or a petrifaction of an animal or weed.
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I examine—analyze—decompose—compare—I consult
the works of former geologists, mineralogists, and great
scientific travellers. I investigate—I ruminate—I even
allow myself a little speculation, for speculation with a
stone for its subject is not dreaming. If I soar too far,
there is still a stone tied to the string, which brings me
back to earth. I examine—I go backward—I ascend
with history to the sources. She faints by the way side—
she is no more. I push boldly on—I dash into the
midst of antiquity. I wander, and call aloud. I invoke
the ghosts of the old time. I am in the dark it is true,
and shrouded in mist; but I have voluntarily entered.
I walked alone only when I was deserted by History, and
I cease not to implore the more powerful hand of nature
to support and direct me—and I do find it—and I am
strengthened and consoled.
Some of these days I may send you more particular
accounts of my occupations. For the present I will
have done boring you. I make no apology for my
tediousness, for you have drawn it upon yourself by your
interrogations; so that in the words of Dogberry, “If I
were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to
bestow it all upon your worship.”
Farewell.—Praise-God desires his brotherly love to
Herman.
Thine ever, U. M.
Prague, 1777.
They make a great deal of fuss about a little opera girl
they have just produced on our boards. The peans that
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are sung in her praise, have been loud enough to penetrate
the walls of my workshop. There is no end to the
wreaths and the garlands which old men and young
men, women and children, unite in laying at her feet.
The green-houses are all but torn down, and if things
continue as they are, the flower-women will soon ride in
their coaches.
The worst of it is, that they are all abusing me. By
all, I mean the three or four persons who form my whole
acquaintance in this place. Madame de Walldorff
laughs at me for a Cherokee savage, and even my worthy
counsellor, professor and adviser, M. de Kinski, is
likely to cut me, if I am not willing to prostrate myself
with him at the shrine of this deity. But I will not be
flouted from my humour. The fact is, I hate your singing
women. I am a very bad musician; am not easily
moved by the concord of sweet sounds, and have the bad
taste to prefer infinitely a male voice to a woman's. What
annoys me more than all, is the stuff that these people
talk about the creature's shrinking modesty—tremulous
gestures, blushes, and the Lord knows what. The
shrinking modesty, forsooth, of a woman who exhibits
herself to a thousand people nightly.
I should care little for the whole business, if my absence
from the opera, during this mania, were not set
down by the few friends I have here, as dictated by
downright affectation, and a love of singularity.
Madame de Walldorff insists upon it that I should be
in love with her at first sight. I answer that I shall
never be in love again with any woman but herself.
This is true. Madame de Walldorff is old enough to be
my mother, and certainly is not, and does not pretend to
be a beauty. She is, however, one of the most
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fascinating women I ever knew; and if I had not already conceived
an affection for her, half filial and half fraternal,
which I know she reciprocates, I might perhaps fall in
love with her. As it is, there is no danger.
It is only in Germany that I have seen women like
her. Women who are high-born without conceit of birth,
literary without a tinge of pedantry, political without an
inch of intrigue, sentimental without mawkishness, witty
without insincerity, and to crown all, poetesses without
printing. This comes pretty near my idea of a perfect
woman, and this is a “picture in little” of Ottila Von
Walldorff. She is as learned as Anna Comnena, and
as well dressed as any duchesse of the Faubourg St.
Germain. She knows as much of the real state of parties
and politics throughout the civilized world as most
foreign ministers, and writes better verses than most of
our celebrated sonneteers. She is a Lady Bountiful to
her dependants. She is virtuous beyond the reach of
detraction; and in short—but what stuff have I been
twaddling, and of what use was ever a description except
in an auctioneer's advertisement!
You ask me after my studies I am, however, determined
to bore you no longer with any details of that sort.
Suffice that I am as busy and as interested as ever. I
am very good-natured, and moreover I am growing fat—
a sure sign that philosophy agrees with me.
Old Kinski has been taken off a little by this balladmonger.
I am, however, at present able to take care of
myself; still I desire his company and his sympathy, if
not his guidance.
He is certainly a most extraordinary fellow. He is
verging upon sixty, but is still as lively and enthusiastic
a juvenal. His whole soul is wrapped in the sciences,
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and he has devoted his whole life to their pursuit. The
fine arts have, however, been cultivated by him rather
as a pastime and a relaxation than a study, except
music, of which he is a passionate and a very skilful
professor.
As he is my principal companion, and likely to take a
prominent part in whatever I may find worth relating
to you during my residence in Prague, I will briefly describe
our first interview.
You recollect that our mutual friend, Pappenheim, is
his nephew. While we were in Göttingen, that young
gentleman had been a long time in treaty for the head
of Hanswurst, the housebreaker, who you know was
executed shortly after our arrival. This he designed as
a present for his uncle Kinski. It is very odd that the
future ambassador commenced his diplomatic career, in
such a singular transaction; but the most remarkable
part of the business was, that it was protracted almost
as interminably as a treaty between two first-rate sovereigns.
Although Papp managed the affair with the utmost
adroitness, it was near seven years before he could bring
the party to terms. I shall not describe to you the various
causes of its prolongation, or the manner in which
a favourable result was ultimately brought about. You
will probably find all the protocols and other papers in all
the good collections “pour servir,” belonging to the eighteenth
century. Suffice that by the merest accident I
fell in with Pappenheim at Vienna about six years ago,
on my return from the East. He informed me that he
had just received Hanswurst's head by the diligence, and
intended to forward it immediately to his uncle, and concluded
by assuring me it would be a great favour if I
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would carry it myself. I desired nothing better, for I
had been anxious to improve the slight acquaintance
which I had with Baron Kinski. The head was accordingly
delivered to me. It was put down in pickle and
placed in a stone jar, which was carefully sealed. Immediately
on my arrival I called on the Baron. He was
out, and I left my card and the pickled housebreaker, to
be delivered to him as soon as he should return.
The next day I received an invitation to sup with him.
At about nine o'clock I went to the house which he had
indicated to me in his note, and which was one of the
most crazy antediluvian looking mansions in this tumble-down
city.
I was informed by the porter that Baron Kinski lived
on the second floor; and thither accordingly I directed
my steps.
It was the most intricate break-neck stair-case I had
ever the pleasure of ascending, and as it was only lighted
by a half expiring lamp, stuck along with an effigy
of the Madonna, against the dingy wall, I assure you
that it was not without imminent risk of my life that I
reached my destination.
At last I reached the door, and jingled the bell. Nobody
came. I repeated the experiment half-a-dozen
times with no better success. At last I got tired of that
amusement and pushed in.
I found myself in a sort of antichamber. There were,
however, no servants, although it must be confessed
that I was not without companions. I was surrounded
by my fellow-creatures, but whether they were, like myself,
strangers waiting for an audience, or established inmates
of the house, I was not able to decide. Not to
keep you any longer in suspense, they were all skeletons.
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I should think there must have been twenty, arranged
in parallel rows as if for a country dance.
You have no idea what a singular impression such a
scene made upon a mind so unprepared for finding itself
in such company as mine was.
The antichamber was high and gloomy, and though
better furnished with light than the passage, was dark
enough in all conscience. There was one dusty window,
however, through which a few feeble and dismal
moonbeams contrived to make their way, and to add
new ghastliness to the place.
My deceased friends stood in the most ludicrous positions.
They had been fastened on their stands so
carelessly, that some of the wires had become loosened,
and some of the bones had dropped off.
One tall fellow stood with his body bent towards me,
as if for a respectful salute, an amicable grin upon his
lantern jaws, and a gigantic arm awkwardly extended
as if to grasp my own.
Another was writhing his arms and legs into all sorts
of postures like a dancing master; and a third was
stooping down, apparently with the intent of rolling
at nine-pins with his own head, which had become detached
from its socket, and was rolling on the floor very
near his hand.
Presently I heard something like a sigh in a distant
corner. My heart began to beat, and I felt confoundedly
nervous. Then there was a deuced rattling of bones
in the same corner. I did not know what to make of
it. I felt convinced I must have got into some charnel-house
by mistake. I stood stock still.
Presently all was silent.
I took courage. It must have been imagination.
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The sigh must have been merely a breath of wind
through the open casement, and the rattling of course
proceeded from some of these thinly-clad skeletons
which were shivering in the breeze.
I began to take courage. I manned myself and advanced
a step; suddenly the sigh was repeated. There
was no mistaking it. I began to tremble. I am not
ashamed to confess it.
Another sigh still deeper than before, and then came
an awful voice, hollow as if from the depths of the grave.
“Oh, my God!” said the Ghost.
It was too much for me. I fairly turned tail with the
intention of beating a retreat. In my haste, however, I
blundered against my obsequious friend with the outstretched
arms, overset him, stumbled, and at last found
myself locked in his skeleton embrace and sprawling on
the ground.
It was an awful moment—I felt very near fainting.
At last I aroused my courage, rescued myself from the
clutches of the tall gentleman, (who, by the way, lost a
jaw-bone and half a leg in the encounter,) and proceeded
directly to the fatal corner.
When I got there it was only an old woman.
“What the deuce are you doing here?” said I, beginning
to bluster so soon as I found myself in the company
of flesh and blood.
She made no answer, but continued to sigh and
whimper.
“What are you crying about, good woman?” said I,
renewing the attack.
No answer.
“Will you have the kindness, madame, to tell me if
this is the infernal regions, or only a cemetery?”
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“Oh, my husband, my poor husband!” was her sole
reply.
“Where is he?” said I, not exactly seeing what her
husband had to do with the matter.
“There!' said she, pointing to a skeleton as tall as
my late antagonist.
It was hung with wreaths of flowers, and the skull
ornamented with a garland of evergreens.
“Your husband, judging from his present appearance,
must have been dead some years. Has not time taught
you to moderate your grief?
“Alas! yes, sir—but this is poor Ernest's birth-day,
and Baron Kinski is kind enough to allow me to visit my
husband on each anniversary. I always bring flowers
with me. It is a comfort to me to dress him out as you
see.”
“How long has he been dead?”
“Just nineteen years, your excellency.”
“And are you very regular in your visits?” I asked.
“I have never been absent but on one occasion,”
was the reply.
“When was that?”
“When? If your excellency will let me reflect—It
was the year after the one in which Fritz was with his
cannon on the hill yonder. My grandfather said that
Brunslik would appear with his sword then—but he did
not. I suppose there was to be more work for him one
of these days. Well, well,—I shall be dead then—I
shall see nothing of the misery of the days which are to
come. Yes, it was the year afterwards, for it was the
day or two days before Pentecost that I first saw Adolph.
He was in the grand procession of the victorious army,
and had on his bright blue uniform, with the laced boots,
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and the new spurs that he had bought after his old ones
had been shot off his heels, your excellency, at the
battle of Rossbach, and his plumes and the ribbon I
had given him were both waving in his helmet, your
excellency, green, red, and blue, were the colours, your
excellency; and as he rode down the street with his
regiment, he looked up at the garret window, where I
was looking at the procession in company with the Frau
Mendels, where I went to see the show; because the
house I lived in was on the Nagler Strasse, and the procession
did not go through that street, because it was so
narrow, and moreover they had been repairing it at one
end, your excellency, and this was just seventeen years
come next Pentecost, and seventeen years to-day, that
no garland was given to poor Ernest, your excellency,
by his window.”
“And why not?” said I, not exactly seeing the drift
of this long story about Pentecost and the battle of
Rossbach.
“I was married that day, your excellency,” said the
garrulous old woman.
“Married! what again?”
“Yes, your excellency, to Adolph.”
“In short,” said I, “the only occasion on which you
omitted to bring his birthday-wreath to your buried
husband, was your wedding-day with his successor.”
“Exactly so, sir. Will your excellency give a poor
widow a four-grosschen piece, to remember you by?”
“With pleasure,” I replied, `if your excellency will
conduct me to the presence either of Baron Kinski, or
any of his servants. But you are a widow, you say,—
have you lost your second husband too?”
“Yes, your excellency, he was a dragoon, and killed
in the battle of Katzenberg.”
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“And was your first husband a dragoon too?”
“Alas! no, sir, he was a tailor; but he got into bad
habits, and was executed for counterfeiting.”
With these words the old creature threw open a
door, and I found myself in the presence of my host.
This letter has, however, swelled to such an unconscionable
length, that I must reserve the rest for another
opportunity.
Thine ever, U. M.
Prague, 1777.
I left myself on the threshold of Kinski.—The room
into which I was ushered was spacious and lofty, and
the light was admitted through long narrow windows,
with heavy mullions and small diamond panes.
There were two or three magnificent Rembrandts on
the walls, and one Caravaggio, (the eternal Sharper and
his Dupe.)
The ceiling was ornamented with a tolerably well
executed fresco, but the walls were scrawled all over
with black chalk (by Kinski himself as I afterwards discovered)
in the most extraordinary fashion Hideous
grimacing heads, monsters with horrible eyes and lolling
tongues, chimeras, griffins, toads with horns, and cows
with wings, and all such absurd creations as appear in
some of Teniers's “temptations,” or display themselves
in the dreams of a fever, arrested my attention. The
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sketches were all very large, boldly executed, and evidently
with the hand of a master.
The invariable stuccoed stove stood in one corner,
and was surmounted by a death's head and cross-bones,
which gave it the appearance of a funeral monument.
A shelf, which extended conspicuously across the room,
was crowded with all sorts of lusus naturæ, neatly arranged
in vials and glass bottles, and in the centre was
a very large globe of the sort used for gold fish, in which
the head of my friend, Hanswurst, was displayed to
great advantage.
The room was crowded with books, cabinets of minerals,
bug-boxes, anatomical preparations, and all kinds
of natural curiosities, and in a large alcove was an apparently
very perfect collection of chemical apparatus.
A painter's easel stood in a corner, and a half-finished
sketch gave evidence of more genius than usually falls
to the share of an amateur.
The tables were crowded with books, pamphlets, prints,
and papers, nearly all on scientific subjects; while a guitar
and several sheets of music lay upon a piano. I had
time to take note of all these things very leisurely, for
there was nobody in the room, and my conductress had
vanished.
At last, however, an inner door opened, and Kinski
entered.
He was a hale old man, turned of sixty, with a hilarious
and healthy countenance.
A badly made chesnut wig contrasted whimsically
with his brown and wrinkled countenance; but the
eye was bright and pleasant, and the teeth tolerably
well preserved.
The figure was about the middle height, compact, and
slightly corpulent.
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His dress was exceedingly neat, contrary to the habit
of most students, and his frill was exquisitely plaited.
He advanced towards me, shook me warmly by the
hand, and we were soon engaged in earnest conversation.
He discussed all sorts of topics, but his principal themes
were music and anatomy. When he found that my
attention had been directed of late to the natural sciences,
he seemed delighted, and became very communicative.
A servant presently announced that supper was ready.
“I have invited no company to meet you, Mr. Morton,”
said he, “because I wished that we should make
each other's acquaintance first; and secondly, because
till I knew you I could not tell what sort of people you
would suit and would be suited to you.”
I testified my gratification at our being alone. He
gave me his arm, and we were proceeding to the supper
room—
“Stay, stay,” said he, “I had forgotten my duty to
my own family—I have not introduced you, I believe, to
my grandfather.”
“Is it possible,” thought I, “that this sexagenarian
can have a grandfather?—But these Germans are so
long-lived.”
“But will be not sup with us?” said I, aloud.
“Ha, ha, ha—very good—very good!” chuckled the
Baron, “very excellent! No, no—I am afraid we shall
hardly induce him;” and, so saying, he suddenly opened
the door of a small mahogany cabinet.
“Mr. Morton, Baron Kinski—Baron Kinski—Mr.
Morton.”
It was a stuffed man!
For an instant I was staggered; but recovering my
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self-possession, and wishing to please the humourist, I
made a low obeisance, and assured the old gentleman I
was charmed to make his acquaintance.
It was the skin of a man of middle stature, the features
admirably well preserved, with glass eyes, and
stuffed exactly in the manner of wild beasts in a museum.
He had apparently died when a little advanced in
years. The hair and beard were a sable silvered, and
both were nicely combed.
I had sometimes seen such exhibitions in anatomical
collections.
“But why do you dignify him with your grandfather's
title?”
“Because he is my grandfather!” said he, coolly.
“And how came he into his present enviable position?”
“Position!—his position is a very good one. This is
an excellent and very handsome cabinet. I call him my
cabinet minister—very good—ha—ha—ha!”
“Very good indeed,” said I; “but pray do you think
he would have been satisfied with his situation if he had
been consulted on the subject?”
“Consulted—why he selected it for himself—you must
know,” continued he, “that the Kinskis have been, for
several generations, great lovers of science, and withal
great humourists.
“My grandfather, the gentleman in the glass case,
was a profound student of anatomy. Just before his
death, having a small independent property to leave,
(apart from the family estate, which descended to my father,
and subsequently to my eldest brother,) he summoned
his grandchildren to his bed-side. It happened
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that there were but two boys among them, my cousin
Herman Kinski, and myself.
“`I have a small estate, sufficient to support a moderate
man,' said he, `I am desirous of leaving it to one of
you two.'
“`Had you rather,' he continued, addressing himself
to Herman, `had you rather that I should bequeath to
you my body (which, by the way must be always preserved
and kept in the family of him who inherits it,) or
my estate?'
“`God forbid,' cried the booby Herman, `that my
grandfather's body should be deprived of Christian
burial, and a worthy monument by the side of his ancestors!
'
“`In other words,' said the old gentleman, `you would
prefer the estate—and you, Caspar?' he continued, turning
to me.
“Now I had already become imbued with many of
my grandfather's whims or absurdities, (if you choose to
call them so,) and, moreover, I suspected that he intended
to favour me; so I answered boldly—
“`God forbid that I should hesitate for an instant
between two such unequal offers—I take the body. God
forbid, too, that so distinguished a votary of science as
my grandfather, should be doomed to a vulgar burial
like common individuals.'
“`It is well,' said my grandfather, `my body is yours,
Caspar.'
“`And the estate?' eagerly demanded Herman.
“But my grandfather had sunk back exhausted.
“The next day he revived a little, and the next day
he was able to sit up and be dressed. On the third, he
was sitting in his arm chair, in his dressing-gown and
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slippers, and every body thought he was fairly recovering,
when he suddenly fell back and expired.
“I believe from my soul that he did it on purpose; the
eccentric old gentleman could not bear to do anything like
other people, and I have no doubt he was inwardly chuckling
at the last gasp at having given us the slip so cleverly.
“The will was opened—no mention was found of the
estate in question; but by a codicil, his body and the
clothes that he last wore, were bequeathed to me.
“I claimed the body, as a matter of course. It was
delivered to me.
“On putting my hand into the pocket of the dressing-gown
which he wore when he died, I discovered a package
of papers. One of them was a letter. It was directed
to me. I hastily opened it. First, without any preface,
it contained a long list of instructions for pickling
and flaying human bodies, together with directions for
stuffing and embalming them. He urged upon me
strongly the necessity of setting about my task immediately.
After I got to the end of all this, I discovered a
very important postscript. It was simply a devise (in
consideration of his great affection for me, and particularly
of his approbation of the love for science and for his
person which I had displayed in my late choice,) to me
and my heirs of the whole estate in question.
“The other papers were the title deeds, &c. of the
estate.”
“And you accepted the whole of course?” said I.
“To be sure!” said he, “I became independent for
life. I skinned and stuffed my grandfather immediately,
and then set off on my travels.
“I have visited your hemisphere. I have been long
in South America, in India, and, in short, almost every
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part of this world. I have vast collections, and have
followed the bent of my natural genius; and all this I
owe to my beloved grandfather.”
With this he shut the door of the case, and led the
way to supper.
I could not help thinking, by the association of contrast,
of your grandfather's will, Lackland, and the bequest
of the halter.
The supper room was a small apartment, and full of
old fashioned furniture; the repast and the wines were
excellent, and the baron's conversation very agreeable.
I congratulated him on having had relations whose
sympathy with his own tastes had enabled him to benefit
the world by his studies and his travels.
“All my relations, however,” was his reply, “were
not so accommodating as my grandfather.
“I had an old aunt who had a pretty property, and
wished to leave me a pretty legacy. She sent for me
and intimated her intentions. At that time, I had not
the ample collection which you probably saw in my
antichamber, but was earnestly longing to commence it.
When she asked me what sort of a legacy I should prefer
to receive from her, I begged her hastily to leave me
nothing but her skeleton. The old lady was so incensed
that she ordered me instantly from her presence. She
died that very evening of spite, and left me a grosschen.”
“She certainly was not actuated by the scientific spirit
of your grandfather. Was she his daughter?”
“Yes—but I have not told you how I lost a pretty
and accomplished wife through my devotion to science.”
“No—indeed! I was not aware you had been
married.”
“Nor have I. It was because I wedded myself so
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early to science, that I lost the chance of marrying a
creature as fair as science herself.”
“How was it?”
“The family of Weiblingen had long been intimate
with her own. Propositions had been made to my
mother that our families should be united. It was determined
that I should marry the lovely Bertha Weiblingen.
I made no objections. I had never seen her;
but as she was represented as well born, well looking,
and wealthy, what objection could I make? I had been
represented, I suppose, in as favourable a light to her.
The negociations had been secret, however; and she
had been induced, with her mother, to visit us in Prague.
They were then living in Vienna.
“The day she arrived, my mother hastened to my
study to communicate the event.
“I had at that moment received an exquisite present
from Vienna—it was a female skeleton. It was soon
after my mortification about my aunt, and as that event
was fresh in my memory, I was proportionably consoled.
Those deuced skeletons were to play me another
trick yet. I had received my present, unpacked it, examined
it, and placed it in its destined corner. It was
my first acquisition—my maiden skeleton—although I
believe she had been married in her lifetime.
“I was seated in my arm-chair, gazing at my treasure
in an ecstacy of delight, when my mother entered.
“`She has come at last, the little dear!” said my
mother.
“`Yes, thank God!” said I, rubbing my hands, and
thinking she meant the skeleton.
“`She is a beautiful creature,' said my mother.
“`Perfect, perfect,' I replied.
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“`You have seen her, then?' said my mother, with
some surprise.
“`Certainly—last month, when I was in Vienna,'
said I.
“`Did you ever see such beautiful teeth? said she.
“`Exquisite, exquisite! I never saw teeth or jaws so
well preserved.'
“`Such a rounded symmetry in the whole form,'
said she.
“`The os coccygis is perfect,' said I.
“`Such a fairy foot!' said my mother.
“`The bone of each toe in its proper place.'
“`Springy motion,' said she.
“`Set on patent wire,' said I.
“`What upon earth are you talking about, Caspar?'
said my mother, her eyes suddenly opening.
“`About my skeleton,' said I, `to be sure. Are not
you?'
“`Heaven preserve us! I was talking of your bride,'
shrieked the poor lady.
“A light laugh rang through the open door—a light
form bounded through the passage—Bertha Weiblingen
had crept stealthily to the door at the commencement of
the conversation. She wished to have a sly peep at her
intended lover. She had heard the whole conversation,
and she never forgave me—
“Take a glass of St. George.”
The old gentleman laughed heartily on concluding
this story, so that it was evident the whole affair had not
occasioned him much regret.
I do not recollect much else that occurred on that evening,
and if this letter has answered the purpose of making
you a little better acquainted with one of the most
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learned and benevolent old gentlemen in Germany, my
purpose will have been answered.
Thine ever, U. M.
April 15, 1777.
You have no idea what a beautiful opera it is, dearest
Ida. Positively you must come to Prague immediately.
And Minna—the glorious Minna—you have no idea of
such an actress.
The opera was composed for her expressly; it is her
best and her favourite part. Every note of the music
from beginning to end is beautiful. You have never
seen it—you will never see it if you continue to be so
obstinate. Let me describe it to you.
You are in your box—my box—for mine is the best
in the theatre. You are in my box—old Spontini, who
is still the best of orchestra leaders, enters—lace ruffles,
and all. The three raps are given. All is silent—for
the enthusiasm for the opera is universal—Spontini
waves his fiddlestick, and away they go.
Such a gush of melody! Such a flood of sweet
sounds! The music represents morning—morning
with the earth awaking, the flowers opening, the birds
warbling, the butterflies humming, the fruit trees waving
in the breeze.
And then another strain, merry as a morrice-dance.
Your heart-strings flutter—your feet pat the floor—you
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yield to the merry infleunce—when, lo! a startling
trumpet—a blast which makes you, woman as you are,
feel yourself a hero; and then again the merry peal—
and then the plaintive tinkling of a guitar. The curtain
rises, and an unseen lover chants a sweet romance.
That romance is answered—(attend, dearest Ida)—
by the low notes of a woman's voice.
Ah, those low, deep, spirit-like tones—those tones beyond
all instruments! She is unseen too; but who that
had ever heard could mistake the strains of the enchantress.
I cannot say that I am often affected by a woman's
voice. There are instruments which surpass it; but
there is something in those low notes beyond all combinations
of reed, or chord, or wire; and which seems
to swell out from the deepest fountain of the soul.
The sounds are not human; they are spiritual, supernatural.
I do not know how it is, but it seems to me, Ida,
that it is not my heart alone that is affected by this music.
My intellect is awakened, my soul is aroused. My mind
(if I have one,) the divinest part of me, is excited sometimes
to madness. While yielding to the influence of
such strains as these, my fancy kindles, ideas swarm,
bright fancies flash across my brain on golden wings.
I listen and dream, till I dream myself in heaven—till I
feel myself a divinity.
The music ceases, and I fall flat from my empyrean.
It is very bad taste I know, my dear Ida, to write such
stuff; but really when I speak of this opera I get very
enthusiastic, and I suppose very foolish.
This same paragon is as delightful in private as in
public. I have met her several times, and she is now
always at my parties and concerts. Her manner is high
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bred and excellent—by the way she is said to be the
natural child of a man of rank—when you come you
shall see her. Her conversation is delightful.
I believe that you are acquainted with Sir Doomsday
Gules, an English baronet, who has been an habitual
resident in Prague for some years. He is an odd person,
about fifty years of age. His main object in life seems
to have been to free his estate (which is said to be a
very fine one) of the mortgages by which it has, so over-laden
by his predecessors, as to produce hardly any
income.
For this purpose he has lived on a pittance for many
years, and begins to look forward with some confidence
at present, to a final extrication from his difficulties.
His economical habits have, however, at length become
fixed upon him, to a great degree, and he is moreover
on principle a profound egotist.
Now the most entertaining and oddest thing in the
world has happened. What does my poor Sir Doomsday
but fall over head and ears in love with Minna,
the enchanting actress of whose praises this letter is so
full.
Conceive of this economist of fifty, in love with an extravagant—
for extravagance is her foible—with an extravagant
actress of eighteen! Can you conceive of any
thing more absurd?
The best of it is, that Minna, who is méchante sometimes,
makes all manner of fun of him. She contrives
that he shall make her vast quantities of presents, shawls,
trinkets, watches, and all sorts of fine things, which she
immediately presents to her dressing-maid. Sometimes
poor Doomsday has the mortification of meeting the
maid, tricked out in some of the finery, which it has cost
him so many pangs and so many Louis to purchase.
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Still, however, he perseveres. He offers her marriage.
She laughs at him, coquettes with him, makes a fool of
him. It is amusing to see them together at Kinski's
musical parties. It is too bad, however, of Minna; and
some one ought really to interfere.
But Sir Doomsday and the Fräulein have occupied
so much of this letter, dear Ida, that I have only room
in it to express my gratitude for your letters, and to reiterate
my entreaties that you should fulfil that promise so
long made, and so long, by one at least, forgotten.
Thine own Ottilia.
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[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]
BOOK IV.
Puff.—
Oh, amazing! Her poor susceptible heart is swayed to and
fro by contending passions like—
[Enter Under Prompter.]
Under Prompter.—
Sir, the scene is set, and every thing is ready
to begin, if you please.
The Critic: or a Tragedy Rehearsed.
[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]
CHAPTER I. THE FERRY-BOAT.
I have placed the letters contained in the foregoing
book by themselves, because they contain the introduction
to the short drama which I now purpose to relate.
Early in the spring, 1777, and accordingly very soon
after the date of the last letter, I mounted my horse for
my afternoon's canter.
It was on the afternoon of Sunday, and the weather
was mild and delicious for the season.
On my return I stopped by the ferry-boat, and sending
Praise-God home with the horses, I crossed over to
“Dyers” Island.
I am fond of observing the gaiety of the lower classes,
and of a Sunday afternoon this paradise of “the Dyers”
is as pretty a location for that purpose as heart can desire.
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The island is in the centre of the river, and the view
of the town, and the mouldering fortifications about it is
very romantic, and very feudal. There is a promenade
of magnificent linden-trees for loungers, a platform and
a band of music for those who are inclined to waltz;
plenty of seats for those who are fatigued or in love, and
and a restaurateur for those who are more substantially
inclined. The latter furnishes the ladies with tea and
ginger-bread, and the gentlemen with beer and tobacco,
at one groschen per cent. advance upon the Prague
prices.
I had been dodging among the trees with my pipe and
poodle, ruminating upon “a mass of things, but nothing
distinctly,” and contemplating with much satisfaction the
good-natured gaiety of the Bohemian artizans, when
some one tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned round. It was a tall, awkward young man,
with very thin legs, and a pair of blue spectacles. He
had a bundle of papers thrust about half way into his
coat-pocket, which, added to the spectacles and his shabby
dress, gave him rather a literary look.
He observed to me that some of his friends were about
to dance a German cotillion, and were in want of one
couple. A lady had been found, but the cavalier was
wanting—“would I be so good?” I told him I was not
fond of dancing, moreover, that it was getting late, and
I was just going home. He made me a very long speech
in reply, which, owing to the uncouth accent in which
it was delivered, I did not more than half understand.
The drift, however, as far as I could make it out, seemed
to be to persuade me that I was particularly fond of
dancing, that it was exceedingly early, and that it was
impossible I could have serious intentions of going home
at present.
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As I persisted in declining his invitation, he turned
short about, took my arm confidentially, and assured
me that he cared not a fig for dancing himself, but infinitely
preferred a short conversation with me.
He led the way accordingly to one of the benches, and
as soon as we were seated, drew the ominous roll of
paper from his pocket, and gravely proposed reading to
me the first book of an Epic, in the Bohemian dialect.
It was in vain that I assured him I knew as much of
Chinese as of Bohemian. It was no matter, the rhythm
of his work was so exquisite, that my ear alone would
furnish me with gratification enough. To all other objections
I thought proper to make, he seemed provided
with equally satisfactory answers. At last, I begged
him to return at least to the “dancing board,” and to
defer his lecture till the cotillion was concluded.
He was not more than half satisfied, but consented,
on condition that I should retract my previous refusal,
and join in the dance myself. Any thing was better
than his terrible epic, and I reluctantly gave in. When
we got there, we found they were about beginning without
us. My shabby friend and myself, were, however,
hailed with rapture, and were immediately pressed into
the service. The company consisted principally of postillions,
tinkers, bakers' apprentices, and other representatives
of the more laborious classes of society, and were
all in their Sunday finery, with nosegays in their button-holes.
The girls were dressed out in their best petticoats, and
were flaunting in fine ribbons and holiday caps. Some
of them were very pretty, and they seemed all gay and
happy. I felt in a very philanthropic mood, and was
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delighted that I had allowed myself to join the festive
scene.
Presently a pretty little creature with fair hair and
rosy lips, bounced up to my companion, and claimed the
fulfilment of his engagement—and directly afterwards,
a fat wench with the air and figure of a female hippopotamus,
was assigned to me as my partner. I confess
that my philanthropy began to ooze away very rapidly,
and accordingly, as soon as the creature's back was
turned, I bolted without further ceremony.
Impelled by the fear of pursuit, I ran straight through
a double row of quiet burghers and their wives, who
were gravely smoking their pipes, drinking their tea, and
knitting their stockings in the most gregarious and
sociable manner; overset two or three tables, and half a
dozen bottles of beer, received two or three dozen curses,
and never stopped till I had sprung into the ferry-boat,
which was luckily just starting, and ensconced myself
in the snuggest and most distant corner.
It was not till we were fairly under way that I felt assured
of my safety, and began to survey my fellowpassengers.
The only group that excited the least interest were
two ladies attended by three gentlemen; the whole
party apparently superior in rank to most frequenters of
Dyers' Island.
One of the ladies was already advanced in years;
but the other, as far as I could judge from a pair of long
dark eyes, which shone softly through a thick veil, was
both young and pretty.
Two of the gentlemen were Germans, whom I had
frequently seen in Prague, and the third was evidently
an Englishman.
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This latter, I hardly know from what reason, for I
had never seen him before, immediately attracted my
attention. He was apparently beyond the middle age,
and with a figure slightly tending to corpulence. He
was dressed with the niceness and accuracy which invariably
mark a well-bred Englishman; and flourished
his switch and his eye-glass with the air of a man who
wishes to appear younger than he is. His features were
regular and handsome, and the teeth still good. In
short, he had the appearance of a well-preserved old
bachelor. His manner was supercilious, and his conversation
seemed to me satirical and ill-natured. From
one or two observations which fell from him, I decided
that he was Sir Doomsday Gules, a gentleman of whom
I had often heard but never seen.
The boat was very full, and just as were half across,
there was a cry that she was sinking. There was a
confusion—in the midst of which some threw themselves
overboard, and some were pushed in by others. I fortunately
retained my seat, but there were many in the
water, and among the rest, the whole party I have been
describing. The Englishman, who could not swim,
was clinging to the boat; one of the Germans was assisting
the old lady, who was his mother; and the third
was magnanimously making for the shore. The young
lady was a couple of yards from the boat, and very near
drowning.
I pointed out the whole affair to Toby, my poodle;
he understood me in a moment, gave me a wink, and
flounced into the water. If I had been a hero and a
booby, I should have jumped overboard of course, and
probably succeeded in reaching the place after she had
sunk. At any rate, it was fated that I should never
win a medal from the life-preserving society.
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The poodle, in thirty seconds, had caught the lady by
the dress, and at the same time the boat, as I foresaw,
had yielded to the current and was close alongside of
her.
I supported her with an oar for an instant, and then I
reached out my arms and drew her into the boat. A
few minutes afterwards the boat reached the shore in
safety. The old lady had recovered, and the two Germans
now busied themselves with the younger lady.
Sir Doomsday Gules was carsing his own misfortune.
He sat down on a stone with the most vexed expression
of countenance.
“There's my hat gone,” said he—“the hat that was
purchased new the other day in Vienna, and my stick
with the diamond in the head. Cursed folly it was, by
the way, to put a diamond in a cane like these ostentatatious
beggars on the Continent—and, let me see—yes,
by the Lord, my purse has gone to the bottom too!
Fifteen Louis and a couple of crown dollars, the last of
the last remittance from London. Curse my folly, I
say,—if I ever cross a ferry again, may I be—”
He was interrupted by the wailing of a poor wretch
of a woman, whose husband, a cobbler, had been
drowned in this catastrophe.
“Oh, my dear husband! Oh, my poor, dear, blessed,
miserable Hans! What will become of me? Where
shall I go? What shall I do? Oh, my husband! Oh,
save my husband, sir!” cried she, appealing in her
distraction to Gules.
“Damn your husband, woman,” said the baronet,
“look at my coat,—my last coat—the coat I have worn
but twice, completely drenched, utterly ruined! By the
Lord, the infernal ferryman shall pay me; and I am
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taking cold here, too,” rising from his stone, and advancing
towards the rest of the group.
The young lady began to revive, and as she had
already two cavaliers, to say nothing of the Englishman,
I whistled to Toby, and we walked quietly home.
I stumbled over what I took to be a bundle of clothes
on opening the door of my apartments. I lighted a
candle, and examined it, and found it to be the effigy of
a man without a head.
“Praise-God! what the devil is the meaning of
this?” said I to my servant.
“Nothing, sir—only I have been practising.”
“Practising! what do you mean?”
“Nothing, sir—only you were long coming home,
and I had nothing to do, sir. So I took a coat and
trousers from your wardrobe, and stuffed them with a
little straw, sir; and then I tied it in the chair, and
practised a little.”
“Practised what, in the name of Heaven?”
“Look here, sir, and the red-headed scoundrel exhibited
in one hand a double-handed sword, as sharp as
a razor, while in the other he extended a stuffed night-cap
with a paper mask.
“I cut it off, sir, with a single blow. The father
never did it better, and I have been out of practice a long
time. Indeed, sir, it was a shame about Teufel and
Hanswurst—was it not, sir?”
“Practise, indeed,” said I, with a shrug; “the fellow
has been practising executioneering.”
“Shall I bring you your pipe and slippers, sir?
There is some of Count Trump's tobacco left. Adolph,
the Count's man, assured me that his master's two-grosschen
tobacco was—”
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“Hold your tongue, sir, and go blow the bellows in
the laboratory.”
“Yes, sir; but does not your excellency think it was
a shame about Teufel and Hanswurst?” And with
this, my respectable valet marched off to the workshop.
“The fellow will cut off my head in his practice,'
said I to myself; “I wonder what Sir Doomsday Gules
would say, if any of his wardrobe were so lacerated as
as this unfortunate coat is.—Let me see, this alkali dissolved
in four ounces and a half of—Psha! that little
drowned girl had a fine pair of eyes of her own; I
wonder if she was English? She never spoke a word.
How pretty she looked after her ducking. Praise God!
Don't make such an infernal noise with the bellows.
Well, I may go and seek the philosopher's stone as well
as another. Devilish fine eyes, certainly!”
CHAPTER II. THE OPERA.
It was by the merest chance in the world that I strolled
the next evening towards the theatre.
I was sick of my studies, and desirous of some relief.
Letters from my own country had moreover occasioned
me some trouble, and I went to the nearest resort for distraction.
When I got into the theatre I was pleased to find that
there was no person of my acquaintance present. The
overture of the much-vaunted opera was played, the curtain
drew up, and with the very first notes of the invisible
songstress my heart was vanquished. I have,
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however, no intention of composing any rhapsodies on
the subject. Ten years before, I dare say I should
have become very romantic; as it was, I merely listened
with composure, and felt my heart filled with very
placid and very agreeable sensations. As to the voice, it
seemed to me like a new instrument. The sounds were
beyond and different from all other melody I had ever
heard; and my first wish (prompted, I dare say, by my
recent anatomical studies,) was that I might be present
some day at a post-mortem examination of the actress.
I felt sure that I should discover some new arrangement
of the larynx, or the bronchis, or the windpipe, or the
lungs, by which these rare and exquisite notes were produced.
In short, my enthusiasm, if indeed it amounted
to so considerable a sensation, was purely scientific and
physical.
At last she appeared. She came forward to the foot-lamps.
She was certainly a glorious creature. Her
form was above the middle height, and of the most majestic
and symmetrical development. Her walk was
alone sufficient to make her adorable. I never saw
motions so stately and yet so modest — so lithe—so graceful—
so feminine. There are probably never more than
six women at a time in the world, who can walk: in
general, they shuffle or scuffle, or wriggle, or mince, or
amble, or stride—but Minna Rosenthal walked, and her
walk was perfection.
She reached the extreme verge of the stage, and stood
quietly with her arms folded across her breast. What
was my surprise in beholding in her the resuscitated
divinity of the ferry-boat! It was she indeed; and
while the tenor, a little fellow in a hero's wig, and a helmet
bigger than himself, was making love to her in a
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laborious cavatina, I had time to criticise her at my
leisure.
It is rather for the sake of recalling all her particular
charms to my own memory, than in the hope of presenting
her portrait to others, that I am willing to dwell a
few moments on her appearance that evening.
I well know that a brush and colours even in the
fingers of Titian, are but feeble substitutes for the cunning
workmanship of nature; but with a pen for a pencil,
and with only a palette full of recollections, what can
I expect to produce? No matter.
The face was large and oval. The nose was delicate
and straight as the Niobe's; and the eyes stretched boldly
away on either side, broad and long, and leaving space
for a third between the delicate but accurately determined
brows. The whole cast of the features—the cheek—
lip—throat, had the voluptuous faultlessness of a Corregio's
Magdalen; but it was, after all, the singular and
harmonious discord of the eyes and hair, which it seems
to me must have evolved that peculiar charm to which
every heart yielded on first beholding this paragon.
The contrast of golden hair with eyes as dark as night,
is as rare as it is beautiful, and is the secret of half the
beauty of the Venetian schools. Although this was
eminently the character of her face, yet the sober style
of her costume on this particular night, assimilated her
more to the demure but lovely Madonnas of Perrugino
and the youthful Raphael. Her dress was a red boddice,
with a sad-coloured skirt, and her hair was snooded behind,
and smoothed upon her forehead in broad and
heavy folds.
Although I had been studying of late the whole theory
and practice of colours, for,—as will hereafter appear,
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I had added the fine arts to my other pursuits,—yet I
own I was utterly perplexed by the shifting hues of those
luxuriant tresses. As she stood in the light, they seemed
a pure, pale gold. She stepped back, they were auburn,
and when fairly in the shade, they were the darkest
chestnut.
In short, she was altogether divine; and I determined
incontinently to burn the copy I had been painting from
Giorgione.
The perriwig-pated fellow finished—she turned to
him. The music died away to a scarcely audible murmur—
the house was still as death. She raised her melting
eyes—she opened her rosy mouth, and hardly were
her lips parted, when an imprisoned and invisible bird
shot from her throat, and floated triumphantly and melodiously
through the air. I swear that this is true.
I shut my eyes, and determined to fall in love with
her as soon as possible.
The whole evening I was in a decidedly romantic
mood, but as soon as I left the theatre, I found myself
relapsing into my usual indifference, and by the time I
reached my lodgings, I had nearly forgotten all my enthusiasm.
I felt provoked with my want of susceptibility,
and summoned Praise-God and his bellows in no
very amiable humour.
CHAPTER III. THE SOIRÉE.
The next evening I went again to the theatre. I stationed
myself in the box close to the stage, and paid for
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all the seats, that I might be secure from all interruption.
She stood on the edge of the stage. She was within
a yard of me—she raised her eyes. Did I mistake? or
was there indeed a glance of recognition. Again! there
was no doubt—our eyes met. Her glance was soft—bewildering—
almost loving. And why not? After all, it
would have been very ungrateful if she had forgotten
the owner of the poodle.
Two or three nights after this, I went to a soirée at
Madame von Walldorff's, a woman, to know whom, it
was worth any man's while to expatriate himself. There
was a number of persons present, and Minna was expected.
In the meantime I conversed with the hostess.
Minna entered. I was soon after presented to her. I
flattered myself that there was a flutter in her manner
as she acknowledged my salute. As for me, I cannot tell
why, but I felt but little of the romance and enthusiasm
that I had gotten up at the theatre. She looked as beautiful,
she moved as gracefully, she spoke as melodiously
as ever; but something adamantine within me resisted
her fascination.
She spoke of the ferry-boat adventure, and of her gratitude,
and I introduced Toby as the real hero. I made
fun of the whole business, of course but in the midst of
it all I thought bitterly of another adventure, somewhat
similar in its character, and which I have recorded in a
previous portion of these memoirs.
Judging from the expression of my face, she supposed
that she had vexed me by her allusion to the circumstance,
and soon afterward she made herself very amusing.
I could of course not expect to monopolize her more
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than a few seconds, and very soon she was surrounded
by a whole regiment of her admirers. They dragged
her to the harp, they chained her hand and foot. She
sang one or two little ballads, and then protested she
could sing no more. While she was singing she stole
two or three glances at me. I was highly flattered. At
the end of a half hour, however, she pleaded fatigue,
summoned her carriage and retired.
A buzz of admiration succeeded her departure.
“If I could only induce her to sing my Bohemian war
song,” said somebody, taking me by the button.
I turned round—it was my epical friend in the blue
spectacles.
“It would certainly be delightful. I suppose, however,
it would be necessary to instruct her first in the
language.”
“Poh! she is a native Bohemian—she is a countrywoman
of mine—I am a Bohemian. The Bohemian
physiognomy is said to be very peculiar. Fair hair and
dark eyes are thought very handsome—I have fair hair
and dark eyes,” said he, taking off the blue spectacles,
“and Mademoiselle Minna and I are said to resemble
each other. Do you think so?”
“God forbid,” said I, with a shudder; and yet, by
Heaven! when I looked at the wretch. I could not help
acknowledging the truth of his assertion. There was
certainly a very marked resemblance to the divine creature
which loomed through the mist of his ugliness, like
the sun through a fog. It was certainly very extraordinary.
I ran away from the fellow as if he had been a
leper.
I accosted Madame von Walldorff, who was talking
to a bevy of beaux.
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“I am glad to see you have at last surrendered at
discretion,” said she to me. “Is not Minna magnificent?”
“Very showy, indeed, and a wonderful voice,” I replied.
“Ah, I knew you would come to terms,” said she.
“By the way, I am glad to see you patronizing my
Bohemian. How did you become acquainted with him?”
I narrated to her the unceremonious commencement
of our acquaintance.
“He is an oddity,” said she, “but he is a young man
of much genius. I have been trying to persuade Sir
Doomsday Gules to make his acquaintance. By the
way, you do not know Sir Doomsday?”
She forthwith introduced us. The baronet made me
a stiff inclination, and then took aim at me for a few seconds
with his eye-glass, as if to criticise the person whom
he had deigned to be made acquainted with. I gave
him a very impudent stare in reply, and I fancy he recollected
me and the circumstances of our recent meeting;
he looked sheepish for an instant, and hung down
his head. He recovered his self-possession, however,
immediately.
“You must certainly patronize the Bohemian, Sir
Doomsday,” said Madame Walldorff. “It is one of
the privileges of exalted rank to become the friend of
artists.”
“Yes, yes,” said the Englishman, “but the fact is, it
is not in my line just now: I wish it was. It is well to
be friends with that sort of people. They are apt to
sting you if you tread upon them too heavily. I am not
very fond of poetry myself, however—”
“But do you admire some your own poets?” said
Madame Walldorff.
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“Yes—no—not exactly—some of them.”
“I dare say you write yourself, sometimes,” said the
lady.
“I, good God! what do you mean? I write poetry!”
said Sir Doomsday. “No gentleman writes poetry.
When I get my affairs adjusted I mean to keep a poet,
if I can get a cheap one. I had a valet, just before I
left England, who was very literary. He was a clever
fellow in his way, but he could only write prose. He
got to be very conceited, however, and very useless; so I
turned him off. He was a long time out of place, and
begged hard to come back, but he is now engaged by a
bookseller to write fashionable novels. In that way he
gets higher wages than I could afford to give him. Do
you think your Bohemian could be taught to write English
verse?”
“Unquestionably. But to change the subject, Sir
Doomsday, how came you to let little Minna take herself
off so suddenly?”
“As if I could help it—the tormenting woman! By
the way, shall you go to the birth night ball next month
at Vienna?”
“Perhaps—and you?”
“Yes; Minna is going, I believe—”
“Poh, nonsense! she cannot be presented.”
“I shall beg the English ambassador to introduce her.”
“He will refuse—it is contrary to etiquette altogether.”
“Refuse! oh no, he will not refuse. Psha! as if an
ambassador had a right to refuse me such a request.
What is he stationed there for but to present English gentlemen
and their friends. Contrary to etiquette, indeed!
An ambassador, madame, I regard as merely an upper
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servant at court. I should as soon think of my butler's
refusing any of my orders as an ambassador.”
“Were you ever at any of the German courts?” said
Sir Doomsday to me, after concluding his choice dissertation
on ambassadors.
“I had the honour to be once presented to Frederic of
Prussia,” I replied.
“Ah, Frederic! Frederic the Great, they call him.
Dirty fellow—I recollect him—I was never presented
to him. Took snuff immensely—had his waistcoat
pocket lined with tin to save the trouble of opening his
snuff-box. Very filthy fellow!—all Prussians are.”
“I beg your pardon,” said I, “I consider the Prussians
a remarkably neat people, and the court one of the most
elegant as well as the most accomplished in Europe.
Frederic the Great is certainly the greatest man of the
age, and is no less distinguished for his literary abilities
than for the prowess of his arms.”
“Yes,” said Sir Doomsday, “oh, I recollect, I have
heard. He has gained several victories, they say—he is
always in hot water. But I know nothing about him—
I never read the papers. He wrote some farces, too, but
they were all damned—`Jack at all trades but good at
none. Voltaire humbugged him completely—made an
ass of the fellow. It was very amusing their correspondence.”
At this juncture, I saw the Bohemian making towards
us, and as I was getting tired of the party, I took French
leave that I might avoid him.
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CHAPTER IV. BARON KINSKI.
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The next opera night I was of course in my favourite
box. There was no doubt of the interest which I most
unwittingly, God wot! had contrived to excite in her.
The moment she recognized me at my post, her eyes
glistened with pleasure, and there was scarcely an interval
in which they did not seem clandestinely to be seeking
mine—all this was as unexpected as it was delightful.
This evening it was a different opera. The dress in
which she was now arrayed, was richer than her usual
costume, and displayed her gorgeous and most picturesque
beauty to singular advantage.
She was a sultana, and wore a robe of rich Indian
fabric, and of a thousand dyes; her golden hair fell
from beneath a graceful and sibylline turban; a necklace
of pearls hung round her snowy throat; her arms
were bound with bracelets, and her fingers glittered with
rings.
She was like one of Titian's most voluptuous creations.
The music was worthy to be sung by her, but it is
not my intention to write a critique on the opera.
The next evening we were all at a soirée at Kinski's.
She was singularly entertaining. She acted a charade
composed by herself, which occupied five minutes in
representation. She sang half a dozen comic songs.
She dressed herself like a Bohemian gipsy, and told
fortunes. She danced a Styrian dance with old Baron
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Kinski. She conversed in all languages;—in short, she
seemed determined to display herself:—and she did—
she was certainly a miracle of a woman.
At last, we all went to supper. There were not more
than a dozen persons present. We sat down and made
ourselves comfortable. The repast was enlivened by a
thousand brilliant sallies from Minna She was also
well seconded by the host, who seemed to renew his
youth in the sunny influence of the enchanting
girl.
At last, as the repast was nearly concluded, Kinski
entered into a long discussion with me on galvanism.
The subject, which was of so recent invention, had necessarily
attracted much of the attention of this votary
of science, and I was anxious to obtain some of his
views in relation to it. It is due to politeness to state
that our conversation had been carried on sotto voce;
for although I was getting weary of the society of those
present, not even excepting the actress, I was not savage
enough to display it. Owing, however, to the interest
which had spread from one to another as the animated
description of the Baron became more eloquent, the conversation
of the others had ceased, and all were listening
to the scientific lecture.
“What a tiresome old man you are!” said Minna,
yawning disconsolately in his face, as he concluded his
exposition.
“Have you no more compassion for an old professor—
well—well—I see you have no head for the sciences;
so come and sing the commencing aria of the last night's
opera.” It was the most favourite of all her melodies.
A general burst of supplication followed the request of
the Baron.
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“I shall do no such thing—I am determined never to
sing another song!” was the reply.
“I shall not let you off—who ever heard of such wilfulness—
come away to the harp directly. If you do not
behave yourself better, I shall not come to the opera for a
month!”
“Tanto meglio—but, indeed, I cannot sing!” said
Minna. “Now, don't ask me again, that's a good man.
I hate to sing except to individuals!”
As she said this, I can take my oath, she shot a glance
at me.
“Why you little piece of obstinacy!”—began Kinski.
“Now, no names, if you please Baron Kinski!” interrupted
Minna.
“Well, my dear child,” said the old gentleman, “what
stuff to say you only sing to individuals, when you sing
to the whole public every night.”
“Ah—but the public is to me an individual. When
I sing in the theatre, I sing to one general ear, and one
general heart, if it may be. But here in your saloon,
there is the Baron Kinski, and Sir Doomsday, and
Madame Walldorff, and this gentleman who despises
music!” said she, smiling reproachfully at me.
I felt half convinced that her refusal to sing was in
consequence of our scientific conversation. I was little
enough to enjoy the petty triumph of having piqued her
without intending it. We all went into the saloon. I
engaged in conversation with Minna—most of the others
sat down to cards.
“You will pardon my barbarism at supper,” said I,
“The fact is I hate to see you except when we are alone.”
“Why, we were never alone in our lives!” said she,
with a look of wonder.
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“Have you forgotten what you said but an instant
ago? I tell you, that it is in the same spirit, I feel I am
communing directly with you, when we are in the midst
a thousand. Rills may flow from mountains that are
thousands of miles asunder; when they meet together
in the multitudinous ocean their very existences are
mingled. Have not our eyes met when none dreamed
of it? Say, say it was not my imagination only.”
We were far from the rest of the company. I seized
her hand—she did not withdraw it—she faltered something
in reply. A footstep appproached—it was Sir
Doomsday.
Before the near-sighted lover was aware of our presence,
we had vanished together into the music-room.
She had recovered from her confusion. She raised
her drooping lashes, and with her dark, pleading eyes
fixed upon mine, she sank beside her harp, and, without
a word of preface or apology, sang the melody she had
just refused the rest. I felt the full force of the favour.
The moment she had ended, I heard company approaching;
I stole a look at Minna, which was understood
and returned; and then I hastened from the house.
CHAPTER V. CARLSBAD.
Let me not dwell upon details. I am anxious to hurry
over these darkest passages of my life. Suffice that in
a very short time Minna became mine, utterly and entirely
mine.
Of course, our intercourse was a profound secret from
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the world. We met in society as the most ordinary acquaintance,
and such was our precaution, that not even
a breath of scandal had attached itself to her reputation.
I look back upon this whole affair with feelings sometimes
nearly allied to madness. Throughout that whole
amour, I feel that I was heartless, selfish, criminal. I
was loved to the uttermost of a woman's passionate
heart. I was loved by a being who had recklessly surrendered
her whole existence to me; and yet I loved her
not.
Guilty we were; for I have no intention of palliating
the conduct of either. Guilty we were; but, alas! I
was by far the most criminal.
Her conduct was at least excused by her love; it was
at least purified, as far as might be, by the fire of passion.
But I—I was heartless and cold; and it was only
by an effort of the imagination that I was enabled to
persuade myself that I returned her passion.
Of course these reflections came later. At the time
my vanity was excited, and I realized the charm that
so many have delighted in, of being loved.
But even my vanity was of temporary duration.
When I looked around and saw what men had been
loved by what women;—when I saw the apes who had
been hallowed by woman's blind and Egyptian adoration;—
I shrunk from the category, and felt inclined to
base my vanity on any other foundation than on this.
For the present, however, it was natural that I should
behave like a lover. Any deficiency of warmth was set
down by myself to a change in my natural character;
and if perceived by her at all, did not at first occasion
any uneasiness.
I remember that I have often, in the midst of our
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most passionate interviews, recollected something in relation
to my scientific employments, which I was unwilling
to forget, and have coolly taken out my note-book
and made a memorandum, as if I had been alone, or in
the most indifferent company.
Such incidents as these could not of course fail to
make her uneasy, but she trusted still; and who does
not know how boundless, how unfathomable, is a
woman's faith.
The opera season was now over; we remained of
course in Prague. Minna had resisted several invitations
to the country. Baron Kinski had gone to Carlsbad,
and Madame von Walldorff was entertaining Pappenheim
and his wife with several others at her
château, which was in the vicinity of that celebrated
watering-place.
Finding it impossible to resist a pressing invitation to
join the party, and really wishing to pay my respects to
the couple who have figured in another part of these memoirs,
I resolved to make my escape for a few days.
Knowing that I should never be able to tear myself
away from Minna if I apprised her of my intentions in
person, I merely wrote a letter to be delivered to her after
my departure, and leaving Praise-God and the skeletons
in possession of my apartment, I decamped for a few
days.
The day after my arrival, I received a letter from
Minna; she acknowledged the justness of my argument,
reproached me less than I deserved for my precipitate
flight, consoled herself with my promise to return within
the week, and concluded as follows:—
“Indeed, dearest, you must soon return. Recollect
that I have no existence now, but in yours. My whole
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being is bounded in my love as in a circle. It seems that
it never had a beginning, and, ah! I am sure it cannot
have an end.
“Alas! Morton, you must return. You have taken
me from myself. I have no repose now but in forgetfulness,
and I have no forgetfulness except in your arms.
It is only when I am alone that I realize how I am fallen.
It is only when I am alone that I see that I am
guilty. But, alas! there are moments when I descend
into the very bottom of my heart; when the inmost recesses
of my whole nature are revealed to me, and then
I shudder as I gaze. And yet there is blessed light which
shines from the deepest caverns of my heart, and in
whose blessed influence I feel I am not yet utterly wretched.
It is the light of your love, dearest Morton.
“Indeed, you must return; I am too forlorn without
you. It seems to me that as soon as you leave me I am
delivered over to the power of something unholy; I seem
to pass into a demon's arms. I try to pray every night,
but I cannot. I cannot pray—Morton, I cannot pray
as once I did—I cannot believe as I once did.
“I was till lately one of those fortunate mortals who
believe, as children believe, because, and what, they are
told.
“At any rate, I made belief the foundation of whatever
feeble reasoning I was capable of, for I was not
strong enough, and had no inclination to make an approved
reasoning the foundation of my belief. Ah, they
are happy!—are they not, dearest?—those mortals who
are still as children; and how does the remembrance of
the early prayer of my childhood, profferred without a
doubt that it would be heard, before the knowledge of
good and evil, of the world and of men, had led my soul
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astray—come over my spirit now. I stand alone and
dismayed on a dreary and a barren waste; I feel alike
unable to reach the far distant paradise of truth, or to
return to the green spot of innocence and security, whence
I have too far wandered. And lo! in the midst of this
arid desert, the remembrance of that early prayer descends
upon me, like the cooling and blessed dew of
Heaven; soothing the scorching breeze, and moistening
the dreary sands.
“But alas! I cannot renew that prayer, although its
memory is sweet. Come back to me, dearest, for you
are now my heaven and my god!”
Will it be believed, that in spite of this and one or two
more equally urgent letters, I far overstayed the appointed
time. I was in pleasant society. We made each
other gay in recalling past adventures; and I, selfish
wretch that I was, knew that a fond heart was breaking
in my absence; and I even looked forward with apprehension
to a return to the alternate calms and whirlwinds
of her stormy love.
I had, however, set out so far on my return, that I
had left Walldorff and returned to Carlsbad; I passed a
day or two there, in the society of Kinski, and intended
to return the next day.
I was walking up and down the magnificent promenade
on the same afternoon, and musing over the events
of my past life, when I perceived a slight but elegant
young man approaching me; I was about to pass him
with a hasty glance, when he stopped me and seized me
suddenly by the arm. His eyes flashed upon me with
indignation, and I was about resenting the impertinence,
when a deep low voice stole to my heart.
“Have you forgotten me so soon?” said the stranger.
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It was Minna!
She was very angry with me. I found some means
of pacifying her for the moment at least, and we returned
to my lodgings.
I discovered, however, that she was by means satisfied
with the excuses I had given her for my prolonged absence,
and there seemed to be something still hanging
on her mind.
By degrees, I drew from her that she had, in the latter
part of my absence, become the victim of an anonymous
letter-writer; one of the serpent-hearted scoundrels
(whether male or female) who are not assassins only because
they are even too cowardly for that profession.
She had been induced to believe that my absence
from Prague was protracted by an amour in Carlsbad;
the name of the lady in question was mentioned, and it
happened that I had never seen or heard of her.
The most absurd part of the whole affair was, that
Minna, immediately on her arrival, had discovered the
address of this person and despatched a letter to her. Little
by little, I drew from her the contents of this letter.
It was nothing more nor less than a challenge. She had
dared her supposed rival to mortal combat, assigned the
place, and engaged to provide the weapons, and I have
no doubt would have carried the affair through, for she
had the spirit of a tigress.
Whether her antagonist would have accepted her polite
invitation or not, is at least problematical. Luckily
my meeting with Minna prevented the ridiculous catastrophe.
The next day we returned to Prague.
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CHAPTER VI. THE POET.
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There was now an end to her faith. She tried to trust
me, but it seemed to be always with an effort. And yet
I had in reality done nothing to excite her suspicion.
Very soon after our return, I discovered that I existed
under the strictest surveillance. When I came to her
lodgings after one or two days' absence, she would question
me of the reasons for various trifling occupations in
which I had happened to be busied.
“Why were you in Troddel's shop an hour after breakfast
yesterday? Why did you buy three ounces of copper
in the evening, when you had bought four the same
morning? How came you to be three hours at Baron
Kinski's yesterday, and why was Praise-God allowed to
be absent the whole afternoon last Wednesday? Who
lives in the yellow house in the Neustadt with the balcony
in front, and who sent the flowers which were found
on the pavement last evening?”
These and similar questions, with which she was in the
habit of saluting me, excited my astonishment. At first
I attributed them to chance, and supposed that she must
have met me abroad without my being aware of it, or
had received accidental information from her servants;
but at last, so minute and so complete was her knowledge
of my conduct during every hour that I was away
from her, that I became certain that I was the object of
a close espionage.
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It was in vain that I exerted myself to discover the
means by which the secret information was obtained; it
was in vain that I invented all sort of stratagems, and
summoned Praise God to my assistance, to carry on the
most ingenious counterplots. It was all useless; the
enemy was too wily for me. I never discovered a clue to
her sources of information, and it was a long time, and
too late, before I was better instructed.
Of course all these events did not increase my languid
affection. Still, however, they served for a time to tease,
to perplex, to irritate, and to interest me.
I was so innocent of having given her any real cause
for jealousy, that I was apt to be rather entertained than
otherwise, by the occasional vague suspicions which it
was so easy for me to dissipate.
It is disagreeable for me to dwell on those shadows of
a character, which was intended originally, I am persuaded,
for that of a perfect woman. Our course of life
continued for some weeks much the same.
She received her friends occasionally at her lodgings,
when all the dilettanti of Prague were sure to be present.
Sir Doomsday Gules was as devoted as ever,
although his attentions had naturally ceased to afford
her the amusement which they had originally done.
Sometimes, however, in her moments of gaiety, she
would laugh at the unfortunate baronet; and at the
whimsical struggles which now and then were visible
between his chivalry and his economy.
“Have you been long in Prague?” said Sir Doomsday
to me one evening.
“A few months only,” said I. “I believe it is a
favourite city of yours.”
“Very; it is the cheapest town of its size in Europe.”
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“I suppose you pass some of your summers in Toplitz
and Carlsbad?” said I.
“I used regularly to pass eight weeks of every year,
from the middle of June to the middle of August, in
Töplitz; but I have given it up now.”
“I am surprised to hear that,” said I. “I know few
prettier spots in Germany than Töplitz, it is just the
place to which I should think one would get attached,
from an habitual residence there.”
“Yes, but the fact is, the town has been getting
fashionable; the Emperor of Russia, the Elector of
Bavaria, and all that sort of people are flocking to the
place. The prices rise immediately. However, I care
very little about it; it has got to be too common.”
“And you pass your summer here, at present?” said I.
“Yes, but I shall perhaps take a run in Styria for a
month or two. I am told the mountains are almost
as fine as in Switzerland, and the expenses are a great
deal less. But I shall spend my winter in Prague. I
am very well satisfied.”
“Yes,” said I, “the Bohemians are an honest race.”
“So, so,” said the Baronet. “But let me advise you
to avoid the Jews' quarter. Do not be allured by the
asserted cheapness of some of the shops there. If you
should ever happen to be in love in Prague, don't buy
presents of the Jews. I purchased some articles of
Solomons in the Juden strasse, and discovered that
a shawl was second-hand and threadbare, and some
trinkets, which I paid a round sum for, were all false!”
“I shall certainly take your advice,” said I, “but in
the mean time let us go to the music-room?”
Minna sang two or three songs that night. They
were all mournful; and her voice was as plaintively
sweet as the wall of a fallen angel.
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When I returned home, my way led me by one of
the principal churches. I was pausing for a few moments
to contemplate in the moon-light, the Gothic
splendour of its architecture, when I perceived something
moving in the adjacent burying-ground. It was a man,
who seemed to be musing among the tombstones. There
was, however, nothing very interesting about him, and
after having looked at him a few moments, I turned to
leave the place.
“Hillo—hillo!” cried the stranger, as I was commencing
my retreat. “Hillo!—a word with you, if you please?”
It was my Bohemian friend, the epic poet. I did not
feel inclined to sleep as it was a pleasant night, and felt
no objection to a little conversation with this whimsical
character. I leaped accordingly over the low wall of
the burial ground, and was at his side. He was seated
quietly on a broad low monument, and was gazing complacently
at the moon. Although he had called me, he
seemed no longer aware of my presence, and was certainly
in no hurry to acknowledge the promptness with
which I had accepted his invitation.
At last, he looked up at me for a moment, and pointing
to a flat tombstone very near his own position, he
motioned to me to be seated. I complied with his request,
and after a moment he again relapsed into meditation.
“Prague,” said he, at last breaking the silence,
“Prague was built in the year— I've studied the
history of the empire lately. Prague was built probably
somewhere between the years 800 and 1300. Now reflect
how many more people have died here, than are
now living. How many more dead men there are in
this very grave-yard, than are live people in the whole
city. Stay—I made a calculation yesterday.”
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He took a dirty bit of paper scrawled all over with
numbers and mathematical figures from his pocket.
“Here,” continued he. “Look at this diagram?
A. represents the living. B. the dead. Now allowing
so many to be the number of births in one generation,
which we will call X. and C the number of centuries;
and dividing the whole by Y. which I take to be the
average number of persons buried here, there will be a
certain immense number of ghosts in this one enclosure.
I have not quite finished the calculation. I am not quick
at figures—perhaps you are. Here take it, you can
solve the problem for yourself at your leisure!”
With this he thrust the paper into my hand, and continued
his singular oration.
“So many ghosts are much better company than a
few living mortals. The more the merrier. My disposition
is social, very social. I come here of a pleasant,
rainy evening, and sit on this stone, (the tomb of my old
friend, Count Rosenberg.) I wait till the clock strikes
twelve. Then all the old fellows come out of their
graves—old fellows of all centuries. What dresses!
It's your only place for studying the costumes and the
manners of the past. I'm writing a history, you know;
very good it will be of course, and many an important
piece of information I have received from my friends
here. Well, they come out at the stroke of the clock.
They all assemble. They walk gravely about. They
dance the Polonaise, and then they waltz. Funny
fellows! How they whirl! Of a bright night they look
so gay and happy, with their white bones glancing in
the moonlight, and their old musty skulls grinning for
joy. And they whirl about, and the stars whirl too;
and the toads and the rats creep out of their corners, the
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bats flap their cool smooth wings in your face; and the
moon shines down on the whole so calmly. Delightful!”
“Very delightful!” said I. “But it must be dull for
you to be alone among all these amusing people—you a
living man!”
“I a living man!” said my companion, “I a living
man! Bless your soul, I have been dead these hundred
years!”
“Indeed, I was not aware of your decease before.”
“Yes, yes,” said the poet, “Martinez killed me,
shabby fellow! Here's my tomb. Remarkably pretty
epitaph. Let me read it to you?”
He dragged me to a tomb at a little distance, and read
me a couple of doggrel verses.
“There,” said he, “very pretty is it not? Very
pretty sculpture too—sweet cherub—some mischievous
boy has knocked his nose off—how sacrilegious? but I
am to be appointed minister of finance to-morrow. I
shall institute a fund for the repairing of all honourable
monuments.”
The clock struck twelve.
“There they come—there they come! hurrah!”
shouted he, “We must join with them at once. They
are dancing already.”
With this he seized me round the waist, and began
waltzing furiously about, till after a short time, we
stumbled over a tombstone, and lay sprawling in a bed
of nettles.
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CHAPTER VII. A SCENE.
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One day I was absent from my lodgings in the morning.
I left a packet of old letters lying accidentally upon
the table.
On my return, I was informed by Praise-God, that
Minna had paid me a visit; but I did not find the bunch
of flowers upon the table, which she was in the habit of
leaving when she found me absent. I missed also the
packet of letters.
I went to see her in the evening. She was alone.
She was weeping. I went forward to console her. I
put my arms around her; but she repulsed me.
“Away from me, serpent!” she cried.
As this polite welcome was not exactly to my taste,
and as she had of late grown so unaccountably capricious
and unreasonable, that I could make nothing of
her, I was preparing to take her at her word, and to
make my exit.
She sprang from her recumbent position. She threw
herself between me and the door. She folded her arms
upon her bosom.
“Do you think to leave me thus? You would desert
me wholly, would you not? Monster—I know your
perfidy; but do you not dread my vengeance?”
To these interesting queries I returned no answer.
She held up the packet of letters, and continued to upbraid
me.
“Yes, all your perfidy. You reproached me for listen
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ing to the counsels of my nameless adviser.” (The infernal
anonymous assassin had been at his work
again.) “But have I one enemy, whose arts are darker,
more treacherous, or more subtle than your own? Is
there any dagger keener than that with which you have
smitten me? You, to whom I gave my whole soul! Are
not these your letters—is not this your name? Your
very address in Prague?”
“No doubt of it,” said I coolly, and smiling in her
face.
“Perjured, heartless wretch!” she cried; “but thank
God there is yet revenge.”
She bounded towards me like a panther. She drew
a poignard from her bosom, and struck at me with all her
force. I grew pale as I felt the cold sharp steel pass through
my flesh. She drew back the dagger. It was reeking
with blood. She threw it down with despair. She uttered
a wild cry, and threw herself in my arms.
“Alas! alas! I have slain him. Speak to me, Morton—
my own, own Morton! Say I have not killed you.
Forgive me, for the love of God, forgive me. I was mad.
I was frantic. Speak to me—speak to me!”
She hung upon my neck, and covered me with frantic
kisses. I was already aware, that I was but very
slightly wounded. By good luck the weapon had passed
through the fleshy part of my shoulder. It was but
a scratch; but there was no doubt that in her rage she
intended to kill me. The moment she saw my blood,
the woman revived within her. She forgot all her anger—
all my supposed crimes, and remembered but her love.
She dragged me to the sofa. She tore my dress from
my arm. The blood was flowing fast. She kissed the
wound. She plucked a scarf from her neck and
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staunched the hurt, and then she threw herself upon the ground
and wept as if her heart would break.
I saw the advantage I had gained. I arose and took
from the table the packet of letters.
“If you had not been blinded by your jealousy, and
utterly besotted by the fell counsels of your nameless correspondent,
you would have seen the worth of these important
documents.”
As I spoke I pointed out to her the date of the letters.
They were all six years old. I recalled to her mind that
I had occupied my present lodgings during my former
residence in Prague.
She was struck dumb at the wretched absurdity of
her conduct. She clasped my knees, and besought my
forgiveness.
I was frightened at her reckless vehemence. She
was a child in the tumultuous and ungovernable flow
of her passions. She lay on the sofa almost choking
with contending emotions. I was frightened—I was
afraid her reason would give way. She spoke wildly
and incoherently, but unceasingly implored my pardon.
By degrees I pacified her. I assured her of my forgiveness,
of my unabated love. I kissed her forehead
and her eyes, and at last she sobbed herself to sleep.
When she was fairly asleep, I placed her head gently
upon the pillow, and stole noiselessly away.
When I got into the street, I lighted a cigar and strolled
homeward. On my arrival I sent Praise God for a
surgeon, had my arm comfortably bandaged, and then
went to bed. A few days afterwards the tables were
temporarily turned.
One evening I came unexpectedly to her house. As
I entered her boudoir, I observed a visible agitation in
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her manner. At the same time I saw a man
skulking behind a screen. When he saw he was perceived,
he made for a side-door. I saw him distinctly.
Wonder upon wonder! It was the crazy Bohemian
poet. I own I never dreamt of a rival in him; but I
had seen too much of women, to be surprised at any of
their tastes.
I sprang towards him. He was too quick for me.
He escaped through the door which he bolted on the
outside. Directly afterwards I heard him descending
the stairs.
I threw myself of course into a violent passion. I
demanded what the fellow was doing there. She assured
me that there was nothing of which I had a right
to complain. She treated the idea of my jealousy with
contempt. She seemed struck with wonder when she
found I was serious in my suspicions. She began another
scena. In the midst of it, a closely-written letter
caught my eye. It was from the Baron Kinski, and began
“my dearest love.” I was surprised, and looked at
the direction. It was, indeed, addressed to Minna.
“What the Baron too!” cried I, in a rage. “What an
old wretch!” She seemed as unable to account satisfactorily
for this letter as for the appearance of the poet.
She protested, however, that my thoughts were groundless
and ridiculous; but she regretted that there was a
mystery about herself which she could not for the moment
explain.
I was incredulous. I told her so. She continued her
scena. I shall hurry over it, for I will not fatigue my
readers.
“You shall believe me. You know I am innocent.
Tell me that you believe me innocent,” said she, imperiously.
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I laughed and shook my head.
“Do not make me hate you,” said she. “I was a
woman—I am a woman no longer. You have called
me an angel—have you never heard of a fallen one?”
I was weary of her heroics. I took up my hat and
was bidding her good morning—I was not to get off so
easily—she again intercepted me, and then she folded
her arms and came close to me. There was a majesty
about that woman which it was difficult to resist. She
was a perfect Medea, and there was something in the
dark light of her eye that made your very heart-strings
quiver.
“Is it possible?” said she—“Do I not dream?” Her
voice was placid, her mien was perfectly composed. She
laid her hand upon my forehead, and smoothed the hair
gently from my brows. She gazed calmly upon me.
“And while I look upon you, can I believe you such
a heartless knave? You would go away, now. You
have planted the arrow in my heart, and now you will
leave it rankling there. Go, then, go—you have won
and worn me; and now you will crush me like a broken
toy.
“Tremble, Morton, tremble! I shall be fearfully
avenged. You know me—but you do not know me
well. You know the woman, but you have yet to know
the fiend. I tell you I shall be revenged.”
As she spoke, her woman's hand clutched my arm
with the gripe of a giant. Her voice was very low, and
her manner was perfectly placid. I had never seen her
in this mood before. I began to feel chilly, to grow irresolute,
for the calm rage of a woman is as awful as
her vociferations are ludicrous and contemptible.
I determined not to be frightened, however. She
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asked me once more, “Do you solemnly believe you have
cause for jealousy?”
I answered in the affirmative.
“Then go,” said she, `for I despise you.”
As she spoke, she flung the door open. I hesitated a
moment, and then walked hastily out.
CHAPTER VIII. A LETTER.
When I got home I found a foreign letter upon my table.
It was from America. I read it, and was thrown
into excessive agitation. In a single instant the whole
current of my thoughts was changed. In a single instant
the petty passion which accident and ennui had fanned
into a flickering and temporary flame, expired. In a single
instant Minna was nothing to me. Her image vanished
from my heart as instantaneously as if I had never
sought to give it a resting-place there.
It hardly needed this to prove to me how utterly inane
and worthless had been the sentiment with which I had
repaid her deep affection.
With a passing curse upon my heartlessness, with a
passing pang of regret for my insensibility, I resolved to
annihilate the whole connexion. I endeavoured to persuade
myself that my suspicions were well founded,
although my whole nature rebelled against the attempt.
I sought to justify my conduct by a miserable juggling
with my own conscience. So faithless was I, that I
sought to cheat myself.
I remained absent several days.
After the lapse of nearly a week, I found a letter on
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my table. It was in her handwriting. I enclosed it in
a blank sheet, and sent it to her address.
The next morning there was another, which met the
same fate; and the next morning I returned to Carlsbad.
I remained there a week. On my return I found
seven letters — I sent the whole packet to her house without
note of comment or inquiry.
After this I heard no more of her for some days. After
the expiration of a week I began to feel uneasy. Such
was the perversity of my nature, that the moment when
she seemed to have summoned her woman's pride to her
assistance, and to have determined to reciprocate my
coolness, my affection revived. I grew every day more
anxious. Every morning when I awoke, I inquired if
there were no letters, and with each successive disappointment
I grew more sick at heart. Every time my
door-bell sounded, I started from my chair, and every
step in the passage I imagined to be Minna's Still I
would not go to her house. At last one morning Praise-God
entered with a letter in his hand.
I snatched it from him. It was only an invitation
from Madame von Walldorff, who had returned to
Prague.
“Perhaps she will be there,” thought I; and I was
impatient till the evening should arrive.
I went to Madame von Walldorff's. Minna was
there; I never saw her so beautiful. I accosted her —
there was not a flutter in her manner.
She spoke to me as if I had been the most indifferent
acquaintance. I was irritated beyond bearing. I endeavoured
to pique her. She answered all my attempts with
a look of wonder. I was completely baffled. Some company
approached us, and I was obliged to leave her; my
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agitation was becoming excessive. Half an hour afterwards
she was alone, and seated in a retired window;
I advanced towards her, determined to come to an understanding
at once.
The moment she saw me approaching, she rose from
her seat and crossed the room towards Madame Walldorff.
She was then in the midst of a circle, and five
minutes afterwards she sat down to ecarté with Sir
Doomsday.
I rushed from the house in a rage.
I lay awake most of the night, pondering unutterable
revenge. The next day I was calmer, and I determined
to see her immediately. Early in the forenoon I proceeded
directly to her house.
When I was within a few yards of the door, her carriage
drove up. I waited an instant, and presently
Minna appeared. She was handed into the carriage by
a gentleman, who got in immediately after. They drove
by me, and saluted me formally. The gentleman was
the infernal poet.
I gnashed my teeth, and vowed revenge. Turning
the corner I blundered against Sir Doomsday. The
concussion was violent, the baronet stumbled into the
gutter. Instead of falling into a passion like a booby, he
commenced wiping his coat sleeves with his pocket handkerchief.
When that was finished, he begged my pardon;
I accepted it of course, and felt already in better
spirits. I was delighted with his miserable and muddy
condition.
His lodgings were hard by; he went up stairs to refit,
and begged me to accompany him. I hardly know how
it was that we sat down to ecarté. The baronet was a
passionate lover of the game; and as he was very cool,
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and very scientific, and as he moreover always played for
small points, he rather increased his income by his cards.
I determined, if possible, to win his money. I knew
that nothing would so annoy him as to lose any considerable
sum. Fortune favoured me; little by little I egged
him on. How I was enabled to carry him so far, I know
not; but at last, from playing four-kreutzer points, we
came to betting a thousand dollars on a single game. I
won two doubles in succession. Sir Doomsday stopped—
he was a loser to the tune of four thousand crown-dollars.
He would play no more. His face was perfectly white and
his lip trembled. He kept, however, his temper admirably;
it is a gift which is possessed by most Englishmen.
He was calm, although that morning had annihilated
the economical practices of a year.
He wrote a check on his bankers for the amount. I
pocketed it, while I expressed my regret, and assured
him of my readiness to afford him his revenge.
“Thank you—thank you,” said he, “but it is quite
unnecessary. I shall never touch a card again. This
is exactly the catastrophe which I always contemplated
as possible, and for which I was provided. I have long
had a sum set by expressly for this purpose. When I
first began to play, I thought I might on some occasion
be tempted beyond my depth. I named a certain sum,
and determined if I ever lost so much at a single sitting,
I would play no more. Let me see.”
He took out his tablets and referred to a memorandum.
“What I have lost to-day,” continued he, “comes
within three dollars of the exact sum. My gaming is
finished. I am much obliged to you, Mr. Morton, for I
was getting tired of it, and I shall now never be tempted
to play again. Let me see.”
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He again referred to his memoranda.
“Yes,” said he, “I thought so. I am on the whole a
gainer. Deducting these four thousand four hundred
and twenty dollars, I remain a gainer in the last fifteen
years of seven hundred and ninety pounds, fifteen shillings
and four pence. So you see I have nothing to
complain of. Good morning, Sir—good morning.”
I left the house, drew the money, and laid it out in purchasing
an annuity for the faithful Praise-God. I had
long been determined to provide for him in case of any
contingency; but I was well pleased that it was done at
the expense of Sir Doomsday instead of my own.
In the evening I went to a soirée at Kinski's. I knew
Minna would be there, and I determined to meet her on
her own ground. My eyes lighted upon her the moment
I entered the room. She seemed to have been expecting
me. There were many persons assembled. They were
mostly people of my acquaintance. I talked with every
body. I did not even look at Minna. Whenever my
eyes fell accidentally in the direction of her seat, I observed
that she was endeavouring to attract my attention.
I frustrated all her attempts.
It is a fact which I shall leave to metaphysicians to
speculate upon if they choose, that at the very instant I
perceived her resolution giving way, and knew that her
passion remained unchanged (all which her single
anxious glance informed me,) I felt my whole factitious
love die away in my bosom. I felt and was in reality as
indifferent as I had been. I think this would have been
so, in spite of the letter to which I have alluded.
I chatted with Kinski. I talked politics with Madame
Walldorff, and the moment Minna sat down to her harp,
I lounged into the next room.
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The singing was soon finished. There was a little
bustle in the room, but I was in earnest conversation
with an artist whom I had found in the library, and
heeded it not.
When I returned to the saloon, I was informed that
Minna had become suddenly unwell, that in the midst
of her song she had nearly fainted, and that after having
partially recovered she had immediately left the house.
It was of course attributed to the heat of the rooms,
though Heaven is my witness, that the house was as
cold as Iceland. I remained quite late. There were one
or two persons present whom I had not met for a long
time, and the hours passed insensibly away. It was
past midnight before I reached my lodgings.
When I arrived Praise-God had gone to bed. I was
a little vexed, for I had some important directions to give
him. I determined, however, to defer them till the
morning and passed into the parlour for a candle.
There was none there, but the moonlight streamed
broad and full through the lofty windows. Presently
something moved from a distant corner. A female figure
advanced towards me. It was Minna.
I felt perfectly vexed—for I already hated her. I
threw myself on the sofa and began to whistle. She
came and sat down by my side. She took my hand. I
did not withdraw it. Her own was icy cold.
“Do not be afraid,” said she, “there shall be no more
scenes. You do not love me—you never did?”
Her voice was calm. I answered not a word. She
spoke the truth indeed.
“You were jealous of the Bohemian poet—he is my
brother. You were enraged at the intimate letter of
Baron Kinski. He is my father, alas! not my legitimate
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parent; but his nature scorns the distinctions of the law,
and he has welcomed to his heart his long lost daughter.
The proofs are there, if you wish them.” She
placed a packet of papers in my hand.
“It is unnecessary,” said I, “I know it.” Madame
Walldorff had told me the singular story that evening.
It had produced no effect upon me except to make me
hate Prague with all its inhabitants, and Minna more
than all.
“You knew it!” said she, and for a moment her voice
was suffocated by her emotion. In a moment, however,
she commanded herself, and her voice was calm as she
resumed: “You knew it and it produced no change in
you. Alas! there wanted not that proof of my utter
and hopeless desolation. At least there is an end to my
struggles.”
As she finished she knelt down and kissed my feet.—
Her sobs were audible, but they were low and powerfully
repressed. She rose. A lingering feeling of affection
came over me. I reached out my arms to her—she
evaded my embrace and vanished.
Three days after this, I took up the Prague Government
Journal. Among the list of foreign departures and
arrivals, I read the departure of Sir Doomsday and Lady
Gules for England.
It was furthermore stated, that the bride of the Englishman,
was the daughter of a nobleman celebrated for
his travels and his scientific researches, and that she was
the same person who had so recently delighted and astonished
the world by her extraordinary musical genius.
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CHAPTER III. A TERMINATION AND DETERMINATION.
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The letter from America, to which I have already alluded
was as follows:—
June, 1777.
“Joshua Morton is dead. You are his sole heir. Perhaps
miserable motives of interest will be sufficient where
holier and nobler influences have been found of no avail.
“`Brutus, thou sleepest.' There is a country where
two elements of the universal nature are at war. There
is a wide amphitheatre. Two mighty gladiators are
contending. One wields a sceptre, and one a scythe.—
The clashing blows resound through the primeval forest.
The savage shudders at a conflict more deadly than his
own, and the wild beasts cower to their thickets in dismay.
“After many years of contempt for my species, I now
recognize the majesty,—the sublimity of man,—the
man of civilization.
“The atmosphere of my country is gloomy, and the
heavy war-clouds obscure the horizon; but my heart
dances as I inhale the sulphurous air; my blood boils as I
listen to the clang of arms.
“My son—it is yet in your power to choose. You
have wealth. You have, perhaps, talent, this I know
not. You have now to choose whether you will write
your name on the bright scroll of your country's chronicles,
or whether you will continue abroad a nameless
and obscure adventurer? Whether you will stand erect
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among your peers, acting a man's part in the struggle
upon which the world's eyes are fixed, or whether still
clinging to the lap of despotism you will remain abroad
the despised despiser of your young and glorious country.
“My son, the sands of time are running with fearful
rapidity. If you would be a man you must buckle on
your sword at once. If you would act, the hour has
already come.
“Your Father.”
I read this letter over unceasingly. It was true—
every word of it. The language may strike the reader
as bombastic and unnatural. Perhaps it was; but if
they saw the scene where it was written, and the man
who wrote, and knew (as they will know before the conclusion
of these memoirs) the extraordinary events which
had marked that man's career, they would, perhaps, feel
more sympathy with his language and his thoughts.
My determination was soon taken. There was now
nothing to detain me. My preparations were all made.
On the night of the 13th and 14th of June, I was up
very late. I had been completing my arrangements,
and burning various letters and papers.
When all was ready I read over the letter again. Yes
it was true. “I was a nameless and obscure adventurer.”
I had been, indeed, “the despised despiser of my country,”
and certainly whatever may have been the opinions
of others, by none was I despised so bitterly as by myself.
I threw myself upon my couch. The candles had
burned out; but the dim light of a waning moon accorded
with the melancholy train of my thoughts. I could
not sleep. I mused long and deeply. One by one the
events of my past life—of my most senseless and unprofitable
life—displayed themselves to my memory. The
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ghosts of departed days rose up before me,—the shades
of vanished and of distant friends surrounded me, and
in the reproachful face of each, I read a lesson and a
moral.
I saw the young, gallant, martyred Deane; the benevolent
features of my venerable uncle; the pale face
of Mayflower; the bloody corpse of Wallenstein; the
distorted frame of Rabenmark; the scornful glance of
Lackland.
Was not the tragic fate of some of these, and the useless
career of others pregnant with meaning for myself?
Why was Lackland an obscure and melancholy loiterer
in the world? Why had the highborn Rabenmark
become a robber and a felon? Were they not both ambitious,
gifted, generous, brave? Why is it that they quarrelled
with their own age and country? Why was it
that they sunk in the struggle between their wishes and
their power?
At last I sunk into a sort of trance. I did not sleep. I
was conscious of every thing around me. I remained
upon the sofa in the same position in which I had thrown
myself, and I saw distinctly every object in the room.
Suddenly as my eyes were directed towards the centre
of the room, I perceived that I was not alone. A child
sat upon the floor playing by himself, and ever and anon
he uttered a shout of boyish and triumphant glee. Presently
the face was turned to me. I gazed eagerly upon
it. It was my own!
Before I had recovered from the horror caused by this
apparition, I became aware of the presence of another
phantom. A taller figure moved slowly towards my
bed. The face was averted from me, and looking back
at the child. There was something familiar to me in
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the appearance of this figure, and an anxious and irrepressible
shuddering came over me, as I gazed upon it.
Can the dead, indeed, resume the features and the habiliments
which were theirs in life-time? I gazed, like one
fascinated, upon the phantom. Slowly the head turned
towards me. My heart stood stock still. It was my
uncle! But Heavens, what a change! The eye was
sunken,—the cheek livid and ghastly. The features
wore a forbidding frown. He opened his lips as if to reproach
me; when suddenly something seemed to be interposed
between us, and in an instant the appearance
had faded away.
I turned away. I felt terrified and sick. I tried to
persuade myself that all I had seen was but the creation
of a heated fancy.
A low voice whispered in my ear. I started at its familiar
sound.
“You shall see more,” it said.
I turned to the side whence the voice proceeded.
A female figure sat close to my bed-side. She was clad
in white, and seemed to be working upon a linen robe.
She looked up at me. It was Mayflower Vane!
“It is my winding-sheet,” she said. “It should have
been my wedding robe.”
I stretched my arms towards my early love, but the
illusive phantom had already vanished.
A mocking laugh rang in my ears. It seemed to
bring to my soul a host of harrowing recollections. I
seemed to start to my feet. I was suddenly clutched
with tremendous force. I turned round. I saw Minna's
beautiful but indignant face; and her threatening poniard
gleamed before my eyes. A moment, and then the
weapon seemed buried in my heart. I felt a sharp pang
and fainted.
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CHAPTER X. THE NUN.
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I lay ten days in a raging fever. During the whole
time I was delirious; my youth and vigorous constitution,
however, carried me through. In a fortnight I
was well enough to walk out. The physician's advice
now accorded with my intentions; and, as I was growing
rapidly stronger, I had only to regret the two or three
weeks' delay.
The day before my departure from Prague, I went
towards the church of St. —. It is close by a convent
of Ursuline sisters.
I had been making a copy during the winter from a
fine Domenichino, which hung in one of the smaller
chapels of the church. The subject of the painting was
the liberation of Rome from the dominion of the Tarquins.
I had rolled up and hidden it in a crevice of the
chapel. I took it out with the intention of destroying it.
I stood a moment comparing my feeble attempt with
the magnificent original. By degrees I sank into meditation.
The shadows deepened as I stood in the sequestered
chapel. The dim light from the painted windows became
still more obscure. The vast church, which was
thronged when I entered, was now nearly desolate. A
few nuns from the neighbouring convent were gliding
noiselessly about, and looked like spectres as they flitted
past me in their dark and solemn garments.
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Presently, they were all gone out but one. I remained
still in my musing attitude. The last (who seemed too
young for the gloomy life to which she had irrevocably
doomed herself) glided by me, and sighed heavily as she
past.
I was awakened from my reverie. I took another
look at the picture, for its subject had a powerful interest
for me. It was getting so dark that I could scarcely
distinguish the colours—I heard a footstep—the nun approached
me.
“Yes, you paint a deed of heroism and of devotion,
and while you have painted others have done!”
I started at the deep tones of the voice which addressed
me. I turned hastily to the speaker—the nun was
Minna!
I sprang towards her. It was too late—she had
vanished through an iron-grated door, which communicated
with the neighbouring convent.
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-- --
BOOK V.
“Following honour and his nose,
Rushed where the thickest fire announced most foes,”
Don Juan. Canto viii.
Illi summas donare curules?
Illum exercitibus præponere?
Vis certe pila, cohortes,
Egregios equites et castra domestica? Quidni
Hæc cupias?
Juvenal. Sat. X.
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CHAPTER I. WELCOME DODGE.
“And so you were really there, Mr. Dodge?”
“I shouldn't wonder.”
“I dare say you might tell us some of the particulars
which have not found their way into the newspapers.”
“I guess I could.”
“Have you been long in the Continental service?”
“It's going on for fifteen weeks and three days, more
or less; but I don't recollect very particularly.”
“Come, then, suppose you tell us something about it.
We have nothing better to do this warm evening than to
listen; and I believe you are the only one of the party
who was at Trenton.”
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The person I addressed was a Yankee. He was attired
in a sailor's jacket and trowsers, but had added to
them a musket and knapsack. He was a little above the
middle height, and apparently a little below the middle
age. He was narrow chested, with a slight stoop in the
shoulders. His complexion was freckled and sunburned.
His features were hard but full of intelligence, not unmixed
with cunning. Furthermore he rejoiced in the
appellation of Welcome Dodge.
We had encamped for the night not far from Bennington,
and in the part of New England then called the
“Hampshire Grants.”
It was the evening of the 14th August, 1777. The
weather was warm and we were seated in front of my
tent. The party consisted of three persons besides myself,
one of whom, Mr. Dodge, has been duly presented.
The two others were a middle-aged man and a very
young one.
The first was Colonel Waldron, an officer of some
standing in the revolutionary army. I had become accidentally
acquainted with him some three months
previous to the time I write of, and since our first meeting
had been almost constantly associated with him.
The other had been that evening introduced to me by
Waldron for the first time. He was Captain Eliot of the
Continental army; a very young man, apparently, and
of slight figure. In the twilight I had not been able to
observe his features with accuracy.
“Only three months then!” said I to Dodge.
“You have been engaged but three months in the
service of the States?”
“Why I can't say,” said Dodge, “that I have not
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been a little longer in the States' service. But I have
been only about that period of time in this line.”
“What other line have you been engaged in?”
“Well, I've done a good many chores; privateering,
and one thing and another; but 'tis only lately that I've
tried training.”
“And how came you to enlist in the army?”
“Well, you see,” said Dodge, who was not unwilling
to communicate his adventures. “Well, you see, when
I got back to Penobscot, which was my native place, I
found there warn't much doing—those British cruisers
had knocked up the coasting-trade almighty fast—so as I
had nothing to do, and winter coming, and I had got
pretty much down to heel, and didn't know what to do
for a living, I thought I might as well do a little training.
Well, I came up from Penobscot, and when I got to New-York,
who do you think I met?”
“How the deuce should I know?” I replied.
“Well, I met Bill Stimpson himself. I hadn't seen
him since the day we arrived in Portland Bay from the
“Nancy” privateer. After a little while, I told him I
was going to list in the Continental. `Show!' says he.
`Yes, I be!' says I. `Be you for three years or the
whole war, or less time?' says he. `I guess I shall
come it on the whole war!' says I. `There aint much
business doing in my line now at the East, on account
of them British cruisers, and I don't know what I shall
do.' `You don't know nothing about it,' says he. `Do
tell,' says I. `Why,' says he, `I'm going to do a job of
training myself; but I aint so dreadful stupid as to enlist
the whole war, nor for three years neither, which is about
as foolish. It's a great sight more profitable to go as substitute.
' `I want to know!' says I. `Oh, beyond all
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comparison!' says he. `Now you recollect Davenport;
he's drafted for six months, and I'm going in his place.
He's just married—foolish cretur—and he offered me
forty dollars Continental money and a suit of clothes from
head to foot, besides board and lodgings for the rest of
the year after the term was out, if I'd go for him. So you
see it's about as good a trade as I can make.' `Well
that beats all,' says I; and the next day, squire, I concluded
I wouldn't go for the whole war, and I found out
a fellow who was drafted for the Jersey militia, and was
very willing to buy a substitute; and made him come
down pretty handsome.”
“Well—well,” said I, “I am sorry you had no more
patriotic motive for joining the banner of Washington.
However, let's hear about the battle?'
“Well, you see, as soon as I had concluded my bargain
with Squire Livermore, I went off with Bill Stimpson
who was to serve in the same regiment. When we got
down to camp, Captain Davis came up to us, and told us—
but I expect I might as well tell you Squire, that if you
want to know about the battle of Trenton, I can't say I
know much about it.”
“Why! you were there?” said I, in surprise.
“No, Squire, I can't say I was, not exactly, for I
didn't arrive in camp till the 30th of December, and
General Washington crossed the Delaware the night of
Christmas day, and fought the battle of Trenton on the
26th. However, I got there on the 30th, and I saw the
Princeton fight, and that was no joke I tell you.”
“Well, let's have it, in as few words as possible!”
said I.
“Well, you see the General went into winter-quarters
at Trenton directly after the action. He tried amazing
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hard to prevail on the N. England troops, whose term
was out on New Year's day, to continue a little longer.
It was pretty hard work, but at last they concluded to
trade. A considerable number agreed to stay six weeks
longer on condition they should have ten dollars a-piece
bounty money. The enemy was considerable powerful
under Lord Cornwallis at Princeton; and General
Washington, expected that he would come over to Trenton
right away to attack him. Well, you see, the day
after New Year's, they hove in sight, and their van
reached Trenton, though there was many of them left
behind. The General thought it was rather poky waiting,
so he backed out across the Assumpinck Creek, because
they were a little too strong for him; and the next
night, he concluded he would march right away to
Princeton, where there warn't quite so many. Well, we
went away in the night without making any noise at all,
and the next morning about sunrise, we had nearly got
to Princeton. However Bill told me he guessed we
should see the British before we got quite into the town,
and I guessed we should too; and sure enough, when
we were within half a mile of Princeton, there came
three or four regiments right down upon us. However,
I cocked my gun and made ready. Captain Davis sung
out to us as bold as a lion. `Dress,' says he to us, `before
you make ready;' and an English captain sung
out, `We'll dress you soon enough, damn your eyes!'
and then they slapped it right into us without waiting
for us to fire first. Two or three men near me tumbled
right over. Bill said he guessed they was shot. I
guessed they was too. It began to look plaguy pokerish,
and so Bill and I dodged behind a stone wall, and
most of the milishy that was in the van began to back
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out too. When we got behind the wall, we kept ourselves
pretty snug, loaded up the old fowling-pieces, and
blazed away at the officers as they came along.
“You see it warn't possible to take aim in the field,
no way you could fix it, on account of the confusion,
but when we got behind the wall we could take aim as
much as we were a mind to, and 'twasn't reasonable
to be firing away ammunition for nothing. Gunpowder
is plaguy scarce, and it's best to make use of it when
you do fire it off. Well, the militia gave way, and Bill
and I thought it was high time we should get out of the
pickle as well as we could. There was a good many
ugly-looking fellows coming towards us, so I took one
more slap at a regular I saw cutting off to the right, and
then we ran as tight as we could on the road to Trenton.
We met a considerable large body of milishy
about a quarter of a mile from the meeting-house, and
they were cutting off, cause they thought the British a
leetle grain too strong for them. However, General
Mercer came up to them, and said he guessed they'd
better go back and let 'em have it again; and after some
consideration they said they guessed they had. Pretty
soon after that, General Washington came up with the
rear of the army, and he told them they had'nt ought to
run; and we might lick 'em if we were a mind to, just
as well as not. So we all formed a regular column and
went right at 'em. The British line gave way this
time, and then they got it hot and heavy I tell you.
Colonel Mawhood cut his way through our troops and
contrived to save himself, but the others were broken all
to bits. We took three hundred captive, and I guess a
considerable number of them were killed on the spot.
“The next day we went into winter-quarters at
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Pluckemin. I staid there till my time was up, and just
as I was going away, Deacon Ingersoll of Pluckemin,
asked me if I could make it convenient to serve in place
of his son, Jeroboam, who was poorly in health about
that time. I guessed I could, if he'd make it convenient
to come down pretty well. He guessed he could, and I
thought I might as well go on fighting for another year,
as I had got used to that line of business. Pretty soon
after, our regiment of Jersey troops were ordered to the
north to fight against Burgoyne. And that's all I know
about the battle of Trenton, squire.”
As the respectable Dodge concluded his oration, he
marched off, saying he would see in the morning about
the business I mentioned. I was left alone with my two
companions.
“Now, without any exaggeration,” said Waldron, “it
is of just such stuff that half our troops are made at this
moment. They are brave enough in their way, as you
may judge by Dodge's account of himself, but they are
unwilling to sacrifice gunpowder to discipline; and as
to their patriotism, it is very well till it comes in contact
with profit. You see, this fellow takes up the business
of serving his country, because in the present universal
stoppage of business it is as profitable a job as any he
can get. He finds it, and they all find it, more
to their interest to serve for short periods than for long,
and as long as this infernal system of short enlistment
continues, so long we shall be without an army; and so
long shall we yield to the British.”
“I know no greater proof of Washington's greatness
than this,” said I. “If ever a man was a hero, it is he.
One would think the Devil himself would give up under
such circumstances. His soldiers leaving him at every
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instant, without even bidding him good-bye. His army
dissolving hourly, like a snowball in Spring; and with
nothing to supply its place but a vote of Congress.”
“And it is for this reason,” said Waldron, “that I
think you have acted wisely in your arrangements. If
every man who possessed the same means had been
equally patriotic, and equally sensible, we should finish
this war in a year. As it is, we must hope. But I have
kept you too long from your couch, Captain Morton; and
it is probable we may have work to morrow.”
“But stay a moment, Colonel Waldron,” said I, “has
that mysterious person made his appearance lately?”
“I have not seen him for a month,” was the answer.
“I have no reason to believe that he is in our camp. If
he should present himself, however, rest assured that I
will immediately inform you of it. Come, Edward.”
The young officer, who had been introduced to me as
Captain Eliot, rose and approached me. His cap was
slouched over his brows, so that I was still unable to distinguish
his features. I extended my hand to both;
they both pressed it warmly.
“I think we shall soon meet again,” said Eliot to
me,—“but here is a paper which concerns yourself. If
I should prove mistaken, it will inform you of many particulars
which concern yourself, and with which you
have been too long unacquainted.”
“Willingly,” said I,—“but stay, you say we shall
meet again, have we not met before? Surely there is
something—”
But they had both gone. I could not divest myself of
the impression that I had heard the young stranger's
soft and gentle voice before.
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CHAPTER II. HISTORICAL.
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I have precipitated my reader with perhaps too much violence
into the midst of the revolutionary war. Although
I shall endeavour to bring him out of it as safely as I
can, yet there is much work for us to do. It would be
quite impossible for me, who have set myself to the task
of taking off the cream, of distilling the spirit, or, in
other words, of extracting the moral square root of my
life, to omit so important a fraction of it, as the period
upon which I have now entered.
Let me go back five minutes. I arrived in America
on the 15th day of May. I hastened to Morton's Hope.
In the little vault which my uncle had himself constructed,
I read two inscriptions—“Fortitude Morton,
ob. Jan. 15, 1774.” “Joshua Morton, ob. Dec. 1776.”
They were both gone—the Hope was tenantless.
It will be easily believed that I had no inducement
to linger there. It was no time then to abandon myself
to an unavailing melancholy. I sorrowed long and
deeply for one I had so tenderly loved; but I felt that it
was idle and unmanly to exhibit or to indulge my grief.
I had had time during a long voyage to America to reflect
upon my destiny—upon my mission—I hastened
now to act.
I found my uncle's agent. I was the sole heir. The
property was far beyond my most extravagant estimate.
Although all kinds of property had necessarily depreciated,
yet I knew that this was temporary, and I found
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myself possessed of a fortune far more ample than I had
dreamed of. I was delighted. I felt that it had fallen
into good hands. I knew it would be of use.
A new campaign was opening. The war had already
become unpopular. The enthusiasm which had glowed
through the public bosom on the first outbreak of the
revolution had grown faint. The elasticity with which
the nation had bounded from under the first pressure of
tyranny, had begun to slacken. It was beginning to
sink under the new and complicated weights which were
now crowded upon it. Washington still bore up, but
the whole mass of the war hung upon his Atlantean
shoulders. He did not bend nor quaver, but he called
aloud to the nation in his agony. They had not responded
to his call. Congress was heroic, but it was comparatively
powerless. It was not the nation. The General's
“coups de guerre” at Trenton and Princeton,
had for a moment roused the flagging spirit of the country—
but still it drooped.
Army there was none. When Washington commenced
his retreat through the Jerseys, hotly pursued by
Howe's army and Howe's proclamation, his ragamuffins
were hardly a thousand strong. A thousand men, and
those worn out—sick—miserable—naked—starving—
“no eye had seen such scare-crows.” It was a mystery
that he got them across the Delaware—it was a still
greater mystery that he brought them up to the enemy—
but it was the greatest mystery of all that he led them
off victorious.
It is neither invidious nor unpatriotic to say this. It
was the height of hallucination to suppose any thing
else possible. The men were brave but they were not
soldiers; and Washington well knew, and the nation
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learned it afterwards, that a British army was not exactly
a thing to be trifled with; that British soldiers required
soldiers to beat them. The curses of Washington upon
the militia and the whole militia system, were too well
founded. The pay and the bounty were too contemptible.
Recruits were not to be had. Enlistments for
three years, or for the war, became every day more rare.
Jobbing and substituting were found more profitable.—
Unfortunately a war is not a thing to be done by the
job, or at any rate there should be but one job made of it.
In short, at the close of each campaign, Washington
found himself at the head of a phantom army—a will of-the-wisp
which led him a pretty dance through swamps
and morasses, and flitted away when it was most needed.
The troops were sure to dissolve, the periods of service
were sure to expire, at the very moment when some grand
stroke was contemplated.
It has become of late the fashion to underrate the hero;
but I know nothing more sublime in the history of conquerors
than the adamantine soul which faltered not—
the devoted patriotism which did not become sickened
and disgusted by such constant and wearing trials as
those he contended with.
I had had time to observe all these things. I arrived at
a sort of pause. The winter campaign was over—the
second was to begin. It was easy to see the cause of
most of the national difficulties. I saw them. Every
one saw them. They were simply want of money, and
want of men. Congress voted men, as Glendower called
his “lackey spirits;” but none came when they were
called. The spirits for reasons best known to themselves;
but the soldiers for the most potent reason in the world;
because they were not paid for it.
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The want of money was simply the result of the
powerlessness of the general government. It was a radical
defect, which it seems the majority will not learn, (although
the world is so many thousand years old,) that
delegation is not abdication. The mob will not learn
that although it is a sovereign and an absolute one, it is
not beneath its dignity to confide its powers to trustworthy
ministers and servants.
The old confederacy of the United States was instituted
to carry on a war. It should have been a hundred-handed
giant—a Briareus waving a hundred swords but
directed by a single hand. It proved only an enormous
polypus, a sluggish, drowsy, palsied creature, moving its
thousand legs and arms at different times, and in different
directions, but incapable of moving forward with a
single powerful impulse. In a confederacy which has a
nominal head indeed, but whose various members, from
some defect in the machinery, cannot all be moved at
the volition of that head, a spasmodic and irregular action
is sure to take the place of the regular, healthy, concentrated
movement, which alone will fulfil the object of
the confederacy. But there is no need of enlarging on
the weakness of the government, for it seems that we
shall never grow wiser, and that we are still determined
to neutralize our institutions by our hesitation to subscribe
to that belief in human virtue which dictated their organization.
In a word, the nation had no money—without money
they could not pay their troops. They had no coin.—
They must use credit. They emitted bills. It was
known how little power was in the hands of the government.
It was known that they trembled to tax. It was
known that they hesitated to contract a loan—they
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shivered constantly on the brink of their capability. Of
course, with each fresh emission of paper, the paper depreciated.
The amount expanded which they wanted
the power to redeem. The depreciation naturally suggested
to the trembling congress, the necessity of contracting
their issues. And yet without bills how could they
pay their troops? They had been bankrupt when they
began business. They could pay nothing but their notes
of hand.
Now if the President could have borrowed a good
round sum at once—if it had been possible to silence all
the sneaking fears of corruption and moneyed influences;
or if it had been in the power of Congress to contract a
a good honest debt, which would have been a fund and
a security for property in peace, as well as a golden chain
to bind the nation together, affairs would have been better.
It would have been better to come to the nation
with pockets turned inside out, and honestly borrow what
they wanted at once, than by little and little swindle them
out of more small change than the whole debt would
have amounted to. But with tied hands and empty
pockets what could they do? They did all they could.
All that heroism and patriotism hampered by jealousy
could do the Congress did.
At any rate one point was gained. The problem was
fortunately solved at last. It was proved that nothing
but an army could beat English regiments; and that
amateurs from the plough, and dilettanti from the dockyards,
were excellent raw material, but required to be
manufactured. They were the stuff to make good soldiers
of, but they must first be made.
I shall make no apology to the reader for all this digression.
He may skip it if he chooses, and advise all
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his friends to do the same. But I insist upon saying all
I have got to say on this subject, because it is necessary
to my purpose. I know it is dull. I know it is common-place;
but my readers may be sure “that when I am
dull, there is always a design in it.”
I saw at once my situation. I knew what I could do,
and what I could not do. I could not give them a
new constitution; but I could give them a little money.
I could give them a few men. I determined to sacrifice
my whole fortune if it were necessary. It was but a
drop in the bucket—but still it was a drop. Besides,
there was no doubt my example would be of service, and
emulation in such a cause would be of incalculable value.
I went immediately to work. It was my intention to
apply my feeble strength to the task of obviating one or
two glaring defects of the present system. It was easy
for me if I was unsparing of money to raise a strong
able bodied, resolute corps. I limited the number to five
hundred; but they were all picked men, all marksmen.
I selected them from no particular district or state. On
the contrary, it was rather an object with me to unite a
certain number of representatives from all. I wished to
see if it were possible in the course of a continued military
existence to annihilate the conflicting peculiarities of
the different sections of the country, and alchemize them
down into a single, solid and congenial mass.
It was easy for me to obtain the necessary powers from
the legislature. It was not difficult for me to obtain a
commission. It was also no Herculean task to fill up
my number; for I was able to make the allowance of
clothes, blankets, camp utensils, &c. so liberal that the
principal reason for the general distaste to the service disappeared
in our volunteer corps. In return I demanded
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from each member a solemn promise under seal, to continue
in the corps, till death or till the close of the war.
With regard to myself I determined to lay the precept
of subordination to superiors to my heart. I determined,
if possible, to be governed only by my wish to serve my
country. That my patriotism might be pure and disinterested
was my constant prayer. I endeavoured to
guard myself with all my strength against personal ambition;
the besetting sin of all partisans and of all
partisan warfare. I determined to submit without a
murmur to all orders of my superiors, and as far as possible
to discourage the republican spirit in my corps.
That I might live to see a glorious and firm republic
erected on the ruins of the fallen monarchy was my
constant prayer; but I knew that the work of erection
was to be accomplished by an army, and I felt that in an
army the despotic principle was indispensable.
There was a delay at the opening of the summer campaign.
At its commencement the pieces stood nearly
thus upon the chess board. The Howes with their army
and fleet were in possession of New-York. The northern
army under Burgoyne were hovering about the lakes
and threatening Ticonderoga.
The Americans under Schuyler, Lincoln, and Putnam
were in possession of the forts on the lakes and
along the North River.
Washington was in the Jerseys.
It was nearly certain that the two British armies intended
a junction and co-operation. It was Washington's
object to baffle their intentions if possible. The
junction would probably be at New-York, but as the British
commanded the sea, there were two ways of effecting
it.
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Burgoyne threatened the fortresses which were between
him and New-York. Howe might move up the
river, and by a synchronic movement attack the forts
from below at the moment that the New-York army was
thrown into the Jerseys. While Washington was weakening
himself at the south by sparing all he could for
the army at Peekskill, and still farther north, Howe's
army co-operating with the fleet might suddenly make
a rapid advance to the south, and give him the fool's
mate at the third move in Philadelphia. It was his
earnest wish to save that city if possible.
While he was thus at cross purposes with the enemy,
it was my lot to arrive at his camp in Pompton plains,
N. Jersey. The fleet had sailed from New-York, but
whether for the Chesapeake or Delaware, or whether
with the intention of returning suddenly to co-operate
with Burgoyne, was yet a problem.
I was admitted to the presence of the general, and
stated my wishes and intentions. I had the good fortune
to meet his approbation. He perceived that I had
adopted his views, and that I was influenced by upright
and virtuous motives. Moreover, I was of the class which
he wished to be engaged in the country's service. I was
not actuated by a love of gain, nor even of glory. Moreover,
I had a stake in society. I had a respectable local
reputation to lose. A good estate to forfeit. A neck
which it was an object to me to keep as long as possible
out of the halter. In short, I was one of those in whom
he could confide. He saw that there was no danger of
my making money out of my commission.
I was unhappy that I was not permitted to remain in
his camp: but with that elevated patriotism for which
he was remarkable, he chose rather to strengthen the
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armies of other generals than his own; and still mistrusting
the designs of Burgoyne, and of the force which was
opposed to him, he preferred to send our corps to the north,
than to reinforce himself. I rejoiced, however, in the end.
I felt afterwards that Brandywine would hardly have
been so auspicious or so encouraging a commencement
for a volunteer, as Saratoga.
Soon after this I fell in with Mr. Welcome Dodge.
Accident, not worth while to relate, led to our acquaintance.
I enlisted him a member of my corps, and he
became of invaluable service to me. My numbers were
not yet complete, and his experience and native shrewdness
enabled me to provide myself with the best recruits;
his friends Bill Stimpson and Belah Humphreys among
the number.
As soon as my corps was complete I pushed directly for
New-Hampshire. At the time I joined the army of the
north, the deeply injured Schuyler had command of that
department. The Americans were gradually backing
out before Burgoyne, who was proceeding southward
with fearful rapidity. The recoil of the Americans
served, however, eventually to concentrate their force.
The favourite plan of the British ministry was to
push an army by the way of the Northern Lakes, from
Canada to the Hudson. It had been matured in the cabinet
during the winter, and Burgoyne, to whom its management
was entrusted, had even visited England to assist
at the deliberation. As a corollary to the plan, St.
Leger was to advance towards the Hudson, through the
valley of the Mohawk.
Burgoyne set himself early to his task. He advanced
like a giant with rapid strides, and with signal success.
The Americans were too weak to oppose him, and their
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general unwillingly and slowly retreated, disputing every
inch, but forced, however, reluctantly to yield.
On the 5th of July, the cherished Ticonderoga fell
into the hands of the Englishmen, with its important adjunct,
Fort Independence. On the 6th and 7th, Fort
Anne, and Fort Edward, were relinquished, and the
American general fell back to Saratoga. At last, he was
forced to abandon that position, and then he retreated
like a stag to the water, and stood at bay on a small island
at the confluence of the Hudson and the Mohawk.
On the 15th of August, Burgoyne was at Saratoga,
and St. Leger had invested Fort Schuyler.
The rapidity with which the English general had
swept downward from the North, had inevitably lengthened
his line, and thereby attenuated his army. Moreover,
his stores and heavy baggage were to be conveyed
by land over a difficult country, from Fort George to Saratoga,
a tedious and perilous process.
Reflecting upon these things before his arrival at Saratoga,
he determined that the rebels should be his purveyors.
He knew that they had large magazines in
the neighbourhood. He cast his eyes upon Bennington.
CHAPTER III. THE ADVENTURES OF PATANKO.
Let me resume the thread of my own adventures.
As soon as my companions were gone, I tore the seal
from the packet. It contained a long and closely written
letter.
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The two first words irresistibly excited my curiosity.
The letter began—“My son”—
Perhaps I ought to apologize for laying the whole
paper before my readers. Although it was natural that
I should devour its contents with impatient eagerness, yet
it is more than probable that they will be fatigued by its
great length, and its occasionally unnecessary details.
I ought perhaps to have curtailed and abridged the
document, since, although it is necessary that the reader
should be acquainted with its main substance, yet it must
be confessed that its most important parts might have
been compressed into a much smaller compass.
I have, however, felt myself incapable of altering or
epitomizing the manuscript, and must content myself
with thus removing the responsibility of its prolixity from
my father to myself.
“My Son,
“I have prepared the following brief sketch of my life
under every disadvantage. I have been obliged to compile
it at intervals, and at stolen moments, when my exhausted
frame rather required repose, than the excitement
of which a retrospect of my past unhappy career
is sure to be the cause.
“I felt, however, that to myself and to my son, I owed
a duty which I owe to no other living mortal. I determined
for my son's sake that I would, as far as was in
my power, remove the load of obloquy that is likely to
rest upon my memory.
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“I have been the victim of my own early crimes, and
of a certain fatality which has always thrown my every
folly in the strongest light, while it cast a broad shadow
over every germ of virtue. A strong nature would have
been perhaps but slightly affected by the circumstances
which cast an early blight upon mine; but I was born
with an irritable and an impatient disposition.
“I found, or I thought I found, that I was the victim
of an unhappy fate. I felt myself continually placed in
situations in which there were few who would not have
erred, but which the generality of mankind are fortunate
enough to escape.
“If I formed a virtuous resolution, accident was sure
to prevent its execution; and at last a succession of misfortunes
acting upon a naturally despairing temperament,
produced their necessary result. I became reckless and
abandoned. It was evident that fate had intended me
for a scapegrace. My relations had always assured me
that such was the fact before I was old enough to understand
their meaning; with the utmost candour they had
always pointed to the gallows as the ultimate termination
of my career; and at last, so completely had I been convinced
by their arguments, that I already regarded it as
a settled matter, and looked complacently forward to that
goal as to the natural finale of my adventures.
“Thus you see one exemplification of the advantages
of making the worst of every thing. I dare say, if I had
ever received encouragement and occasional praise when
I deserved it, that I might have become a respectable
member of society.
“Your grandfather, John Morton, was a rich, steadygoing
old merchant. He intended his eldest son, Joshua,
who was always a studious and pains-taking, although
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an eccentric youth, for the bar; and wished me to succeed
him in his business.
“It was not my fault that this employment was not to
my taste. I had previously informed all concerned that
such was the fact; but finding it impossible to convince
any one, I was obliged to take the affair into my own
hands. Accordingly, I seized my first opportunity and
ran away. I had for some time possessed several valuable
acquaintances among the sea-faring gentry of my
native town. I exerted my influence with them, and
surreptitiously procured a passage in a brig bound to
Jamaica; this was when I was a little past my fourteenth
year.
“I have since been informed that my father was for a
short time quite inconsolable. After a day or two, however,
he consoled himself with the reflection that his
prophecies were now certain to be fulfilled. There could
now be no doubt that my destiny was the gallows. Accordingly
my doom was looked upon as sealed, and my
brother Joshua succeeded me in the arduous duties of
tasting treacle and counting sugar-boxes.
“When our brig was within a day or two of the successful
termination of her voyage, we one afternoon descried
a strange sail. It proved to be a schooner which
was evidently bearing down rapidly upon us. As this
was at the time when the celebrated buccaneers were
holding their carnival in the West Indian Archipelago,
you may conceive that our captain was not particularly
delighted with the prospect before us. He did his best to
escape, but the enemy had the longest legs. Within an
hour after her first appearance, the schooner was alongside
of us.
“As soon as we were within hailing distance a gruff
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voice desired our better acquaintance; and our captain
having complied with the polite invitation, the pirate
signified his intention of making us a visit. Resistance
was of course out of the question, as our whole force
amounted but to six men, and a one-legged negro. The
latter was a cook, and better adapted to his profession
than to any thing of a warlike character. As for myself
I was an undersized lad for my age, and although of considerable
importance in my own estimation, my existence
was hardly recognized in the brig.
“To be brief, the pirate came on board and ordered us
all into his own vessel. That we might feel no delicacy
about accepting his hospitality, he ordered each of us to
be escorted thither by two tall fellows from his own crew.
They answered all objections which we thought proper
to make, by binding our arms and gagging our mouths.
After these ingenious processes were completed, we all
observed a decorous silence.
“As soon as the coast was clear, the buccaneer amused
himself with inspecting our cargo. He had evidently
mistaken our character; for finding that the brig was
loaded merely with salt fish, and no other New England
delicacies, he was exceedingly disappointed. One would
have thought that he might have let us off, poor devils as
we were, when he found how unprofitable an adventure
it would turn out.
“The buccaneer had no such humane feelings. He
preferred making a bonfire of the vessel. He laid a
train accordingly, and then returned with his men to
his own ship.
“We had hardly got well out of the way when the
Jezebel blew up with a tremendous explosion. The
pirate pointed it out to us with great glee, and seemed
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to regard it as an affair got up for our special amusement.
“As soon, however, as that matter was settled, things
began to look serious. A cloud came over the buccaneer's
brow, and he began to abuse the captain for the
meagre character of his cargo. He logically expounded
to us that if he had known we had been no better worth
capturing he should have left us in peace, but that having
already taken the step he had, a due regard to his
own safety required our immediate immolation. He regretted
the measure he was obliged to take, but consoled
us with the assurance that we had nobody to blame but
ourselves. Having arrived at this conclusion, he commenced
operations by seizing the cook by his one leg,
and throwing him into the sea.
“Hereupon our captain by a spasmodic exertion forced
the gag from his mouth, and commenced an eloquent
remonstrance. In answer, the buccaneer told him to be
d—d, and cut his throat by way of expediting the
process.
“In five minutes all my unfortunate comrades were
butchered and thrown overboard. I was the last in the
row, but a savage-looking blackguard had his knuckles
already against my throat, when to my utter amazement
the captain ordered him to desist. Actuated by some
unaccountable freak, the captain signified his intention
of sparing my life. I was released accordingly, and refreshed
with some rum and water. The captain afterwards
told me that he was pleased with my countenance,
and had decided that in time I should make an excellent
pirate. He agreed to spare my life on condition of my
enlisting under the black flag. With an internal reflection
on the probable truth of my father's prognostications
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I consented. The love of life proved stronger than the
love of argument, otherwise it would have been an excellent
opportunity to have made my exit from life, for the
sake of giving all my friends the lie. The conviction
that I was born and educated for the gallows became
stronger. To what else but my evil destiny could it be
owing, that before I was fifteen I was already a buccaneer.
“In the cruise that succeeded I was comparatively but
little employed. There were one or two prizes made, but
without any bloodshed. So that fortunately for my
morality, the massacre of my own comrades was the only
one of which I was doomed to be present.
“After I had been at my piratical apprenticeship
about three weeks, the career of my companions already
approached its termination. The last capture that they
made was, indeed, the catching of a Tartar: for one fine
morning we were made a prize of by his majesty's
frigate the Tartar, carrying thirty guns.
“We were carried into Jamaica, and immediately
thrown into prison. The cheerful prophecies of my
friends were now apparently to be consummated. My
protestations of innocence, and the absurd account I
gave of myself were treated with contempt. In short,
the judges one and all, detected in the expression of my
countenance an evidence of ferocious depravity. It was
decided that I was the most abandoned of the gang.
When we were in court I reproached the captain of the
buccaneers with the fate to which he had brought me:
he answered me with sneers, and assured all present
that my story was a parcel of trumpery. There was
no struggling against my fate, so I gave up the point,
and accordingly after having doomed us all to death that
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day fortnight, the judge went to dinner, and we returned
to our dungeons.
“Luckily in the interval between our condemnation
and its consummation, one of the counsellors who had
compassion for my extreme youth, and who had not
been so entirely convinced by my depraved expression
(the result probably of the dungeon air and two months
starvation,) as the rest of the court, exerted himself to
procure a pardon for me.
“Aided by the full confession of two of the pirates,
he at last succeeded. My life was spared—the captain
was hung, and I had the laugh on my side.
“I emerged from the prison, and found myself once
more at large; as I had hardly a rag to my back, or a
halfpenny in my pocket, I thought after all that they
might as well have finished the matter. However, the
worthy counsellor once more came to aid, and by his assistance
I was put in possession of a few clothes and
other indispensables, and procured a passage in a homeward
bound vessel.
“The report of my adventures had, however, preceeded
me. Great additions and exaggerations were of
course liberally made, so that the most charitably disposed
believed that I had been convicted of robbery and
murder in the West Indies, but had been pardoned on
account of my extreme youth. This was deemed a
trivial offence compared with the catalogue of crimes
which report had already tacked to my fame; but still it
was sufficient to exclude me from the society of all decent
persons. My father cursed me, and banished me from
his presence; but my brother Joshua, the most kindhearted
of mortals, supplied my wants, and consoled me
with his occasional and stolen visits, although the load
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of evidence had also entirely convinced him of my
crimes.
“My father resisted all my efforts at conciliation and
justification. Joshua seconded them to the utmost of
his power but it was of no avail. I fell into despair, but
was at last roused by the information that my father
in a fit of extraordinary clemency, had consented to my
exportation to the Pacific in one of his whaling ships.
“The expedition was to last three years and perhaps
longer. This indulgence, he informed me through
Joshua (for he still refused to see me,) was to be ascribed
solely to my brother's intercession; and was not at all
in consequence of any change of opinion with regard to
my guilt or innocence.
“I had nothing for it therefore, but to turn whaler—
so a whaling I went.
“My education of course progressed in this course of
life; and my morals and manners were much improved
by the society of my associates. There now no longer
remained a doubt in my own mind regarding my inevitable
destiny.
“I throve and grew strong, however, on the luxuries
of my whaling life, so that after I had fairly circumnavigated
the globe, and finished my three years' voyage I
stepped on shore a full-grown man. The alteration in
my appearance was so complete that I was not recognized
by the few acquaintances whom I met. I hailed this
change as a lucky omen, for feeling that my former self
was not likely to be a very influential patron to me in
future, I rejoiced that I might assume as it were a new
character, and perhaps in time become a respectable
person.
“My old fate, however, was against me. The first
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evening of my arrival, as I was making my way to the
ship in search of my effects, I was assaulted by two strong
fellows, and robbed of my three years' wages. This was
not all, for a number of persons being aroused by the
bustle, the rogues contrived to make it appear that I was
the assailant, and very coolly accused me of assault and
robbery. The sapient spectators were as usual completely
convinced by my shabby dress and sinister expression,
so that half a dozen constables were called,
and I was shuffled into jail. In the mean time the
real rogues effected their escape.
“The next morning my father and brother were informed
of the arrival of the ship, and at the same moment
learned that their hopeful relative had been committed
for robbery and murder the first evening of his
arrival.
“Even the benevolent Joshua now gave me up, and
although I was of course after a few days' repose in the
prison, released by the non-appearance of my accusers;
yet my doom was fixed, and not a voice found a single
argument in my favour.
“As I was now abandoned by every human being, I
resolved to leave the place where my position in society
could no longer be considered an eligible one. I had
had enough of the sea, so I resolved to push into the
wilderness. I made my way into the valley of the
Connecticut, which I knew was the constant seat of
Indian warfare, and resolved if possible to gain a livelihood
by earning the bounty upon Indian scalps. It
seemed to me that this business was the only one in
which my shabby character was not likely to prevent
success.
“I settled in D—, and made the acquaintance of
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one of the settlers. Agriculture was at that time carried
on with a spade in one hand, and a loaded musket in
the other. The farmer, whose name was Killburn, was
willing to take me as an apprentice. He furnished me
with a hoe and a rifle, and I soon made a rapid progress
in the trade. I found Indian hunting, as it was then
practised, an exhilarating amusement, and, in the course
of a few years, my industry, and the sale of my scalps,
enabled me to lay by a tolerable sum.
“I removed a little further up the river, and purchased
a small tract of land.
“Three years had now elapsed since I had seen or heard
from any one of my relations. One day however, I was
profoundly astonished at receiving a letter from Joshua.
This gentle-tempered brother informed me that he had
been afflicted upon hearing of my departure, and regretted
his hastiness. Although he did not intimate to
me that his opinions with regard to the real truth of my
past career had undergone any change, but on the contrary,
gave me pretty plainly to understand that he still
considered me, to his sorrow, as a tolerably abandoned
young gentleman, yet he begged to inform me that any
assistance I might be in need of would be most cheerfully
furnished by him. He furthermore informed me,
that our youngest brother, Augustine Morton, and himself
had been passing a summer in a village about
twenty miles from me—that our father had stationed
him there to superintend the clearing and cultivating of
some very extensive tracts of land which he had purchased
a few years previously; and to conclude, that
Augustine was about to marry a daughter of a wealthy
pioneer in the valley.
“All this information I received as I was about
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departing on an expedition of unusual importance. A
strong party of Pequods, the most inveterate Englishhaters
of the New England tribes, had lately assaulted
the village of P—, and after massacreing several families
had concluded with setting fire to the place, and departing
with a number of captives.
“I had immediately assembled a strong party of friends
who desired nothing better than to wreak their vengeance
on the accursed savages. We swore to pursue their
trail and to rescue the captives, or according to the usual
heroic formula, to perish in the attempt.
“I read my brother's letter, thrust it hastily in my bosom,
and then set off on our scouting party.”
CHAPTER IV. THE ADVENTURES OF PATANKO, CONTINUED.
“Our expedition was successful. We followed the trail
of the savages for many miles, and at last came up with
a party of them who were left in charge of the captives.
They were about equal to us in number. We attacked
them with ferocity, and succeeded in liberating the prisoners.
With their assistance the victory was soon decided
in our favour. The Indians were slaughtered to
a man; our own loss was trifling. Upon me as leader
and instigator of the pursuit, the thanks of the captives
were prodigally bestowed. There was one in particular
whose gratitude much delighted me. It was a beautiful
young girl who had been carried off with several others
of her sex. Eunice Blake was the daughter of a wealthy
settler, and her unbounded joy at her deliverance may
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easily be conceived. It was very natural that she should
look upon her preserver with partial eyes. I believe her
attachment dated from the moment she first beheld me.
It was not singular; for now that I am on the verge of
the grave, and have long outlived all youthful vanity, I
have no hesitation in saying that there was no youth in
the valley whose personal attractions compared with
mine. It was a slander of my enemies to say that my
expression was disagreeable.
“We returned to P—, and I had the satisfaction of
restoring Eunice to the embraces of her friends. I lingered
in the village for several days; during this time
our mutual passion had increased to the most violent
degree.
“As soon as this was apparent, the parents of my Eunice
gave me to understand that my visits were no longer
acceptable. Their gratitude was not proof against the
fear of an utter stranger's addresses to their only child.
“I have omitted to state, that on coming to the wilderness,
I had dropped my family name, and was known
throughout the valley by my baptismal one of Morris.
“I had acquired, however, from the Indians the cognomen
of Patanko, which was my most common designation.
“It was hardly to be wondered at that Patanko Morris,
an adventurer whom no one knew should not be
considered an eligible husband for the most beautiful girl
in the province. Moreover, I now learned, for the first
time, that she was already betrothed by her parents.
Although she had entertamed no violent affection for the
object of their choice, yet it was considered by all a match
to which there could be no objection; and Eunice, who
had previously been a stranger to any passionate feeling,
had found no difficulty in giving her consent.
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“It was very different, now that she had conceived a
desperate affection for the wild and wayward preserver
of her life.
“I felt insulted and aggrieved, and it was at that moment
that the darkest period of my life commenced. It
is a fact on which I shall offer no comment—for I am
merely recording a confession, and not composing a moral
essay—that my love for Eunice was extinguished, for
the moment at least, in the dark tempest which now
spread itself over my mind.
“I communed with myself, and I felt more keenly
than ever that I was the slave and the sport of an evil
destiny. My name was blackened, my character irremediably
destroyed, and my prospects in life blasted before
I had emerged from my boyhood. Each succeeding
year had only told the same tale and repeated the ill-fated
lesson which I had now learned by heart, and all this
without my being conscious of a single crime.
“I am well aware that a strong and well-regulated
mind would perhaps have only gained new energy by
such constant opposition. But my nature had been too
long abandoned to itself. It was overgrown with weeds,
and the blessed and healthy fountains of good were well
nigh choked and buried.
“At this moment I threw off all desire for good. At
this moment I resigned myself to my evil genius. I felt
that my arms were palsied with struggling against the
ceaseless current which must eventually bear me down,
and I blindly abandoned myself to my fate. It was at
this moment that I became really wicked. I have not,
my son, the slightest inclination to extenuate my crimes.
I have penned this confession that you might know exactly
how far my guilt extended, and because I have
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been accused of a thousand crimes of which I was always
incapable, and from which my son will be glad to
acquit the memory of his father.
“I write also that you may take warning from my fate,
and to convey to you, as strongly as I can, the principle
that the greatest weakness is to acknowledge that you
are weak, and that the surest way to accomplish an evil
destiny, is to believe in it.
“At this moment I became really a villain—because
I believed that I was fated to become one. It was with
a feeling of relief that I threw off all restraint, and threw
myself into the arms of my evil genius.
“I swore revenge against the Blakes. The first victim
was Eunice. I easily accomplished her ruin, for she
loved and trusted me, and then, when the family were
humbled to the dust, I fled the place.
“A few months after my return to my own habitation,
I received a second letter from Joshua. Alas! its contents
and its language were widely different from the last.
The letter I have preserved, but it is unnecessary to lay
it before you; suffice that I inform you of its purport.
“I already knew that Joshua and Augustine had both
been in the valley the preceding summer, at a time when
I was absent on a hunting excursion. I now learned for
the first time that they had both become violently in love
with Eunice Blake; that Joshua, on discovering (as he
had reason to believe) a mutual attachment between
Augustine and Eunice, had, after a desperate struggle,
for his passions were strong, resigned all his pretensions,
and precipitately left the place.
“It was, then, Eunice Blake, the victim of my vengeance,
who was betrothed to Augustine.
“The feelings of my brothers may be easily conceived
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when they received the information of what had taken
place. It was at the moment that Augustine was leaving
his home for the residence of his beloved, that the
fatal tidings arrived. It was not however for several
weeks that Patanko Morris and Morris Morton were discovered
to be one and the same person.
“Augustine destroyed himself in a moment of frenzy.
Joshua, after writing to me in the most harrowing terms,
abjuring all relationship, and bequeathing to me his
eternal curse, abandoned his country. He remained
long beyond the Atlantic, and I heard of him no more.
“My son! the agony which was the consequence of a
real crime, how widely did I find to differ from the
moodiness which had previously been excited within me
by the consciousness of a perverse fate! Alas! I have
suffered for that crime, but I feel even now that it is not
expiated.
“As soon as I was sufficiently recovered to be able to
consider my situation at all, I resolved to make all the
reparation in my power.
“It will easily be believed that the objections of the
Blakes to my union with Eunice were slightly weakened
by what had happened. Although my victim was on
the brink of the grave, and entirely indifferent to all that
could happen in this world; yet she was willing (in the
hope of lightening the misery which weighed down her
parents to the dust) to unite herself to her detestable
destroyer.
“Preparations were made for the wedding, and the day
was at last fixed.
“We were assembled on a gloomy autumnal
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afternoon at the habitation of Nathan Blake; the minister
of the village was about to perform the ceremony.
“Before its termination, however, we were alarmed
by a great commotion without. There was much
shouting and hurrying to and fro and presently the terrific
Indian yell was heard on every side. My worst
suspicions were realized. The bloodhounds were again
upon us.
“The incomplete marriage was interrupted. In a
few moments a bullet had whistled through the room.
There was a tolerably strong party in the house, and we
had plenty of guns and ammunition. We barricaded
the doors and windows, and prepared for a desperate defence.
“The house of Blake was considerably in advance of
the main body of the village. Its position was solitary
but tolerably strong. I soon discovered that it was myself
who was the main object of the attack. It had become
known to the Indians that the detestable Patanko
was to be present at that place and time; and a large
party of the friends of those who had fallen in our last
skirmish, had vowed my destruction.
“An attack of Indians was not, however, so unfrequent
in that quarter that the settlers were not usually
provided with the means of defence.
“Our guns were loaded, and a sudden volley from
the second story window, which brought two of our assailants
to the ground, somewhat astonished the enemy.
In the meantime featherbeds and blankets were suspended
from the ceilings and across the windows, which
served the double purpose of a barricade and a reservoir
of ammunition. The women loaded our gups, and a
constant fire was kept up upon the savages. Nearly all
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our bullets were successful, while our party were so well
protected that as yet not a single wound had been rereceived.
“Eunice was the boldest of the party Indeed it was
the first time for a long period that she had manifested
any feeling of humanity. She had hitherto been to all
appearances an animated corpse.
“She was most efficient in loading our muskets, and
exposed herself constantly despite of all my endeavours
to prevent her.
“It seemed to me at last, that she was more than indifferent
to life and that she rather hoped than feared our
eventual destruction.
“It was not long before my worst fears were realized.
A bullet struck her. She uttered a faint shriek. I rushed
forward and caught her in my arms. It was too late.—
Her deeply-injured spirit had passed away without a
struggle. The interrupted bridal was for ever banned.
Earthly reparation was no longer in my power. I cast
myself frantically upon the ground, and bitterly cursed
my terrible destiny.
“It was no time, however, to give way to useless lamentations.
My companions roused me, and after a little
interval my grief changed to the most deadly and
tempestuous rage.
“I was no longer contented to remain in the house
which was the tomb of all my better feelings. I seized
my arms and shaking myself from the grasp of those
who strove to detain me, I rushed forth at once, determined
to wreak my vengeance upon the enemy.
“My sudden sally had astonished the savages. Before
they were scarcely aware of my presence I had already
slain two of the foremost. It was, however,
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impossible for me to avoid the penalty of my rashness. I
was surrounded at once. I dealth the most furious blows
about me. They were more successful than they might
otherwise have been, for the Indians were bent upon
capturing me alive. My resistance, however desperate,
was of no avail. I was captured, and knew that the
most exquisite tortures were in store for me. I recked it
not. I had at least glutted my revenge. Eunice was
dead, and I welcomed death.
CHAPTER V. THE HISTORY OF PATANKO, CONTINUED.
“From this time forth my connection with civilized man
may be said to have terminated. From this time forth
the whole penalty of my crimes began to be inflicted.—
From this time forth my dwelling was the wilderness;
my associates savages and demons.
“As soon as I was captured, the savages sounded a retreat.
The object of their expedition was accomplished,—
the villagers had become alarmed, and there was every
probability that a rescue would be attempted. Their
party was strong, however, and they retreated in triumph.
They directed their course to Canada, for these Indians
were in the service and the pay of the French.
“I had been slightly wounded, but I was unfortunately
able to walk. If I had been disabled they might, perhaps,
have despatched me. A rope was now bound tightly
about my arms, and the other end was given to two
athletic savages. I was thus led forward like a beast to
the slaughter.
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“Our march continued till late that evening, during
the night I was of course securely guarded, and early
in the morning our agreeable pilgrimage was resumed.
“In the course of the second day I contrived to lag
considerably behind the others. My wound was considered
a sufficient excuse for my heavy movements, and my
two guardians were considered more than competent to
secure me.
“At last I seized a favourable moment, and by a desperate
exertion of strength succeeded in snapping the
rope that bound me. I had hoped to drop into a thicket,
and to effect my escape before the two Indians were
aware; but I was unsuccessful, they perceived my attempt,
and rushed towards me.
“Escape was of course impossible, and although I
had no weapons I prepared to give them battle.
“One, who was the most active, was a little in advance
of the other. I was celebrated the whole country
round for my dexterity in the elegant amusement of trip
and twitch, which is one of the pleasantest varieties of
the Indian hug.
“I succeeded in casting the first with tremendous violence
to the earth; his head struck against a stone, and
he lay motionless upon the ground.
“The other now came bounding towards me, making
horrible grimaces, and uttering a delightful series of Indian
yells. I closed with him—he was enormously muscular—
I exerted all my strength—I could not move him
from his feet. I succeeded, however, in pinioning his
arms—we stood for a moment grinning in each other's
face.
“After I had had plenty of leisure to examine the ingenious
paintings with which he had thought proper to
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decorate his face and bosom, he suddenly made a convulsive
movement, whirled suddenly about in my arms,
and succeeded in freeing himself from my embrace. His
blanket, which was his only covering, remained in my
clutch, and there was now an excellent opportunity to
admire the continuation of hieroglyphics with which he
had illustrated the whole of his person.
“My time for this survey was, however, limited, for
the naked savage, after executing a few pigeon-wings
with astonishing dexterity, and giving utterance to a succession
of infernal yells which were anything but melodious,
again threw himself upon me.
“I now found that I had by no means gained any
advantage by reducing him to the indecent state in which
he at present advanced to battle. As soon as I had him
again in my embrace I found that the fellow's body was
so greasy and slippery, that I could make nothing of
him.
“He turned himself about like a snake, and slipped
through my arms before I was aware of it; but as
luckily he had dropped his knife and his gun previous to
the encounter, his whole efforts were bent upon throwing
me to the earth.
“While we were still engaged in this agreeable trial
of skill, we perceived the effects of the musical performances
to which I have alluded.
“The main body of the savages, attracted by his yell,
now advanced to the place. I was again surrounded
and again a prisoner.
“I was now placed upon the ground, and surrounded
by a circle of savages. The hypocritical devils all came
forward and shook hands with me; smiling goodhumouredly
in my face, and making use of a few
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endearing expressions of which they had learned the
English.
“As it was now nearly sun-set, and as the scene of
my late encounter was a commodious one for an encampment,
they resolved to pass the night in that place. Their
cooking establishments were soon in operation, and after
an hour they were engaged in discussing the game
which they had shot in the course of their march. In
the meantime I was tied to a tree, and left to my reflections.
“When the repast was nearly finished, the chief,
whose name (as he informed me) was Wahquimacutt,
or the `White-cat,' advanced towards me, patted me on
the cheek, and assured me in English that I was a good
boy. He then held towards me a bit of venison which
he was devouring, and assured me that it was excellent.
“I told him I had no doubt of it; upon which he requested
me to partake with him.
“I accepted his invitation, for not having tasted food
since leaving P—, I was in truth nearly famished.
“Upon this he extended to me a bit with a most
graceful bow, and as I was on the point of taking it, he
snatched it from me and deposited it in his own capacious
mouth.
“At this capital jest he laughed heartily. He then
patted me again on the cheek, and asked in English if
I had breakfasted. I answered no—upon which he told
me that I must be a poor Englishman indeed, if I could
not go to Canada without breakfast.
“To this sensible speech no reply seemed to be expected,
and I made none. Soon afterwards, Wahquimacutt,
or uncle White-cat, as he called himself in English,
turned on his heel and rejoined his comrades.
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“Sobriety was evidently not one of the virtues of my
amiable companions. As may be supposed, they had
provided themselves with a plentiful supply of spirits, and
were soon tolerably tipsy. They contrived, however, in
the midst of their intoxication, to maintain a decent
gravity of demeanour which was truly edifying.
“After they had exhausted their supply, they sat themselves
down in a circle with burlesque solemnity, and
lighted their pipes. From a few words whose meaning
I understood, I obtained the cheering information that
they were deliberating on the most advisable method of
despatching me; while they were occupied in this philanthropical
business, they would smile upon me as if
their hearts were overflowing with kindness, and occasionally
would address me in the most endearing
terms.
“After a time, the old chief, who was very dignified,
but very drunk, came forward, caressed me affectionately,
and informed me that he was my uncle White-cat, the
great chief so terrible in battle. After this, he placed
himself in an oratorical position, and announced his intention
of making me a speech. The tenor of his oration
was to assure me that the number of his warlike exploits
exceeded all belief; that he had eaten the chief sachems
and princes of seven hostile tribes, and that every red man
turned white when his name was mentioned; furthermore
that he had fifteen wives at home, each more
beautiful than the other; that he had a collection of
Englishmen's scalps hanging in his wigwam; that their
number amounted already to one hundred and twenty,
and that mine would have the honour of being the one
hundred-and-twenty-first.
“After giving me all this choice information, he came
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more immediately to the point. He told me that the
grand council which had just been in session, had decided
that it was not expedient immediately to despatch
me. That, on the contrary, it was possible I might yet
afford them considerable entertainment, and concluded
by requesting me to prepare immediately to run the
gauntlet.
“My heart sank within me. I had hoped that my
trials were to be short, and that I was soon to find repose
in death. I now found that my tortures were to form
the daily amusement of my companions for Heaven
knew how long a period.
“They commenced proceedings immediately. Several
approached the tree to which I was bound, and began
tearing off my clothes. While they were thus occupied,
they amused themselves with pricking me with the points
of their knives in every part of my body, lacerating my
face, slitting my ears, and other ingenious devices. During
the whole time, their faces were expressive of the
utmost good humour.
“It is not necessary to give you the details of the process
which I underwent. Suffice that I was compelled
to run the gauntlet till my persecutors were wearied, and
till I dropped lifeless with fatigue and loss of blood.
After this, I was I believe again pinioned, and laid on
the ground between two savages for the night.
“Early the next morning the party resumed their line
of march. Its direction continued to be towards Canada.
For the whole of the two succeeding days I was comparatively
unmolested, and was given to understand that
it was possible I might be surrendered to the French
and obtain my liberty by paying a handsome ransom.
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“As I thought it extremely unlikely that any of my
acquaintances at home would purchase so worthless a
commodity as myself at the extravagant price, which
the enemy would be sure to put upon me, I considered
my situation as hardly changed for the better. Besides
this, I infinitely preferred death to life. I had at last
become disgusted with my fate—with myself—with
mankind; and in my state of mind it was more than
probable that if I had been set at my liberty, my first act
would have been to free myself from the intolerable thraldom
of existence.
“I had, however, recently received a piece of information,
which gave me at least one object to live for.
Wahquimacutt had informed me with great exultation
that he was the murderer of my Eunice. His bullet
was the accursed one which had cut asunder the last
bond that united me to mankind. I swore that if I,
indeed, escaped from my present imprisonment with life,
I would not rest till I had revenged her death upon its
infernal perpetrator.
“Our march continued a day or two longer; but at
length I was informed that we were near its termination.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, we arrived at the principal
Indian village of the tribe.
“Our party was received with great glee, and the exultation
in the village was heightened when they were
informed that the celebrated Patanko had been taken
captive.
“I had the gratification of discovering that my fame
was much more widely extended than I was previously
aware of.
“Captain White-cat now informed me that I was for
the present to remain a prisoner in his wigwam. I was
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unable to discover what his exact intentions were with
regard to me; but it was evident that I was not immediately
to be sacrificed.
“I was kept strictly bound and guarded, and my
scanty food was of the meanest description. You may
believe that my condition was not improved by such a
course of life. In the course of a few weeks I was
greatly reduced, and I hoped fervently that death would
soon finish my miserable struggles.
“Every evening Wahquimacutt would seat himself
near me, and rehearse to me in a low voice, and in his
native tongue (which I already partially understood) the
oft-repeated catalogue of his achievements. Notwithstanding
my situation was apparent to every one, he
was sure to be greatly irritated when my weakness prevented
me from applauding him to his satisfaction.
“At last he seemed to be aware of my illness, and began
to doctor me. This was all that was wanted to
complete my misery. I was obliged to swallow countless
decoctions of nauseous drugs, and listen to interminable
disquisitions on the causes of my malady, which
were irritating to the last degree.
“At last, owing as much as any thing to his constant
physicking, I felt myself reduced in reality to a very low
ebb. He agreed with me that I was dying, and as a great
indulgence promised to send me a French priest to console
my last moments.
“I testified the utmost horror and disgust at the proposition,
in consequence of which he of course became
more urgent in its favour. At last I had nothing to do
but to yield.
“The tribe of savages of which Wahquimacutt was
the chief were among the closest allies of the French.
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They were, as a natural consequence, the direst enemies
of the English; and as the hostilities between France
and England were so constant in those days, that there
was hardly ever a cessation of warfare on the border;
the hate of all those, both savages and Christians,
French and English, who dwelt near the frontier, went
on increasing from day to day.
“The Canadian Indians were, however the most
perfect tools of the French. Inch by inch, and acre
by acre, they, in common with all other white men,
wrested their territories from the original proprietors, and
at the same time indulged them with the permission to
fight their most desperate battles for them, while they
kindly relieved them of the principal portion of the spoils.
“There were a few Jesuits and French traders usually
to be found in most Indian villages of that tribe.
“The priest whose acquaintance I had now the
honour of making, was, it seemed to me, a type of his
calling and his sect.
“He was a tall spare man, of a sallow and adust complexion;
for father Simon was none of your ordinary,
well-fed, greasy priests. There was genius in his crafty
eye and in his scornful mouth. But it was an evil
genius,—a genius of ambition, rapaciousness and cruelty.
It was not till some time afterwards that I discovered the
extent of the French government's obligations to that
man; and was fully satisfied that he was not only one
of the subtlest instigators, but one of the most powerful
conductors of the bloody and desperate wars of that period
between the French Indians and the New England
settlers.
“My acquaintance with him was not of long duration.
Very luckily, however, Captain White-cat left me
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more to myself during the priest's attendance; and in
consequence of my weakness and emaciation I was no
longer confined with the strictness which had hitherto
been my lot.
“I began gradually to recover, and so much had
Wahquimacutt's clemency increased, that I was even
permitted to walk about the village, attended only by the
Père Simon, and a couple of well-armed Indians.
“The whole bent of the holy father's eloquence during
his communications with me was to induce me to forswear
my country, and to embrace his faith. He assured
me that he had taken a great liking to me from
the first, and had a particular respect for my character
and talents. From what source this liking and this
respect had been derived, it would have been difficult for
him to inform me, for the few observations I had made
had been merely intended to convey to him the extreme
disgust and contempt I entertained for myself.
“My obligations to this clerical gentleman proved in
the sequel much greater than I had any reason to expect.
“Time wore on. I was still a tenant of Captain
White-cat's wigwam. As my fate had decided that I
was not yet to be relieved by death, and as my health
was now nearly re-established, father Simon was informed
that his visits were no longer necessary. Accordingly
my acquaintance with the priest terminated for a
time.
“Not long after this, I was informed by my worthy
landlord that an expedition was in contemplation. The
destination was to the south, and of course against my
countrymen. He did not enter into ample explanations,
but coolly informed me that I was to accompany him.
I was of course to be securely guarded.
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“I have omitted to inform you that after my communications
with the priest, I had received from
Wahquimacutt a formal invitation to join his tribe.
This of course, if accepted, included present liberty, and
pardon for all past offences. The hopes of a Sachemship
and other promotions were moreover held out to me in
addition.
“I rejected the proposal with indignation. The chief,
however, evidently did not resign his hope of eventually
succeeding, and in the mean time informed me that I
was to accompany him on his expedition.
“I found that my name and my exploits in the scalp-taking
line had been long the theme of particular admiration
among the savages. A grand council of war had
determined that it was expedient if possible to enlist the
terrible Patanko on their side, and large offers were made
to induce me to consent.
“Although I have already mentioned that the proposal
met with my decided disapprobation; yet they were
not the less determined that I should accompany them
on their contemplated invasion. It was expected, I believe,
that the opportunity thus afforded me of seeing on
a grand scale the atrocities which they were in the habit
of committing upon my countrymen, would indubitably
induce me at last to unite myself to their party.
“I was, however, no longer kept in ignorance of the
principal features of their design. A day or two before
we set out, Captain White-cat informed me that their intention
was to penetrate into the very heart of New England,
carrying desolation as they went, and more particularly
to burn all the villages, and massacre all the inhabitants
upon the Connecticut River. He modestly assured
me that if the Great Spirit allowed them to carry
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only this part of the plot into operation, he should still
consider that his exertions had not been in vain.
“Arrangements for assistance and co-operation had
been entered into with various southern tribes, who were
friendly to their cause, and the vast numbers who were
in readiness, and the extensive preparations and farreaching
plans for the whole campaign were of a character
so decidedly superior to those which are to be met
with in ordinary Indian warfare, that I at once detected
the presence of a civilized and crafty mind, (superior to
the combined intelligence of all the savages,) which presided
over the whole.
“The day before we set out, White-cat entered the
wigwam in a very merry mood. He informed me that
he was the happiest man in the world, that he had just
concluded a bargain which had enriched him for life, and
that he could never sufficiently express his gratitude to
the virtuous man who had allowed him to make so advantageous
a barter.
“I testified my curiosity to hear the particulars of this
wonderful transaction.
“He informed me that he had just completed the sale
of a large tract of land to a French settler. I had of
course never accurately measured the property in question;
but from his description and my own observation,
I found that the district in question could not be less than
three thousand acres.
“I inquired the price which he had received. He informed
me with great exultation that it was a barter and
not a sale, and hereupon he read me a catalogue of the
articles which he was to receive.
“I do not recollect the whole. The principal, however,
were twelve coats of fine French cloths, twelve
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spoons, twelve hatchets, twelve hoes, two dozen knives,
twelve pewter porringers, and four cases of scissors.
“I asked the purchaser's name, which I already suspected.
He informed me that it was father Simon, and
that the reverend gentleman, with a parade of liberality,
had thrown in over and above the stipulated price, ten
fathoms of glass beads of the most magnificent description,
besides a cassock worn by himself and quite as good
as new.
“As this latter article was likely to be so particularly
useful to my bare-legged patron, and as the whole price
was so scrupulously adequate to the value of the land
transferred, I had of course nothing to say.
“Wahquimacutt announced to me with great dignity,
that he intended to array himself in the cassock on
the morrow and wear it during the whole expedition;
so that I felt myself bound to make him a few compliments
on the peculiar fitness of the costume, and on the
sagacity he had manifested in the whole transaction.
CHAPTER VI. THE ADVENTURES OF PATANKO, CONTINUED.
“The expedition departed. On approaching the border,
Wahquimacutt thought proper to make a division of his
forces. I remained, of course, in that party which was
more particularly under his command.
“There was at that time a strong and well-garrisoned
fort belonging to the English, which was very near the
border, and which lay directly in our line of march.
“White-cat called a halt to deliberate whether it was
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most expedient to attack it or to make their way stealthily
by a circuitous route without molesting the garrison.
“The means by which he intimated his intentions
were ingenious.
“He inclosed a bundle of arrows in a snake skin, and
sent them by one of his most eminent warriors to the
fort.
“The commandant understood the purport of this
missive, but was not to be intimidated.
“Being conversant with the usages of the Indians, he
took the arrows from the bundle and sent back the snake
skin filled with powder and shot as a defiance.
“On receiving this reply, Wahquimacutt called another
solemn council, and, after due deliberation, concluded
to back out.
“He assured me that there was but little to gain by an
encounter with the garrison; and the result of the whole
was that the line of march was changed.
“We marched rapidly into the interior, and it was
some time before we encountered an enemy.
“On the afternoon of the 20th October, 17—, our
march lay along the borders of a rapid brook. The
whole day long we had traversed a level and well-wooded
country. About five o'clock in the afternoon it was
necessary to cross the brook, which at this point had
widened and deepened into an extensive morass.
“The swamp was thickly wooded, and its edges were
covered with a profusion of wild grapes.
“The Indians proceeded at once to regale themselves
greedily upon the fruit. While they were engaged, the
party was necessarily much scattered. All at once Captain
White-cat, who, it must be confessed, was a watchful
chieftain uttered a grunt. His face was expressive of
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much astonishment and disgust. He laid his hand on
my shoulder, and pointed to a thicket of alder bushes.
To my surprise I saw a large number of red legs huddled
together as thick as grasshoppers.
“We had evidently fallen into an ambush; but it was
also evident that we were not the game for whom the
trap was laid.
“Wahquimacutt signified to me, in a few guttural exclamations
below his breath, that we were much the
stronger party, and that it was evident that they intended
if possible to keep themselves concealed till we should
pass through.
“Hereupon, without more ado, he brought his rifle to
his shoulder and shot one of the skulkers on the spot.—
As he did so, he raised his terrific war-whoop. Our men
started at the sound, and looked about them. At the
same instant the whole party of the enemy, about twenty
in number, rose to their feet, discharged a volley upon
us, and then commenced a precipitate flight.
“Our Indians struggled through the marsh, and kept
up an unceasing fire upon them. As our numbers more
than doubled that of the Mohawks (for our antagonists
proved to be a detachment of that tribe) the victory was
soon declared for us.
“A large number was shot, several were trodden down
and suffocated in the marsh, and a few were taken prisoners.
“Among these last was the respectable Squanto, the
leader of the party. He was taken by a couple of Wahquimacutt's
young men, as, after having exhausted his
whole stock of ammunition, he was endeavouring to escape.
“As soon as he was made prisoner, one of his captors,
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who was quite a strippling, commenced interrogating him
in what he considered an impertinent manner. The
truculent old chief drew himself up with great dignity
and observed,
“`You are a child. You know nothing of war matters.
Send me to your chief; to him alone will I speak.'
“By this time the whole party, victors and captives,
had emerged from the marsh, and now were all drawn
up on a little rising ground.
“As soon as Squanto's reply had been communicated
to Captain White-cat, that fussy old gentleman bustled
forth in Simon's cassock with great solemnity.
“He grunted with satisfaction when he observed that
the chieftain of the enemy had been captured; but when
he recognized in him an old and inveterate enemy of
himself and his whole family—when he saw that it was
indeed the redoutable Squanto who stood before him, his
gratification was unbounded.
“He looked at him a few seconds with a countenance
expressive of the utmost delight, and then condemned
him to immediate death with great alacrity.
“`It is well,' said Squanto complacently, on receiving
this sudden death-warrant—`it is excellent; I shall die
before my heart is soft—before I have said or done any
thing unworthy of myself.'
“So saying, he threw aside his blanket and folded his
arms across his breast. As there was no time to be lost,
Captain White-cat resigned with a sigh the gratification
he might have derived from tormenting him, and ordered
him to be shot immediately. He fell like a hero.
“As soon as he was dead, White-cat took off his scalp
with great dexterity. He then cut a bit of flesh from the
shoulder of the fallen chieftain, and deliberately devoured
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it. Having done this, he smacked his lips and observed,—
`I like it well! it is the sweetest morsel I have tasted
for a long time. It makes my heart strong — ugh!'
“After these matters were satisfactorily settled, he
drew his followers around him, and made them a speech
of tolerable length, and entirely in praise of himself. He
then ordered the whole party to move forward.
“Nothing else of importance occurred during this day.
At evening we encamped, and the Indians had a great
jollification in honour of their victory. During the continuance
of this, I was tied to a tree and left to my own
reflections.
“We had hitherto marched leisurely, and had got but
little beyond the frontier — of course we were still at a
great distance from the New England settlements.
“Two days after this, we reached a fortified house
which was inhabited by a solitary family. It was a
kind of farm-house, and the land was already cleared to
a considerable extent. It was the first English residence
that we had seen, and there was a plantation around it
of Indian corn and pumpkins. As these were dainties
which they had not enjoyed for some time, the savages
lost no time in gathering the crop. While they were
thus employed, White-cat entered the house to reconnoitre.
The master who was an emigrant from Massachusetts
was absent. There was nobody present but a
couple of old women and three children.
“There was nothing in the house worth stealing;
but as the savages had had no entertainment for some
time their captain thought proper to indulge them.
“Accordingly, they killed the children, took the old
women prisoners, and then set fire to the house.
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“Having accomplished this chivalrous exploit, White-cat
made another speech and then continued his march.
“The whole of the next day we were traversing the
wilderness; but late in the afternoon we arrived at a
small French village. Here we encamped for the night.
“The next morning it was found that the liquor was
exhausted, and it would be some days before they could
expect a supply. Luckily White-cat succeeded in borrowing
a couple of bottles of rum from a French priest,
for which, as he had no money, he was obliged to pawn
the old women.
“Having got rid of this encumbrance, he shot his other
prisoners, very mercifully and unaccountably sparing
me, and then proceeded forward.
“Although, as I have before stated, this expedition
had been intended particularly against the settlers on the
Connecticut river; yet now that we were fairly under
weigh, our captain decided that previous to the main undertaking
it would not be amiss to accomplish a few unfinished
jobs which he had on hand.
“There was a settlement of Indians not far from the
boundary of New-York and Massachusetts, between
whom and the tribe of Wahquimacutt there was an ancient
feud.
“As Wahquimacutt was now in greater force than
usual, he thought there could not be a better opportunity
of indulging his animosity, and accordingly he changed
the line of his route to this place.
“About a day and a half afterwards, the scouts whom
the chief had sent forward, returned with the information
that they had reached the skirts of a large fortified
village. Wahquimacutt informed his warriors that this
village was the abode of the Piganokutts and of their
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sanguinary Sachem Worambo—that this Worambo was
almost the bravest chief in the world—that he was the
terror of the country, and that the world rang with his
achievements. Adding, however, that his exploits were
nothing, and his courage nothing, in comparison with his
own.
“He then signified his intention of surrounding and
destroying the village and all its inhabitants.
“Accordingly, he waited till the dead of night, and
then posted his warriors entirely around the place. He
possessed himself stealthily of every entrance to the village,
and felt confident of crushing his enemy at a blow.
“By the time he had completed his preparations, the
grey tints of morning were already visible. There was
no time to be lost, not even in making a speech, and the
signal was given for the assault.
“The Indians rushed forward with terrible yells, prepared
to overcome all resistance, and to massacre the
Piganokutts one and all.
“When they got into the village, there were no Piganokutts
to massacre.
“The only human being in the place was an ancient
Sachem, more than a hundre years of age.
“It appeared that timely intelligence of the intended
attack had been brought by an Indian who had opportunely
met with some of the scouts of our party, and
had escaped unperceived.
“In consequence of this information, the whole population
with the exception of this patriarch, had left the
place.
“Whither they had retreated it was of course impossible
for us to know; but it was probable that they had
taken refuge in some stronger position in the neighbourhood.
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“The rage of White-cat, when he discovered that
the birds had flown, was excessive. He sent for the
ancient Sachem in a pet.
“The old fellow replied that he was too old to walk
on any body's business but his own. If Wahquimacutt
wished an interview, he must come to him.
“Hereupon Wahquimacutt ordered a couple of his
warriors to drag him to his presence.
“He was interrogated with regard to the direction
which the Indians had taken; he refused to speak. He
was threatened with torture; he sneered. Wahquimacutt
stabbed him with his knife; he laughed in his face.
“As there was no time to be lost, and as there was no
hope of extracting any information from the stoic, Whitecat
ordered him to be shot.
“`You had better command me to be burned,' said
the veteran; `that you Indians—you dogs—and you,
Wahquimacutt, dog of dogs, may learn how a man can
die!'
“Irritated at this, the chief took him at his word. It
would have been better to commence the pursuit of the
fugitives immediately, but White-cat was in a peevish
mood, and he determined to vent his spleen upon the
venerable Sachem. He ordered him forthwith to be
bound to a stake. His orders were obeyed instantaneously.
A heap of brushwood was then placed around
him, and the pile was fired. The flames ascended, and
the old savage, with a cracked and tremulous voice, but
with a dauntless countenance, commenced his deathchant.
I will spare you the details of this terrible catastrophe.
“As soon as the Sachem was reduced to cinders,
White-cat became more good-natured. Active
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preparations were now made to discover the lurking-place of the
enemy, and scouts were sent out in all directions.
“The whole of the day was spent, however, in fruitless
search. We encamped that night in the neighbourhood
of the village.
“The next morning, our advanced scout came hastily
back, and informed the chieftain that there could be now
no doubt that the enemy were at last within his grasp.
They had been discovered occupying a tolerably strong
position about a mile a-head.
“We soon arrived at the scene of action. After rushing
hastily through the woods for a few minutes, we
emerged upon an extensive opening.
“A deep and thinly-wooded swamp, more than three
miles in circumference, extended on every side.
“Nearly in the centre of this swamp was a partly
natural and partly artificial elevation, of about an acre
in extent. This had been fortified with a pallisade, with
a sort of breastwork of brushwood; and, except through
the swamp, was inaccessible on every side.
“There was a sort of bridge composed of a series of
single planks, which communicated between the fort and
the land. This, however, had been partially destroyed
by the enemy, and its remains were well defended on the
interior by a couple of hastily-constructed block houses.
“A strong body was instantly despatched by Whitecut
to gain the bridges. They were allowed to come
within half-a-dozen yards of the fort, and then a volley
was discharged upon them. Half-a-dozen fell. They
were reinforced immediately, and the same process was
repeated.
“As this, however, was the only entrance to the fort,
and as Wahquimacutt's rage was heightened by this
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determined opposition, he resolved not to abandon the
attempt till all his men were cut off.
“A fresh number now rushed forward to the assault.
At the same time a variety of combustibles, burning arrows,
and other incendiary contrivances, were discharged
into the fort.
“At last, after a loss of more than five-and-twenty
men, half-a-dozen chosen warriors effected an entrance.
This was nearly three hours after our first arrival at the
swamp.
“The sharp-shooters, who had made such havoc with
the assailants, were killed, and Wahquimacutt's whole
force now entered the place.
“The number of the enemy, exclusive of women and
children, was very small. It was a wonder to me that
they had been able to maintain themselves so long.
“As soon as our whole force had fairly entered, the
signal was given for indiscriminate slaughter.
“The small number of warriors were soon massacred;
and when this was accomplished, the savages had recourse
to the more trifling amusement of butchering the
women and children.
“White-cat, who was in a very ill humour at the delay,
which this episode in his great expedition had occasioned,
encouraged his warriors in the work of destruction.
“The barbarians displayed considerable ingenuity in
their different devices for slaughtering their enemies.
“One of the most eminent warriors collected a number
of stakes, with great industry drove them into the earth,
and then ornamented the extremity of each with an infant's
head. When this was finished, he called several of
his companions to admire his ingenuity, and amused himself
with skipping and dancing about them like a maniac.
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“Some of the more voracious made a luncheon upon
their victims. The number of these was comparatively
few; for, to do them justice, I had found but few of the
savages who were addicted to cannibalism.
“During the continuance of this carnage, you may
conceive that the scene was horrible. The butchered
victims were strewn every where upon the ground while
the groans of the dying; the shrieks of women and children,
who were rushing wildly round, endeavouring in
vain to escape their doom; the frantic laugh of the victorious
savages and their terrific whoops, all combined to
render the scene appalling beyond description.
“As soon as they were all exhausted by their amusement,
Wahquimacutt ordered a retreat. Previous to
leaving the place, all the buildings were set on fire; and
as soon as the last of the victorious party had left the fort,
the bridge was entirely demolished.
“Quietly seating themselves on the ground beyond
the fort, the conquerors solaced themselves with a contemplation
of the conflagration which ensued.
“A large number of the unhappy enemy had been
left unslaughtered, and their shrieks were dreadful.
Some threw themselves frantically into the flames; some
rushed madly from the fort and were suffocated in the
morass. All perished.
“I turn with disgust from this shocking scene.
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CHAPTER VII. THE ADVENTURES OF PATANKO, CONTINUED.
[figure description] Page 231.[end figure description]
“Having now satisfactorily accomplished this corollary
to his grand undertaking, White-cat determined to make
up for lost time. By dint of forced marches, we soon
reached the upper part of the great Connecticut valley,
and were soon joined by two or three of the other detachments.
“The work of destruction now commenced. The
atrocities practised upon their Indian brethren, of which
I have already given a sketch, were trivial in comparison
with the butcheries to which the New England provinces
were now exposed.
“Village after village was attacked—the houses burned,
and the inhabitants massacred.
“During the continuance of the whole expedition, I
was compelled to be a spectator of the miseries of my
countrymen. I was led by a rope fastened around my
neck; while my arms were pinioned by another.
“Fortunately for the English, there had been latterly
some defalcation on the part of the Southern allies of the
Canadian Indians. Repeated quarrels had taken place,
and threats had passed so often between the different
tribes who were united in this expedition, that it was
more than probable that their arms would soon be turned
against each other.
“In consequence of this, White-cat called a council
of the chiefs upon whom he could most depend; and it
having been decided that it was dangerous to proceed
any father at present, he resolved that the village of
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T—, from which we were then ten miles distant,
should be the extreme point of their expedition.
“Accordingly the destruction of the devoted village
was resolved upon, as the finale to the whole business.
“It was decided that as soon as they had accomplished
it, they would immediately retrace their steps, and return
to their own habitations.
“We assaulted the village about noon in five strong
parties, and at five different points.
“The inhabitants assembled at the sound of the terrific
Indian yell, and a desperate resistance was made.
“The party which was headed by White-cat, fought
its way up the principal street of the place, and the
ground was covered with the mangled bodies of the
victims.
“Their numbers were so inconsiderable in comparison
with ours, that they were soon obliged to yield. The
work of plunder and of massacre now succeeded.
“Old White-cat who was the most whimsical of Indians,
had throughout the expedition, insisted upon my
remaining continually at his side. I was, he facetiously
observed, an exceedingly useful aid-de-camp, and as my
labours were lightened by the two Indians who held me
by the ropes, it was hardly possible that I could be much
fatigued. All this I received as indisputable; and I believed
that the old scoundrel, from some unnatural freak,
had in reality conceived an affection for me, and I began
to think it possible eventually to escape with life.
“The whites had now nearly all surrendered. A
feeble firing was kept up from the windows of a single
house at a distant corner of the village, but as White-cat
had despatched a half-dozen warriors to reduce the occupants
to submission, he troubled himself no more about
the matter.
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“I observed that the Indians had one and all a passion
for masquerading. Upon this occasion, as soon as
their more truculent appetites were satisfied, I saw a large
number of them disappear into some of the houses.
“Presently afterwards they re-appeared, having decked
themselves out in the most preposterous manner.
“Some wore white hats; and some woollen nightcaps;
some had endued themselves in bombazine petticoats,
and several of them strutted about decked in the
finery of old militia uniforms. Six of them had rigged
themselves out in flannel shirts and bandanna handkerchiefs
of the favourite scarlet colour, and now marched
gravely forward, beating time upon an iron kettle; while
one tall fellow with a woman's bonnet on his head, a
ponderous pair of boots upon his legs, and otherwise in
complete nudity, capered about with much agility, and
excited universal admiration.
“Captain White-cat looked upon these playful warriors,
and grunted from time to time with great satisfaction.
While he was thus employed, one of the principal
inhabitants of the village, and its earliest settler, was
brought before him. He had been taken captive after
having destroyed four Indians with his own hand — he
was well aware of his fate — but when he was confronted
with Wahquimacutt who was endeavouring to
assume a commanding demeanour, he regarded him
with an expression of perfect indifference and contempt.
“The old hypocrite advanced towards him, and seized
him by both hands, which he shook heartily.
“`I salute thee, my brother!' said he; `Am I not
your uncle and your brother?
“With this he commanded two of his adherents to
hold the prisoner fast, and then, without more ado, he
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stripped his shirt from his back, and his boots from his
legs, and proceeded to array himself therein.
“When he had completed his toilet, he knocked the
captive's brains out, without farther ceremony; and then
making an incision in his breast, scooped out a handful
of blood, and drank it off with much relish.
“`I am a great man!' said the old braggadocio,
turning to me; `I am the son of the Great Spirit. I
drink the heart's blood of my foes, and it makes me fat.'
“Having finished this pretty speech, he strutted up and
down the street for a few minutes, and then ordered a
council of his most eminent warriors.
“This he informed me, was his `general court,' (a
term which he had learned in his intercourse with the
white men,) and assured me that the wisdom of its deliberations
was unequalled in the world.
“Accordingly the bare-legged legislators squatted
themselves on their hams before the council fire, and
began smoking and grunting with admirable solemnity.
“While they were thus employed, the deputation
which had been sent against the still-resisting party
above-mentioned, returned with their prisoners. The
house had been demolished, and its garrison, consisting
of two white men and an aged negro, were now placed
before the conclave.
“Although the assembly were deliberating upon other
and weighty matters, yet White-cat requested them to
assist him with their advice concerning the disposal of
these prisoners.
“A great many violent speeches were accordingly
made; but as they could arrive at no conclusion, it was
determined to defer the matter till the next day. The
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[figure description] Page 235.[end figure description]
prisoners were placed in strict confinement, and left for
the present in ignorance of their fate.
“The next morning the prisoners requested to know,
if possible, the punishment that was to be awarded to
them; they were informed that Wahquimacutt intended
to give a grand entertainment that afternoon, and that
their fate would be then decided.
“In the afternoon, accordingly, a very solemn council
was again assembled; the prisoners were made to sit
upon the ground in the centre of the circle, and the
proceedings were conducted in a business-like manner.
“They were of course condemned to immediate death,
and three or four set immediately about the execution.
“Their clothes were torn from their bodies and thrown
into the fire; stakes were then driven into the ground, to
which they were secured.
“A number of the savages then proceeded to draw a
circle around them, which they fancifully decorated
with flowers.
“A couple of conjurors then commenced a series of ridiculous
antics, which were supposed to give an additional
solemnity to the scene.
“As soon as this was finished, all the Indians present,
sachems, counsellors, spectators, and all, commenced
dancing and jumping violently to the music of two
drums, beaten by a couple of half-breeds, who composed
the band of the tribe.
“When this was over, three individuals, painted and
adorned in a fantastic and terrible manner, and who I
found were the executioners, now brought the brushwood,
and other combustible materials, and kindled a
fire around the stakes.
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“The captives were burned; and the next day the
Indians commenced their retreat.
“After we had been two days on our homeward march,
Wahquimacutt summoned me to his presence. He told
me that I had now had sufficient opportunity to become
acquainted with his merits, and requested my consent to
join his tribe.
“I replied in the negative. He then told me the only
alternative was death. I assured him that I expected it,
and that I was wearied and disgusted with my life; that
death was the greatest favour he could bestow upon me,
and the sooner he set about it the better.
“I suppose it was the constant contempt with which I
treated him that excited the liking to which I have referred.
It was evident that he was unwilling to order
my execution, and that he was anxious to secure me to
his person.
“He seemed, however, decided on this occasion, and
bade me prepare for death on the following day. I lay
awake the whole night, devising means of escape. Early
the next morning our march was resumed.
“Very fortunately the company were a good deal dispersed
in search of game, and my two faithful guardians
and myself were left considerably behind.
“During the night I had contrived to free one of my
hands from the noose which confined them, although the
manner in which the savages had attached themselves
to my person while asleep, prevented me from profiting
by that circumstance to make my escape.
“About nine in the morning our course lay across a
deep and rapid brook. As soon as my companions
reached its edge they both stooped down to drink.
“In the twinkling of an eye I seized the lucky
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moment, sprang upon the nearest like a tiger, succeeded in
wresting his knife from its sheath, and drove it through
his heart.
“The other had slipped into the water, but he rose
and grappled with me. The contest was for life; but I
was the stronger of the two. We were now in the centre
of the stream, and the water reached to our waists.
With a desperate effort I threw him down, and succeeded
in holding him under the water. In a few seconds his
struggles grew fainter and fainter—they ceased. He relaxed
his gripe—he was drowned. I possessed myself
of his knife, and the gun which was lying on the bank.
“I was now free from my immediate keepers, but
surrounded by my enemies.
“The morning was foggy, and I was entirely uncertain
of the direction which the savages had taken, and
was entirely ignorant of the points of the compass.
“It seemed to me therefore that my wisest course was
to conceal myself, if possible, in the neighbourhood of
this very place.
“It was probable that the Indians would proceed on
their day's journey in the same irregular manner in
which they had commenced, and that consequently my
escape would not be discovered before the evening.
“In this way, the Indians would have probably proceeded
thirty or forty miles beyond my present position;
and that distance being once placed between us, it would
not be difficult for me to profit by the night, and eventually
to effect my escape.
“On the contrary, if I endeavoured to make my way
through the mist which prevented me from discovering
any object at a rod's distance, it was highly probable that
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I should stumble upon some of my enemies before I had
advanced a quarter of a mile.
“I selected, therefore, a pile of drift wood, which the
force of the water had heaped up in a marshy angle of
the brook. Under this cover I contrived to secrete myself
and my gun so completely that it was not likely that
I should accidentally be discovered, and I trusted that
not being missed I should probably not become the object
of a direct search.
“I lay snug in my hiding-place for nearly an hour,
during which time I had the satisfaction of hearing the
voices of my enemies, the crack of their rifles, and their
imitations of the different cries of the game which they
were pursuing with hardly a moment's cessation.
“At last the cries seemed to grow fainter, the shots became
less frequent, and I began to console myself with
the belief that they had at last proceeded on their
journey.
“I felt comparatively so tranquil, and had been so
much exhausted with excitement, and with my watching
the whole of the previous night, that I was already
sinking into a doze.
“Hardly, however, were my eyes closed, than I was
startled by the shrill whoop of a savage, which sounded
within a yard of my ear.
“I felt certain that I was discovered, and that this
was a yell of exultation at my discovery. I grasped
my knife and determined to sell my life as dearly as possible.
“Still, however, I lay motionless in my hiding-place.
“In a few moments the whoop was repeated, still
more savagely than before. A pause—and then it was
answered by the faint halloos of several others in the
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distance. The cries grew stronger—the voices sounded
nearer—and in a few moments, a wild and unearthly
shriek—a yell from many voices—rose directly above the
place where I lay.
“My blood curdled—my fate was evidently seated;
and death, which I had been for many days expecting
with composure, seemed doubly bitter, now that I had a
glimpse of freedom.
“It was unaccountable why I had not been immediately
dragged from my hiding-place, for now several
minutes had slipped since I had first heard the yell of
the savages.
“There was a chink in the pile of wood which concealed
me. I contrived stealthily to change my position,
and to look out.
“I saw, with a feeling of relief, that I had not been
discovered. The first savagge had discovered the bodies
of my victims, whom the current had washed ashore not
far from my hiding-place, and had given the alarm to
his companions. There were now nearly a dozen of
them collected around the bodies, yelling, chattering,
gesticulating, and testifying by their voices and gestures
their rage and astonishment.
“I lay in an agony of suspense. It seemed impossible
that I could now escape. Although my lurking-place
was not yet discovered, yet it seemed impossible that it
could remain so long.
“After indulging themselves in a few more howls of
mingled anger and lamentations, they commenced
their search.
“They shook the trees—beat the bushes—traversed
the place in all directions. I heard their voices distinctly,
and several of them were often so near me that I could
have touched them.
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“At last one of them observed that it was probable I
had already advanced a little way, and proposed searching
for me farther off.
“A ray of hope gleamed through my heart. The
savages seemed to assent to the proposition, One of
them, however, before departing took up a stick from the
pile which concealed me, and began scattering the heap.
Presently, another followed his example, and of course
I gave up myself for lost.
“They pitched off and threw away half a dozen bits
of wood, and during the process, they touched me repeatedly.
The morning, however, was so misty, and
the colour of my garments was so similar to that of the
bark of the wood, that I remained without discovery.
“After a short time they uttered an exclamation or
two of disappointment, and then apparently gave over
their search.
“With a beating heart I listened to their retreating
footsteps.
“At last all was quiet.
CHAPTER VIII. THE ADVENTURES OF PATANKO, CONTINUED.
“I remained in my hiding-place the whole day.
Nothing further happened to occasion me the least
alarm. It was evident that the savages had given over
the pursuit.
“As soon as it was fairly dark, I emerged from my
retreat. The atmosphere had become clear. It was
bright starlight, and rather cold.
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“As I was necessarily ignorant of the points of the
compass, I was uncertain which way to bend my course.
Judging, however, from the appearance of the sky, I decided
that the wind must be westerly. The breeze was
so faint that it was difficult to distinguish its exact direction;
but by dipping my hand into the brook, and
then allowing the water to evaporate upon it, I was
enabled to determine with tolerable accuracy.
“I knew that we had already advanced very far to
the north of my abode, and of course I now directed my
steps towards what I supposed to be the south. I marched
the whole night, and nearly the whole of the next
day, without meeting with any adventure worth recording.
“The succeeding night set in tempestuously. I
searched a long time in vain for a shelter against the
rain, which fell in torrents; but, at last, I was fortunate
enough to discover a tolerably spacious cave, in the interior
of a mass of rocks. I collected a quantity of
branches, and made myself a bed in the interior of the
cavern. Exhausted by my long march I soon fell asleep.
“I was awakened by what sounded like a suppressed
muttering at the entrance of the cave.
“I opened my eyes and saw, as I supposed, two lanterns
gleaming before me. My first impression was
naturally that the Indians were again upon me; and
that I should be immediately discovered. I regarded the
lights attentively; they shifted quickly to and fro, apparently
as if the bearers were in search of something.
I listened if I could hear voices; all was silent.
Presently, I heard the low growling repeated. It was
not a human sound. A horrid fear came over me—it
was realized—of a sudden, a loud and terrible roar
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reverberated through the cavern. It was a wild beast—a
panther probably, who was seeking shelter from the terrible
storm.
“Presently, the growling ceased; the beast apparently
laid itself down. The horrible eyes still glared upon
me. I remained quiet—almost frozen with fear, and
hardly daring to draw my breath. This awful suspense
continued I should think for half an hour.
“At last there was a rustling in the bushes, at the
mouth of the cavern—and with a sudden roar the beast
sprang suddenly forth; and to my inexpressible rapture
I heard him plunging through the thicket.
“It was impossible for me to barricade myself in my
retreat; and as it seemed more dangerous to adventure
by night into the woods than to remain where I was, I
abandoned myself to Providence, and determined to
await my fate in the cave. Happily I passed the remainder
of the night undisturbed.
“With the first grey light of morning, I awoke from
an uneasy slumber. I felt myself incommoded by some
hard substance beneath my head. I rose upon my
knees, and by the feeble light examined my hiding-place.
Judge my horror, when I found that I had been reposing
upon a heap of human bones! It was true; the cavern
was filled with skulls and bones of all descriptions. I
sprang precipitately from the place.
“It was evident that this was one of the caverns in
which certain tribes of Indians were accustomed to
deposit the remains of their religious sacrifices, sacrifices
of which their prisoners were the victims.
“I pursued my journey that day, but with diminished
vigour. I had now fasted, with the exception of a few
barries which I had found and eaten the previous
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morning, for nearly three days. My strength was nearly exhausted,
and besides I had as yet seen no indications
that I had been right in the course I had been pursuing.
“I tore some bark from a tree and gnawed it, to appease,
if possible, the cravings of my appetite, and then
faintly continued my journey. That day I made comparatively
little progress, and I threw myself upon the
ground at night, hoping, rather than fearing, that some
wild beast would save me from the awful starvation to
which it now seemed that I was destined.
“I slept a long and dreamless sleep, and awoke in the
morning tolerably refreshed. I was also fortunate enough
to find some birds' eggs, which together with a few succulent
roots which I dug from the earth, furnished me
with a sumptuous repast.
“In the afternoon, as I was taking a little repose in a
small opening of the forest, I perceived something rustling
in the bushes near me. At the same time I heard
noises which seemed to me familiar, but which I could
not exactly understand. It seemed like the neighing of
a horse. I looked about me, and soon discovered whence
the sounds proceeded. Very near the place where I had
been seated, I perceived an Indian trap with a flexible
staddle, such as the Indians set for game. An animal
had been caught by it, and its struggles created the rustling
which I had heard. On approaching it, it proved
to my surprise, to be a horse.
“It probably belonged to some of the English settlers,
and had strayed from its pasture.
“The animal was docile. I contrived to form a rude
halter of some twigs, and then mounted my prize.
“It was a very fortunate relief. I was excessively
wearied with my long march, and my miserable
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sustenance. As I had no powder and shot, (although I had
the Indian's gun,) it was probable that I should still be
obliged to sustain life on the miserable aliments to which
I had hitherto had recourse.
“The country was now comparatively open, and I had
reached an extensive plain, which was only partially
wooded. I was therefore enabled to make rapid progress
upon my horse. Besides the relief which this afforded
me, I conceived strong hopes that the animal's instinct
would direct him to his former residence.
“The whole of that day I journeyed on without impediment.
In the night I tethered my horse as well as
I could, and permitted him to browse, while I appeased
my appetite with pretty nearly the same food as his own.
“Early the next morning I pursued my journey.
“This day, to my inexpressible delight, I reached the
borders of the Connecticut. Judging from appearances,
however, I decided that my course had not been in the
direction which I supposed; but, on the contrary, I found
that I was probably several days' journey further up the
river than I had hoped. I now followed the course of
the stream.
“In the course of this day, however, my journey was
very nearly finished for ever. A few hours past noon, I
perceived that I was pursued by an Indian. It was the
first human being that I had seen since my escape from
my captors; and I feared that he was only the advanced
scout of a party.
“I urged my exhausted animal, but in vain. It was
impossible for me to increase his speed. It was a snail's
pace, and on looking back, I saw with dismay that the
Indian gained rapidly upon me.
“He was soon within hailing distance, and I
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understood from his cries and gestures that he was desirous of
a personal interview. As this, however, was by no means
to my taste, I thought proper to decline the honour. I
kicked the flanks of my jaded beast, and endeavoured
but in vain to entice him into a trot.
“The plot thickened. I took another glance behind
me, and observed that the Indian, disgusted with my
want of courtesy, was preparing to resent it. As I turned,
I saw be was taking aim at me with his rifle. I stooped
my head to my horse's neck, shut my eyes, and awaited
my fate.
“The rifle cracked—the bullet whizzed close to my
ear, and struck my unfortunate horse. He reared, and
then fell on his side. I extricated myself from my fallen
companion, and fled blindly forward without looking behind
me.
“I soon found, however, that my frame was too weak
to allow me any chance of succeeding in the race with
my pursuer. A large rock was directly in my way—I
sprang behind it, determined to await the result. I had
never discharged the gun which I still retained, and which
was fortunately loaded. I cocked the trigger, and abode
the onset.
“I peeped from behind my cover, and reconnoitered
the approaching foe. He was within fifty yards of me.
I felt that I had now a match at sharp-shooting before
me, in which life was the stake. I was celebrated for
my skill, and I determined, if possible, to exert it on this
occasion.
“As the Indian advanced, I bethought me of a stratagem.
In a twinkling of an eye it was executed. I
placed my hat on the extremity of my gun, and raised
it a few inches above the rock. The report of the
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Indian's rifle followed instantaneously, and his bullet
pierced the hat with unerring aim.
“I sprang to my feet—covered the Indian with my
piece, and drew the trigger.
“In the minutes portion of a second before I heard
its welcome report, it seemed that my heart would burst
through my bosom.
“My aim was sure, and the Indian fell with the bullet
through his brain.
“Without waiting an instant I rushed madly on. I
feared that the two reports would arouse fifty Indians,
and terror for a few instants winged my feet.
“After I had fled on, however, nearly an hour without
any appearance of pursuit, I stopped to take breath. I
was still on the margin of the river, and there were tolerably
extensive plains around me. I ascended to the
top of a tree, and was enabled to see to a great distance.
All was still and silent. I saw and heard no indication
of a human being.
“I descended from the tree, and again stretched myself
upon the ground. Though I was freed from immediate
fears of my Indian enemies, yet I was exhausted
with fatigue and nearly famished with hunger.
“As I had become disgusted with the vegetable diet,
with which I had supported life, for the few past days, I
gnawed one of my shoes and what remained of my
leather waistcoat by way of variety.
“Early the next day I came upon an open space,
where were the remains of a small Indian village, which
had apparently been recently destroyed by their enemies.
There were several Indian bodies, freshly killed, strewn
upon the ground, and the Indians seemed to have displayed
more than their usual ingenuity in sacrificing
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their victims. I noticed in particular one man dangling
to the limb of a tree, who had been suspended there, apparently
while yet alive, by an iron hook forced through
his under jaw.
“Another athletic man lay dead upon his back, with
his heart cut out and placed carefully upon his breast.—
Various other atrocities were visible; but the whole scene,
which in remembrance now fills me with horror and
disgust, excited in me then far different emotions.
“I was nearly famished. I had been almost reduced
to devouring my own flesh, and need I tell you that, on
reaching this place, my first impulse was to throw myself
upon the carcass of one of these victims and appease my
wolfish hunger with his flesh. I did so—I tore the body
with my nails and teeth—I mumbled the flesh from the
bones, and when I had finished my ravenous and terrible
repast, I started, horror-stricken, to my feet, and fled
like a guilty thing away.
“In the course of this afternoon, as I was dragging
myself along the banks of the river, I heard a paddling
in the water, and looking about me, I saw an Indian
crossing the river in a canoe. As he was making towards
me, I supposed he intended to attack me; and, although
my gun was empty, I took aim at him in the idle hope of
intimidating him.
“To my surprise, the fellow became alarmed, scuttled
out of the canoe with all his might and swam towards
the opposite shore. He reached it very soon, and, springing
to his feet, disappeared in the forest.
“With a thanksgiving for the cowardly disposition
with which Heaven had seen fit to endow this savage, I
watched the canoe in hopes it would drift ashore.
“After waiting about half an hour, my hopes were
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realized. The little skiff, directed by a merciful Providence,
floated very near me. I sprang into it, pushed it
into the river, and paddled quickly down the stream.
“It was now my intention to pursue my journey as
far as possible in this canoe. I found that the savage
had probably been engaged in fishing when I discovered
him. Luckily he had left his implements behind him,
and, to my inexpressible joy I discovered also the materials
for striking fire. Thus I was provided for the present
with the means of healthy sustenance.
“For two days I floated easily and pleasantly down
the stream; at night I hauled my canoe upon the banks,
and contrived, by filling it with dry leaves and moss, to
convert it into a tolerable bed.
“In the day time I succeeded in taking a sufficiency
of fish to satisfy my appetite, which I cooked in the evening,
and was thus enabled in a measure to recover my
strength and spirits. If I had only possessed a store of
powder and shot, I am not sure that I should not have
been satisfied for a long time with my present mode of
life. As it was, I lived with the fear of starvation still
before my eyes, but had it not been for this horrible fear,
I should perhaps have preferred a solitary existence in
the wilderness. My hatred and disgust for my fellowmen
seemed to have increased rather than diminished
since my separation from them.
“At last there was an end to this comfortable manner
of journeying. In the latter part of the third day after
the acquisition of my canoe, I became involved, before I
was aware of it, in a rapid eddy of the stream, and a
few moments after found myself whirling down a furious
rapid with astonishing celerity.
“I sprang from the canoe, while we were yet near
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the shore, and succeeded, after a few bruises from the
rocks against which I was borne by the fury of the torrent,
in extricating myself before the current had become
irresistible.
“I dragged myself with much difficulty to the shore;
the boat was whirled down the rapids, and was soon fast
jammed between two rocks, in the centre of the torrent,
entirely beyond my reach.
“I was now obliged to abandon of all hopes of pursuing
my journey otherwise than on my feet.
“My horse was dead, my boat was swamped, and it
was not probable that accident would again provide me
with one or the other.
“I determined, however, to lose no time in unavailing
lamentation; and after casting one wishful glance at
my unfortunate canoe, I departed from the place.
“The thickets and cane-brakes, with which the margin
of the river was now entangled, became at this point
perfectly impervious. I was therefore obliged to strike
into the woods, hoping to lose nothing thereby, but to
come upon the river again in the course of a few hours.
“After a short time I perceived smoke in the air, and
the atmosphere felt intolerably hot. I perceived vestiges
of a fire in the woods; and, in a short time, I came upon
an open space, which had evidently been cleared for
many miles round by a recent conflagration. The
ground was scorched and blackened; innumerable trees
were burned nearly to a level with the earth, and my
path lay over a soil hot and reeking with the decaying
ashes and embers.
“This was the most dreadful part of the whole expedition.
I was exhausted and faint, but it was impossible
for me to repose for an instant. The earth glowed
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beneath my feet, my mouth was parched with an intolerable
thirst, and there seemed no prospect of repose or
refreshment.
“After toiling for an hour in this way, I at last reached
a spot which had escaped the conflagration, and, advancing
a few paces, I heard again the sound of the
majestic river. I hastened to its brink, and cooled my
panting frame in its refreshing waters.
“I laid myself down on the bank, and fell into meditation.
A misgiving, which had haunted me for a long
became at length irresistible.
“I was at last fully convinced that this river was not
the Connecticut. It was impossible that it could be, for
otherwise, so constantly and so long had I followed its
course, that I must necessarily have long before reached
the region of civilization.
“Exhausted with fatigue and harassed with conjecture,
I threw myself in despair upon the turf, and in a
short time fell into a heavy sleep.
CHAPTER IX. THE ADVENTURES OF PATANKO, CONTINUED.
“When I awoke, it seemed to me that I had not slept
five minutes. I felt, however, comparatively refreshed,
and began to gaze around me.
“What was my horror at perceiving, on first opening
my eyes, that I was surrounded by Indians!
“There were at least thirty savages present, all of
whom were regarding me with surprise and exultation.
I found myself a prisoner after all my exertions, and I
audibly execrated my unhappy fate.
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“I was somewhat surprised at finding that I was not
bound. I was lying in exactly the same position in
which I had fallen asleep. The savages were squatting
about among the trees. Some were cooking at a fire,
some were busied with their hunting implements, and
half a-dozen dignitaries, with important faces, were discoursing
in a low tone to each other.
“I rose to my feet and walked forward to salute this
latter party. I was anxious that my fate should be immediately
decided. I saw that my struggles would now
be indeed in vain.
“I addressed the person who seemed to be the foremost
among them in the dialect with which I was most
acquainted. I asked him if they intended me any harm,
or whether they were disposed to protect and assist a solitary
wanderer.
“The person addressed answered, in a somewhat different
dialact, that their chief had not yet arrived; that
he had been detained on a hunting excursion with two
or three of his principal warriors, but that they were now
awaiting his approach. He also grasped me warmly
by the hand, assured me that I was his friend and brother,
and bade me be of good cheer.
“I was so accustomed to the hypocrisy of the Indians
and had experienced so little friendship or brotherhood
among them, that I derived but little consolation from this
plausible reception.
“I was, however, pleased to observe, from the difference
of costume and of language, that I had at least not fallen
into the hands of my late persecutors; and it seemed
to me that any change must necessarily be for the better.
In a few minutes a slight bustle announced the
arrival of the chief. He was a man of great stature,
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and of an athletic and commanding appearance. The
moment he appeared, it struck me that I had met with
him before. I advanced towards him, and the moment
his eyes lighted upon me, he seemed also to reciprocate
the feeling. He hesitated a moment, and then without
more ado he uttered a grunt of satisfaction, and threw
himself upon my breast. My recollections now became
distinct, and it was with great delight that I recognized
in this portly savage a distinguished chief of the Mohawks,
whom I had known some years before, and whose life I
had had the good fortune to save during the earlier part
of our acquaintance.
“The Mohawks, and particularly the tribe of which
my friend was the chief Sachem, were at that time the
most determined foes of the French and the Canadian
Indians, and had at different periods entered into a tolerably
faithful alliance with the white inhabitants of New
England.
“During one of my predatory excursions against the
blood-thirsty marauders of the Connecticut, it had been
my fortune to fall in with this chief, who had been desperately
wounded in an encounter with our common
enemy. I had succoured him, physicked his wounds with
a skill superior to the Indian pharmacy, and had taken care
of him in my own hut, till his health was perfectly restored.
“The chief hugged me with great affection; and then,
releasing me an instant, turned to his comrades and uttered
a few rapid exclamations.
“In consequence of this oration of the Sachem, I was
immediately surrounded and welcomed by his adherents.
Some caught me by the hands, some clasped me round
the waist, half-a-dozen clung to my neck, a great many
kissed my nose, and all vied with each other in testifying
their respect and affection.
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“As all these gentlemen, however, seemed to be more
or less in the habit of heightening their natural charms
by a copious use of grease and charcoal, and as the red
paint with which they had illustrated their bodies was
more calculated to please the eye than the olfactories, I
confess that I was glad when these violent demonstrations
of friendship were concluded.
“As soon as I was left to myself, the chief seated himself
at my side, and entered into a little private conversation.
I now found that while I supposed myself following
the course of the Connecticut, I had in reality been
wandering farther at every step from my real direction.
Instead of being anywhere in the neighbourhood of our
village, I was informed that I was in the heart of the great
valley of the Mohawk. I was astonished that I had so
completely mistaken my route; but my woodman's skill
was not then so great as by practice it has since become.
“The chief now assured me, that he would make a
business of guiding me directly and safely to my home;
he observed, however, that from what he had seen of my
talents and propensities, perhaps an Indian warrior's life
would not be altogether unacceptable to me. He was
polite enough to offer me various pleasing compliments
upon my bravery and industry; and concluded by offering
me brotherhood and a Sachemship in reversion, if I
chose to adopt this course of life.
“I told him I needed a short time to deliberate; for
I confess that my passion for an unshackled and wardering
life had not yet been weakened; and I could not
help acknowledging that I had suffered as much injustice
and injury from the white man as the red. While I was
communing with myself, the chief went on with his
oration.
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“He informed me that his name was Goschgekelemuchpekink,
which being interpreted was the `Sneaking-snake.
' I knew from this that he was a great warrior,
for his title and his `totem' implied craft, which in
the Indian estimation is the first military virtue. He assured
me besides, that he had a lovely daughter, who was
called the `Full-moon,' and was the most beautiful woman
of the tribe. In the overflowing warmth of his
heart, he offered her to me in marriage, if I would accept
his invitation, and join his tribe.
“I confess that the prospect of possessing the most
beautiful virgin of the Mohawks, and of becoming son--in-law
to so renowned a warrior as the `Sneaking-snake,'
at once put an end to all hesitation on the subject. I accepted
his offer accordingly, with many expressions of
gratitude. The Snake embraced me with great ardour,
and immediately made a second speech to his adherents.
To my dismay, this was followed by a repetition of the
terrible hugging and kissing.
“When this was over, we feasted and had a grand
jollification. The next day we set off for the village,
which was the seat of government of our chief.
“As this was not more than forty miles distant, we
reached it betimes the next afternoon. The chief conducted
me with much solemnity to his wigwam, while
the rest of the warriors dispersed to their own abodes.
“The preliminaries of a marriage, I found were very
soon adjusted among the Indians, and the next day was
appointed for the ceremony. It was with no little chagrin,
however, that I discovered that I was not to be indulged
with a sight of my bride till the moment I was to
be united to her.
“As I learned that the ceremony of wedlock was rather
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more a matter of show among my new friends, than of
real solemnity, I determined, while I was still a favoured
person, to exert as much authority as I could, for the sake
of the next generation. I had suffered too severely for
my former transgression, to be willing to betray another
victim, even although I was protected by the laws of the
society into which I was now adopted.
“I inquired of the Snake if there was no christian
priest in the village, and was informed to my great satisfaction,
that a worthy missionary from Massachusetts,
who had even succeeded in making several converts, had
been residing there for some time.
“I expressed my determination to the chief, that I
would be wedded according to the form of my own religion,
or not at all. He approved of my resolution, and
gratified me still further, by observing that his daughter,
`Full moon,' had already inclined her ear to the precepts
of the missionary, and that it was not improbable that
this union would prove the means of her entire conversion.
'
“I sought out the missionary accordingly, and it was
arranged that the ceremony should be performed early
the next day.
“Accordingly on the next morning, I was formally
united to the beautiful Cushcushka, the beloved and
lovely daughter of the `Sneaking-Snake.'
“As soon as the marriage had been solemnized, the
whole tribe assembled on a spacious green, in the centre
of the village, to celebrate our nuptials by a grand and
most elaborate dance.
“After the whole population of the village had hopped
about, and thrown their bodies into the most abstruse
contortions, till they were entirely exhausted, a select
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party of eight, of whom one was Cushcushka, advanced
to execute a more intricate and artificial dance.
“I confess that I regarded the `Full-moon' with
much satisfaction. Your mother, my dearest son, was
a woman who would have graced a court.
“Her stature was tall and of faultless symmetry; her
features were regular and handsome, and the wonderful
wildness of her eyes, surpassed all the charms of the
daughters of civilization.
“She was dressed in a purple tunic, which, confined
around her waist by an embroidered girdle, just reached
her knee, and displayed rather too bountifully her exquisitely-proportioned
limbs. Her arms were bare, and
glittered with bracelets; her ears were hung with jewels,
and a heap of necklaces and medals adorned her throat.
Her feet were clad in embroidered sandals, and the wing
of a scarlet bird glanced in her raven hair.
“She moved towards the dancers with a majestic
grace befitting her lineage; for she was the descendant
of a countless line of royal and martial ancestors. At
her arrival the wild and fitful, but not inharmonious
music commenced; and I watched her movements,
nimble, lithe, and graceful as those of a panther of the
wilderness, with inexpressible delight. As soon as the
dance was finished, the whole population again resumed
their grotesque capers, during the continuance of which,
they refreshed themselves from time to time with
draughts from a pot of boiling water, placed hard by.
As soon as this was finished, the assembly was dissolved.
“The next day, to compensate for the meagreness of
the wedding festivities, I was informed that the ceremony
of my investiture as a chief of the tribe was to be celebrated
with unusual solemnity.
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“Accordingly, at the hour appointed, all the chiefs of
the tribe were invited to a sumptuous entertainment at
which my father-in-law, `the snake,' presided with unutterable
dignity. Your maternal grandfather was certainly
a man of commanding exterior. He was tall and
powerfully moulded, and his countenance was expressive
of intelligence and craft. He wore his royal robes on
this occasion, with a ring in his nose, and a bunch of
feathers in his head. Two long belts, or scarfs, curiously
wrought in wampum, with birds, flowers, and other devices,
hung round his neck. His face and breast were
painted with unusual ingenuity, and a scarlet blanket
adorned with pewter fringes, was wrapped gracefully
around his portly person.
“The feast, consisting of dog's-flesh and huckleberries
boiled in bear's grease, was now distributed with the
most punctilious regard to etiquette. The guests received
a larger or smaller platter full in exact proportion
to their respective ranks. For myself I sincerely regretted
that the nobility conferred upon me was of so exalted
a grade, for it required all my respect and consideration
for the feelings of my benefactors to overcome the loathing
with which I swallowed the enormous quantity of the
infernal mixture which was allotted as my portion.
“After they had glutted their appetites with these choice
viands, they commenced a tremendous war-song, the
execution of which occupied many minutes. After this
they seated me upon a beaver skin, threw an embroidered
wampum belt around me and caused me to smoke a
war-pipe, which they presented to me. The warriors
then squatted upon the ground around me, and the pipe
passed from one to the other, till the tobacco was exhausted.
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“I was then led to what they called a sweating-house,
which was a hut constructed of skins stretched on poles,
and spacious enough to accommodate three persons. I
entered, accompanied by my father-in-law and another
eminent chief, and was instantly stripped completely
naked. The hut was then immediately filled with a
prodigious quantity of steam, created by pouring water
upon some large stones placed upon the floor, and previously
heated for the purpose. This process, added to the
enormous meal of which we had just partaken, of course
threw us into a violent perspiration.
“As soon as the object of this most imposing ceremony
was thus accomplished, I was ordered to rush from
the hut and plunge into the lake, which was close to the
village.
“As soon as I returned from this refreshing operation,
I was conducted to the wigwam of my father-in-law,
there to undergo the last act of the investiture. This
was no less than my baptism, a ceremony which is accomplished
by the agency of fire instead of water. I
was informed that it was thought good for me to retain
the Indian name of Patanko, by which I had been long
distinguished; and which as they informed me, was
equivalent to the `grisly wolf.' I was now stretched
upon my back, and my father-in-law, taking a pencil
dipped in vermillion, proceeded to sketch upon my breast
the effigy of the beast that was my sponsor, with a very
artist-like dexterity. The figure was then indelibly imprinted
by means of a number of needles dipped in vermillion,
and fastened in a frame. As soon as this irritating
and painful operation, which lasted several hours,
was concluded, I was led forth to be invested in the costume
appropriate to my rank.
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“They would have commenced by shaving my head,
with the exception of a small spot upon the crown, according
to their own fashion, but I resisted desperately,
and was at last permitted to retain the long locks, for
which I was ever afterwards distinguished.
“They contented themselves, in consequence of my
remonstrances, with decorating my head with a tuft of
scarlet feathers. My face was then painted in fancy
colours. My body was endued in a shirt of a tag-rag-and-bobtail
fashion, with medals and fringes depending
from its skirts, and two embroidered belts of wampum
wound gracefully round my waist. My arms were decorated
with silver bracelets, my legs covered with leather
leggins, and a scarlet blanket thrown over my whole person.
“As soon as I was thus attired, I was surrounded by
the most important chiefs, and after a deal of hugging
and kissing, was formally greeted as a brother.
“From this time forth I considered my lot in life as
settled. I felt no inclination to rejoin my countrymen,
among whom I had forfeited my reputation, and from
whom I never experienced sympathy or affection. The
mutual esteem between myself and the gentle savage was
increased and cemented, about two years after our union,
by your birth. It is impossible for me to express the love
which I bore to you, my son, from the first moment of
your birth.
“A few years wore on, and our tribe was engaged in
frequent warfare with the French and northern Indians.
By means of my agency, the Mohawks, or at least a
considerable portion of them, were united in a strict alliance
with the English. Our arms were of course constantly
directed against the French, with whom at that
period there was never a cessation of hostilities.
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“The most useful period of my life now commenced.
I made myself secretly known to the English generals
commanding on the frontier; and the services which my
connection with and influence over the powerful tribe
that had adopted me, enabled me to render, were of immense
importance. The name of Patanko became famous
both in the English and French armies, and the
hostile tribes of the north whom I had worsted in many
an encounter, learned to tremble at my name.
“I was, however, at this period, afflicted with a misfortune,
which, although time and reflection has since
rendered it less poignant, for a time prostrated all my energies.
“In one of our many expeditions against the very
tribe by whom I had been formerly captured and nearly
murdered, my wife and infant child (yourself, my dear
son) had accompanied me. We had a pitched battle
with a detachment of the enemy commanded by the
very Wahquimacutt or Captain `White-cat,' who figured
in the early part of this sketch. I endeavoured in vain
to single him out, and to repay the ancient grudge I bore
him. I was unsuccessful; the subtle villain evaded me;
his party were routed, and I saw him no more.
“On the termination of the battle, my wife encountered
me with streaming eyes. She informed me that
you had been stolen from her arms, during the hottest
part of the fight; that her frantic supplications had been
disregarded by the inhuman robber; and that she had
in vain implored death from his hands. She gave me
a description of the kidnapper of our cherished infant,
and I felt convinced that the scoundrel was no other than
Wahquimacutt.
“Accompanied by several of my most trusty warriors
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I commenced the strictest search. After being baffled,
however, for several days, I was obliged to relinquish all
hope, and we returned mournfully to our abode.
“After several months had elapsed, I received information
while engaged in a war party which led me into
the interior of Massachusetts that the “White-cat” had
found means to deliver my child to my brother Joshua.
“The subtle villain had learned, from what source I
know not, a large portion of my early history.
“His savage nature led him naturally to suppose that
he could not confer a greater favour on my brother than
thus to enable him to wreak the vengeance he owed the
father, upon his defenceless child. This joined to the
hopes of a large reward, and the gratification derived
from thus wounding me in the tenderest point, were sufficient
inducements for this piece of villany on the part
of Wahquimacutt.
“I know not whether my brother Joshua learned then
for the first time that the redoubtable Patanko, whose renown
filled the colony, was no other than his unfortunate
and guilty brother. At any rate he found means to inform
me that he had received my infant; and although
time and meditation, had both taught him that he neither
could nor ought to forgive the manifold crimes, which
had been productive of so much misery to himself; yet
he was willing to adopt and cherish the child received in
so wonderful a manner, for the sake, he bitterly added,
of saving it from the contamination of its father. If I
was willing to relinquish all pretensions to him, he pledged
me his honour that he would educate and bountifully
provide for him; but that if I refused my consent he
was ready to restore the infant in any manner, or at any
place that I would designate.
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“He urged me however, to relinquish my claims with
much eloquence, and made use of all possible arguments
to convince me that the welfare of the child would be
more consulted by placing him within the reach of civilization,
than by suffering him to grow up a blood-thirsty
and savage Indian.
“On receiving this information, I wrestled long and
desperately with myself. The longing to see you, my
son, whom I loved beyond the whole world beside, was
opposed to the irresistible conviction that my brother had
counselled well. Although I considered my own lot in
life irrecoverably cast, and neither hoped nor wished for
any farther change; yet I knew too well, and abhorred
too utterly the Indian character, to endure with composure
the prospect of my son's growing up a savage and untutored
denizen of the wilderness.
“After a desperate conflict with myself I decided, as I
was ever afterwards convinced, for the best. I contrived
to convey to my brother my permission to retain you in
his house, and then I returned to my adopted home.
“Some years after this, in the course of the year 1760,
I received from the English general, who commanded in
the northern provinces during the French war, which
was then raging, a highly-important commission.
“I was engaged to take command of a large body of
Indians and provincial troops; and by a forced march
through the wilderness to Canada, to subdue and exterminate,
if possible, a large number of Indians, half
breeds, and Canadians, who inhabited a few villages on
the French border, and whose marauding exploits, and
horrible daily murders of their English and provincial
captives were the terror of the whole country.
“As it was thought, not unwisely, that the tenor of
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my past life, my influence with the Indians, and my acquaintance
with the forest had peculiarly fitted me for
such an expedition, I received a letter from the general
appointing me to this command. I was moreover presented
with a colonel's commission.
“I entered upon the employment with alacrity. The
sphere of my usefulness was now increasing, and I determined
to prove that the confidence now almost for the
first time reposed in me, had not been displaced.
“Finding it necessary, however, to lead a detachment
of my troops through the settled part of Massachusetts, I
was enabled in the dusk of evening, and accompanied
by two faithful Indians, who were to give the alarm, if
there was danger of discovery, (for you may judge that
I was inexpressibly anxious that this nocturnal adventure
should not be publicly known,) to make a visit to `Morton's
Hope.'
“Before setting out upon my grand and dangerous expedition,
I felt irresistibly impelled once more to embrace
my child. While I was reflecting upon this subject, I
became seized with the frantic determination to seize you
at once, and carry you away. Nothing else, however
than the conviction that if I took you from my brother
without his consent, your fate would be irrecoverably
sealed, and the advantages derived from his adoption entirely
forfeited, would have prevented me from at once
possessing myself of my child, without the knowledge or
consent of any one. As it was, I endeavoured by tears,
and the most frantic supplications which paternal love
and agony could suggest, to induce my brother's consent
to your absence for a short time. Nothing else than an
entire renunciation of his adopted son, would, he assured
me, be the penalty. In the midst of this to me
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inexpressibly harrowing interview, I received warning that my
immediate flight was necessary.
“The signal, which at first I disregarded, was again
and again repeated, till at last one of my trusty adherents
was almost obliged to enter the apartment and drag me
away.
“When I had at last succeeded in tearing myself
from the place, and with a crushed heart had turned
my back on all that I most treasured on earth, I was
informed by my companion, that my absence had
already been discovered in the advanced party of my
warriors; that treachery of some kind or another was
suspected; that many mutinous expressions and actions
had already transpired, and that my presence was imperiously
necessary. It was for this reason that my
visit at `Morton's Hope,' of which (from your age at
that time) you ought to remember something, was so
abruptly terminated.
“I shall not weary you with the details of my expedition.
Suffice, that after incredible fatigues and danger,
it was at last crowned with success. We were
enabled entirely to destroy the tribes against whom the
expedition was directed, and completely to avenge the
atrocities which they had committed upon my countrymen.
“After accomplishing this undertaking, I joined
Amherst at Montreal, and had the good fortune to be
present at the final surrender of the Canadas, to which
happy termination of the war, I had had the honour in
some degree to contribute.
“After this cessation of hostilities with France, I returned
to the country of the Mohawks. I had reasoned
myself into a determination no longer to interfere with
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the education of my child, but consoled myself with a
vague hope of embracing him at some future period.
“At the termination of the same year in which the
events happened which I have just recounted, I had the
happiness again to become a father. It was a daughter,
and received the name of Neida.
“I was still, however, doomed to be the sport of my
infernal destiny. Judge, my son, of the anguish of my
mind, when within a year after the birth of this second
dearly-cherished treasure, and just as it was fairly bound
up and entwined in all my gentlest and holiest feelings;
this child was also torn from me.
“The circumstances which attended this second misfortune,
were similar to those which marked your loss.
My wigwam was entered at the dusk of evening, by two
savages and (as my wife thought) a white man, at a
time when we were making a foray on the Canadian
frontier, and when I was absent many miles from our
encampment. My suspicions of course were at once
directed to Wahquimacutt; but the mystery has never
been entirely solved.
“Soon after this miserable catastrophe, my wife, who
had long been converted to the Christian religion, and
was the sweetest and loveliest of her sex, died broken-hearted
with this double loss.
“Had I not cause, my son, to believe that I was indeed
the slave of destiny; and to acknowledge with
tears of blood, that all my prospects of happiness and
virtue were doomed to eternal blight.
“I fled again heart-stricken into the wilderness. I
abandoned myself a long time to the most consuming
sorrow.
“After a time I succeeded in rousing myself; and
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endeavoured by leading my warriors to the most desperate
encounters with the beasts of the forests, and their
no less savage human foes, to banish the gloomy meditations
which continually overshadowed me.
“During the many years that succeeded, my life was
wild and wandering. In the course of our hunting and
our warlike excursions, I traversed nearly the whole of
the continent. My days were passed in war and in the
chase, and the constant activity of my body had a beneficial
effect in quieting the agony of my mind.
“At last, not many years ago, as I was returning from
an expedition to the far West, the thrilling blast from the
trumpet of Revolution stirred the depths of my spirit.
“For the first time for many years my heart was excited,
and the inmost energies of my nature were
aroused. You will not be surprised, my son, that I embraced
at once, and with rapture, the cause of the oppressed
colonies. I saw instantaneously that another
and a most glorious opportunity of distinguishing my
name, and of perfecting the reputation which any services
in the French war had acquired me, was now
within my grasp. Neither, to say the truth, had I any
scruples against contending with the English standard
under which I had formerly served.
“Although I had fought for the English and the colonial
cause (which were then one,) my companions-in-arms
had been all provincials, and I hardly recollected a
single native of the mother country with whom I had
been even on terms of acquaintance. Besides, even in
the depths of the wilderness I had been fully conversant
with the injuries and insults which had been heaped
upon the colonies by the mother country; and my hatred
of tyranny demanded no excuse for my determination
to assist in avenging it.
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“I profferred my services immediately to the authorities.
My first attempt was to effect a negociation of alliance,
or at least of neutrality, with the Indian tribes
more immediately under my influence. Although I was
not very successful in my diplomatic attempts—for a negociation
with Indians, particularly one of neutrality,
amounts to an impossibility—yet my services were nevertheless
of much importance. Finding all hopes of
inducing them to entire abstinence from the conflict, out
of the question, and finding, moreover, that many of the
savage tribes were already enlisted under the English
banner; I enrolled at once a chosen and effective band
from among my adherents, whose valour, intelligence,
and acquaintance with the country, have proved of incalculable
importance in the corps to which they have
been attached. My commission of colonel was confirmed,
or rather a new one was presented to me by the Colonial
authorities; and although I have now consumed too
much time, to enter upon a history of my subsequent
career, yet I shall die with the hope that my services
will not be entirely forgotten by my countrymen.
“The disappearance of Neida has not yet been satisfactorily
accounted for. I have, however, received information
upon which I think I can rely, that she is yet
living, and in Montreal. Her history, much of which I
have learned, and to the remainder of which I have a
clue, is far too long for insertion, and is besides not relevant
to my purpose. Suffice, that I still cherish the
sweet hope to be once more embraced by my son and
daughter. I am sure, my dearest Uncas, that you will
cherish your sister when she is restored to you, for your
father's sake.
“I have forgotten to inform you, that on receiving the
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commission which was presented to me by the British
general, I thought proper in my intercourse with the
whites, to assume another name than my Indian appellation.
“I was unwilling to resume our family name, which
it was supposed (whether justly or not you are now qualified
to judge,) that my youthful conduct had disgraced.
“I accordingly adopted the name of my mother's family;
and in short, dearest Uncas the Colonel Waldron
who has been your companion for the last few weeks, is
now anxious to embrace you as
Your Father.”
I finished the paper. The interest with which I had
perused it, had rendered me unmindful of the lapse of
time. As I raised my eyes, I perceived that my lamp
was nearly exhausted, and that its feeble rays were paling
in the morning's dawn.
I shall enter into no analysis of the feelings which the
persual of my father's letter had occasioned. Relief—
relief from mystery, relief from an occasionally self-exaggerating
and incomprehensible fear, was, perhaps, the
first characteristic; but pity, sympathy, respect, and the
strongest and deepest sensation of filial love were the natural
and happy result.
However much the censure of an indifferent world
may condemn my unfortunate parent; a son will be
pardoned that he extenuated his errors, and regarded his
virtues with an indulgent eye. I determined, however
the character of my parent, might be estimated by the
world in general, that his son would at least, to the utmost
of his ability, repay him for his love, and assuage
the melancholy which had been the result of his youthful
follies and misfortunes.
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There are, however, motives in our hearts, and passages
in our lives which are not fit subject for publicity
or comment. Among these, I feel that my sentiments
towards my father, and the passionate scenes which immediately
followed my perusal of his letter, are eminently
included.
Suffice, that I could not rest till I had sought him out.
I found him in his tent—alone and melancholy—awaiting
with harrowing anxiety the effect which his communication
would produce upon his son. I flew into his
arms, we embraced each other in an agony of tears.
Let me draw a veil over the rest.
In the remaining portion of these memoirs I shall,
whenever I have occasion to introduce my father, speak
of him as if there was nothing remarkable in our intercourse,
or in his previous history. It is even probable
that I may often designate him by the name of Colonel
Waldron, by which appellation rather than Patanko, he
was most familiarly known in the ranks which now surrounded
him.
Now that I have explained all that is necessary with
regard to my father, I consider it unnecessary again to
refer to the particulars of his history, and shall resume
the thread of my own adventures, which I am now anxious
to bring to a close.
CHAPTER X. THE MAJOR GENERAL.
“Well, squire,” said Welcome Dodge to me the second
morning after the conversation recorded in the first chapter
of this book; “I suppose you've heard the news!”
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“What news?”
“The Hampshire milishy, under General Stark, have
arrived!”
“Arrived where?”
“I expect they are in Bennington.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Why, you see, squire, I ris rather early this morning,
and thought I'd go to Bennington to see about that job
as soon as possible. I calculated that the men were
considerably fatigued, and so I guessed I'd buy up these
blankets afore we took up our line of march. So when
I went to Bennington, the first thing I knew, the whole
town, from the meeting-house down to Major-general
Budd's tavern was full of milishy men.”
“So you saw that they had got there yourself?”
“I shouldn't wonder.”
I really believe that the inquisition could hardly have
tortured Mr. Dodge into a direct affirmation or denial of
any proposition whatever.
“Well—we shall probably not continue our march to-day,”
said I.
“Well, I guessed you wouldn't, after consideration.
I suppose, squire, you wouldn't have any serious objection
to settling up my remuneration for that blanket-job
right away; because you see my commissions are dreadful
low, and the fact is—”
“I will attend to it directly, Mr. Dodge. I will see
you in the course of the day. In the mean time you
must excuse me.”
Mr. Dodge was satisfied, and made his exit whistling
yankee doodle.
On the day before, it had been my intention to push
directly to the Hudson, and to join the main army at
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their encampment near that river. On receiving the intelligence
of the arrival of the New-Hampshire general,
I determined to join him. I knew that he was on his
way to the same place, and there was no reason why I
should not, at once, put myself under his orders.
It was the 16th of August. It was still very early in
the morning. I left my corps encamped about half a
mile from Bennington, and proceeded myself to the town.
I arrived and inquired for the house where the general
was stationed. I had no difficulty in finding it. I
knocked at the door. I received no answer for some
time. I knocked again. At last the door was opened
by a man in his shirt sleeves. My European notions
(of which a vestige still remained) were a little shocked,
at the slovenliness of this attendant on the major-general.
Drawing myself up and looking as military as I possibly
could, I asked if General Stark was visible.
“Well, I shouldn't wonder,” was the answer.
“Evidently a relation of Mr. Dodge,” thought I, to
myself.
“Can I see him?” said I, aloud.
“Well — I expect you can — if you've got no nat'ral
defect of vision. I am General Stark.”
Now experience had not taught me to form any very
brilliant notions of the appearance of the Continental officers.
I knew that their worth lay rather in their spirit,
than in their outward shell; but still I was a little taken
by surprise at the appearance of the Hampshire Cincinnatus.
However, he waited very patiently till I had recovered
from my amazement, and then very civilly invited me
into the house.
He preceded me into the room, and being apparently
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desirous of atoning for the negligence of his original
equipment, put on a blue and buff coat which hung on a
peg by the window; and seemed perfectly to approve its
harmony with his pepper-and salt small clothes.
This important preliminary adjusted, he proceeded to
the business which brought me there.
I stated concisely my intentions. They were approved.
My directions were given me, and I prepared
to return.
The general was good enough, however, to request a
little more conversation, with which of course I complied.
After half an hour I returned to my troops, full of admiration
at the simplicity, courage, and shrewdness of
the revolutionary general.
CHAPTER XI. BENNINGTON.
It was about noon. It was very hot. I entered my
tent. I sat down to arrange some papers which I had
with me. In about half an hour my father suddenly
entered my tent. He informed me that we were all
ordered to join the general.
“Why?”
“A body of Hessians have made their appearance a
short distance from Bennington.”
“Are they marching towards the town?”
“They have halted and entrenched themselves.”
“What do you take to be their object.”
“It is very plain. They are part of the expedition
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which, as we heard yesterday, was contemplated by
Burgoyne. This detachment was probably sent against
our magazines. The main object of the whole expedition
was to forage the country—to obtain all the cattle,
stores, ammunition they could; but above all to feel the
pulse of the country; and to gain as many provincials
to their cause as possible.”
“How are they likely to succeed in the latter part of
their intentions?”
“About as well as in the first. They have found
but few adherents. We are the strongest here.”
“What are the gentlemen in the intrenchments
about?”
“It is evident, that they have found more than they
expected. It is by chance that Stark is here. They
are probably Hessians, British, Indians, and all, not
more than five hundred strong, and they find the magazines
guarded by nearly two thousand. They have got
themselves into a scrape.”
“What are we to do?”
“The general has ordered an immediate attack.
They will be cut to pieces.”
My father left me. There was no time to be lost. I
marshalled my men. We proceeded to Bennington.
The whole American force, amounting to nearly 2000
men, was under arms. The general made a pithy
speech, in which he represented the necessity of cutting
off the detachment (which was the well-known force
commanded by the Hessian Colonel Baum) before the
other party, which was a much stronger one, and which
according to intelligence he had received had advanced as
far as Beaten Hill, should come up to the rescue.
His proposal was favourably received. At four in the
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afternoon we advanced against them in good order.
They waited quietly for us in the intrenchments. They
were as firm and silent as bull-dogs. Just as we were
reaching the breast works they poured in their fire. It
was deadly. Our men dropped on all sides. We returned
it, and the blaze of the contending muskets intermingled.
We were close to each other. We could
see their grimaces of anger. We heard their oaths and
cries. We gave them another volley. We sprang over
their intrenchments. We beat down their breast-works.
They fought like devils, but our numbers overpowered
them. The carnage was dreadful. It was over in an
instant, and all that were left of the corps surrendered.
The victory was bloody but complete.
The prisoners were secured. The militia dispersed.
They were soon engaged in the agreeable business of
plunder. It was impossible for me to restrain my own
men from participating in the amusement. Some of
them, however, remained to guard the prisoners. I
walked round to look at the captives.
“Tausend donnerwetters!” swore a familiar voice
near me.
I looked round. A stout Hessian corporal was seated
composedly on the ground, a little apart from the other
prisoners. He had his pipe in his mouth and was engaged
in striking a light. There was no mistaking
him—he was close to me.
“Tausend donnerwetters!” said I, in my turn. The
corporal looked up. A slight expression of surprise was
visible on his features. He rose, took his pipe from his
mouth, extended his hand, and gravely saluted me on
either cheek.
It was the veteran student Dummberg! I entered
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into conversation with him of course. There was
nothing very surprising in his transformation. He had
continued a student till the university at last hinted that
they would dispense with his services. He cast about
for an employment, and happened to hear of a Hessian
recruiting party. He thought an old student would
make a very good corporal. He tried the experiment accordingly.
He manifested no regret at his captivity. He,
as well as his whole party, had fought as long as they
could. The enemy had permitted him to retain his pipe.
He was accordingly provided with a resource during
his captivity, and after the peace he intended to squat.
While I was engaged with my old acquaintance, Mr.
Dodge approached me.
“I say, squire,” said he, “I guess the job aint quite
finished?”
“How so?” said I, “what do you mean?”
“There is a considerable number of sogers marching
up from the south'ard and west'ard, said Dodge.
“Soldiers!” said I, in surprise. “Is it possible they
can be the enemy?”
“I shouldn't wonder.”
“The Devil! I suppose they will attack us immediately,
and here are our men dispersed in all directions,”
said I.
“It does look a leetle ugly,” said Dodge.
“Are they English,” I asked.
“Why, I some expect they are Hessians. They
are led on, I believe by General Bergmann. I seen him
once last year. He's a homely creetur!” said Dodge
sententiously.
“Well, we must collect as many as we can, and keep
it up, if possible, till we are reinforced. Colonel Warner
cannot be far distant,” replied I.
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“Well, in my opinion, squire, I guess we'd better clear
out. 'Taint reasonable to waste so much powder and
shot, when we are sure to be licked after ah,” said Dodge,
who was really brave; but was very discreet and economical.
“Yes, and lose not only the advantage we have
already gained, but suffer the magazines to fall into the
enemy's hands after all. Is that good economy, Mr.
Dodge?” said I.
“Well, I didn't take that view of the subject. I
guess you're nearly night. We'll have another go at
'em, on the whole. 'Twould be sinful to let all that
good ammunition and cattle, besides, I dare say, barrels
of pork to the amount of—.” With this, the contemplative
Dodge set himself to collecting the troops in the
most heroic manner. Now that he was convinced of
the propriety of the thing, there was no doubt he would
fight like a tiger.
My father now rushed furiously up. He confirmed
the tidings brought by Dodge.
“There are hardly three hundred men on the field,”
said he, “and the scouts represent the enemy as more
than fifteen hundred strong. But it would be an eternal
disgrace to surrender the advantage we have gained
without a struggle.”
We hastily mustered our forces. There were about
two hundred of my corps on the field. About as many
more were marshalled under Waldron.
We swore to sell our lives as dearly as possible.
Straggling parties of militia now rushed in, in great
disorder. They had been in pursuit of the few of Baum's
regiment who had escaped. They had met the reinforcement
under Bergmann, and were now flying before
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them. Others rapidly approached us. We sought in
vain to rally them. They were panic struck and in total
confusion.
Our little phalanx stood firm. The enemy soon appeared
in overwhelming numbers. They rushed rapidly
upon us, and rent the air with their huzzas. Our
column wavered not. We reserved our fire till the
enemy were nearly upon us. My marksmen then discharged
their rifles with unerring aim. A number of
the enemy, nearly equal to our whole handful, bit the
dust. The rest closed upon us with clubbed muskets.
We abode the onset—we resisted to a man, but we were
nearly crushed.
At that moment there was a sudden change. Our
numbers were suddenly increased. The tide of battle
was turned. A reinforcement rushed vigorously to our
aid. Again we charged the enemy. Their line
wavered. A body of militia arrived. The enemy gave
way on all sides. We followed them up like bloodhounds.
They were completely routed. Impelled by
the eagerness of the pursuit, I rushed hastily forward.
Suddenly my foot slipped—I prepared to rise. I was
attacked by two savages. I received a blow on the head.
It stunned me for an instant. When I recovered, I felt
the hand of one the wretches in my hair; in the other
he waved his scalping-knife. My brain reeled—I felt
sick—it was horrible. Another instant, and a loud
voice startled my savage foe. Something like an execration
was shouted in a language I did not understand. I
looked up and saw the athletic form and threatening face
of my father. The next instant, the savage's brains
were knocked out. The other cowered at Patanko's
feet.
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“Thank God,” said he, as he assisted me to rise; “you,
at least, should not have been the wretch's victim. The
scoundrel's perfidy is repaid at last. I knew that the
hour of my vengeance would arrive; but I hardly dared
to hope it would be so sweet. That scoundrel, Uncas,
is Wahquimacutt, the `White-cat,' of whose thousand
crimes I have informed you.”
He then turned to the other savage, who remained in
his crouching position, and said something to him in the
same unintelligible tongue and with a threatening accent.
The savage rose, and retreated in the direction of the
flying army.
The fight was over.
I hastened to express my gratitude to my father. He
embraced me affectionately, and assured me that it was
the happiest moment of his life.
He then informed me that it was Colonel Warner's
regiment, which was on its way to join General Stark,
that had arrived so opportunely; and that owing to this
unexpected relief, the broken militia had had time to rally
and again to face the enemy.
Night had now come down. The enemy had abandoned
his artillery and baggage, and vanished in the
darkness. We of course secured much valuable booty,
particularly arms and ammunition. Our victory was
complete.
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CHAPTER XII. STILLWATER.
[figure description] Page 279.[end figure description]
This action, although of no great magnitude in itself,
was productive of very fortunate results. The revolutionary
party appeared the stronger. The wavering
were encouraged. The timid were emboldened. Our
ranks filled up.
Very soon afterwards we received the news of the
abandonment of Fort Schuyler. General St. Leger,
finding the resistance beyond his expectation, had at
length thrown up the siege and retired to Canada.
Immediately after the affair at Bennington, our whole
force joined the main army at Stillwater. On the 21st
of August, General Gates assumed the command. The
army was reinforced in all directions.
Soon afterwards, the whole British army crossed the
Hudson, and encamped directly opposite us at Saratoga.
We were within half-a-dozen miles of each other.
The plot thickened, the affairs of the north were narrowed
down to a single point. The whole action of the
northern campaign was now concentrated at Saratoga.
The military melo-drama, of which General Burgoyne
was the author and stage-manager, now assumed a
beautiful unity.
Although it proved an unsuccessful piece, it was not
deficient in stage effect. He determined to act it out.—
On the night of the 17th he advanced to within four
miles of us. He meditated a grand coup-de-theatre.
The hostile armies were now only divided by a deep
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ravine. It was evident that we were to be attacked.—
We waited quietly.
On the 19th, at high noon, General Gates received intelligence
that the English were already advancing on
our left. They were led on in person by their own
brave, but unfortunate general, the brilliant, gallant
preux chevalier, Burgoyne. Our left was commanded,
by the heroic traitor, Arnold.
Colonel Morgan was sent forward with his riflemen
to annoy them as they advanced; and my whole corps
of sharp-shooters were united in the service. We came
up with the advanced guard of the enemy. We drove
in their pickets—we advanced rapidly—the pickets were,
however, immediately reinforced. General Frazer came
up and sustained them with his whole brigade. We fell
back in some disorder.
Suddenly the whole line of battle was changed.—
Nearly all our troops had been directing their main force
upon the enemy's extreme right. We took advantage
of the country. The whole American army suddenly
disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them. There
was a pause. It was of short duration, and then the
whole force of our army rushed furiously upon the enemy's
left. The attack was desperate. The defence
determined. The melée was dreadful—British, Americans,
Indians, Germans, all fought hand to hand. Execrations,
fierce shouts, oaths, and shrieks rent the air.—
The confusion of tongues and of nations was appalling.
In the thickest of the contending throng I marked my
father's waving plume. I struggled after him. Suddenly
he was struck down. He was surrounded by foes. Excited
by the conflict, I felt the force of a giant in my
single arm. I burned to save his life, to repay the debt
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I owed him. I cut my way through the crowd of friends
and foes that opposed me. I reached his side. He lay
on the ground bleeding desperately. I succeeded in dragging
him out of the throng. I laid him by a little thicket,
as I supposed, in temporary safety. Suddenly there
was a yell, and three painted savages sprang from the
other side, waving their tomahawks in the air. I stood
over my father's bleeding body, determined to sell my
life for him. The fiends uttered frantic whoops, and
bounded towards us. I was about giving up myself for
lost—when, lo! they paused—they gazed on the countenance
of the fallen warrior, and interchanged rapid and
unintelligible exclamations. They lowered their weapons
and approached me with peaceful gestures. Instead
of attacking me, they assisted me in removing my father
to a place of safety. They bound up his wounds, laid
their hands upon their breasts, and disappeared.
After I had seen that my father, who was dangerously
wounded, was bestowed in safety, and attended as well
as circumstances would permit, I returned to the affray.
I had been absent but five minutes. I encouraged my
men—the battle raged. The main force of both armies
was engaged in the desperate conflict. My corps suffered
with the rest. We had lost fifty men. I perceived at
some distance a company of British regulars which had
become detached from the main body, and were endeavouring
to cut their way to our camp. I resolved to intercept
them. I led my men through a thick wood.—
When we emerged, we met them face to face. I recognized
the features of their captain. It was Carew, whom
I have spoken of in the first part of my memoirs. An
old feeling of hate came over me. I cheered my men—
we rushed furiously forward. I singled out Carew. He
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did not decline the challenge. We engaged in desperate
conflict. It was soon over. Fortune favoured the avenger's
arm. The Englishman fell—suddenly I heard a shrill
cry—my arm was arrested—it was too late—I had passed
my sword thrice through the prostrate body of Carew.
“Spare him! for the love of God, spare him! He is
our enemy—but even I forgive him.”
The supplication and the voice stole upon my heart
like magic. I looked, and beheld the youthful form of
Eliot kneeling over the body, and seeking in vain to
stanch the life-blood of my fallen enemy. I approached
him closely, that I might read the features which I had
never distinctly seen. He raised his head. A crowd of
mingled and unutterable sensations rushed across my
brain. My heart trembled as I gazed upon the youth.
Suddenly his cap fell off, and a flood of raven tresses
floated down his neck. I sprang forward. I did not
mistake. The youth was Mayflower Vane!
At that moment I received a sudden blow from behind.
I fell. I felt myself trampled upon by the contending
throng. The tide of battle rushed over me. Dark, indistinct
shadows of a struggling host floated before my
vision. They faded, and all was blackness. I lost all
recollection.
CHAPTER III. FIFTH OF OCTOBER.
“It was soon found,” says Burgoyne, in his letter to
Lord George Germain, “that no fruits, honour excepted,
were obtained by the preceding victory.”
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The action of the Nineteenth of September, was exactly
one of that sort of battles in which both parties have
a right to claim the victory, because there is no victory
to be claimed.
The British had the shadow, and the Americans the
substance of exactly one reason for calling it a victory
at all.
The British remained on the field of battle, and slept
with arms in their hands. The Americans went comfortably
to bed in their secure encampment. The British
had attempted to force them from their position—they
failed; the Americans retained it, and there was hardly
any reason why they should not make use of the very
camp which they had been fighting to secure. The possession
of the field of battle was not, in this instance, a
type of success; because it was not the thing contended for.
Burgoyne was playing a desperate game. He was
losing it, but he did it heroically. He was present in the
hottest of the fight, and so constantly exposed his person,
that for a time, he was believed to have fallen at Stillwater.
If it had been possible for Burgoyne and Burgoyne's
army to effect the minister's plan, they would have effected
it. It is impossible to contemplate the misfortunes
of that gallant and unfortunate general, without admiration
and pity.
If he had succeeded, he would have been canonized;
and yet, in failing, he had exhibited as much bravery,
as much perseverance, and as much soldiership, as if he
had succeeded.
An impracticable plan was laid. He obeyed his orders
in persevering. He was willing to devote himself and
his army.
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On the day after the action, the British camp was
pressed forward to nearly within cannon shot of the
enemy. The Americans remained in their strong position.
Retreat to the Canadas was not to be thought of by
the British general. He had forced his army like a
wedge into the heart of the country. He was immoveably
fixed; but so long as he remained, the cloven parts
were prevented from coalescing. In case of his removal,
the junction between Washington and Yates would be
immediate. It was not to be thought of. He was willing
to devote himself.
On the twenty-first, he received a letter from Sir Harry
Clinton. He was informed of the intended attack on
Fort Montgomery. The messenger was sent back to
apprize Sir Harry of his situation. He solicited a diversion
in his favour, which should oblige Yates to detach
from his army.
In the meantime his soldiers were straitened for provisions.
He was obliged to diminish their rations. They
submitted to it willingly.
This was the state of affairs up to October the fifth.
CHAPTER XIV. THE ESCAPE.
When I recovered from my swoon, I felt weak but
comparatively well. I opened my eyes and looked
around. The horrible images, with which my fevered
brain had been filled, had vanished. I was reclining on
a bed of leaves, over which a sort of awning was stretched.
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A young girl, with large black eyes, sat near me; she
was murmuring in a low tone to herself. At a little
distance I saw half-a-dozen dusky forms squatting near
a fire. Besides these, I saw two others who appeared to
be prisoners. The face of one was familiar to me; it
was Welcome Dodge. Those near the fire appeared to
be British Indians. Besides these, I noted two or three
soldiers. Judging from their uniform, I took them to be
Hessians. The truth now burst upon my mind. It was
evident that I had been taken prisoner.
I sought to raise myself a little. For the first time I
perceived that my head was supported on the lap of some
person. I looked up. I saw the sweet eyes of Mayflower
fixed with ineffable tenderness upon my own.
I stretched out my arms and clasped her neck. She
bent down. Our lips met in one long embrace. Overpowered
by the throng of my emotions, and weak with
my loss of blood, I again fainted.
I revived soon afterwards. I heard from Mayflower's
lips the detail of our situation. She had saved my life;
she had tended my wounds; she had been my champion,
my guardian, my nurse. Even now I lay powerless as
a child in her arms. None of my wounds were dangerous;
though some of them had been very painful.
The fever into which I had been thrown, had however
prostrated my strength.
While Mayflower had been succouring me upon the
field of battle, night arrived; she would not leave me,
and we had both been made captive by a straggling
party of Indians and Hessians.
I am determined not to profane the holiness of the
feelings which surrounded and hallowed the image of
Mayflower in my mind. I am determined not to
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enlarge upon the course of our love after this moment. I
feel that I have no longer the nerve to lay bare my own
mental anatomy. I feel that there are fibres in my
system which shrink from the scalpel. They shall not
be exposed.
Accordingly, as I know that the case is likely to prove
less interesting to the world than to myself, I shall say
no more on the subject; and shall confine myself to recording
whatever important event may happen, until I
arrive at the point where I intend to close my biography.
We remained where we were for a day or two. We
were strictly guarded, and our captors did not seem to
have made up their minds as to their destination. Before
we left our present encampment I was able to walk about.
I succeeded in holding an interview with Quarter-master
Dodge. Neither of us had any exact knowledge of our
position, or of the events, the principal part of which I
have recorded in the preceding chapter.
Dodge informed me of the event of the battle, but
knew nothing more. He had been taken by the same
party that had captured us; but the coalition was by
the purest accident. He had remained on the field with
the economical intention of collecting and carrying away
a quantity of swords and muskets. While he was thus
occupied, he had been suddenly taken prisoner.
To my surprise, I found that the young girl, who was
very beautiful, was a perfect mistress of the English.
Furthermore, I observed that she had enjoyed and profited
by the best education that the Colonies could afford.
Moreover, she was in the entire confidence of Mayflower,
who of course still retained her uniform and man's apparel.
She was the only one who was aware of the
secret of Mayflower's sex. All this surprised me. Her
name was Neida.
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The name excited my wonder. I was curious to
know her history. She informed me that she believed
herself to be of English parentage, but that there was a
mystery about her birth and education, which she had not
been able to solve. Her earliest recollections were of a
convent in Montreal; it was there she had been educated.
Judging from a variety of causes, but more than all in
obedience to the promptings of my own heart, I felt that
she was the sister of whom my father had spoken. I
clasped her in my arms, much to her surprise, and to the
chagrin of Mayflower.
I explained my feelings and my hopes as well as I
could. Their feminine imaginations were exactly of
that construction which lends a ready faith to any thing
which is at once plausible and romantic.
We resolved to call ourselves brother and sister, even
if the event should prove that I was mistaken.
But it will soon be seen that I was not mistaken.
I shall not enter, however, into a detail of my sister's
history, because in the first place it is unnecessary; and
secondly, because it is so long and complicated that it
would fatigue rather than interest, an indifferent reader.
I already fear that I have trespassed too much upon
my reader's forbearance by introducing the prolix narrative
of my father's adventures, and I feel that I have
no excuse for again imploring their patience.
Let it suffice then, that I had the satisfaction of embracing
my long-lost sister, and that the hopes of my
father were indeed realized.
It is perhaps not inexpedient to add, that the agent of
my parent's second bereavement, was not (as the reader
may suppose,) the Indian Wahquimacutt, but the French
priest, Father Simon.
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At night, Dodge and I were enabled to hold a conference.
We concerted various means of escape. When
I was again by myself, I heard the Hessian officer, who
appeared to be the commander of the party, giving his
directions.
It seemed from his conversation, that we were not far
from the enemy's camp; but that they had lost their
way. Besides this, they were sadly in want of provisions.
They were to disperse in search of forage, and to
reconnoitre; the next morning they intended to steal
away for an hour or two unperceived, and before their
prisoners were awake. They intended to leave only
two Indians (one very old man and a boy,) to guard us.
They had a number of pistols, and some ammunition,
more than they required to take with them. They mentioned
to each other a hole in the stump of a tree where
they intended to conceal them. All this conversation
was carried on in German. They spoke in a low tone,
but as they were without suspicion that the language
could be understood by any but themselves, it was loud
enough to be intelligible.
When I heard all this, my heart bounded within
me. I watched anxiously till they slept, and I was
then able to convey by a few whispers to the sagacious
Dodge, the principal part of the conversation I had
heard. We waited anxiously for the morning. By daybreak,
we heard them rouse themselves. They went to
the tree they had spoken of. They set the guard over
us. We still pretended to sleep. They came up to us,
and bound our arms and legs, and then they went away.
Soon after this, Mayflower and Neida came out of the
hut. They awoke us, and dressed my wounds. They
were nearly well. In the meantime I had grown
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tolerably strong. I communicated to Mayflower and Neida
what I had heard, and our intentions. The beautiful
savage was enabled to deceive the Indians. They were
not aware of her treachery. We waited till time enough
had elapsed for the Hessians to be some miles distant. Our
bonds were then suddenly cut by Neida; with one bound
we sprang upon the two remaining Indians. They were
dozing, and unsuspicious of the attack. We had no difficulty
in binding and gagging them. We fastened them
to a tree. We searched out the pistols and ammunition,
and then we started on our retreat. Our “partie carr
ée” consisted of Neida and Mayflower, Welcome Dodge
and myself.
We wandered the whole day through the woods.
We hardly knew which way to turn our steps, for we
were totally ignorant of our situation. We were also
convinced that the savages would be on our trail the
moment that the Hessians returned. Towards nightfall,
we saw the figure of a man at some distance. We
hesitated whether we should advance or retreat. We
feared an ambush. We dreaded to fall again into the
enemy's hands.
We stole a little nearer. We could distinguish the
gleam of a musket. It was a sentinel, and directly afterward,
we saw indistinctly the forms of half-a-dozen
more, It was evidently the advanced picket of a camp.
We feared that it was Burgoyne's; and we were retiring
that we might again reconnoitre.
Suddenly the sentinel perceived us. He hailed us —
it was decidedly an English voice. We attempted to
retreat. He levelled his musket.
“You'd better come in, stranger, or I guess I shall
shoot you right-away?” said he.
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We were delighted. It was after all the American
camp. We all advanced.
“Why!” cried the sentinel, lowering his musket,
“Ain't that Quarter-master Dodge?”
“I shouldn't wonder,” was the reply.
At the conclusion of this pithy dialogue, we entered
the camp, and reported ourselves to the General.
I went immediately in search of my father. He was
in the hospital. The surgeon informed me that his
wounds were very dangerous. I had been absent more
than a week. It was the evening of the fifth of October.
He had frequently inquired for me, and had manifested
so much anxiety for my fate that the surgeon had been
afraid to tell him, I was among the missing.
I entered cautiously — my father was awake — he embraced
me affectionately, and I then entertained him with
a detail of my adventures.
He was overcome with rapture, when he was informed
of the discovery of my sister. For that it was my sister,
the information which he already possessed, united to
various other evidence, enabled us in a few moments to
decide. The door opened. The lovely Neida sprang
into the room, and was soon locked in her father's arms.
CHAPTER XV. THE SURRENDER.
I approach the termination of that part of my memoirs,
which I intend for the public.
It has been seen, that we reached the American camp
on the evening of the fifth of October.
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I was happy that my wounds were sufficiently healed
to allow me, at the head of my corps, to participate in the
memorable action of the seventh.
It is hardly necessary to observe, that I at once compelled
Mayflower to abandon her masquerade, and to
refrain from any participation in the action.
Our meeting and our betrothal had revived the woman
within her. Moreover as her sex was now generally
known, she shrank from the publicity, to which her successful
disguise had previously rendered her indifferent.
It was natural that she should endeavour by force of
entreaties to induce me to abandon the army; but her
entreaties made no impression upon my mind.
I had the good fortune to render essential services in
the second and conclusive action at Stillwater.
On the nineteenth I had the satisfaction of seeing the
grand denouement of the whole plot.
I was present at the surrender of Burgoyne. The
whole history of this campaign, and of the subsequent
events is too well known, to afford me the slightest excuse
for lingering any longer upon their history.
The re-appearance of one important, and by the reader
I hope not unforgotten, personage is the principal circumstance
which I wish now to record.
Two days after the surrender of the British army, I
was turning over the list of their officers. I had taken
temporary lodgings in the village of Saratoga.
We were, however, on the point of leaving our present
situation, for a more southern theatre.
I was informed that a British officer was below, and
wished to speak with me. He had mentioned to the attendant
that he was an old acquaintance of Colonel
Morton's.
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While I was wondering what acquaintance I could
possibly have in the British army, the door opened.
I turned my eyes to my visitor, and beheld Sansterre
Lackland!
Our greeting was almost rapturous. After the first
surprise was over, we sat down and entertained each
other with our adventures.
His appearance upon the stage was perhaps not very
surprising. It was even singular that I had never before
contemplated the possibility of beholding him.
His, was in fact, exactly the sort of nature which feels
at last the necessity of a powerful stimulant, and which
cannot remain long quiescent, without rushing at last
into action for relief.
I reminded him that I had often told him how much
he mistook his own nature, and how wrong a moral he
had deduced from a contemplation of his career.
“You were right, my dear fellow, after all,” said he.
“But to think of my being captured in my old age by a
parcel of d—d Yankees! However, you have the laugh
upon me after all, Morton, and hang me if I have not a
great mind to turn rebel myself. Here are you, a Colonel
in the victorious army, and I am nothing but Captain
Lackland of his majesty's surrendered 33d. Promotion
is certainly more rapid in your undisciplined
ranks. How is pay?”
“The less we say about the pay, the better,” was my
reply.
“It seems then that it is an expensive amusement, to
serve in a rebellious army,” said Lackland.
“I shouldn't wonder,” said Mr. Dodge, who had just
then entered the apartment, and unceremoniously joined
in the conversation.
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CHAPTER XVI. PENULTIMATE.
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My father's health did not improve. The surgeon gave
me small hopes of his recovery. It was to be feared that
the wound would eventually prove mortal.
He himself considered his death as inevitable. He
looked forward to the event with composure and resignation.
He repeatedly assured me that he had long been
wearied with his life; and that although the clouds which
had rendered his life-time gloomy and tempestuous were
now rolling away, and his evening was cheered with a
glowing and tranquil sunset, yet he felt no repugnance,
that his life had reached its close. He saw himself surrounded
by his children — he saw that they were happy;
and more than all, he saw and felt that the country of
his love was at last upon the verge of independence and
success.
Again and again he assured me that he now welcomed
with gratitude the sweet repose of death. He was animated,
despite his errors, by the true and heartfelt faith of
a Christian, and he revelled in the sweet conviction that
he should one day meet his children in another and a
happier world.
As the army were soon to go into winter quarters, and
as my father's health experienced a temporary re-establishment,
sufficient, in the opinions of the physicians,
to enable him to undergo a journey; I succeeded in obtaining
leave of absence for some months. Lackland
accepted an invitation to my abode, and together our
whole party set out for “Morton's Hope.”
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We reached that place, in due time, without further
adventures, and had the satisfaction of making more
comfortable arrangements for my father than I could
possibly have done at Saratoga.
It was but a few weeks after our arrival, at my old and
happy home, that I perceived indications of a growing
and a mutual attachment between my sister and my
friend Lackland.
A short time afterwards I received the agreeable communication
that the preliminaries had been satisfactorily
settled, and my own and my father's consent were now
all that was necessary.
It is needless to say that these were most joyfully
granted.
“I need not observe,” said Lackland, on concluding
his communication, “that I have no very brilliant establishment
to offer Neida.”
“Her education has hardly led her to form any extravagant
expectations,” I replied.
“However,” he resumed, “as I am prohibited from
serving any longer against your friends the rebels, I may
as well turn my attention to something else. Land is
cheap in your country. Why should not I squat as well
as our old friend Dummberg?”
“Very well,” said I, “I hope you will indeed remain
with us for the present; and I am certainly glad that our
present connexion, as well as the situation of your regiment,
makes it almost impossible for you to serve against
the cause in which I am so deeply interested. Although
we may be politically enemies, yet there is no reason why
we should not be friends and brothers. This, however,
could hardly be the case if our swords were actually turned
against each other.”
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“I promise you,” said Lackland, “that whether I am
exchanged or not, I shall serve no longer in this cause.—
Although an Englishman and an American can never
agree about the justice or the causes of this conflict, yet
my present situation renders it unpalatable to me to be
exchanging broken heads with my own relations. I had
always an abhorrence of family jars, and this civil war
of ours partakes too much of that character.”
“I am glad of your determination,” I replied, “but as
to the matter of squatting, I neither expect nor wish you
to expatriate yourself. No, my dear fellow, remain
where you are for the present; but, I assure you, you will
find in the sequel that my advice is correct.”
Here our conversation ended.
It remains for me now to inform my readers that my
father exacted one condition with regard to the projected
union between his daughter and Lackland. It accorded
with the determination already taken by the Englishman—
that his son-in-law should not again bear arms against
America.
As my father felt himself rapidly sinking, he expressed
a wish that our marriages should take place while he
was yet able to behold them.
Accordingly, a few days afterwards, at the same time
and in the presence of my father, Lackland was united
to my sister, and I to Mayflower Vane.
A few days afterwards, our parent breathed his last.
His end was tranquil, hopeful, and happy.
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CHAPTER XVII. THE LAST.
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About one month after these events I retired one morning
to the “pagoda.” I had several important letters
to write, and as I was determined to suffer no interruption,
I locked the door as soon as I entered the room.
I was in the midst of the first epistle, when I heard
a thundering at the door.
“Let me in immediately,” said Lackland, from without.
“You must wait exactly three hours and a half,” said
I, coolly resuming my pen.
“If you make me wait three minutes and a half, I
shall immediately kick your door to pieces,” was the determined
reply.
Being unwilling that the ghost of my revered uncle
should be disturbed by so sacrilegious an outrage upon
his favourite “sanctum,” I sounded a parley, and finding
he had really something important to communicate, I
opened the door.
“You see,” said Lackland, entering, “that it is only
necessary to bully a rebel to force him to capitulate.”
“Perhaps the less you say about capitulation the better,”
I replied. “But I am really engaged now, so do tell
me your business and take yourself off.”
“I believe I shall be obliged to take myself off farther
than you think,” was his reply. “I have just received
some letters, for I have correspondents as well as you,
which will require my presence on the other side of the
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Atlantic. Look at the superscription of that letter, old
boy!”
I took the letter which he held out to me. It was directed
to “the Earl of Agincourt.”
I looked inquiringly at my companion.
“Read it, old fellow, read it. You will find it as entertaining
as any of your fusty epistles about camp-kettles
and flannel blankets.”
I read the letter. It was to inform my friend that by
a succession of sudden and unexpected, but after all not
very wonderful demises, the various individuals who stood
between him and the title, had been taken off, and that
the last Earl had just broken his neck in a steeple chase.
“In short,” said I, “you are now the Right Honourable
the Earl of Agincourt.”
“I shouldn't wonder, as the quarter-master would say,”
was his reply.
“And now what do you think of squatting?” said I,
gravely.
“Why—ahem—why, on the whole, I will first take
a look at Castle Lackland. Besides you know it will
be necessary to consult the countess. Poor little Neida!
how ridiculous that the little savage should receive such
promotion.”
“After all,” I replied, “you ought to be obliged to Father
Simon for her education.”
It is hardly necessary for me to add that we were soon
afterwards separated from my sister and her husband.
Although for some time we were rendered unhappy
by their absence, yet frequent letters, the knowledge that
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they were happy, the afterwards fulfilled expectation of
meeting them again, and above all the stirring national
events in which I was deeply engaged, all combined to
prevent us from giving way to our unavailing regret.
The war was soon resumed upon another theatre. It
was necessary for me again to leave the arms of my
bride. I had the good fortune to remain not altogether
undistinguished, and to rejoice that I had been permitted
to make a true estimate of the times in which my lot
was cast.
I had the glory and the happiness to be present at the
political birth of my country. Cradled, like a Spartan
child, upon the shield, and amid the din of arms, I had
the happiness, in the sequel, to find the progress of the
youthful giantess well worthy of her triumphant birth.
As I have reached the period which I always proposed
to myself, as the limit to the present portion of my memoirs,
I shall now take farewell of my readers.
It will be observed by those who take the trouble to investigate
the subject, that much of the matter relative to the Indians,
their habits, ceremonies, and so forth, has been derived
from the standard works on Indian history.—See, in particular,
Hoyt's Indian Wars. Heckewelder's Narrative, and B. B.
Thacher's Indian Biography.
THE END.
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