CHAPTER I.
In order that our readers and ourselves may
at once come to a proper understanding, we will
confess, without any circumlocution, that we sat
down to write this history before we had thought
of any regular plan, or arranged the incidents,
being fully convinced that an author who trusts
to his own genius, like a modern saint who relies
solely on his faith, will never be left in the
lurch. Another principle of ours, which we have
seen fully exemplified in the very great success
of certain popular works, advertised for publication
before they were begun to be written, is,
that it is much better for an author to commence
his work, without knowing how it is to end, than
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to hamper himself with a regular plot, a succession
of prepared incidents, and a premeditated
catastrophe. This we hold to be an error little
less, than to tie the legs of a dancing master, to
make him caper the more gracefully, or pinion
a man's arms behind his back, as a preparative
to a boxing match. In short, it is taking away,
by a sort of literary felo de se, all that free will,
that perfect liberty of imagination and invention,
which causes us writers to curvet so gracefully
in the fertile fields of historical fiction.
Another sore obstacle in the way of the free
exercise of genius, is for a writer of historical novels,
such as we have reason to suspect this will
turn out to be, to embarrass his invention by an
abject submission to chronology, or confine
himself only to the introduction of such characters
and incidents as really existed or took place
within the limits of time and space comprised in
the groundwork of his story. Nothing can be
more evident than that this squeamishness of the
author must materially interfere with the interest
and variety of his work, since, if, as often
happens, there should be wanting great characters
or great events, coming lawfully within
the period comprised in the said history, the
author will be proportionably stinted in his
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materials. To be scared by a trifling anachronism,
in relation to things that have passed away a
century, or ten centuries ago, is a piece of literary
cowardice, similar to that of the ignorant
clown, who should be frightened by the ghost
of some one that had been dead a thousand
years.
So far, therefore, as we can answer for ourselves
in the course of this history, we honestly
advertise the reader, that although our hero is
strictly an historical personage, having actually
lived and died, like other people, yet in all other
respects, not only he, but every character in the
work, belongs entirely to us. We mean to make
them think, talk and act just as we like, and
without the least regard to nature, education or
probability. So also as respects the incidents
of our history. We intend, at present, reserving
to ourselves, however, the liberty of altering our
plan whenever it suits us in the course of our labours,
to confine our labours to no time nor place,
but to embody in our work every incident or
adventure that falls in our way, or that an intimate
knowledge of old ballads, nursery tales,
and traditions, has enabled us to collect together.
In short, we are fully determined, by the example
of a certain Great Unknown, that so long
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as we hold the pen, we will never be deterred
from seizing any romantic or improbable adventure,
by any weak apprehension that people will
quarrel with us because they do not follow on in
the natural course, or hang together by any
probable connexion of cause and effect.
Another determination of ours, of which we
think it fair to apprize the reader, is, that we
shall strenuously endeavour to avoid any
intercourse, either directly or indirectly, with
that bane of true genius, commonly called common
sense. We look upon that species of vulgar
bumpkin capacity, as little better than the
instinct of animals; as the greatest pest of authorship
that ever exercised jurisdiction in the
fields of literature. Its very name is sufficient to
indicate the absurdity of persons striving to produce
any thing uncommon by an abject submission
to its dictates. It shall also be our especial
care, to avoid the ancient, but nearly exploded
error, of supposing that either nature or probability
is in anywise necessary to the interest of a
work of imagination. We intend that all our
principal characters shall indulge in as many inconsistencies
and eccentricities, as will suffice to
make them somewhat interesting, being altogether
assured that your sober, rational mortals,
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who act from ordinary impulses, and pursue a
course of conduct sanctioned by common sense,
are no better than common-place people, entirely
unworthy the attention of an author, or his
readers. It is for this special reason that
we have chosen for our scene of action, a forgotten
village, and for our actors, an obscure
colony, whose existence is scarcely known,
and the incidents of whose history are sufficiently
insignificant to allow us ample liberty in giving
what cast and colouring we please to their
manners, habits and opinions. And we shall
make free use of this advantage, trusting to the
example of the great writer to whom we before
alluded, that the good-natured public will give
us full credit for being most faithful delineators
of life and manners. Great and manifold are the
advantages arising from choosing this obscure
period. The writer who attempts to copy existing
life and manners, must come in competition,
and undergo a comparison with the originals,
which he cannot sustain, unless his picture
be correct and characteristic. But with regard to
a state of society that is become extinct, it is like
painting the unicorn, or the mammoth;—give
the one only a single horn, and make the other
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only big enough, and the likeness will be received
as perfect.
Certain cavillers, who pretend to be the advocates
of truth, have strenuously objected to the
present fashion of erecting a superstructure of
fiction on a basis of fact, which they say is confounding
truth with falsehood in the minds of
youthful readers. But we look upon this objection
as perfectly frivolous. It cannot be denied
that such a mixture of history and romance is exceedingly
palatable; since, if the figure may be
allowed us, truth is the meat, and fiction the salt,
which gives it a zest, and preserves it from perishing.
So, also, a little embellishment will save certain
insignificant events from being entirely lost or
forgotten in the lapse of time. Hence we find
young people, who turn with disgust from the
solid dulness of pure matter of fact history, devouring
with vast avidity those delectable mixed
dishes, and thus acquiring a knowledge of history,
which, though we confess somewhat adulterated,
is better than none at all. Besides this,
many learned persons are of opinion that all
history is in itself little better than a romance,
most especially that part wherein historians pretend
to detail the secret motives of monarchs and
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their ministers. One who was himself an old
statesman, writes thus:
“How oft, when great affairs perplex the brains
Of mighty politicians, to conjecture
From whence sprung such designs, such revolutions,
Such exaltations, such depressions, wars and crimes,
Our female Machiavels would smile to think
How closely lurking lay the nick of all
In some such trifle as a woman's spleen,
Or statesman's empty pride, or passing whim.”
Such, then, being the case with history, we think
it a marvellous idle objection to this our mode of
writing, to say that it is falsifying what is true,
since it is only sprinkling a little more fiction
with it, in order to render it sufficiently natural
and entertaining to allure the youthful and romantic
reader.
Before concluding this introductory chapter,
which is to be considered the key to our undertaking,
we will ask one favour of the reader. It
is, that if on some occasions we shall, in the
course of this work, appear somewhat wiser in
various matters, than comports with the period
of our history, and at other times not so wise as
we ought to be, he will in the one case ascribe it
to the total inability of authors to refrain from
telling what they know, and in the other, to an
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extraordinary exertion of modesty, by which we
are enabled, at that particular moment, to repress
the effervescence of our knowledge.
Finally, in order that the reader may devour
our work with a proper zest, we hereby assure
him, (in confidence,) that our bookseller has covenanted
and agreed to pay us ten thousand dollars
in Kentucky bank notes, provided the sale of
it should justify such inordinate generosity. We
will now plunge directly into the thickest of our
adventures, having thus happily got over the first
step, which is held to be half the battle:
-- --
CHAPTER II.
“Peter Piper pick'd a peck of pickled peppers.
Where is the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper pick'd?”
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The curious traveller along the western bank
of the Delaware river, will hardly fail to notice
some few scattered remains, such as parts of old
walls, and fragments of chimneys, which indicate
where once stood the famous fort and town of
Elsingburg, one of the earliest settlements of
the Swedes in this country. The precise spot
these ruins occupy we shall not point out, since
it is our present intention to give such an accurate
description, that it cannot be mistaken by
a reader of common sagacity.
At the time this history commences, that is to
say, somewhere about the middle of the sixteenth
century, a period of very remote antiquity considering
the extreme juvenility of our country, this
important little post was governed by the Heer
Peter Piper, a short thickset person, of German
parentage, whose dress, rain or shine, week days
or Sundays, in peace or war, in winter and
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summer, was a suit of olive-coloured velvet, ornamented
with ebony buttons. A picture still preserved in
the Piper family, represents him with a round, and
somewhat full face, a good deal wrinkled; sturdy
short legs, thin at the ankles, and redundant at the
calves, such as we seldom see nowadays, since the
horrible invention of loose trowsers, which renders
it entirely unnecessary that nature should
take any special pains with that part of the animal
man; square-toed shoes, and square buckles
of a yellowish hue, but whether of gold or brass
is impossible to decide at this remote period.
We would give the world, that is to say, all that
part of it which is at present in our possession,
namely, a magnificent castle in the air, to be able
to satisfy the doubts of our readers in respect to
the problem whether the Heer Peter Piper wore a
cocked hat. But as the painter, with an unpardonable
negligence, and a total disregard to posterity,
has chosen to represent him bareheaded,
we can only say, that his head was ordinarily covered
with a thick crop of hair that curled rather
crabbedly about his forehead and ears. It hath
been aptly remarked by close observers of human
nature, that this species of petulant curl, is almost
the invariable concomitant of an irritable, testy,
impatient temper, which, as it were, crisps and
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curls about after a similar manner with the said
hair.
Certain it is that, whatever exceptions may occur
to the general rule, the Heer Piper was not
one of them, he being, as the course of our history
will fully substantiate, an exceeding little
tyrant, that fell into mortal passions about nothing,
broke his nose over every straw that lay in
his way, and was seldom to be found in any
sort of good humour, except when he had swore
vengeance at every soul that excited his wrath.
Indeed, to say truth, he was one of those blustering
little bodies, who differ entirely from those
who are said to be no heroes to their valet-dechambre,
since it was said of him that he was a
hero to nobody else, but his servants and dependants,
whom he bullied exceedingly. The good
people of Elsingburgh called him, behind
his back, Pepper Pot Peter, in double allusion
to the fiery nature of his talk, and his fondness
for the dish known among our ancestors by
that name, and remarkable for its high seasoning.
The distich placed at the head of this chapter,
was made upon the Heer Peter, by a wag of the
day, who excelled in alliterative poetry, and of
whom we shall say more anon, if we do not forget
it in the multiplicity of adventures we intend
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to incorporate into this true history. But as we
mean to leave a good part of our work to the
imagination of the reader to supply to the best
of his abilities, we will let the character of Governor
Piper develop itself in his future conduct,
and proceed with our story.
One sultry summer afternoon in the month of
July, the Heer Peter having finished his dinner by
one o'clock, was sitting in his great arm chair,
under the shade of a noble elm, the stump of
which is still to be seen, and being hollow,
serves for a notable pig sty, smoking his pipe as
was his custom, and ruminating in that luxurious
state of imbecility between sleeping and waking.
The river in front spread out into an expansive
lake, smooth and bright as a looking glass; the
leaves hung almost lifeless to the trees, for there
was not a breath of air stirring; the cattle
stood midway in the waters, lashing the flies
lazily with their tails; the turkeys sought the
shade with their bills wide open, gasping for
breath; and all nature, animate as well as inanimate,
displayed that lassitude which is the
consequence of excessive heat.
The Heer sat with his eyes closed, and we
will not swear that he was not at this precise moment
fast asleep, although the smoke of his pipe
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still continued to ascend at regular intervals, in
a perpendicular column, inasmuch as it was
affirmed by Wolfgang Langfanger, and some
others of his friends and counsellers, that the
Heer Peter did sometimes smoke somewhat instinctively,
as a man breathes in his sleep. However
this may be, whether sleeping or waking, the
Governor was suddenly roused by the intrusion of
one Lob Dotterel, a constable and busybody, who
considered himself, in virtue of his office, at full
liberty to poke his proboscis into every hole and
corner, and to pry into the secret as well as
public actions of every soul in the village. It is
astonishing what a triumph it was to Lob Dotterel,
to catch any body tripping; he considered
it a proof of his vigilance and sagacity. And
here, lest the reader should do Master Dotterel
wrong, in supposing that the prospect of bribes
or fees herein stimulated him to activity, we will
aver it as our belief, that he was governed by no
such sordid motive, but acted upon a similar
instinct with that of a well-bred pointer dog,
who is ever seen wagging his tail with great
delight when he brings in game, although he
neither expects to be rewarded, or to share in
the spoil, at least so far as we have been able to
penetrate his motives of action.
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Master Dotterel was backed on the occasion
aforesaid, by one Restore Gosling, and Master
Oldale, keeper of the Indian Queen, the most
fashionable, not to say the only tavern, in the village
of Elsingburgh. These three worthies had in
custody a tall, straight, light-complexioned, blue-eyed
youth, who signified his contempt for the
accusation, whatever it might be, the constable,
Master Restore Gosling, Master Oldale, and
the Heer Peter himself, by rubbing his chin on
either side with his thumb and fingers, and
whistling Yankee Doodle, or any other tune that
doth not involve a horrible anachronism.
There are three things a real genuine great
man cannot bear, to wit:—to do business after
dinner—to be disturbed in his meditations—or
to suspect that the little people below him do not
think him so great a person as he is inclined to
think himself. All these causes combined to put
the Heer Peter in a bad humour, insomuch that
he privately communed with himself that he
would tickle this whistling, chin-scraping stripling.
“Well, culprit,” cried the Heer, with a formidable
aspect of authority—“Well, culprit, what
is your crime? I can see with half an eye you're
no better than you should be.”
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“That's no more than may be said of most
people, I believe,” answered the youth, with great
composure.
“Answer me, sirrah,” quoth the Heer, “what
is thy crime, I say?”
“Ask these Gentlemen,” said the other.
“What—eh! you can't confess, hey! an old
offender I warrant me. I'll tickle you before
I've done with you. What's thy name—whence
came you—and whither art thou going, culprit?”
“My name,” replied the fair tall youth, “is
Koningsmarke, surnamed the Long Finne; I
came from the Hoarkill, and I am going to jail,
I presume, if I may augur aught from your
Excellency's look, and the hard names you are
pleased to bestow on me.”
Nothing is so provoking to the majesty of a
great man, as the self-possession of a little one.
The Heer Peter Piper began to suspect that the
Long Finne did not stand in sufficient awe of his
dignity and authority, a suspicion than which
nothing could put him in a greater passion. He
addressed Master Dotterel, and demanded to
know for what offence the culprit was brought
before him, in a tone which Lob perfectly understood
as encouragement not to suppress any part
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of the prisoner's guilt. Lob hereupon referred
the Heer to Master Oldale, who referred him to
Restore Gosling, who had laid the information.
This apparent disposition to shift the onus
probandi caused additional wrath in the Heer,
who began to tremble lest the Long Finne might
give him the slip, and escape the consequences of
his contempt of authority. He thundered forth
a command to Gosling to state all he knew
against the culprit; laying hard emphasis on the
word “all.”
Master Gosling, after divers scratches of the
head, such as my Lord Byron indulgeth in when
he writeth poetry, gathered himself together, and
said as follows—not deposed, for the Heer held
it an undue indulgence to prisoners, to put the
witnesses against them to their bible oath.—
Master Gosling stated, that he had seen the
young man, who called himself Koningsmarke,
or the Long Finne, take out of his pocket a handfull
of Mark Newby's halfpence, or, as it was
commonly called, Pat's halfpence, which every
body knew was prohibited being brought into
the dominions of Sweden, under penalty of confiscation
of the money; one half to the informer,
and the other half to his Sacred Majesty, the
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King of Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and the
Goths.
“Ho, ho!” exclaimed the Heer, rubbing his
hands; “this looks like conspiracy and plot with
a vengeance. I should not be surprised if the
Pope and the — of Babylon were at the
bottom of this.” And here we will remind the
reader that this was about the time that the manufactory
of plots, Popish and Presbyterian, Meal
Tub and Rye House, flourished so luxuriantly,
under the fruitful invention of Shaftesbury, Oates,
Tongue, Dugdale, Bedlow and others. Now the
Heer Peter always took pattern after the old
countries, insomuch that whenever a plot came
out in England, or elsewhere, he forthwith got
up another at Elsingburgh, as nearly like it as
possible. In one word, he imitated all the
pranks, freaks and fooleries of royalty, as an ape
does those of a man. At the period, too, which
this history is about to commemorate, there were
terrible jealousies and heart-burnings betwixt the
representatives of royalty in the adjoining or
neighbouring colonies of New-Jersey, Pensylvania,
Maryland, New-York, and Connecticut.
The different monarchs of Europe, had not only
given away with astonishing liberality what did
not belong to them, in this new world, but given
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it away over and over again to different persons,
so that it was next to impossible either to settle
the boundaries of the various grants, or to ascertain
who was the real proprietor of the soil.
As to the Indians, they were out of the question.
Now, though these tracts were, ninety-nine parts
in a hundred, a perfect wilderness, and the number
of inhabitants as one to a hundred square
miles, yet did these potentates, and especially
their governors, feel great solicitude lest they
should be in no little time stinted for elbow-room.
They were, consequently, always bickering about
boundaries, and disputing every inch of wilderness
most manfully, by protest and appeal to
any thing but arms.
The Heer Piper governed a territory by
right of discovery, grant, possession, and what not,
somewhat larger than Sweden, and which, at
the time of this writing, contained exactly
(by census) three hundred and sixty-eight
souls, exclusive of Indians. It is therefore
little to be wondered at, if, being as he was,
a long-headed man, metaphorically speaking,
he should begin to look out in time for the
comfort of the immense population, which he
foresaw must speedily be pressed for room. His
jealousy was of course continually squinting at
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his neighbours, most especially the Quakers at
Coaquanock, and the Roman Catholics, who
about this time settled at St. Mary's under
Leonard Calvert. He therefore pricked up his
ears, and smelt a plot, at the very sound of
Mark Newby's halfpence, a coin then circulating
in West Jersey and Coaquanock, and forthwith
set down the Long Finne as an emissary
from the Quakers, who, he swore, although they
would not fight, had various ways of getting possession
of his territories, much more effectual
than arms. Moreover, he abhorred them because
they would not pull off their hats to the
representative of Gustavus Adolphus, and, as he
affirmed, were a people who always expected
manners from others, although they gave none
themselves. In addition to these causes of disgust,
it was rumoured, that his Excellency the
Heer, being once riding out near Coaquanock,
met a Quaker driving a great wagon, and who
refusing to turn either to the right or to the left,
rendered it necessary for Peter Piper to attempt
to pass him, by the which his buggy was
overset, and himself precipitated into a slough.
Let me tell the reader, that trifles less than
these have more than once set mankind
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together by the ears, and caused the rivers of the earth
to run red with blood.
Under the influence of these statesmanlike
views, jealousies, antipathies, and what not, the
Heer viewed the possession of such a quantity
of Mark Newby's halfpence as a suspicious circumstance,
and indeed had little doubt, in his
own mind, that the Long Finne had come into
the settlement to seduce it from its allegiance to
the great Gustavus, by actual bribery. The reader
may smile at the idea of corrupting a community
with halfpence, now when paper money
is so plenty that dollars fly about like may-flies
in the spring, and that it sometimes actually takes a
hundred of these to purchase a man's conscience.
But we will make bold to tell him, his smile only
betrays an utter ignorance of the simplicity of
those times, when a penny was deemed equal to
six white and four black wampum; and a tract
of land, larger than a German principality, was at
one time purchased for sixty tobacco-boxes, one
hundred and twenty pipes, one hundred Jew's-harps,
and a quantity of red paint. It hath
been shrewdly observed, that the value of money
regulates the consciences of men, as it does
every other article of trade, so that the suspicion
of Governor Piper was not quite so ridiculous as
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many ignorant readers may be inclined to suppose
at first sight. This explanation we afford
gratuitously, hinting, at the same time, that as it
is no part of our plan to make things appear probable,
or actions consistent, we shall not often
display a similar disposition to account for what
happens.
“Long Finne,” said the Heer, after considerable
cogitation—“Long Finne, thou art found
guilty of suspicion of traitorous designs against
the authority of his sacred majesty, Gustavus
Adolphus of Sweden, and in order that thou
mayest have time and opportunity to clear up
thy character, we sentence thee to be imprisoned
till thine innocence is demonstrated, or thou
shalt confess thy guilt.”
By this time half the village, at least, was collected,
as is usual on these occasions, when they
flock to see a criminal, as porpoises do about a
wounded mate, not to succour, but to worry him.
The whole assembly were struck with astonishment
at the wisdom of Governor Piper's decision,
which they looked upon as dictated by blind
Justice herself. Not so the Long Finne, who
like most unreasonable persons, that are seldom
satisfied with law or justice when it goes against
them, seemed inclined to remonstrate. But the
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Heer, whose maxim it was to punish first and
pity afterwards, forthwith commanded him to be quiet, quoting his favourite saying, “Sirrah, if
we both talk at once, how are we to understand
one another?”
As they were taking him from the presence
of the Governor to convey him to prison, the tall,
fair youth, turned his eye mildly, yet significantly
towards the Heer, and pronounced in a low voice
the words, “Caspar Steinmets.” “What! who!
whose name did you utter?” exclaimed his excellency
in great agitation—
“Caspar Steinmets”—replied the youth.
“What of him”—rejoined the Heer.
“I am his nephew”—replied the Long Finne.
“The friend of your youth would be little obliged
to you, could he see you hurrying the son of his
bosom to a prison, because he possessed a handfull
of Mark Newby's halfpence.”
“Pish!” cried the Heer—“I never heard that
old Caspar Steinmets had a nephew, and I don't
believe a word of it.”
“He had a sister, who married a gentleman of
Finland, called Colonel Koningsmarke, against
the wishes of her friends. She was discarded,
and her name never mentioned. On the death
of both my parents, my uncle adopted me, but
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he died also, not long after you sailed for
the new world.—Look, sir, do you know this
picture?”
“Blood of my heart,” exclaimed the Heer,
contemplating the picture, “but this is old Caspar
Steinmets, sure enough! Ah! honest, jolly
old Caspar! many a time hast thou and I drunk,
fought and raked together, in bonny Finland!
But for all that, culprit, thou shalt not escape
justice, until thou hast accounted to me for the
possession of this picture, which hath marvellously
the appearance of stolen goods.”
“Stolen goods, sir!” interrupted the fair
youth, passionately; but, as if recollecting himself,
he relapsed again into an air of unconquerable
serenity, and began to whistle in an under
tone.
“Ay, marry, stolen goods! I shall forthwith
commit thee to prison, and retain this
picture till thou provest property, and payest all
charges. Take him away, master constable.”
The youth seemed about to remonstrate, but
again, as if suddenly recollecting himself, remained
silent, shrugged his shoulders, and quietly
submitted to be conducted to the prison, followed
by the crowd, which usually, on such occasions,
volunteers as an honourable escort to
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heroes of the bridewell and quarter sessions. But
nothing could equal the triumph of Lob Dotterel
on this occasion, who looked upon the establishing
of a man's innocence to be lessening the importance
of a constable, who, as he affirmed, derived
dignity and consequence in exact proportion
to the crimes of mankind.
Having despatched this weighty affair, the
Heer Piper knocked the ashes out of his pipe,
and returned to his gubernatorial mansion, with
a full resolution of communicating the whole affair
to the Chancellor Oxenstiern.
-- --
CHAPTER III.
“There was an old woman, and what do you think?
She liv'd upon nothing but victuals and drink:
Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet,
And yet this old lady could never be quiet.”
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Now the long shadows of the trees that stretched
almost half way across the river, began gradually
to disappear, as the sun of summer sunk behind
the hills that rose gradually and gracefully
one above another westward of the renowned,
or soon to be renowned, village of Elsingburgh.
The toils of the day being finished, some of the
villagers were sitting at the door of Master
Oldale's castle, smoking and telling tales of wars
in the old countries, or dangers encountered in
the new.
The maids and matrons were, some, busily
preparing the ponderous supper; others, milking
the cows; and others, strolling with their sweethearts
on the bank of the river, under the ancient
elms, full sorely scarified with names,
or initials of names, and true lovers' knots,
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the rude, yet simple emblems of rustic love
Dame Partlet, the hen, with all her kackling
brood, nestled for the night upon the
shady boughs; the domestic generation of two-legged
and four-legged animals were about
seeking their various lodgings, and the careful
hind was seen unchaining the trusty and powerful
mastiff, the faithful guardian of himself,
his children, wife, and all his treasures, from
surprise, in the solitude of the night, when the
wild wolf, and the Indian equally wild, were
often heard to yell the quavering knell of danger
and death.
Every object began gradually to approximate
to that rural repose and happy quiet which
characterizes the evening of a country hamlet,
among a people of simple and virtuous habits.
In one word, it was just the period betwixt
daylight and dark, when the Heer Piper, as
affirmed at the end of the last chapter, returned to
his mansion, to indulge himself in his accustomed
stout supper, which usually consisted of a
tankard of what is called hard cider, a species of
beverage, which goes down a man's throat like
a sharp sword, and which the sturdy Heer called
emphatically man's cider, it being an unquestionable
demonstration of manhood to be able to
-- 031 --
[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]
drink it, without causing people's eyes to start
out of their heads. To this was usually added
a mess of pepper-pot, with heaps of meat and
vegetables, among which figured, in all the
dignity of a national dish, the execrable and
ever-to-be-avoided sour-krout dire. All these
luxuries of the day were spread on the table,
and waited his coming, in company with the
members of the household.
The first of these which we shall introduce
in due form to the reader, was the lady Edith
Piper, only sister to his Excellency the Governor—
a person of ominious notability, who, on
the death of the Heer's wife, had taken command
of the establishment, and, if report says true, of
Governor Piper into the bargain. She was, in
the main, a good sort of a body, and of a most
public-spirited disposition, since she neglected
the affairs of the Heer, to attend to those
of every body else in the village. She knew
every thing that happened, and a vast many
things that never happened. And we will venture
to pledge our veracity as historians, that
there never were but two secrets in the village,
from the time of Madam Edith's arrival, to
the day of her final extinction. One was
the year of the lady's birth—the other we do
-- 032 --
[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
not care to disclose at present, being anxious
to convince the world that we too can
keep a secret as well as other folk.
To do the good lady no more than justice,
she was not ill-natured, although her thirst after
knowledge was somewhat extreme; nor did she
ever make any bad use of the village tittle-tattle,
which came to her ears. She never repeated
any tale of scandal, without at first impressively
assuring her hearers that she did not believe one
word of it, not she; she merely told the story, to
show what an ill-natured world it was that they
lived in. Madam Edith was supposed to maintain
her authority over the Heer Piper, more by
dint of talking incessantly, than through the
agency of fear. When she had a point to gain, she
never abandoned it; and if, as often happened,
the governor walked out in a pet to avoid her
importunities, she would, on his return, resume
the argument just where it was left off, with astonishing
precision. In process of time she worried
him out, and, from long experience of the
perseverance of the dame, as well as the inefficacy
of resistance, Governer Piper came at last
to a quiet submission to be tyrannized over
within doors, being resolved to make himself
amends by tyrannizing without. The Vrouw
-- 033 --
[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]
Edith, who, we neglected to premise, was never
married, not being able to find any body in the
old or new world good enough for her, was, in
sober truth, a considerable talker, although the
same regard to veracity impels us to the confession
that she was not always understood by her
hearers. Taking it for granted, that every body
was as anxious about every body's business as
herself, she gave them credit for as much knowledge,
and was perpetually indulging in hints,
innuendoes, and scraps of biography, which
puzzled her friends worse than the riddle of the
Sphinx. Thus she generally alluded to her
acquaintances in old Finland, by their christian
names, and detailed the various particulars incident
to nurseries, kitchens, &c. as if the whole
universe felt an interest in the subjects of her
biography. In one word, she was a thin, short
little body, dressed in high-heel'd shoes, a
chintz gown, with flowers as large as cabbages,
and leaves like those of the palm, together with
a long-tabbed lawn cap, which, on great occasions,
was displaced for a black velvet skull-cap,
fitting close to the head, and tied under the chin.
Of her voice, it may be affirmed that it was as
sharp as the Heer's favourite cider.
The only being in the governor's
-- 034 --
[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
establishment that could hold a candle to aunt Edith, as
she was usually denominated, or who ventured
to exchange a shot in the war of words with her,
was a certain mysterious, wayward, out-of-the-way
creature, who was generally reputed to be
an equal compound of fortune-teller and witch.
She was by birth an African, and her general
acceptation was that of Bombie of the Frizzled
Head. Bombie was a thick, squat thing, remarkable
for that peculiar redundancy of figure,
so frequently observed in the ladies of her colour
and country. Her head and face were singularly
disproportioned to her size, the first being very
small, and the latter, proportionably large, since
it might with truth be averred, that her head was
nearly all face. The fact was, that nature had given
her such a redundancy of broad flat nose, that in
order to allow of any eyes at all, she was obliged to
place them on either side of the head, where they
projected almost as far, and as red as those of a
boiled lobster. This gave her an air of singular
wildness, inasmuch as it produced the peculiar
look called staring, which is held to be the favourite
expression of that popular class of lately created
beings who stand in a sort of a midway between
witches, goblins, fairies, and devils; but are an
odd compound of them all, being made by the
-- 035 --
[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
mere force of the author's genius to supply the
want of every natural or physical advantage.
Bombie of the Frizzled Head, was so surnamed
on account of her hair, which was distinguished
by that peculiar and obstinate curl, which, together
with the accompanying black complexion,
are held to be the characteristics of the posterity
of Cain. Age had, at this period, bent her body
almost double, seamed her face with innumerable
wrinkles, and turned her hair white, which
contrasted singularly with her ebony skin.
But still she exhibited one of the peculiarities
of this unhappy race, in a set of teeth white as
the driven snow, and perfect as the most perfect
ever seen through the ruby lips of the lass the
reader most loves. And if the truth must be
told, her tongue seemed to be as little injured
by the assaults of time as her teeth. She was,
in fact, a desperate railer, gifted with a natural
eloquence that was wont to overpower the voice
and authority of aunt Edith, and drive the Heer
Piper from his sternest domestic resolves.
The tyranny of Bombie's tongue was, however,
strengthened in its authority by certain vulgar
opinions, the more powerful, perhaps, from
their indefinite nature and vague obscurity. It
was said that she was the daughter and the wife
-- 036 --
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
of an African King, taken in battle, and sold to a
trader who carried her to St. Barts, where she
was bought by the Heer Peter Piper, who whilome
figured as Fiscal of that fruitful island,
from whence she accompanied him first to Finland,
and afterwards to the new world. Rumour,
that progeny of darkness, distance, and obscurity,
also whispered that she of the Frizzled
Head could see into the depths of futurity;
was acquainted with the secrets of sticking
crooked pins, and throwing invisible brickbats;
and dealt in all the dread mysteries of Obi.
These suspicions were strengthened, by the peculiar
appearance and habits of the Frizzled
Head, as well as by the authority of certain instances
of witchcraft that happened about this
time in the East, as recorded by the learned and
venerable Cotton Mather, in his book of wonders,
the Magnalia.
Like the owl and the whipperwill, she scarcely
ever was seen abroad except at night, and,
like them, she was supposed to go forth in the
darkness, only to bode or to practise ill. With
her short pipe in her mouth, her horn-headed
stick in her hand, she would be seen walking at
night along the bank of the river, without any
apparent purpose, generally silent, but
-- 037 --
[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
occasionally muttering and mumbling in some unknown
gibberish that no one understood. This habit
of prowling abroad at night, and at all times
of the night, enabled her to attain a knowledge
of various secrets of darkness that often seemed
the result of some supernatural insight into
the ways of men. Indeed, it has been, or it may
be shrewdly observed, that he who would see
the world as it really is, must watch like the
mastiff that bays the moon, and sleeps but in
the sunshine. When at home, in the Heer's
kitchen, she never slept except in the day
time; but often passed the night, wandering about
such parts of the house as were free to her, apparently
haunted by some sleepless spirit, and
often stopping before the great Dutch clock in
the hall. Here she might be seen, standing
half double, leaning on her stick, and exhibiting
an apt representation of age counting the
few and fleeting moments of existence. Her
wardrobe consisted of innumerable ragged garments,
patched with an utter contempt for congruity
of colouring, and exhibiting the remnants
of the fashions of the last century. On particular
occasions, however, Bombie exhibited
her grand costume, which consisted of a man's
hat and coat, and a woman's petticoat, which
-- 038 --
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
combination produced a wild, picturesque effect,
altogether indescribable. In justice to the
Heer, we must premise, that it was not his fault
that Bombie was not better clad, for he often gave
her clothing, with which no one ever knew what
was done, as she was seldom seen in any thing but
a multiplicity of rags.
Though, to appearance, exceedingly aged and
infirm, the Snow Ball, as Governor Piper used to
call her, was gifted with an activity and power
of endurance, that had something almost supernatural
in it, and which enabled her to brave all
seasons, and all weathers, as if she had been the
very statue of black marble she sometimes
seemed, when standing stock still, leaning on her
stick and contemplating the silent moon. She
had a grandson, of whom we shall say more
by-and-by. At present we will leave the
Heer to finish his supper, as we mean to do our
own presently, not wishing to burthen the reader
with too much of a good thing, which is
shrewdly affirmed to be equivalent to a thing
which is good for nothing.
-- --
CHAPTER IV.
“The rose is red, the violet blue,
The gilly-flower sweet, and so are you.
These are the words you bade me say,
For a bonny kiss, on Easter day.”
[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
We left our hero, at the conclusion of the last
chapter save one, quietly on his way to prison,
in the custody of Lob Dotterel, the vigilant
high constable of Elsingburgh. The reader
may perhaps wonder at the spiritless acquiescence
with which the Long Finne submitted to
the decision of the Heer Piper, as well as to
the safe conduct of the constable. Now, though
it is in our power, by a single flourish of the
pen, to account for this singularity, we are too
well acquainted with the nature of the human
mind, to deprive our history at the very outset
of that indescribable interest which arises from
the author's keeping to himself certain secrets,
which, like leading strings, as it were, conduct
the reader to the end, in the hope of at length
being fully rewarded by a disclosure of the
-- 040 --
[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]
mystery. Suffice it to say that the tall youth was
quietly conducted to prison, apparently without
either caring much about it himself, or exciting
the compassion of a single soul in the village.
But it was not so.—There was one heart that
melted with sympathy, and one eye that shed a
solitary tear, to see so interesting a youth thus,
as it were, about to be buried alive, upon so
vague and slight a suspicion. That heart, and
that eye, beat in the bosom, and sparkled in the
brow of as fair a maid as ever the sun shone
upon in this new world, whose sprightly daughters
are acknowledged on all hands to excel in
beauty, grace, and virtue, all the rest of the universe.
The daughter, the only daughter, nay,
the only offspring of the Heer, was sitting in the
low parlour window that looked out upon the
green sward, where that puissant governor used
to smoke his afternoon's pipe in pleasant weather,
when the vigilant high constable brought in the
tall, fair prisoner. Her eye was naturally attracted
by a face and figure so different from
those she had been accustomed to see in the village,
and being sufficiently near to hear his examination,
she was struck with wonder and curiosity,
two sentiments that are said to be inherited
by the sex, in a direct line from grandmother
Eve.
-- 041 --
[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]
Those readers, ay, and writers too, who
happen to know as much of human nature as the
head of a cabbage, are aware of the electrical
quality of any excitement that springs up in the
heart, in a situation, and under circumstances,
where objects of interest are rare, and there is
no variety to attract us from the train of thought
and feeling, which such objects inspire. In early
youth, and just at that blooming period of
spring, when the bud of sentiment begins to
expand its leaves to the zephyr and the sun, it
often happens, that the memory and the fancy
will both combine to rivet in the mind, a feeling
lighted by a single spark, in a single moment,
and make its impression almost indelible.
It was thus, in some degree, with the fair and
gentle daughter of the Heer, whose light blue
eye, the colour of the north, seemed destined to
conquer all hearts in the new world, as her blue-eyed
ancestors did the old with their invincible
arms. She had never yet seen, except in
dreams, since she entered her teens, a being like
the Long Finne, who, contrasted with the sturdy
boors around her, not even excepting her admirer
Othman Pfegel, was an Apollo among satyrs.
Christina, for so was she called, had indeed
-- 042 --
[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]
some remote recollection of a species of more
polished beings, such as, when a little girl, she
had seen in Finland; but the remembrance was
so vague as only to enable her in some degree
to recognise the vulgarity and want of refinement
of the Sunday beaux of Elsingburgh.
The heart, the pure, warm, social heart of a
girl of seventeen, may be said to be like the
turtle dove, which pines in the absence of its
mate, and fills the wilderness of the world with
its solitary moanings. It waits but to see its
destined counterpart, to tremble and palpitate;
and if its first emotions are not rudely jostled
aside, or overpowered by the distraction of conflicting
objects, and the variety of opposing
temptations, they will become the governing
principle of existence during a whole life
of love.
Koningsmarke was, in truth, a figure that
might have drawn the particular attention of a
lady whose eyes were accustomed to the finest
forms of mankind. He was nearly, or quite
six feet high, straight, and well proportioned,
with a complexion almost too fair for a man, and
eyes of a light blue. His hair was somewhat
too light to suit the taste of the present day, but
which, to an eye accustomed to associate it with
-- 043 --
[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
ideas of manly beauty, was rather attractive than
otherwise.
With these features, he might have been
thought somewhat effeminate in his appearance,
were it not that a vigorous, muscular form,
and a certain singular expression of his eye,
which partook somewhat of a fierce violence,
threw around him the port of a hardy and fearless
being. This expression of the eye, in after times,
when their acquaintance had ripened into intimacy,
often gave rise to vague and indefinite
suspicions of his character, and fears of its
developement, which the fair Christina could
never wholly discard from her bosom. The
dress of the youth, though not fine nor splendid,
was of the better sort, and in excellent taste,
except that he wore his ruff higher up in the
neck than beseemed.
The person whose appearance we have thus
sketched, as might be expected, excited a degree
of interest in the maiden, sufficiently powerful
to have impelled her to actual interference with
the Heer, in favour of the prisoner, had it not
been for that new-born feeling, which, wherever
it is awakened in the bosom of a delicate and
virtuous female, is accompanied by a shrinking
and timid consciousness, that trembles lest the
-- 044 --
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
most common courtesies, and the most ordinary
emotions, may be detected as the offspring of a
warmer feeling. Besides this, the fair Christina
knew from experience that though her father
loved her better than all the world besides, there
was one thing he loved still better, and that was,
the freedom of his sovereign will and pleasure,
in the exercise of his authority as the representative
of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. The Heer,
in fact, never failed to resent all interference
of this nature on the part of the ladies of his
household, always accompanying his refusal by
some wicked jest, or some reflection upon people's
not minding their own business. Christina,
therefore, remained quiet in her seat, and accompanied
the fair, tall youth to prison with the
sigh and the tear heretofore commemorated.
The prison formed one side of the square, at
the opposite extremity of which was placed the
Governor's palace, as he called it, videlicet, a
two-story brick house, with a steep roof, covered
with fiery red tiles, lapping over each
other like the scales of a drum fish. The
bricks which composed the walls of the palace
were of the same dusky hue of red, so that the
whole had the appearance of a vast oven, just
heated for a batch of bread. Agreeably to the
-- 045 --
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
fashion of the times, the house was of little
depth, the windows of the same room opening
to both front and rear; but then it made up in
length what it wanted in depth, and when not
taken in profile, had a very imposing appearance.
Exactly opposite, at a distance of about
thirty yards, was the prison, also of brick, with
small windows, having ominous iron bars, and
other insignia shrewdly indicative of durance vile.
One part of the building was appropriated to
the accommodation of persons who had the
misfortune to fall under the guilt of suspicion,
like the Long Finne; and in the other portion,
was the great court room, as it was pompously
called, where the Heer met, as was his custom,
to consult with his council, and do just as he liked
afterwards, as practised by the potent Governors
of that day. In truth, these little men were so
far out of the reach of their masters, that they
considered themselves as little less than immortal,
and often kicked up a dust for the sole
purpose of showing their authority.
The Governor's mansion, and the court-house
or jail, were the only brick buildings in the village,
the rest consisting of wooden edifices of
round logs for the vulgar, and square ones,
filled in with mortar, for the better sort. These
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
were huddled close together round the square,
for two special reasons; one, that they might
be the more easily included in the strong palisade,
which had been raised about the town
for security against any sudden irruption of the
savages; the other, that no ground might be
wasted in laying out the place, which, in the
opinion of the longest heads, was so advantageously
situated, that every foot of
land must be of immense value some day or
other. Vain anticipations! since the place is
now a ruin, and the colony no more; yet such
is the usual fate of all the towering hopes of
man! The houses we speak of, were all nearly
of the same size and fashion, and equally dignified
by an enormous chimney of brick, which appertained
to the house, or more strictly speaking,
to which the house seemed to appertain,
and which being placed outside of the wall instead
of inside, for the purpose of affording
more room to the family, gave the mansion
somewhat the relative appearance of a wren
house stuck up against the side of a chimney.
In this veritable jail, we have just described,
the Long Finne was consigned by Lob Dotterel.
and received by the Cerberus who guarded it,
and who, finding the emoluments of his office
-- 047 --
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
considerably inadequate to maintain a family,
of some eight or ten children, generally worked
at his trade of carpenter abroad, leaving the
keys of the prison in the hands of his wife. The
latter was popularly considered the better man
of the two, and currently reported not to fear
devil or dominie, in fair open daylight.
Master Gottlieb Swaschbuckler's vocation
might be said to be almost a sinecure, since,
notwithstanding Lob Dotterel's vigilant police,
the prison was, during the greater part of the
year, undignified by a single inhabitant, save
the jailer and his family. And here we cannot
but express our mortification, that, notwithstanding
the vast pains taken since that time
to improve the mind and morals of mankind,
and the astonishing success of all the plans laid
down for that purpose, there should be such
a singular and unaccountable increase of the
tenants of jails, bridewells, penitentiaries, and
such like schools of reformation. So extraordinary
indeed is the fact we have just stated,
that we feel it incumbent upon us, to request of
the reader a little exertion of that generous credulity,
by which he is enabled to gulp down the interesting
improbabilities of our modern romances.
Dame Swaschbuckler was, consequently,
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
delighted at the appearance of the Long Finne,
having been some time without any body but
her husband and family upon whom to exercise
her authority, and holding, as she did, that a
prison without a prisoner was, like a cage without
a bird, utterly worthless and uninteresting.
She was resolved to entertain him in her best
manner, and accordingly showed him into a
room, the doors of which were twice as thick,
and the windows ornamented with double the
number of bars, of any other in the whole
building.
Having thus accommodated our hero with
board and lodging, we shall pause a moment
in order to cogitate what we shall say in the
next chapter.
-- --
CHAPTER IV.
“Who comes here? A Grenadier.
What d'ye want? A pint of beer.
Where's your money? I forgot.
Get you gone, you drunken sot.”
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
We neglected to mention, not foreseeing that
it might be necessary to the course of our history,
that the Heer Piper, when he pronounced
sentence upon the Long Finne, did also at the
same time declare, all that portion of Mark
Newby's halfpence which he carried about him,
utterly forfeited, one half to the informer, the
other to the crown of Sweden. It was accordingly
divided between Restore Gosling and the
Governor, as representative of Majesty.
The Long Finne accordingly entered the
prison, without that key which not only unlocks
stone walls, but also the flinty hearts of those
who are wont to preside within them. His
pockets were as empty as a church on week-days.
When, therefore, the next morning he
felt the gnawings of that insatiate fiend, whom
-- 050 --
[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]
bolts, nor bars, nor subterranean dungeons,
suffice to keep from tagging at the heels of
man, and ventured to hint to dame Swaschbuckler
that he had some idea of wanting his
breakfast, that good woman promptly desired
him to lay down his dust, and she would procure
him a breakfast fit for Governor Piper
himself.
“But I have no dust, mother, as you call it,”
replied the youth.
“What, no money!” screamed out the Dame;
“der teufel hole dich, what brought thee
here then.”
“Master Lob Dotterel,” replied he.
“And thou hast no money—du galgen
schivenkel,” roared the dame.
“Not a stiver, nor even one of Mark Newby's
halfpence,” responded the Long Finne.
“Then thou gettest no breakfast here,” cried
the mistress of the stone jug, “except der
teufel's braden. It would be a fine matter
truly, if every galgengefallener spitzbube
were to be maintained here in idleness, at the
expense of the poor.” So saying, she waddled
indignantly out of the room, shutting the door
after her with great emphasis, and turning the
-- 051 --
[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
key with a quick motion, indicating wrath
unappeasable.
Dinner-time came, but no dinner; supper-time
came, but no supper; for it ought to be
premised, that it was one of the Heer Piper's
maxims, that the less a criminal had to eat in
prison, the more likely he would be to come to a
speedy confession of his crime. He therefore
made no provision for persons committed on
mere suspicion. Most people, we believe,
happen to be aware of the vast importance of
eating and drinking, not only as a very simple
means of supplying the wants of nature, but likewise
as creating certain divisions of time, where-by
that venerable personage is disarmed
of half his terrors, and the desperate uniformity
of his pace agreeably interrupted. Accordingly,
when the night came, and nothing to eat, the
Long Finne began to feel not a little tired of his
situation. He paced his solitary room in silent
vexation, occasionally stopping at the window,
which fronted the Governor's palace, and gazing
wistfully at the figures which passed backwards
and forwards about his little parlour. As he
stood thus contrasting the cheerful aspect of the
palace with his dark, noiseless prison, and his
own solitary starving state, he beheld them
-- 052 --
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
bringing in the Heer's supper, and his bowels
yearned. The contrast was more than he could
bear; he flung himself upon the straw in a
corner of the room, and communed with himself
in the bitterness of his heart; he drank his
own tears in the extremity of his thirst, and
finallysinking under weakness, and the emotions
of his heart, fell asleep.
From this last refuge of misery and hunger
the Long Finne was awakened by a loud peal
of thunder, that seemed to have shattered the
prison into atoms. On opening his eyes, the
first object he beheld, by the almost unceasing
flashes of lightning, was a figure standing over
him, half bent, and leaning upon a stick, muttering
and mumbling some unintelligible incantation.
Her eyes seemed like coals of fire,
dancing in their deep sockets, and her whole
appearance was altogether, or nearly supernatural.
“Who, and what are you, in the name of
God?” cried the Long Finne, starting up from
his straw.
“I am a being disinherited of all the rights,
and heir to all the wrongs to which humanity
is prone. I was born a princess in one quarter
of the globe—I was brought up in another,
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
a beast of burthen. I am here the slave of
man's will, the creature of his capricious tyranny.”
The voice of the apparition was hollow,
and rung like a muffled bell.
“And what brought thee here at this time
of the night,” replied the youth, “and such a
night too!”
“The thunder and the lightning, the storm
and the whirlwind, are my elements; night to
me is day; and when others sleep, the spirit
that is unseen in the morning, the guilty that
fear, and the injured that hate the light and the
face of man, go forth to warn the living, to indulge
the bitterness of their hearts, or to commit
new crimes.”
“Away!—I know thee now; thou art Bombie
of the Frizzled Head—I know thee now,” replied
the youth.
“And I too KNOW THEE,” hollowly rejoined
the figure—“I know thee, Long Finne. Thou
comest here for no good; thou art here to stab
the sleeping innocent—to engraft upon the tree
of my master's house the bitter fruit of guilt and
misery. I am sent here to prevent all this. I
come with food, and the means of freeing thee
from thy prison. Follow me, and go thy ways,
never to return.”
-- 054 --
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
“I will stay here and die,” bitterly exclaimed
the fair youth. “I am an outcast from my native
land—a hunted deer, to whom neither the
woods, the waters, nor the air afford a refuge.
Whither shall I go? Nor white man nor red
man will shield me from that which follows me
everywhere—from the worm that never dies,
the fire that is never quenched. No—I will stay
here and perish.” He flung himself recklessly
on the floor, and covered his face with his
hands.
“Stay here and perish!” replied the Frizzled
Head, scornfully. “Thus does the coward
white man quail and whimper, when he hath
done that which his abject spirit dare not look
in the face. He that hath the courage to commit
a crime, should have the courage to face its
consequences. Coward, arise and follow me.”
“No—I will die here.”
“And perish hereafter,” cried the black mystery,
setting down a little basket beside the
youth. “Farewell; but be careful what thou
doest. Wherever thou goest I will follow;
whatever thou doest I shall know; and if, under
cover of night and solitude, when thou thinkest
that no mortal eye seeth thee, thou darest to do
-- 055 --
[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]
ill, my eye shall be upon thee, and my spell wither
thy resolves. Beware!”
Thus saying, she departed, and sorry are we
to say, it was in a manner somewhat unworthy
her mysterious dignity; for she passed out at
the door, and locked it after her. The Long
Finne lay and ruminated for some time on what
he had seen and heard; but at length his curiosity
inspired him with the idea of examining
the basket, the contents of which drove every
thing else out of his head. And here we might
tamper with the reader's curiosity, and affect
that mystery with which our great prototype is
wont so unmercifully to torment his readers.
But we scorn all such vulgar arts of authorship,
and honestly confess that the Long Finne was
struck dumb by the sight of an excellent supper,
which he attacked with great vigour, after the
manner of men that have fasted much and prayed
little.
The visit of the Frizzled Head was, after this,
repeated nightly, and the supper with it, doubtless
with the connivance of dame Schwasch-buckler,
whose husband, being a great politician,
usually spent the first part of the night in
getting foxed at Master Oldale's shrine, and the
other part in sleeping himself sober at home.
-- 056 --
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In truth, the weeping blood of woman's heart
seldom beats with a stronger feeling of pity,
than it now began to do in the bosom of the fair
Christina. She was observed to be often at the
window of her chamber, which fronted the prison,
through whose bars she had a dim and
indistinct view of the tall, fair youth, pacing
backwards and forwards in his narrow bounds,
and sometimes stopping before the grates, where
he would lay his hand on his heart, and bow
his head profoundly, as if to thank her for her
charity to a poor wanderer. Sometimes, in the
evening, he would play on a little flageolet which
he managed exquisitely, and occasionally sing
portions of the tender and popular airs of her
country, among which she often distinguished the
following couplet:—
“Mauern machen kein gefængniss,
Und eisersne stangen kein kæfig;”
which seemed to her expressive of the triumph
of mind over time and circumstance.
Those who have studied the heart of womau,
and read in its ruddy pages how prone it is to
pity, and how naturally it passes from pity to a
warmer feeling, we trust will give us credit for
some little regard to probability, when we
-- 057 --
[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]
venture to hint, that the little simple village girl had
not long indulged in the one, till she began to
feel the approaches of the other.
The moment she became aware of this change
in her feelings, all the pleasure she had hitherto
felt in administering, through the instrumentality
of Bombie, to the wants of the prisoner, vanished.
An indescribable sensation of awkward embarrassment
possessed her, whenever she applied
to the sybil to carry his daily supply. And
the blush which accompanied the application,
was the silent, yet sure testimony that she was
now acting under the impulses of a new feeling,
which she dared not avow.
The conduct of the Frizzled Head increased
this embarrassment.—The sybil every day discovered
more and more unwillingness to go on
her nightly errand of charity, and was perpetually
pouring forth mystical prophecies and
denunciations.
“I will not,” said she at last “I will not
pamper the wolf that he may be preserved to
devour the innocent lamb. I have seen what I
have seen, I know what I know. There is
peril in the earth, the sea, and the air, yet the
young see it not till it comes, and when it comes
-- 058 --
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they know not how to escape.—I will go to
the prison no more.”
“And the youth will be left to perish with
hunger,” replied the young damsel, sadly.
“Let him perish!” exclaimed the Frizzled Head.
“The guilty die, that the innocent may live; for
wickedness is the strength of the lion, and
the cunning of the tiger combined. Enough
can it accomplish of mischief without my assistance—
I will go no more.”
“In the name of Heaven, what meanest thou,”
asked the trembling girl, “by these fearful hints
of danger? Who is the wolf, and who the lamb,
that thou shouldst thus thwart me in my errand
of compassion?”
“I have seen what I have seen—I know what
I know,” replied the sybil. “The warning that
is given in time, is the word which is howled out
in the wilderness. Better were it for one of my
colour to be dumb than speak evil of one of thine.
But I have seen what I have seen—I know what
I know.”
This was all poor Christina could get out of
the old mystery, and that night the Long Finne
went supperless to his straw, with the thought
lying like lead upon his heart, that he was now
forgotten and forsaken by all the world.
-- --
BOOK SECOND.
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-- --
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-- --
CHAPTER I.
[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]
The farther we advance in our history, the
more do we perceive the advantages of that extempore
writing, the example of which we have
borrowed from the great modern master of this
exceedingly pleasant and profitable mode of
exercising the fancy and invention, as it were,
at the expense of history. It is wonderful,
with what a charming rapidity the thoughts
flow, and the pen moves, when thus disembarrassed
of all care for the past, all solicitude for
the future. Incidents are invented or borrowed
at pleasure, and put together with a degree
of ease that is perfectly inconceivable by a plodding
author, who thinks before he speaks, and
stultifies himself with long cogitations as to probability,
congruity, and all that sort of thing,
which we despise, as appertaining to our
-- 062 --
[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]
ancient and irreconcilable enemy, common sense.
It may in truth be affirmed of this new and happy
mode of writing, that it very often happens, that it
causes less trouble to the author than to the
reader, the latter of whom not unfrequently,
most especially if he is one of those unreasonable
persons who suppose that nature and probability
are necessary parts of an historical novel,
will be sorely puzzled to find out the motive of
an action, or the means by which it was brought
about.
But whatever may be the profit of the reader,
certain it is, that of the author is amazingly
enhanced by the increased velocity attained
by this new mode of writing. Certain plodding
writers, such as Fielding, Smollet, and
others, whom it is unnecessary to name, wrote
not above three or four works of this sort in the
whole course of their lives; and what was the
consequence? They lived from hand to
mouth, as it were, for want of a knowledge of
the art of writing extempore; and were obliged
to put up with an immortality of fame, which
they could never enjoy. Instead of making a
fortune in a few years by the power of multiplying
their progeny, they foolishly preferred
to pass whole years in the unprofitable business
-- 063 --
[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]
of copying nature, and running a wild-goose
chase after probability. Now, we hold that an
author is like a black female slave, valuable for
the rapidity and ease with which she produces
her offspring, which are always worth something
in the market. As to the colour, shape, and
mental qualities of the bantling, these are of
little consequence, provided it is of a good size,
and comes of a well-tried breed.
And here we will take occasion to dilate a
little more copiously upon the great advantages,
which may reasonably be expected from
the apt disposition of the world, to imitate this
mode of writing without plan, and mixing the
opposite ingredients of truth and falsehood.
Books must of necessity multiply so fast, that
every village, and every individual will, after a
year or two from their publication, be able to
purchase a library of them for little or nothing,
as is the case with a vast many popular works,
which in a little time come upon the parish, as it
were, and are sold to whoever will afford them
house-room. Thus will knowledge be wonderfully
disseminated, and every body come to
know, not only what did happen, but also what
did not happen, in the various ages and countries
of the world. Nay, we should not be at all
surprised if, under the increased facilities afforded
-- 064 --
[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]
by this happy invention of the extempore, every
person should in time become his own author,
and furnish his own library, at the expense of
paper and printing only; and without any trouble
of thought whatever.
We could dilate infinitely on this copious
subject, did we not feel confident that the reader
must be by this time extremely impatient to
pursue our story. We will therefore content
ourselves with expressing a firm belief, that, as
religion and politics are already taught through
the medium of fiction, it will not be long
before the sciences generally, both moral and
physical, will be inculcated in the same manner.
We confidently predict the delightful period
when history will be universally studied through
the medium of impossible adventure, and truth
sweetly imbibed in the fascinating draughts of
improbable fiction; when young people shall
make chemical love, and gain each other's affections
by the inevitable force of lines, tangents,
affinity, and attraction; and when the consummation
of all things shall happen, in young children
being taught their A. B. C. by the alluring and
irresistible temptation of being able to read the
Waverly Novels, instead of appealing to their
low-born appetites through the vulgar medium
of gingerbread letters.
-- --
CHAPTER II.
“Sing, sing—what shall I sing?
The eat's run away with the pudding-bag string.”
[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]
While Dan Cupid was shooting his arrows
with such effect from the windows of the prison,
to those of the palace, and so back again, the
Heer Piper and Madam Edith were taken up
with other weighty affairs, that prevented any
interference with the young people on their
part. His Excellency was confined to his
room with a fit of the gout; a disorder, which,
according to the theory of a waggish friend of
ours, naturally resolves itself into three distinct
stages in its progress. The first is the swearing
stage, wherein the patient now and then indulges
himself with damning the gout lustily. The
second, called the praying stage, is when he softens
down his exclamations into “O, my G—d!” or
“bless my soul!” and the like. The third, and
worst of all, is the whistling stage, during which
the patient is seen to draw up his leg with a long
wh—e—e—w! accompanied by divers
-- 066 --
[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]
contortions of visage. This gout, the Heer was wont
to say, was the only inheritance he received from
his father, who left one of his sons the estate
without the gout, and the other the gout without
the estate; which, in the opinion of Governor
Piper, was a most unjust distribution.
During these attacks, the Heer's natural
irascibility of temper was, as might be expected,
greatly increased, insomuch, that if any one
came suddenly into the room, or opened the
door with a noise, or walked heavily, so as to
shake the floor, he would flourish his crutch most
manfully, and exclaim, “der teufel hole dich, der
galgen schivenkel;” or, if it happened to be Bombie
of the Frizzled Head, “das tonnerwetter
schlage dich kreutzeveis in den boden,” one of his
most bitter denunciations. Indeed, the only
person allowed to approach him was the fair and
gentle Christina, whose soothing whispers, and
soft, delicate touch, seemed to charm away his
pains, and lull his impatient spirit into temporary
rest. At such times, he would lay his hand
gently on her head, cry “God bless thee, my
daughter,” and close his eyes in quiet resignation.
Such is the balm of filial affection! such
the divine ministration of tender, duteous
woman!
-- 067 --
[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]
On these occasions, the gentle Christina would
glide out of the room like the sylph of divine
poetry, and seat herself at her window, there to
indulge her newly awakened feelings, and sigh
over the captivity of the handsome stranger.
In the mean while, Madam Edith was busily
employed in the investigation of some stories
circulating in the village, and especially in getting
at the bottom of a report concerning a certain
love affair, current at that time. Any thing of
this sort gave her the fidgets in a most alarming
degree; for she resembled Queen Elizabeth in
this respect, that the marriage of any one within
the sphere of her influence, gave her a similar
sensation with that cherished by the dog in the
manger, who would not eat himself, nor suffer
any body else to eat. However this may be,
aunt Edith was so completely monopolized by
out-door business, that she paid little attention
to what was going on within, and suffered her
niece to do as she pleased, without interruption.
In process of time, the Heer Piper became
sufficiently recovered to limp about with crutch
and velvet shoe, and take an interest in the
affairs of the village, which, in his opinion, had
suffered exceedingly during his illness. One
day, by chance, he bethought himself of the Long
-- 068 --
[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]
Finne, and pondered how it came to pass that
he had not been brought to confession by this
time. He had now been imprisoned nearly a
fortnight, and Governor Piper held him to be
a tough piece of humanity, if he did not, by this
time, feel somewhat compunctious, under the
combined influence of solitude and hunger. He
forthwith determined to call the fair, tall youth
before his privy council, and accordingly,
despatched his trusty messenger Cupid, grandson
to the incomprehensible Bombie of the Frizzled
Head, to summon them together.
This Cupid was a gentleman of colour, as
the polite phrase is, about four feet and a half
high, with an ebony complexion, flat nose, long
wrinkled face, small eyes, sunk in his head, a
wide mouth, high cheeks, bushy eye-brows and
eye-lids, small bandy legs, of the cucumber
outline, and large splay feet, which, it is affirmed,
continued to increase in size, long after every
other part of him had done growing. In short,
he was, to use the phrase of our southern
brethren, “a likely fellow.”
Cupid was reckoned the worst chap in the
whole village, being always at the head ofevery
species of juvenile mischief; and, if report spoke
truth, had more than once attempted to set fire
-- 069 --
[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]
to the houses of persons against whom he had
a pique. Lob Dotterel's fingers itched to get
hold of him; but the awe in which he, together
with the rest of the villagers, stood of his
grandmother's supernatural powers, checked
the surprising vigilance of the high constable,
and saved Cupid's bacon more than once. The
boy, who was now supposed to be about
eighteen, notwithstanding his diminutive size,
was as obstinate as a mule, as mischevious as a
monkey, and as ill-natured as a bull-dog.
Punishment was lost upon him, and kindness
thrown away. Neither one nor the other ever
drew a tear from his eye, an acknowledgement
of his fault, or promise of future amendment.
Belonging, as he did, to a race who seemed
born to endure, both in their native Afric, and
everywhere else, he suffered in silence, and
revenged himself in the obscurity of the night,
by the exercise of a degree of dexterous cunning,
which is often seen among those whose situation
represses the impulses of open vengeance.
The only gleams of affection or attachment
ever exhibited by this dwarfish and miserable
being, seemed called forth by his grandmother,
and an old Swedish cur, belonging to the Heer.
If any one insulted or worried, as children are
-- 070 --
[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]
wont to do, the old woman, or the old dog, the
rage of the dwarf was terrible, and his revenge
bounded only by his means of mischief. Twice
had he cut open the head of a village urchin
guilty of this offence, with a large stone, and
once was on the point of stabbing another, if he
had not been prevented. His grandmother
doated on him with that obstinate and instinctive
affection, which is so often called forth by those
very qualities that render its object hateful or
contemptible in the eyes of the world. As to
old Grip, the dog, he would obey nobody,
follow nobody, fawn on nobody, or bite, or wag
his tail at the bidding of any earthly being, except
the black dwarf Cupid, but on all occasions
condescended to obey the behests of this his
puissant master.
Then came, in due time, Wolfgang Langfanger,
the pottee-baker, Ludwig Varlett, the shoemaker,
who, if he ever heard the old proverb ne
sutor, &c. despised it with all his heart, and Master
Oldale, fat and plump as a barrel of his own
spruce beer, all good men and true, and members
of his Majesty's council in the good town of Elsingburgh.
After the different “how doon ye's”
had been exchanged, and the Heer had given a
full, true, and particular history of his late
-- 071 --
[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]
fit of the gout, he opened his business, and
Lob Dotterel, who always instinctively attended
on these occasions, was depatched for the Long
Finne. In the mean time, the Heer and his council
lighted their pipes, and took their seats with
most imposing dignity. Master Lob fulfilled
his duty in the twinkling of an eye, and the Long
Finne appeared in the high presence, with pretty
much the same air of indifference as before, and
with a rosy complexion, which puzzled the Heer
not a little, till he resolved the thing into a blush
of conscious guilt.
“Well, henckers knecht,” said the Heer, “have
you come to your senses by this time?”
“I am no henckers knecht,” replied the Long
Finne, “and I have never been mad, all my
life.”
“Der teufel hole dich,” exclaimed the Heer,
waxing wroth; “dost think to brave it out with
me in this manner, der ans dem land gejacter
kerl? Where gottest thou that handful of Mark
Newby's halfpence? answer me that, der teufels
braden.”
“Ask Lob Dotterel,” replied the youth; “he
saw me receive them in change for a rix-dollar,
from a stranger who passed through the village.”
-- 072 --
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
“Der teufel!” exclaimed the Heer, and there-upon
the three members of the council gave a
simultaneous puff extraordinary, expressive of
astonishment.
“Harkye, Lob Dotterel,” said the Heer,
“did'st see the Long Finne receive this money
in change from the stranger?”
“I did,” replied master high constable, who
began to feel his prisoner slipping through his
fingers.
“Verflucht und verdamt!” exclaimed the
Heer, dashing the ashes from his pipe in a mortal
passion; “and why didst not tell me so before,
der galgen schivenkel?”
“'Twant my business,” quoth Lob; “your
excellency always tells me not to put in my oar,
till I am called to speak.”
“Put him to his bible oath,” said the Heer,
who held that, though the oath of a witness was
not necessary to the committing of a person to
jail, yet was it indispensable to his release.
Whereupon Wolfgang Langfanger, the pottee-baker,
pulled out of his breeches pocket, a marvellously
greasy little square book with silver
clasps, which, having first rubbed bright on the
sleeve of his coat, he handed to the Heer. Lob
Dotterel was then incontinently put to his
-- 073 --
[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
corporal oath, and confirmed the account which the
prisoner had given of his coming into the possession
of such a quantity of Mark Newby's halfpence.
“Der galgen schivenkel!” exclaimed the Heer,
shaking his crutch at Lob Doterel, who looked
rather sheepish, and, for that matter, so did his
Excellency. However, he gathered himself together,
and forthwith pronounced so discriminating
a judgment on the case, that, had not the
town of Elsingburgh been destroyed long ago,
it would, doubtless, have been remembered to this
day in the traditions of the inhabitants. Mustering
together his recreant, runaway dignity, he
decided, that he should divide his judgment into
two parts. And first, as he, Koningsmarke, sirnamed
the Long Finne, was acquitted of treasonable
practices in regard to the possession of
Mark Newby's halfpence, he should be released
from prison. Secondly, that inasmuch as he had
not been able to give a good account of himself,
and of his motives for coming to the village, he
should be again remanded to jail, on suspicion of
certain designs, which, as yet, did not sufficiently
appear to the satisfaction of his Majesty's government.
The rest of the council signified
their approbation, according to custom, by saying
-- 074 --
[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
nothing; for it ought to have been premised that
the Heer Piper, as the representative of majesty,
held, that though bound to consult his council,
he was not bound to pay any attention to
their opinions. In fact, it was his maxim, that a
council was of no other use to a Governor, than
to bear the blame of any unlucky or unpopular
measure.
As Lob Dotterel placed his withering paw
on the shoulder of the Long Finne, that mysterious
and unaccountable youth took occasion to
except to the Governor's assertion that he had
not been able to give a good account of himself.
“If your Excellency is not satisfied, I will
begin again, and give you the history of my
family, from the flood, in which some of my ancestors
were doubtless drowned, to the present
time, when”—
“When,” interrupted the Heer, “one of their
posterity, at least, is in some danger of being
hanged. Begone, der ans dem land gejacter kerl.
Away with him to prison.”
The Long Finne bowed with a sly air of ironical
submission, shrugged his shoulders, and quietly
submitted to the guidance of the high constable
of Elsingburg.
-- 075 --
CHAPTER III.
“Lady bird, lady bird,
Fly away home,
Your house is on fire,
Your children will burn.”
[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]
It was on a Saturday afternoon that the
Long Finne was remanded to prison, in the
manner detailed in the last chapter. The
gentle Christina wept, and wrung her hands;
for he must know little of the heart of a woman,
who cannot comprehend to what a degree
the exercise of those good offices conferred
upon the Long Finne, through the instrumentality
of Bombie, together with the pity she
felt for his unmerited imprisonment, had softened
the heart of this gentle girl towards the tall,
fair youth. She besought the Frizzled Head to
carry him his supper as usual; but that ancient
sybil pertinaciously replied with her eternal
sing song of “I have seen what I have seen—I
know what I know.”
The blue-eyed damsel of the north could not
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[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]
sleep that night, which turned out dark and
dismal. She sat at her window, and the death-like
silence, unbroken by a single sound, save the
howling of the north-east wind, added to her
feelings of desolation. Through the black void
that separated the prison and the palace, she
could see the Long Finne pacing past the grated
window, from which poured the light of his
lamp. When it disappeared, supposing the
youth had gone to rest, Christina threw herself
on her bed, and after, long and troubled wakefulness,
sunk into an unquiet sleep, haunted by
dreams even more doleful than her waking
thoughts.
She was roused by a glaring light shining
full into the room, with a brightness that astonished
and alarmed her. Starting up, and running
to the window that looked towards the
prison, she saw a sight that froze her blood into
horror. The bars of the prison seemed like
those before a red-hot furnace, and all within
exhibited a fiery redness. Anon, the flames
poured forth from the windows of the keeper's
apartment, in glaring volumes, advancing and
receding as the different currents of air obtained
a mastery. To utter a loud shriek, to run to
her father, and to awaken the whole household,
-- 077 --
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was the work of a moment; and in a few minutes
afterwards, all was noise and confusion in the
village of Elsingburgh.
Every man, woman, child, and dog in the
town was out, lending assistance to the uproar,
and impeding, in some way or other, the attempts
made by a few persons, not quite out of their
senses, to stop the progress of the flames.—
Tongue cannot describe, nor imagination conceive,
the discordant cries of “fire, fire,” the
shrieks of women, and the howls of dogs, that
mingled in the mighty uproar, and drowned
the voices of those who attempted to give directions
for preventing the fire from spreading into
the village.
With much difficulty they forced the outer
door, which led to the keeper's apartments,
where they found that trusty blade, Gottleib
Schwashbuckler, and his wife, fast asleep in each
other's arms, in spite of the shriekings of the
little urchins within, and the uproar without.
The truth is, that Saturday night was generally
devoted by Master Gottleib and his fat rib,
to certain loving tipplings, which commonly
ended in their both going to sleep, just on the
spot where they took the last glass together.
On this night, the fire in an adjoining room,
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[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]
which served as parlour and kitchen, had been
left burning, for the purpose of drying Madam
Schwashbuckler's best, and indeed only, muslin
gown, (an article which conferred, at that time,
no little distinction on the possessor,) together
with certain other articles of dress, intended for
the husband and children the ensuing Sunday.
Besides these, there was in the chimney corner,
a quantity of light wood, which Master Gottleib,
who smelt a storm that night, had collected
together for the use of the morrow. Either the
clothes had taken fire, and communicated to the
dry wood, or the latter had first caught, and
communicated to the former; for this is one of
those knotty difficulties, which even authors,
who know so many secrets, are often unable
to resolve.
Be this as it may, when the door was burst
open, the flames had so far advanced, that a
few minutes more and it had been all over with the
ancient family of the Schwashbucklers. As the
door opened the little brood rushed out like so
many caged partridges; but it was with no little
difficulty that the sleeping pair were made to
comprehend their situation, and with still more
that they were got out of the building, it being
-- 079 --
[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]
their pleasure to stay and dispute which was to
blame for this catastrophe.
The opening of the large door, which fronted
the direction from which the wind was blowing,
having given an impulse to the flames, they
almost instantaneously communicated to the
only staircase that led to the upper story of the
prison. It was now in vain to attempt saving
the building, and accordingly, one part of the
community were employing themselves in
sprinkling the roofs of such houses as were
most exposed to the flakes of fire, which now
began to soar into the air, while others were
quietly looking on in gaping wonderment,
sometimes watching the reflection of the flames,
that at one moment spread upwards on the
bosom of the dark sky, and at another receded,
leaving them darker than before. Others were
adding to the horrors of the scene, by wailings,
and cries of fire, fire, although by this time,
every one was collected from far and near.
At this moment the mysterious Bombie
rushed among the crowd, crying out, in a voice
that overpowered the infernal uproar,—“Shame
on the pale-faced race! They will let one of
their colour perish in the flames, without essaying
to relieve him, as if he were one of those ye call
the posterity of the first murderer!”
-- 080 --
[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]
“There is nobody in the prison!” exclaimed
half a hundred voices.
“There is, I tell you,” replied the sybil.—
“Look! see ye not a shadow, passing among
the lights in yonder room? See ye not that he is
putting forth his hands through the grates, imploring
assistance? See ye not how he tries
to wrench the iron from its fixture in the last effort
of despair. He is innocent—at least,” muttered
she to herself, “he is innocent of the crime
for which he is here—would I could say, of all
others.”
“A ladder! a ladder!” cried half a hundred
voices at once. But alas! there was no ladder
to be had long enough to reach the window.
The person of master Gottlieb Schwashbuckler
was then searched for the key of the room where
the prisoner was confined, and all his pockets
turned inside out to no purpose. At last that
worthy, after rubbing his eyes, scratching his
head, and yawning half a dozen times, avowed
his firm belief that he had locked the room carefully
last evening, and as carefully left the key
sticking in the keyhole. Several attempts were
now made, by different persons, to ascend the
staircase and unlock the door, which was not
more than two paces from it; but they all
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returned without success, some with their hair singed,
others with scorched hands, and almost suffocated;
in short, all now declared that relief was
entirely hopeless.
Bombie now advanced a little before the rest,
leaned upon her horn-headed stick, and cried out
with an almost supernatural voice—“Koningsmarke!”
“I hear”—answered a voice from within.
“Koningsmarke—thy fate is in thine own
hands; all human help, save thine, is vain.
Exert thy strength upon the door, or upon the
iron bars. Thou art strong, and thou art desperate;
exert thyself and be free, or perish—as
thou deservest,” said the sybil, ending in a low
mutter.
At that moment there was a crash within the
building, and the disappearance of the youth
was announced by a groan from the spectators,
whose noisy exclamations now sunk into a horrible
silence. A minute or two after, he appeared
again, at the window, having employed the
interval of his disappearance in attempting, in
vain, to force the door. Now he made a desperate
effort at the bars of one of the windows,
but they resisted his strength. “The other! the
other!” cried the sybil.
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He essayed the other without success. “'Tis
in vain,” cried the youth, in despair. “I perish
here; remember! remember!”
“Remember thou!” shrieked the old woman:
“Remember that the dove of thy christian legend
went forth thrice, ere she found what she
sought. Try once again.”
He tried again, but in vain—the bars shook,
but did not yield.
“Once more,” cried she, “for the sake of
thy benefactress.”
He essayed again with convulsive strength—
the bars shook—moved—the wall in which they
were inserted trembled—gave way—and the
whole fell into the room. A shout of triumphant
humanity announced the event. “Jump—jump
for thy life!” cried out one and all, for that was
the only way to escape. Koningsmarke hung
for a moment, with his hands, from the side of
the broken window, and at length, letting himself
go, fell to the ground insensible.
-- --
CHAPTER IV.
“And why may not I love Johnny?
And why may not Johnny love me?
And why may not I love Johnny,
As well as another body?”
[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]
Where was the fair and gentle daughter of
the Heer, while what we have detailed in the
last chapter was passing? That innocent and
tender-hearted maiden, checked by the innate
sense of propriety, which is the truest safeguard
of virtue, and restrained by the timidity of new-born
affection, remained at home in a state of the
most painful anxiety. She despatched the old sybil
Bombie to bring her information, and then stood
at her window, watching with increasing agitation,
the progress of the devouring element.
She could distinguish, by the glaring light, the
stranger youth, sometimes standing at the
window, as if imploring his rescue, and every
time he disappeared, a hope arose in her bosom,
that the door had been opened for his escape.
But he returned again, and again, while at every
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new disappointment, her agitation increased;
until at length, when she heared the crash of the
falling staircase, and saw a shower of burning
cinders rise into the air, the blood rushed to her
heart, and her senses became for a while
suspended.
With the first moment of returning animation,
the fair Christina beheld the black sybil standing
over her, muttering one of her incomprehensible
spells, in a low and sepulchral voice. “Is he safe,”
asked the maiden, fearfully.
“The wolf is again abroad, and let the innocent
lamb beware,” replied the Frizzled Head.
“What in the name of Heaven meanest thou,
by thy parable of the wolf and the lamb! Be
silent, or tell all thou knowest, I beseech thee,”
said the startled girl.
“The slave cannot witness against the master,
nor the colour I bear, testify against thine. I
have seen what I have seen—I know what I
know. Sleep out the rest of this night in the sleep
of innocence, for no one knows but it may be
the last.”
So saying, the mysterious monitor bade her
young mistress good night, and retired, leaving
poor Christina to muse with painful curiosity on
her dark and inscrutable oracles.
In the mean time, the Heer Piper had been
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apprised of the situation of the Long Finne,
who, as we have before stated, was taken up
insensible, after his fall from the window of the
prison. Though a testy, impatient little man,
the Heer was, at the bottom, neither ill-natured
nor malignant. He could not reflect on the imminent
danger to which his suspicions had exposed
the stranger youth, without a painful feeling of
remorse, or contemplate his present forlorn and
desolate condition, without compassion. Yielding
to his feelings, he directed that the Long
Finne should be brought to his palace, where
he was placed on a bed, and every means in
their power used for his recovery. It was for
some time doubtful whether the soul and the
body had not parted forever; but at length
the youth opened his eyes with a long-drawn
sigh, then shut them again for a few moments,
during which, nature seemed to struggle between
life and death. At length, however, the
desperate contest was over; the colour gradually
came back into his cheeks, and he seemed to
recognise the Heer, who had watched his revival
with no little solicitude.
The recovery of the Long Finne, who was
sorely bruised with his fall, was slow and
gradual, but it was at last completed, and he
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became a man again. Unwilling any longer
to trespass on the hospitality of the Heer, the
young man one day took an opportunity to
express his deep and indelible sense of the
obligations he owed to the Heer and his family,
his inability to repay them for the present,
his hope that providence would one day put it
in his power, and finally, his resolution to depart
on the morrow. The Long Finne had now
been an inmate of the palace, somewhat more
than a month, and during all that time experienced
unvarying kindness. It is one of
the most noble and delightful characteristics
of our nature, that whatever may be our first
motive for bestowing kindness on a fellow creature,
we cannot continue long to do so, without
in time coming to love the object of our benevolence.
Mankind, indeed, are prone to become
ungrateful for favours received, and to feel uneasy
at the sight of a benefactor; but the bestower
of benefits is never without his reward
in the complacency of his feelings, and the
approbation of his own heart. There is, too, a
social feeling in human nature, which is nurtured
by domestic intercourse, and which gradually
dissipates hasty and unfounded prejudices,
since it is hardly possible to live in the same
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house with a person whose manners are tolerably
conciliating, without feeling something of that
species of neighbourly good will, which, after
all, is the strongest cement of society.
It was so with the Heer Piper, who felt no
little complacency of spirit, when he looked
back upon the various claims his late kindness
had given him and his, on the gratitude of the
youth. When, therefore, he heard the proposition
for to-morrow's departure, it was with
something like a feeling of dissatisfaction.
“Why, hang it, Long Finne,” he exclaimed,
“I hope there is no ill-blood between us about
the affair of Mark Newby's halfpence—eh!”
“I were ungrateful if I remembered that,”
said the youth. “Thou hast buried it for ever
under the recollection of a thousand kindnesses.
I remember nothing, but that I owe my life,
worthless as it is, to you.”
“Well, well,” replied the Heer, “I will tell
thee what. Thou sayest thou art friendless,
and without money, and where wilt thou find
either one or the other, in this wilderness?”
“Alas! I know not,” replied the youth;
“but it is better to go forth in search of new
friends, than to tire our old ones.”
“Der teuful hole dich,” cried the fiery and
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puissant Heer; “who told thee thy old friends
were tired of thee? are my household negligent,
or do I treat thee with any more ceremony than
a kitten? 'Slife Master Long Finne, but that
the jail is unluckily burnt down, I'd clap thee
up again, for such a false suspicion, I would—
der teufel hole dich.”
“But I have not been used to live on charity,”
rejoined the youth.
“Charity!” furiously exclaimed the Heer.
“Charity! verflucht und verdamt! why, 'sdeath,
am not I Governor of this territory, and can't I
take a man into my palace out of my own free
will and pleasure, without being accused of
charity, and having the matter thrown into my
teeth, der teufel! Harkye, Long Finne, either
stay in my house till I can provide for thee, or
by the immortal glory of the great Gustavus,
I'll clap thee up between four stone walls, if I
build another jail on purpose.”
“Thou shalt not need,” replied the Long
Finne, smiling; “I will not run away from you.
Perhaps I may make myself useful, at least in
time of danger. I was once a soldier, and if
the savages should ever attempt the fort, I
may repay some of my obligations.”
“Very well,” quoth the Heer; “away with
-- 089 --
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thee; and harkye, if I hear any thing more about
that d—d charity, I'll set that mortal speechifier,
the Snow Ball, at thee, for I perceive thou art
more afraid of her confounded smoked tongue
than of der teufel.” As the Heer said this, he
looked round rather apprehensively, as if to see
whether the Snow Ball was not within hearing,
knowing full well that if he affronted her, she
would spoil his pepper-pot for him at supper.
The Long Finne bowed, and left the high
presence of the representative of majesty, and
from thence went to a place where he was
pretty certain of meeting the charming Christina,
who had ministered to his sick bed, like a
guardian sylph—Pshaw! like a gentle, compassionate,
sweet-souled woman! who is worth
all the sylphs that ever sung or flitted in the
vacuum of a poet's brain.
“Art thou going away to-morrow?” asked
Christina, with her blue eye cast to the earth.
“No,” replied the youth with a smile; “thy
father threatens me with building a new prison if I
talk of departing. I will stay, and at least
lose my liberty more pleasantly.”
That evening, the Long Finne and the gentle
Christina walked on the white sand beach,
that skirted the wide expansive river, over
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whose placid bosom, the south wind gently
sailed, and the moonbeams sprinkled a million
of little bright reflections, that danced on the
waves, as they broke in gentle murmurs on the
pebbly shore. Night, and silence, those tonguetied
witnesses of the lover's innocent endearments,
the seducer's accursed arts, the murderer's
noiseless step, the drunkard's reel, and the
houseless wretch's wanderings—night, and
silence, created that solitude, in which happy,
youthful lovers, see nothing but themselves,
and forget that they exist not alone in this
world. The almost noiseless monotony of the
waves, appearing, breaking, vanishing one after
another, like the evanescent generations of man;
the splash of the sturgeon, at long intervals,
jumping up, and falling back again into the
waters; these, other soothing sounds,
enticed them to wander far down the
shore, out of sight and out of hearing of the
village.
All at once they were startled at the voice of
the solitary, ill-boding Whipperwill, which
whistled its shrill cry, as if it were close to their
ears, although entirely invisible. “Whip-poor-will—
Whip-poor-will,” cried the bird of superstitious
fears; and that moment a voice was
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heard from the bank above them, exclaiming—
not, “O, yes! O, yes!” or “Hear ye! Hear ye!”
but singing the following wild, mysterious strain:
They sat all in a lonely grove;
Beneath the flowers were springing,
And many a bonny bird above,
His blithesome notes was singing.
With harmless innocence of look,
And eyes so sweetly smiling,
Her willing hand he gently took,
The first step to beguiling.
A kiss he begg'd—she gave a kiss,
While her cheek grew red and flushing;
For o'er her heart the tide of bliss,
With thrilling throb was rushing.
He's gone away, to come no more;
And she who late so smiling,
The blush of health and youth aye wore,
Now mourns her sad beguiling.
Her hope is cross'd, her health is lost,
For ever, and for ever;
While he, on distant billows toss'd,
Returns to her—no, never!
She wanders lonely to and fro,
Forsaken and forsaking;
And those who see her face of wo,
See that her heart is breaking.
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The voice and the figure were those of the
Frizzled Head, who possessed the musical talent,
so remarkable a characteristic of her African
race; and who, as she was seen by the moon-light,
standing half bent, leaning on her stick,
at the top of the bank, looked like an old witch,
if not something worse. As she finished this
long ditty, she cried out, in a sepulchral tone,
“Miss Christina, you're wanted at home; the
supper is ready, and the pepper-pot is getting
cold. The wolf is abroad, let the lamb beware.
I have seen what I have seen—I know what I
know.”
So saying, she mounted her stick, which we
are rather afraid was not a broomstick, and
capered off like an ostrich, half running, half
flying. The young couple returned to the
palace, and Christina remarked that the Long
Finne uttered not a word during the rest of the
walk.
-- --
CHAPTER V.
“Arthur O'Bower has broken his band,
And he comes roaring up the land;
King of Scots, with all his power,
Never can turn Sir Arthur O'Bower.”
[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]
The summer passed away, and autumn began
to hang out his many-coloured flag upon
the trees, that, smitten by the nightly
frosts, every morning exhibited less of the green,
and more of the gaudy hues that mark the
waning year in our western clime. The farmers
of Elsingburgh were out in their fields, bright
and early, gathering in the fruits of their spring
and summer's labours, or busily employed in
making their cider; while the urchins passed
their holydays in gathering nuts, to crack by the
winter's fire. The little quails began to whistle
their autumnal notes; the grasshopper, having
had his season of idle sport and chirping jollity,
began now to pay the penalty of his thoughtless
improvidence, and might be seen sunning himself,
at mid-day, in melancholy silence, as if
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anticipating the period when his short and merry
race would be run. Flocks of robins were
passing to the south, to seek a more genial
air; the sober cattle began to assume their
rough, wintry coat, and to put on that desperate
appearance of ennui, with which all nature
salutes the approach of winter. The little blue-bird
alone, the last to leave us, and the first to
return in the spring, sometimes poured out his
pensive note, as if bidding farewell to the nest
where it had reared its young, as is set forth
in the following verses, indicted by Master Lazarus
Birchem, erewhile flogger to the small fry
of Elsingburgh:—
Whene'er I miss the Blue-bird's chant,
By yon woodside, his favourite haunt,
I hie me melancholy home,
For I know the winter soon will come.
For he, when all the tuneful race
Have sought their wintry hiding place.
Lingers, and sings his notes awhile,
Though past is nature's cheering smile.
And when I hear the Blue-bird sing
His notes again, I hail the spring;
For by that harbinger I know,
The flowers and zephyrs soon will blow.
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Sweet bird! that lovest the haunts of men,
Right welcome to our woods again,
For thou dost ever with thee bring
The first glad news of coming spring.
All this while, the fair Christina and the tall
youth were left to take their own way; to wander,
to read, to sing, and to look unutterable
things, unobserved and unmolested, save by the
mysterious and incomprehensible warnings of
the black sybil of the Frizzled Head, who, whenever
she met them, was continually dinning in
their ears the eternal sing-song of “I have
seen what I have seen—I know what I know.”
At such interruptions, the eye of the Long
Finne would assume that fearful expression
which, we have before observed, had startled
the fair Christina, and which, now that she felt
a stronger interest in the youth, often occasioned
a vague sensation of horror, that caused her
many a sleepless night.
The situation of our little blue-eyed Finlander
became every day more painful and embarrassing.
The consciousness of her growing interest
in the Long Finne, the obscurity of his
character, the equivocal expression of his eye,
and the mysterious warnings of the Frizzled
Head, all combined to produce a sea of doubts
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and fears, on which her heart was tossed to and
fro. At times she would resolve to alter her
deportment towards the youth, and banish him
her father's house, by a harsh and contemptuous
indifference. But here love, in the form of pity,
interfered. Poor, friendless, and unknown,
where should he find a refuge, if banished
from the village? He would be forced to seek
the woods, herd with the bands of Indians, and
become himself the worst of savages, a white
one. At other times she determined to consult
aunt Edith. But that good lady, as we observed
before, had too much to attend to abroad, to
mind affairs at home; and was so smitten with
a desire to do good on a great scale, that her
sympathies could never contract themselves to
the little circle of the domestic fireside. Her
father next presented himself to her mind, as
her natural guardian and counsellor. But the
Heer, though he loved her better than pipe or
pepper-pot, was a testy, scolding little man;
apt to speak rather more than he thought, and
to threaten more than he would do. Hence
the tender apprehensive feelings of a delicate
girl, thus circumstanced, shrunk from the idea
of being perhaps roughly assailed in the cutset,
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although, in the end, she might meet with affectionate
sympathy.
The Heer, at this time, was sorely environed
with certain weighty cares of state, that perplexed
him exceedingly, and added not a little to
the irritability of his temper. He was engaged,
tooth and nail, in a controversy about boundaries,
with his neighbour William Penn, who, it
is well known, was a most redoubtable adversary
in matters of paper war. Two brooks, about
half a mile apart from each other, and having
nothing to distinguish them, caused great disputes,
with respect to the boundary line between
the territories of Coaquanock and Elsingburgh.
Trespasses, on either side, occasioned mutual
complaints, and though the Heer Piper fell into
a passion and swore, the other kept his temper,
and the possession of the territory in dispute
besides. In order to settle this affair, it was
proposed to send an envoy to Elsingburgh, on
the part of those of Coaquanock, and accordingly
he made his appearance, about this time,
at this renowned capital.
Shadrach Moneypenny, as he was called,
for Excellencies and Honourables did not fly
about like hail-stones, at that time, as now, was
a tall, upright, skin-and-bone figure, clothed
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from head to foot, in a suit of drab-coloured
broad-cloth; a large hat, the brim of which
was turned up behind, and without any appendage
that approached to finery, except a very
small pair of silver buckles to his high-quartered
shoes. Yet, with all this plainness, there
was a certain sly air of extreme care in the adjustment
of his garments, in accordance with
the most prim simplicity, that shrewdly indicated
friend Shadrach thought quite as much
of his appearance as others, who dressed more
gaudily to the eye. The Long Finne, who was
somewhat of a mischevious wag at times, affirmed
that the worthy envoy looked very much as if
he had gone through the same process of washing,
clear-starching and ironing, with his precise
band and rigid collar. Shadrach Moneypenny
rode a horse seventeen hands high, and proportionably
large and jolly in his other dimensions,
which afforded a perfect contrast to the leanness
of his rider; so that one likened them unto Pharoah's
dream, another to king Porus and his
elephant, and various were the jokes cracked
upon Shadrach and his big horse, as they entered
the village. It was with much ado that Lob
Dotterel could prevent the bad boys from
jeering the stranger, as they sat in the road,
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busily employed in making dirt pies, in joyful
anticipation of the coming of the Christmas
holydays.
The Governor received the envoy in full
council.—And here it occurs to us, that we have
not properly introduced these distinguished
persons to the reader, an omission which shall
be duly supplied, before we proceed one step
further in our history.
Wolfgang Langfanger, the pottee-baker, was
the greatest smoker, and of course the greatest
man in the village, except the representative of
majesty himself. He was, in time past, considered
among the most prosperous and thriving
persons in all the territories of New Swedeland,
being an excellent baker of stone pots, some of
which remain to this day in the houses of the
descendants of the ancient inhabitants, beautifully
lackered with green flowers, and bearing
the initials of W. L., which would doubtless
sorely puzzle future antiquaries, were it not for
this true history. What he earned, he saved;
and being manfully assisted by his spouse, within
doors, he gradually waxed wealthy, insomuch,
that he every year built either a new henhouse,
pig-sty, or the like, and whitewashed his
garden fence, in spring and fall. But from the
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period in which he arrived at the unexpected
honour of being of the King's council, his head
seemed turned topsy-turvy, and his good helpmate's,
inside out. Wolfgang fell into such a turmoil,
respecting the affairs of the great Gustavus,
who, at that time, was carrying the reformation
on the point of his sword into Germany, that he
never baked a good pot afterwards; while his
wife began to scorn whitewashing fences, and
ehurning infamous butter. The very next Sunday,
she took the field at church, dressed in a
gown of the same piece, and a cap of the same
fineness, with those of madam Edith, to the
great scandal of Dominie Kanttwell, and the utter
spoiling of aunt Edith's pious meditations for
that day. More than that, Wolfgang began
to frequent master Oldale's house, where he
talked politics, drank ale, smoked his pipe,
till the cows came home, and got the reputation
of a long-headed person that saw deep into futurity.
Sudden wealth and sudden honour ruineth
many an honest man. We have seen a prize
in the lottery, and an election to the dignity of
assessor or alderman, spoil some of the most
worthy tradesmen in the world. Thus was it
with Wolfgang Langfanger, who spent his
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money, and neglected his business, till at length he
had not a rix-dollar left, and his reputation, as a
pot-baker, was ruined for ever. At the time we
speak of, he lived, sometimes upon credit,
sometimes by his wits; the former he employed
in running up long scores with master
Oldale; the latter, in suggesting divers famous
schemes for the improvement of Elsingburg,
whereby the value of property would be trebled,
at least, and every soul suddenly become
rich: but of these anon. Still, the dignity of
his office supported him in the midst of his poverty;
for, even at that time, it was possible for a
great man to live sumptuously, and spend other
people's money, without its being considered as
any disparagement to his wonderful talents and
honesty.
The second member of his Majesty's council
was Othman Pfegel, who had some pretensions
to an old Swedish title of Baron, which lay dormant,
somewhere under the polar ice. He professed,
what was called, a sneaking kindness for
the fair Christina, and was highly in the favour
of the Governor, with whom he was very sociable,
insomuch that they would smoke for hours
together, without uttering a word. Truth, however,
our inflexible guide in this history, obliges
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us to confess, that the only overt act of love he
ever committed against the heart of the fair
Christina, was, always puffing the smoke of his
pipe towards that fair damsel, whenever she was
in the room, which was held a sure indication of
the course to which his inclinations pointed.
Othman was considered a most promising youth,
seeing that he had arrived at such a distinguished
honour at the early age of forty-eight; and
there were those who did not scruple to hint that
he might one day come to be Governor of Elsingburgh.
Othman and the Long Finne were sworn
enemies; the one, evincing his hostility, by comparing
his rival to a barn-door in a frosty morning,
which is always smoking; the other,
by taking no notice, whatever, of his rival, in
his presence, and making divers reflections upon
him, when absent.
The third member of the great council of
New Swedeland was Ludwig Varlett, a wild,
harem-scarem, jolly fellow, lazy as a Turk, idle
as a West India planter, and so generous, when
he had money, that he was often obliged to be
mean for the want of it. He held prudence,
economy, necessity, and the like, to be words of
Indian origin, and whenever any one used them
in his presence, would exclaim, “Eh! what?—
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[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]
pru—I don't understand it, it's Indian.” Counsellor
Varlett dealt liberally, in a great variety
of singular expletives and epithets, peculiar to
himself, and which were at every one's service.
But then he would consign people to the bitterest
punishments in this way, with such a good-humoured
eccentric vehemence, that nobody ever
thought of giving him credit for being in earnest,
or taking offence at his discourse. A
singular colloquy, which hath been accidentally
preserved, by a curious person of our
acquaintance, will, perhaps, throw more light
on the character of Counsellor Varlett's eloquence
than any general outlines we could give.
The goblin Cupid used to do various little
jobs and errands for master Ludwig, who was
in the habit of calling after him with, “here, you
d—d, idle, good-for-nothing rogue; you've nothing
to do; go catch my horse, yonder—you
bloody black snow ball.” Cupid, so far
from taking this in dudgeon, would acquiesce
with a mortal exhibition of white ivory, knowing
full well the Counsellor would pay him liberally,
whenever he got money. On some one
of these occasions, Ludwig had promised Cupid
a rix-dollar for doing a job, and, being a little
tardy in the performance, that likely fellow called
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one day to dun him, when the following dialogue
is said to have taken place: Ludwig's wife enters
and says—
“Cupid wants you.”
Ludwig. “What does the fellow want? curse
his picture, if he wants money, tell the rascal I'll
cane him.”
“He says you owe him a rix-dollar, for cutting
wood last winter.”
Ludwig. “I don't owe him a halfpenny, the
infernal lying son of a —. Show him in here,
and let's have a look at him; it's mighty likely
I've paid him already. Come in, sir. Are you
now ready to swear, and take your bible oath,
I did'nt pay you before? Not a d—d stiver
shall you have, till you prove I haven't paid you
at least twice already—you d—d gizzard-heel'd,
bumbo-shinn'd, cushion-ancle'd son—how much
do I owe you?”
Cupid, (smiling, he being used to such episodes.)—
“A rix-dollar, massa.”
Ludwig. “There, take it and be d—d, and I
wish I may go to the lowermost pit of—hem!
if this fellow isn't enough to ruin any man, I'll
tell you what, you infernal Snow Ball, if you
ever come here dunning me again, I'll make you
drink a gallon of brimstone, stirred with a
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lightning rod; I will, you bloody infernal cucumber-shinn'd
rascal.”
But with all this bad habit, Counsellor Ludwig
was, in the main, a good-natured man, who
took the world as it went; charitable to the poor,
whom he would relieve with a hearty malediction;
one, in fact, who would have deserved
great credit for his liberality, had it not been too
often exercised at the expense of his creditors.
He never looked beyond the present moment,
and was accustomed to anathematize Counsellor
Langfanger's schemes of improvement, which
were always founded on distant views of future
advantage. The consequence was, that the
latter got the reputation of a very long-headed
person, while honest Ludwig was stigmatized
as a short-sighted fellow.
When Shadrach Moneypenny appeared before
the council of New Swedeland, the first
offence he gave was omitting either to make
a bow, or pull off his hat, to the great annoyance
of Governor Piper; who was as great a stickler
for ceremony as the emperor of China, or the
secretary of state, in a republic, where all are
equal. The Heer fidgeted, first one way, then
another, made divers wry faces, and had not
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Shadrach been a privileged person, on the score of
his plenipotential functions, would have committed
him to the custody of Lob Dotterel, to be
dealt with contrary to law.
In the mean time, Shadrach stood bolt upright,
with his hands crossed before him, his
nose elevated towards the ceiling, and his eyes
shut. At length he snuffled out—
“Friend Piper, the spirit moveth me to say
unto thee, I am come from Coaquanock to commune
with thee on the subject of the disputes
among our people and thine, about certain
boundaries between our patent and the pretended
rights of thy master.”
“Friend Piper—pretended rights,” repeated
the Heer, muttering indignantly to himself.
“But harkye, Mr. Shadrach Mesheck and the
d—l, before we proceed to business, you must
be pleased to understand, that no man comes
into the presence of the representative of the
great Gustavus, the Bulwark of the Protestant
Religion, without pulling off his hat.”
“Friend Piper,” replied Shadrach, standing
in precisely the position we have described—
“Friend Piper, swear not at all. Verily, I do
not pull off my hat to any one, much less to the
representative of the man that calleth himself the
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great Gustavus, whom I conceive a wicked man
of blood, one who propagateth religion with the
sword of man instead of the word of Jehovah.”
“Verflucht und verdamt!” exclaimed the
Heer, in mortal dudgeon; “the great Gustavus,
the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith, a man of
blood! Der teufel hole dich! I swear, you
shall put off your hat, or depart, without holding
conference with us, with a flea in thine ear.”
“Swear not at all,” replied Shadrach, “friend
Piper. Again I say to thee, I will not pull off
my hat; and, if necessary, I will depart with a
flea in mine ear, as thou art pleased to express
thyself, rather than give up the tenets of our
faith.”
“Du galgen schivenkel,” quoth the Heer;
“does thy religion consist in thy hat, that thou
refusest to put it off? But whether it does or
not, I swear—
“Swear not at all,” cried the self-poised Shadrach.
“'Sblood! but I will swear, and so shall Ludwig
Varlett,” cried the Heer; whereupon Ludwig
hoisted the gates of his eloquence, and
poured forth such a torrent of expletives, that,
had not Shadrach been immoveable as his
hat, he had been utterly demolished. That
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invincible civil warrior, however, neither opened
his eyes nor altered his position, during all the
hot fire of Counsellor Varlett, but remained motionless,
except the twirling of his thumbs.
“Friend Piper, is it thy pleasure to hear what
I have got to say? The spirit moveth me”—
“The spirit may move thee to the d—l,” cried
Peter, “or the flesh shall do it, if you don't
pull off your hat, du ans dem land gejacter kerl.”
“Verily, I understand not thy jargon, friend
Peter,” rejoined Shadrach; “neither will I go
to him thou speakest of, at thine or any other
man's bidding. Wilt thou hear the proposals of
friend William Penn, or wilt thou not?”
“No, may I eat of the teufel's braden if I
hear another word from that ugly mouth of
thine, till you pull off your hat,” exclaimed the
choleric Heer, starting from his seat.
“Thou mayst eat what thou pleasest, friend
Piper,” rejoined the other; “and for my ugly
mouth, since it offends thee, I will depart to
whence I came.” So saying, he leisurely turned
himself round, and was proceeding on his way,
when the Heer Piper, to whose choler the dry
eloquence of Shadrach added fresh fuel, cried
out, “Stop!” in a voice of thunder.
The machinery of Shadrach, which had been
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put in motion for his departure, stopped, accordingly,
and he remained, standing in most rigid
perpendicularity, with his back to the Heer, and
his head turned over his shoulder, so as to meet
his eye.
“I am stopped, friend Piper,” quoth he.
The Heer Piper, hereupon, directed Lob
Dotterel, who was in attendance, as part of the
puissance of the Governor of Elsingburgh,
forthwith to procure him a hammer and a tenpenny
nail, an order which that excellent and
attentive officer obeyed with his usual alacrity.
“Art thou going to build thee an house, friend
Piper, that thou callest for nails and hammers?”
asked Shadrach.
“You shall see presently,” answered the Heer.
“Since your religion consists in wearing your
hat, I shall take care, you stick fast to the faith
by nailing your hat to your head, with this tenpenny
nail.
“Thou mayst do as thou pleasest, friend Piper,”
replied Shadrach, unmoved by the threat.
“We have endured worse than this, in the old
world, and are ready for sufferance in the new.
Even now, in you Eastern settlements, our
brethren are expelled from the poor refuges they
have sought, and chased, like beasts, from the
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haunts of the new-settled places, as if their blood
was the blood of wolves, their hands the claws
of tigers, and their feet the feet of the murderer.
Our faith grew up in stripes, imprisonment,
and sufferings, and behold, I am ready; smite—I
am ready. The savage who hath no God, endures
the tortures of fire, without shrinking, and
shall not I dare to suffer, whom he sustains?
Smite—I am ready.”
The Heer was now in the predicament, of
certain passionate people, who threaten, what,
when it comes to the point, they shrink from inflicting.
Besides that the law of nations made
the persons of envoys sacred, he could not
bring himself to commit violence upon one,
whose principles of non-resistance were so inflexible.
By way of coming off, therefore, with
a good grace, he and Ludwig Varlett, fell into a
great passion, and saluted Shadrach Moneypenny,
with a duet of expletives, which that worthy
plenipotentiary bore, for some time, with
his usual stoical indifference.
“Art thou ready, friend Piper,” exclaimed
he, taking advantage of the two singers being
out of breath.
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“Begone, and der teufel hole dich, and das
tonnerwetter schlage dich kreutzeveis in den
boden,” cried the Heer.
“I go, verily;” and the good Shadrach
marched leisurely out of the council chamber,
with his hands crossed over his breast, his eyes
turned upwards, neither looking to the right nor
to the left. Coming to the place where he had
left his horse, he untied him from the branch of
an apple-tree, mounted by the aid of a
friendly rock, and seated himself in the saddle;
whereupon, he smote him in the side with his
unarmed heel, and the horse, taking the hint,
trotted off for the territory of Coaquanock.
Thus was the negotiation between the powers
of Elsingburgh and Coaquanock, wrecked on a
point of etiquette, like that between England
and China, which happened in later times. The
obstinacy of Shadrach, in not pulling off his hat
to the Heer, and that of my Lord Amherst, in
refusing to prostrate himself ever so many times
before the elder brother of the moon, were both,
in all probability, followed by consequences
that affected millions of human beings, or will
affect them at some future period. This proves
the vast importance of etiquette, and we hope
our worthy statesmen at the capital will
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persevere in their praiseworthy attempts, to make
certain people, who don't know the importance
of these matters, sensible of the absolute necessity
of precedence being rigidly observed, in going
into dining rooms, and sitting down to dinner.
-- --
CHAPTER VI.
What! shall not people pay for being govern'd?
Is't not the secret of the politic
To pigeon cits, and make the rogues believe
'Tis for the public good? By'r Lady, sirs,
There shall not be a flea in an old rug,
Or bug in the most impenetrable hole
Of the bedstead, but shall pay
For the privilege of sucking Christian blood.
The Alderman; or, Beggars on Horseback.
[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]
Wolfgang Langfanger, the long-headed
member of the council of Elsingburgh, having,
as we stated before, brought his private affairs
into great confusion, by devoting too much of
his time to the public good, began, a year or two before
our history commences, to think it high time
the public good should repay some part of its
weighty obligations. He had accordingly invented,
and persuaded the Heer Piper to put
into practice, a system of internal improvement,
which has been imitated, from time to time,
in this country, ever since, with great success.
The essence of his plan consisted in running in
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debt for the present, and living afterwards upon
the anticipation of future wealth.
It happened, about the time we refer to, that
a schooner arrived from some part of New-England,
with a cargo of odd notions, commanded
by a certain adventurer, who designated himself
as follows, to wit:—
“Captain John Turner,
Master and owner
Of this cargo and schooner.”
The sage Langfanger hailed this event as furnishing
unquestionable augury that the town of
Elsingburgh was destined to monopolize the
commerce of all the dominions of his Swedish
Majesty in the new world, provided proper measures
were taken to improve its natural advantages.
He accordingly planned a great wharf,
for the accommodation of thirty or forty large
ships, with stores for goods, and every matter
requisite for carrying on a great trade.
Having provided for the external commerce
of Elsingburgh, Langfanger next turned his attention
to its internal trade, which consisted, as
yet, in the cargoes of a few bark canoes, in
which the Indians brought down muskrat and
bear skins, to barter for aqua vitœ. In order
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to accommodate these, he planned a canal, to
connect the Brandywine with the Delaware, by
a cut, that would shorten the distance at
least six miles. By this he boasted that the
whole trade of the interior would centre at Elsingburgh,
to the complete abandonment and
destruction of Coaquanock, which must necessarily
dwindle into utter insignificance. The
Heer was excessively tickled with the idea of
being so effectually revenged upon Shadrach
Moneypenny, and the rest of his old enemies,
the Quakers.
His next project was that of beautifying the
town, which, it must be confessed, was rather a
rigmarole sort of place, built at random, the
streets somewhat crooked, and the houses occasionally
protruding themselves before their
neighbours, in somewhat of an unmannerly
manner. Langfanger proposed to revise the
whole plan, widen many of the principal streets,
lay out several others upon a magnificent scale,
and pull down the houses that interfered with
the improvement of the city, as he soon began
to call the great town of Elsingburgh. The
Heer was rather startled at this project, considering
the expense of purchasing the houses to
be pulled down, and the probable opposition of
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the good people who inhabited them. But
Langfanger was never at a loss on these occasions.
He went forth among the villagers, with a
string of arguments, deductions, calculations, and
anticipations, enough to puzzle, if not convince,
much wiser heads than those which grew on the
shoulders of the simple inhabitants. Admitting
only that his premises were true, and that what
he predicted would certainly come to pass, and
there was no denying his conclusions. Accordingly,
the good people became assured that the
pulling down their houses, and cutting up their
gardens and fields into broad streets and avenues,
would, in no little time, make every soul of them
as rich as a Jew. It was curious to see the apple
trees cut down, the grass cut up, and the lots
carved into the most whimsical shapes, by Wolfgang's
improvements.
The beautiful grass-plots gave place to
dusty or muddy avenues, branching off in all
directions, and leading no where, insomuch, that
people could hardly find their way any where.
Houses, that had hitherto fronted the street, now
stood with their backs to it, or presented a
sharp corner; and the whole world was turned
topsy-turvy at Elsingburgh. But the genius of
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Counsellor Langfanger appeared to the greatest
advantage in respect to certain obstinate persons,
who did not choose to have their houses pulled
down over their heads, without being well paid
for it. Wolfgang settled matters with these, by
causing the houses to be valued at so much, and
the improvement of the property, in consequence
of pulling them down, as equivalent to the loss
of the houses. These unreasonable persons
were, by this equitable arrangement, turned out
of doors, and left to live very comfortably upon
the anticipation of a great rise in the value of
their estates.
Under the magnificent system of Counsellor
Wolfgang, the village of Elsingburgh grew and
flourished, by anticipation, beyond all former
example; although, since that time, many
similar wonders have been exhibited to the world.
But there are always drawbacks upon human
prosperity—an inside, and an outside, to every
thing. The mischief was, that these great
improvements cost a great deal of money, and
there was very little of it to be had at Elsingburgh.
Improvements brought debts, and
debts are as naturally followed by taxes, as a
cow is by her tail. It became necessary, at
least, to provide for the payment of the interest
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upon the debt contracted, in consequence of these
invaluable improvements, in order to keep up
the public credit, and enable Counsellor Langfanger
to carry on his schemes, and improve the
town, by running up a still heavier score. And
here we will take occasion to remark upon a
great singularity, which distinguishes the man
who lays out his own, from him who disburses
the public money. How careful is he, in the
first instance, to make the most of it, to turn
every penny to his advantage, and to weigh the
probable gains in employing it, before he parts
with a dollar! Whereas, on the contrary, when
he hath the management of the public funds, it is
astonishing how liberal he becomes; how his
generosity expands, and upon what questionable
schemes he will expend millions, that do not
belong to him. There is another peculiarity,
which ever accompanies the management of the
public wealth, which is, that let a man be ever
so honest before hand, or ever so desirous to
exhibit to the world a pure example of disinterestedness,
some of this money will stick to his
fingers in spite of his teeth, and bring his integrity
into question. This is doubtless the reason
why men are so unwilling to undertake these matters,
and that only the warmest patriotism will
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induce them to have any thing to do with the
public mony.
But, to return to our history. The worthy
Counsellor Langfanger, by direction of Governor
Piper, forthwith set about devising the ways
and means to keep up public credit, and go on
with the public improvements. Political economy,
or the art of picking the pockets of a community,
was not much understood at this time;
but genius supplies the want of precept and example.
Counsellor Langfanger devised, and
the Heer Piper adopted and enforced, a system
of taxation, more just and equally proportioned
than any ever before known. Nobody was
to be taxed above one per cent. on his property;
but then, the Heer reserved to himself to value
the said property agreeably to his discretion.
Accordingly, to make his revenues meet his improvements,
he was obliged to rate things at a
sort of imaginary prospective value, at least
three times greater than any body would give for
them. The good people of Elsingburgh were
highly astonished at finding themselves so rich,
and paid their taxes cheerfully, until the perpetual
drain upon their pockets, to pay for Counsellor
Langfanger's improvements, made it convenient
to sell some part of their property, when
they were utterly confounded to find themselves
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rich only according to the Heer Piper's tax
list.
But agreeably to the homely old saying, “In
for a penny, in for a pound.” Wolfgang assured
them that if they stopt short in their improvements
before they had got half through, all the money
hitherto expended would be utterly lost; but if
they only persevered to the end, they could not
possibly fail of reaping a glorious harvest. The
good folks scratched their heads, and paid their
taxes. In the mean time, the Heer and his
Counsellor every day discovered some new article
to tax, until at length it came to pass, that
every thing necessary to the existence of the
people of Elsingburgh, every thing that belonged
to them, to the very heads on their shoulders,
and the coats on their backs, was loaded
with imposts, to contribute to the great end of
public improvement. It will be only anticipating
the course of events a few years, to say,
that many of these projects of Counsellor Langfanger
never realized the advantages he predicted,
and of others that did, the profits were never
reaped by those who paid for them, since a
great portion of these were, in process of time,
compelled to sell their property by piecemeal,
to meet the perpetual exactions of the Heer Piper
and his long-headed Counsellor.
-- --
BOOK THIRD.
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-- --
CHAPTER I.
[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]
If we examine, aided by the light of history,
the course of human events, we shall find that
every thing moves in a perpetual circle. The
world turns round, and all things with it. Every
thing new is only the revival of something
forgotten; and what are called improvements,
discoveries, or inventions, are, for the most part,
little else than matters that have again come
uppermost, by the eternal revolutions of the
wheel of fate. Mutability may be said to constitute
the harmony of the universe, whose vast
and apparent changes and varieties are produced,
like those of music, by the same notes differently
arranged.
“It is an ill wind that blows nobody good,”
says the old proverb, and accordingly we find,
that causes which produce the misery of one
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being, bring about the happiness of another.
The tear of one eye is balanced by the smile of
another cheek; the agony of one heart, by the
transports of another, originating in the same
source. So, to extend our principle from individuals
to nations, the misfortunes of one contribute
to the prosperity of others; and, as the
circle of events is completed, these very nations
will be found to change their relations with each
other, the happy one being wretched, the miserable
one happy, in its turn. It is thus, too,
with the succeeding generations of man. The
struggles, violence, and crimes of a revolution
in one age, bring about a salutary reform of
abuses, of which many generations reap the
benefits in future times; and thus should every
suffering mortal, solace himself with the
comfortable assurance, that he is nothing more
than a martyr to the happiness of some unknown
being, who, in the course of events, will reap the
harvest in joy, of what hath been sown in tears.
The origin of moral evil, which is a problem
that has puzzled wiser heads than ours, is easily
and simply reconciled to the seeming contradictions
it involves, by means of this theory, which
will equally apply to man, and to all animated nature.
The sufferings of virtuous men, and the
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apparent prosperity of the wicked, furnish, perhaps,
the strongest internal support to that universal
belief in a future state, which is cherished,
with some little varieties, all over the world.
Thus, a principle essential to our faith, and, of
course, a source of infinite happiness, both here
and hereafter, a great good in fact, owes its origin
in some measure to the existence of what
might, otherwise, be considered a great evil.
Those, therefore, who take advantage of this
seeming disparity to impeach the justice, and
sometimes the very existence, of a superintending
providence, look at but one side of the
question, and decide from partial views. But
perhaps the reader may be superficial enough
not to perceive the connexion between these speculations,
and the position with which we set out:
we will therefore leave this matter for the present.
That all things move in a circle is, however,
particularly demonstrated in affairs of less consequence,
which revolve perpetually before our
eyes. It is denominated, by philosophers, action
and re-action; but it is only the revolutions of
the wheel of mutability. For instance, it has
been supposed, that bigotry and intolerance were
synonymous with ignorance and hypocrisy;
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yet we see the most virtuous and enlightened
monarchs, as well as the most learned and pious
preachers, sparing no pains to bring the world
back to a belief in dogmas and subtilties, supposed
to be peculiar to ages of barbarism and superstition.
No one doubts that the nineteenth century
is the most enlightened age the world ever
saw. Yet do we find the world, unless we mistake, is
in great danger of being brought, by a more
adroit appeal to its fears, or it may be to its reason,
to submit implicitly to old abuses under a
new name, with as much docility as in the tenth
century. For instance, the Inquisition, being
abolished in Spain, has revived in England under
a new name. The “Bridge-street Gang,”
as they are denominated, is nothing more than an
inquisition into men's consciences; and though
it cannot put the victims to the torture of the
rack or the boot, can put them to that of the
English law, and an English prison, which, in the
opinion of those who have had experience in
these delights, are no pitiful substitutes for the
discipline of a Spanish Inquisition. When a society
like that of Bridge-street is sanctioned by
courts of justice, in an interference with, and a
punishment of a man's opinions in matters of
faith, it is of little consequence whether you call
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it an Inquisition, or a society for the suppression
of vice and the punishment of blasphemy. The
Inquisitors of Spain punished the Protestants
with the rack, the Inquisitors of London punish
those who differ with them in opinion, with fine
and imprisonment. Whatever body of men interferes
with men's consciences, in this or that
manner, is an Inquisition to all intents and purposes.
Beyond doubt, many people who have not
paid proper attention to the absolute monotony
which characterizes the course of events in all
ages of the world, and which is produced by the
revolutions of our wheel, are of opinion that
those refinements in police, those schemes for
public improvement, and that noble system of
political economy by which nations and communities
are enabled to get over head and ears
in debt, are the productions of the present age.
But whoever compares the system of the Heer Piper,
and his long-headed Counsellor Wolfgang
Langfanger, with that commonly in operation at
this time in our cities and states, will at once perceive
it is nothing more than the same thing
brought up again in the revolutions of the great
wheel, the primum mobile of human events. In defailing
the various plans of Governor Piper, to
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make all the little bad boys good by means of
teaching them their A, B. C; in his attempts to
banish vice and poverty from Elsingburgh, by an
ingenious mode of encouraging idleness; and in
various other philanthropic schemes, which we
shall from time to time develop, it will appear
to demonstration, that he anticipated the
present age by at least a century and a half.
The evolutions of our wheel demonstrated their
inutility in a few years; but the lessons of experience
are ever forgotten when their effects
cease to be felt, and another turn of the world
brought these schemes uppermost again; whence
they will again fall, after having given their impulse
to the wheel, as the water falls out of the
buckets, runs away to put some other power
in motion, or is exhaled in clouds, whence it
falls in dews and showers, and once more replenishes
the brook that turns the wheel.
-- --
CHAPTER II.
It was reveal'd to Master Scruple Strong,
The pestilence last year did take its rise,
Not from foul air, but foul iniquities;
From wicked laughter in the public streets;
From teaching sinful parrots to swear oaths,
E'en on the Sabbath day, when church was in;
From wicked children spending all their pence
In luxuries of cakes and gingerbread;
But above all, from making sinful men,
That scorn'd fat bacon and Virginia hams,
Sheriffs, and such like dignitaries.
These loud crying sins did cause dry summers,
Make the sickness rage, and people die of fevers.
Balaam's Ass; or, the Lecturer
turned Hectorer.
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The Heer Piper, as we have seen in the preceding
details, was principally influenced, in his
political designs, by the advice of Counsellor
Langfanger; but he intrusted the administration
of his ecclesiastical affairs to Domine
Kanttwell, director of the consciences of the
good people of Elsingburgh. The Domine,
though a follower of Martin Luther, had little
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[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]
of the liberality of that illustrious reformer, being
somewhat intolerant in his principles, bigoted
in his doctrines, sour in his humour, and
a most bitter enemy to all sorts of innocent
sports, which he represented as the devil's toys,
with which that arch-enemy seduced people from
their allegiance to the church. He held all the
surplus earnings of the poor, as well as all laying
up for the future, to be little better than a
distrusting of Providence; taking every opportunity
to assure his flock, that it was their duty
to work hard all the week, shun all sorts of
amusements and indulgences, and devote all
they could earn to the good of the church, and
the comfort of the parson. He pledged himself,
if they would do this, they might be easy
as to the wants of the future, since, in case of
sickness, loss of crops, or any other accidents
of life, some miraculous interposition would never
fail to take place, by which their wants
would be supplied. Beans and bacon would
rain down from heaven, partridges would fly in
at their doors and windows, and all their wants
would be administered to, as a reward for their
generosity to the parson.
Domine Kanttwell was a great dealer in judgments
and miracles. The direct interposition
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of Providence was always visible to him, in
every little accident that happened in the village;
and while he preached that this world
was a mere state of probation, a furnace where
good men were tried by fire, and subjected to
every species of suffering, he took every other
opportunity of contradicting this doctrine, by
converting every little good or ill accident that
happened to his flock into a judgment or a miracle—
a reward for going to church, and honouring
the parson, or a punishment for neglecting
both. On one occasion, the only child of
a poor widow happened to be drowned in paddling
a boat on the river, on the Sabbath morning.
The Domine immediately visited the afflicted
parent, and comforted her with the assurance
of its being a judgment upon her for
not sending the boy to church. In the afternoon
he thundered forth from the pulpit, and
contrasted this unhappy catastrophe, or signal
judgment of Providence, with the miracle of
the poor man, who, notwithstanding he was
over head and ears in debt, with a family of
eight young children, had bestowed a part of
his earnings upon a fund for converting the Indians,
and was rewarded by a miraculous shot,
by which he killed a fat buck, a thing he had
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never done before in all his life. What was very
singular, however, and would have excited
some little suspicion, in any other case but that
of the Domine, he never gave any thing away
himself, or trusted to any of these miracles in
his own particular case, it being a maxim of his,
that to cause others to bestow their alms for
any object, was equivalent to giving them himself.
In short, he held the consoling and comfortable
doctrine, that he was perfectly justified
in indulging himself with the good things of
this life, provided he could only persuade the
poor of his flock to appropriate a portion of
their necessary comforts to the great objects he
had in view.
The principal of these objects was, to put a
stop to all sinful recreations, such as dancing,
singing wicked ballads about love and murder,
indulging in the abominations of puppet shows,
reading plays, poetry, and such heathen productions,
and, in short, all those relaxations
with which the cheerful and amiable feelings of
our nature are so immediately connected. Hushed
was the laugh, and mute the sprightly song,
when Domine Kanttwell went forth into the village;
and nothing was heard but the nasal twang
of voices bellowing forth volumes of burning wrath,
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and eternal fires, to those who dared to be happy, in
a moment of cessation from toil. These, together
with certain tracts, containing wonderful
accounts of conversions of young sinners of five
years old, denunciations of eternal punishment
upon wicked laughers, who dared to smile, even
while the bottomless pit was yawning to receive
them, together with pious exhortations to pay the
Domine well, and contribute to the conversion of
the Indians, were the only relaxations and amnsements
permitted in the village of Elsingburgh.
Aided by the influence of the Heer, the eloquence
of aunt Edith, and the activity of Lob
Dotterel, the merry little village of Elsingburgh
became a dull, torpid, dronish hive, where nothing
was thought of but the bottomless pit.
People neglected their labours to sing psalms,
and instead of paying their debts, gave their
money to the Domine, to convert the Indians,
trusting to a miracle for support in case of accident.
Lob intruded himself into every house,
in search of old ballads, and such like enormities,
which it was customary at that time to paste
upon the walls; and never rested, till he had succeeded,
either by persuasion, threats, or bribery,
in displacing these ancient memorials. These
were replaced by tracts, such as we have before
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specified, which were printed on large sheets, to
be pasted on the walls, in the room of the carnal
and wicked legends of ballad poetry.
In a little while, there was not one of these to
be seen, except in the shop of a heterodox cobbler,
whose walls were decked with a numerous collection
of old Swedish ballads, such as he had
heard in his youth; and which were connected,
and intertwined with all the delightful recollections
which throng around the thoughts of our
native home, when we have left it for ever.
These venerable old legends were his choicest
treasures, and constituted the source of his principal
delights. He sung them while at work in
his shop; and in the leisure of evenings sat at
his door, chanting his ditties in an agreeable
voice, that never failed to collect around him
a crowd of little urchins, and sometimes seduced
the hearers from an opposite house, where the
Domine and aunt Edith had instituted a society
for celebrating the horrors of the bottomless
pit.
These seductions of the old ballads were
highly resented, and Lob Dotterel was directed
to arm himself with a quantity of tracts, replenish
his paste pot, and attack the ballads, tooth
and nail. Crispin, who had some idea that
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nobody had a right to meddle with his ballads,
resisted the high constable, at first, with argument;
but finding that Lob was proceeding to
displace his favourite ditty, very discourteously
seized him round the waist, threw him out of
the window, and emptied the paste-pot upon
Master Dotterel's head. But this outrage of
the wicked cobbler, was speedily punished, by a
special judgment, according to the theory of
Domine Kanttwell; who wisely employed human
means, however, to bring it about. The
Domine used all his influence, as well as that
of the Heer Piper, and aunt Edith, to persuade
people their shoes would never prosper, if made,
or even mended, by the wicked, ballad-singing
cobbler. One, who persisted, notwithstanding, in
employing him, had a new pair of shoes, made
by poor Crispin, stolen from him, the very night
they were brought home, by some heaven-in-spired
rogue. The influence of the Domine,
and his coadjutors, aided by this judgment, did
not fail to bring another judgment on the cobbler,
who gradually lost his custom, and with it, all
heart to sing ballads. The judgment was
completed in a most singular manner, by the
destruction of his shop, ballads and all, by a fire;
which, as nobody could tell how it happened,
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was set down by the Domine, in his next Sunday's
sermon, for a special interposition of
providence.
The cobbler departed from the village, and
many years afterwards, was discovered in the
person of the wealthy Burgomaster, or alderman
Spangler of New-York, who had risen to wealth
and city honours, and loved old ballads as well
as ever. But this did not impeach Domine
Kanttwell's miracle, or diminish the confidence
of the people of the village, in the aptitude of
Providence to revenge any offence to that worthy
person. Honest Spangler, however, died at a
good old age, and directed the following epitaph
to be graven on his tomb stone, in proof that he
had preserved his respect for old ballads, to
the last:
“Here underneath this pair of stones,
Rest honest Wolvert Spangler's bones,
Who, in this city, prosper'd right well,
Spite of the d—l and Domine Kanttwell.
He with his latest Christian breath,
Bears testimony until death,
That he never knew since he was born'd,
An honest man that ballads scorn'd.”
Wolvert was the last person that maintained
the legitimacy of old ballads in the village of
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Elsingburg. From the time of the signal judgment
that followed his contumacy, the sound of
cheerful gayety, the merry laugh, and sprightly
dance were no more heard or seen; and even the
tinkling cow-bell, that homely music whose simplicity
so charmingly accords with rural scenes and
rural quiet, was banished, because the wicked
cows disturbed the Dominie by tinkling them on
Sabbath day.
The Dominie, and his zealous coadjutor aunt
Edith, rejoiced mightily in their work, and predicted
wonderful effects from the downfall of
wicked ballads, profane singing, and the tinkling
of the cow-bells. But it hath been shrewdly
observed, that the corruptions of human nature
are like those of the blood, that break
out into little pimples, which, though they disfigure
the face somewhat, produce no fatal results,
unless they are forcibly driven in, when they
are apt to occasion the most mortal diseases.
Physicians should be careful how they tamper
with the pimples; and reformers should beware,
lest, like unskilful tinkers, in stopping one hole,
they open half a dozen others. It was thus
with the result of Dominie Kanttwell's reformations.
The worthy folks of Elsingburg, being
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restrained in those little amusements and recreations,
which, as it were, sanctify those hours of
leisure, so dangerous to mankind in general,
unless some license of this kind is allowed them,
began to indulge in practices more fatal to the
repose of society, and the happiness of mankind,
than singing or dancing. The pimples disappeared
from the surface, but the humours struck
deeper within. The deep and dismal vices of
gloom and superstition came in the place of
cheerful amusements; and it was observed, that
more instances of overreaching in bargains,
more interruptions in social harmony, and more
lapses from chastity, took place in one year,
than formerly occurred in five. The ignorant
seemed to think they obtained a license for certain
worldly offences, by practising the outward
forms of piety, and giving money to the Dominie;
while the evil disposed made religion a
cloak for their hypocrisy.
But these were not the only consequences of this
system of coaxing the poor out of the surplus of
their little earnings, for pious purposes, and trusting
to miracles in time of need, backed by the proscription
of smiles and song. Instead of laying up
something for rainy days, and providing against
those ebbs of fortune which occur so
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frequently in the tide of human affairs, they parted
with these little nest-eggs, trusting to the
assurances of Dominie Kanttwell, that if the
worst came to the worst, they would be fed like
the prophet, even by the ravens. But when
these trying seasons came, when the mildew
spoiled the harvest, or sickness unnerved the
arm of the lusty tradesman, if often came to
pass, that the bitter effects of neglecting worldly
means fell heavily upon them. The partridge
did not fly in at the window, nor the unskilful
marksman always hit his deer. Poverty, the
inevitable consequence of relying on miracles
for relief, at least in these latter days, came to
be the portion of many.
To meet these visitations, the Dominie, with
the aid of aunt Edith, instituted a society for the
relief of these unfortunate people, thus suffering
for their faith in miracles. Those who chanced
to have preserved that little surplus, so essential
to the welfare of the labouring classes, were induced
to part with all, or a portion of it, and
thus to prepare themselves for becoming objects
of charity in turn, by placing their future wants
at the mercy of the rubs and accidents of
life. Those who found it more agreeable to
live without labour, at the expense of others,
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seeing they could now indulge their wishes,
without suffering the consequences of idleness,
gradually remitted their labours, both of earning
and saving. Thus recruits poured in on every
side; idleness increased; extravagance spread
abroad; and, in no long period of time, the
little industrious community of Elsingburgh,
where a beggar had hitherto never been seen,
became a nest of paupers. The busy Dominie,
together with his zealous assistant, then set
about instituting societies of other kinds, for the
relief of these growing miseries. But the more societies
they formed, the more beggary and
idleness increased. Counsellor Langfanger
was then consulted, as to the best remedy for
these crying evils; and accordingly, advised
a society for the encouragement of industry.
But this plan unluckily failed, owing to the extraordinary
fact, that so long as the other societies
offered relief without working, nobody
applied for employment, to the society for encouraging
industry. So easy is it to make people
worse, in trying to make them better!
-- --
CHAPTER III.
There was a madman, mad as a March hare could be,
And people swore that no man could madder be than he;
But the madman was resolved, even with them to be,
So he swore that all the world was mad, excepting only he.
[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]
Our youthful readers may perhaps be inclined
to suspect that we have forgotten our heroine,
and lost sight of the principal object of every
history of this kind, which ought always to be that
of throwing as many obstacles in the way of the
happiness of the lovers as possible. But the
suspicion is entirely groundless. The fair
Christina is not an object to be so easily overlooked;
and though we may occasionally turn aside
from her affairs, to graver matters of state, it is
only with a view of giving our lovers an opportunity
of enjoying, without interruption, those
innocent, and never-to-be-forgotten delights,
that accompany the early dawnings of affection;
and to which the aged always look back
as the happiest period of existence.
The blue-eyed maid, and the fair, tall youth,
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were left pretty much to themselves, during the
progress of the autumnal season, the Governor
and aunt Edith being both, as we have before
stated, busily employed, the one in public improvements,
the other reforming mankind. The
youthful pair sung, and read, and rambled
together; and every passing day added to the
strength of those ties, which were gradually
uniting their hearts for ever. Koningsmarke,
although his actions and looks expressed all
the feelings of a devoted attachment, never made
any explicit declaration on the subject, for both
seemed satisfied with the sweet consciousness of
mutual attachment. Christina had no rivals in
the village, and Othman Pfegel treated her with
a sort of pouting indifference, seldom intruding
on their lonely rambles, or disturbing their
domestic enjoyments.
But Christina was far from being happy.
She could not deceive herself with the hope,
that her affection would be sanctioned by her
father's approbation; and every new feeling
that developed itself in the progress of her affections,
served to convince her that a time would
come, when a more intimate union would be
necessary to her happiness. Besides this, certain
indefinable and vague suspicions, which,
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ever as she chased them from her mind, returned
again to haunt her lonely musings, gave her
many a heart-ach. These suspicions were
kept alive, by the sudden and unaccountable
changes in the expression of Koningsmarke's eye,
which occasionally indicated a wild ferocity, as
well as by the mysterious warnings of the
Snow Ball, who took every opportunity of
uttering most fearful oracles, that Christina
could not comprehend, but which excited vague
apprehensions.
She became gradually fond of solitude, and
often indulged herself in long and lonely walks,
usually following the course of the little stream,
whose windings led to the forests, which spread
their endless shades towards the west, the haunt
of Indians and their game.
These neighbouring Indians were, for the
most part, on friendly terms with the whites
at Elsingburgh; but occasionally, took little
miffs, and committed depredations on the cattle
and fields.
On the banks of this stream, about a mile, or
perhaps a mile and a half from the village, resided
a singular being; a white man, who came there
about fifteen years from the period of which
we are treating, and had ever since lived
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alone on that spot. His dwelling consisted of
dry sticks, supported on one side by an old log,
on the other by the earth, and covered over
with leaves. It was neither sufficiently high to
allow him to stand upright, nor long enough to
permit him to lie at full length. He possessed no
means for lighting or preserving fire, but, in the
coldest weather, contented himself with crawling
into his hut, stopping the mouth of it with leaves,
and remaining there till hunger drove him forth.
Yet he appeared to delight in this miserable mode
of existence, which no persuasion could induce
him to forsake, to join in participating in the
labours and enjoyments of social life. He enjoyed
perfect health, and never asked charity,
except when neither nuts nor apples could be
procured in the woods and orchards. Then he
would appear in the village, uttering certain
unintelligible sounds, which the people understood
as expressive of his wants, and relieved
him accordingly. For fifteen years this solitary
being had never been heard to speak a single
word that could be understood, either from a
natural dumbness, a derangement of mind, or a
wish to escape all questioning, as to who he was
or whence he came, two things that nobody ever
knew. He seemed, however, a harmless being,
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and when the people got a little used to him, he
ceased to excite either curiosity or apprehension.
Christina often walked that way, without
thinking of the hermit, or fearing any outrage;
although there had been rumours in the village,
that he was once or twice seen, about the full of
the moon, in a paroxysm of raving insanity.
One afternoon she stole away from Konings-marke,
to take a solitary walk along the brook-side,
and strolled as far as the hut, which happening
to be untenanted at that moment, she
sat down near to it on the bank of the stream.
It chanced that a little popular song of her own
country, which turns on a breach of constancy
on the part of a young woman, came over her
mind, and she was singing it to herself, when a
wild and horrible laugh alarmed her fears. She
started up, and looking round, beheld the Hermit,
coming towards her with the look and action
of a maniac.
“Ha! ha!” he exclaimed; “have I found
you at last, faithless, inconstant girl! Thou
art she—I know thee by thy song.”
Thus saying, he rushed towards the affrighted
maid, and attempted to drag her towards his
hut. Christina struggled, and begged him for
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God's sake to release her; but his violence only
increased with opposition. His eyes flashed
fire, he gnashed his teeth, and foamed at the
mouth in horrible ecstacy.
“O! for pity's sake—for the sake of Heaven,
my father, all those who have been kind to
you, let me go—I am not her you think; my name
is Christina.”
“False, deceitful woman,” cried the maniac;
“did I not hear the sing thee song—the very song!
do I not know thee by thy soft blue eye, thy
curling, flaxy hair, thy voice, thy very breath,
whose sweetness I once used to inhale? Thou
hast sought me, to laugh at my misery and triumph
in my wrongs. But come—come in,”
added he in a hurried tone—“come in; the bridal
bed is made; I have waited for you many
long wintry nights, when the wolves howled,
and thought you'd never come. In—in—we
shall be happy yet.”
So saying, he again attempted to force her
towards the door of his wretched hut. The
poor girl shrieked and struggled with all her
might, and the fury of the madman increased
with her resistance. He dragged her forcibly
along, and when she caught by the young trees,
to enable her to resist more effectually, cruelly
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bruised her tender hands, to force her to let go
her hold. Gradually her powers of resistance
gave way to a fainting, deadly languor. Again
she shrieked; and at that moment a man with a
gun darted from the woods towards them. The
maniac let go his hold, and, ere the stranger
could point his gun, darted forward, and seized
it with both hands. A mortal struggle ensued.
The maniac, with a desperate effort, snatched the
gun from the other; who, springing forward,
seized him round the waist, and forced him to
drop the weapon, in order to defend himself.
They fell, the stranger uppermost; but in the
act of falling, the maniac seized him by his ruff,
tore it off, grappled his neck with his long nails,
and, burying his teeth in his flesh, seemed to enjoy
the sucking of his blood. Koningsmarke,
for it was he, turned black in the face, and his eyes
became gradually almost shrouded in darkness,
when, with a convulsive effort, he placed his
knee on the breast of the maniac, drew himself
up on a sudden, and loosed his hold. Both
started up; but Koningsmarke had a moment's
advantage, which he employed in seizing the
gun and running a few steps from him. The
other followed.
“Stand off,” cried Koningsmarke. “Were
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I alone, I would give you a fair chance; but the
life and happiness of an angel is at stake.
Stand off—or—”
The maniac advanced—one—two steps. The
third was the step to eternity. The piece went
off with a true aim; he uttered a yelling laugh,
jumped into the air, and fell without sense or
motion. Koningsmarke, after satisfying himself
that all was over with the poor wretch, hastened
to Christina, who was lying insensible,
with her hair dishevelled, her garments torn, and
her cheeks as white as the pure and snowy bosom,
whose modest covering had been displaced
in the struggle. He called her his dear Christina;
he ran to the brook for water to sprinkle
her face; and kissed the drops as they rolled
down her pale cheeks. At length she opened
her eyes, gazed for a moment as if bewildered,
and shut them again. By degrees, however,
she recovered a recollection of her situation—
adjusted her dress, and essayed to express her
gratitude. But her voice failed her. She saw
the blood running from the neck of her deliverer,
wiped it away with her hair, and wistfully gazing
on the wound, cried out with an expression
of horrible and sudden despair—“The scar!
the scar!” Covering her face with both her
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hands, she groaned in the agony of conflicting
emotions, and throwing herself to the earth, was
relieved from distraction by a shower of
tears.
It was now evening—the youth raised her up,
placed her arm within his, and pressed it
tenderly to his heart. Christina shuddered,
and looked up in his face with an expression so
tender, yet so wretched, that had not his conscious
heart told him it was now impossible, he
would have asked her to be his for ever. They
walked home without uttering a word, and were
received with a very bad grace by the Heer, who
did not much like their walking so late by moonlight.
But when he heard the story of Christina's
deliverance from the blue-eyed maiden herself,
he wept over her like an infant, and, grasping
the Long Finne in his arms, blessed the
youth, and called him his dear son.
A long illness followed this adventure, on the
part of Christina, and when her health was
apparently restored, her innocent sprightliness,
her buoyant step, rosy cheek, laughing eye, and
all the bright hopes which youth delights to cherish,
seemed gone for ever. From this time
forward, the character and deportment of the
poor girl seemed to have undergone a great
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[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]
change. Violent bursts of gayety, followed by
instantaneous gloom and despondency; laughter
and tears; listless acquiescence, or obstinate
opposition to the wishes of all around her, bespoke
either an unsettled mind, or a heart torn
by contending feelings. It was believed that
the fright of her late adventure had unsettled
her nerves, and all the wise old women of the
village prescribed for her in vain.
But her deportment towards the Long Finne
was marked by the most sudden and extraordinary
inconsistencies. Sometimes she would
silently contemplate his face, till the tears gushed
from her eyes; and at others, when he came
suddenly into her presence, utter a scream of
agonized feeling, and flee from his presence with
a look of horror. She would sometimes consent
to take the arm of the youth, and walk along the
river side, and then, as if from a sudden and
irresistible impulse, snatch it away, and recoil
from him, as from the touch of a serpent. In
short, every passing day made it more and more
apparent, that she was struggling with powerful
and contending emotions, that obtained an alternate
mastery, and governed her actions for
the moment, with unlimited sway.
Koningsmarke, though he saw, and appeared
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[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]
to lament this change in her character, never
essayed to draw from her the cause. He seemed
deterred by a secret consciousness, that a full
explanation would do him at least no good, and
continued his attentions as usual.
Bombie of the Frizzled Head acted a conspicuous
part at this time, and became more incomprehensible
than ever. She seemed to know
the secret of all these wonders, but would tell
nothing of what she knew; contenting herself
with a more than usual quantity of mysterious
warnings, too well now understood by Christina
but incomprehensible to her father. The Heer
often cursed her in the bitterness of his perplexity,
exclaiming—“why dost thou not speak out,
thou execrable Snow Ball.” But Bombie only
shook her head, and replied as usual: “I have
seen what I have seen—I know what I know.”
One day as Koningsmarke had taken a solitary
walk, and was seated on the bank of the
stream, close by the hut of the solitary stranger,
reflecting painfully on matters that deeply concerned
himself, he was roused from his reverie
by the well-known voice of the Snow Ball, calling
out, “Koningsmarke!”
“I am here,” he replied.
“Thou art here, when thou shouldst be far
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away,” cried the Snow Ball. “Art thou not
satisfied with the mother's fate, that thou hungerest
for the ruin of the daughter's happiness?
Go thy ways, or I will tell what I have seen, and
what I know.”
“Who will believe thee?” replied the Long
Finne. “Thou art a slave, and canst not witness
against him that is free. I have been long
enough a wanderer, without a resting place; I
have found a home at last, and I will not go
hence. Tell what thou wilt; I care not.”
“Ay,” cried the sybil, “thou hast found a
home, at the price of misery to those who afford
thee a shelter; thou hast turned viper, and stung
him that warmed thee at his fire; thou hast
nestled thyself into an innocent bosom, to destroy
its repose, or corrupt its innocence, and
tortured the heart that would, ay, and will yet,
die for thee, if thou lingerest here. Depart, I
say, and let this one act towards the daughter
atone for thine acts to the mother.”
The Long Finne wrung his hands, and the
tears rolled down his cheeks, as he exclaimed,
“Woman! woman! whither shall I go? I
would remain here, where none but thou and—
know who I am, and atone for the past,
by devoting myself to the happiness of
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[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]
Christina and her father. This is my only chance;
for if I go hence an outcast, I shall become—
what I once was. The fate of mine immortal
soul turns upon this cast.”
“It is too late,” replied the other; “SHE
KNOWS IT NOW. Dost thou not see it in her
tears, her struggles, her pale cheek, and wild
and hollow eyes? It is too late; if thou stayest,
she dies—if thou goest speedily, she may
yet live. Hence, then, and never let her see
thee more.”
“Away, old raven,” answered the youth, resuming
his obduracy. “If SHE should rise
from the dead, and motion me with her fleshless
finger, to the north or the south, the east or the
west—nay, if I saw the hand of Fate pointing
to the destruction of myself and all around me,
I would stay.”
The sybil dropped her horn-headed cane,
raised her bent, decrepit figure, till she stood
upright as the tall pine, threw her hands and
eyes towards heaven, and cried out, in the bitterness
of her heart—
“Stay then—and may the curse of the wicked
come swiftly upon thee. May the sorrows
thou hast caused unto others recoil tenfold upon
thy blasted head. May the malediction of the
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[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]
father, who opened his house to thee, crush the
spoiler. May the forgiveness of her who will die
forgiving thee, be but the forerunner of thine
eternal condemnation to that fire which is never
quenched and never consumes.”
Again Bombie relapsed into her usual stooping
attitude, picked up her stick, and disappeared, leaving
the youth with a load of consciousness on his
heart, but with a determined purpose not to depart
from Elsingburgh.
-- --
CHAPTER IV.
“Cold and raw the north winds blow,
Bleak in the morning early;
All the hills are covered with snow,
And winter's now come fairly.”
[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]
Winter, with silver locks and sparkling
icicles, now gradually approached, under cover
of his northwest winds, his pelting storms, cold,
frosty mornings, and bitter, freezing nights.
And here we will take occasion to express our
obligations to the popular author of the
Pioneers, for the pleasure we have derived
from his happy delineations of the progress of
our seasons, and the successive changes which
mark their course. All that remember their
youthful days in the country, and look back
with tender, melancholy enjoyment, upon their
slippery gambols on the ice, their Christmas pies,
and nut-crackings by the cheerful fireside, will
read his pages with a gratified spirit, and thank
him heartily for having refreshed their memory,
with the half-effaced recollections of scenes and
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manners, labours and delights, which, in the
progress of time, and the changes which every
where mark his course, will in some future age,
perhaps, live only in the touches of his pen. If,
in the course of our history, we should chance
to dwell upon scenes somewhat similar to those
he describes, or to mark the varying tints of
our seasons, with a sameness of colouring, let us
not be stigmatized with borrowing from him,
since it is next to impossible to be true to nature,
without seeming to have his sketches in
our eye.
The holydays, those wintry blessings, which
cheer the heart of young and old, and give to
the gloomy depths of winter the life and spirit of
laughing, jolly spring, were now near at hand.
The chopping-knife gave token of goodly
minced pies, and the bustle of the kitchen afforded
shrewd indications of what was coming
by and by. The celebration of the new year,
it is well known, came originally from the northern
nations of Europe, who still keep up many of
the practices, amusements, and enjoyments,
known to their ancestors. The Heer Piper valued
himself upon being a genuine northern
man, and, consequently, held the winter holydays
in special favour and affection. In
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addition to this hereditary attachment to ancient
customs, it was shrewdly suspected, that his zeal
in celebrating these good old sports was not a
little quickened, in consequence of his mortal
antagonist, William Penn, having hinted, in the
course of their controversy, that the practice of
keeping holydays savoured not only of popery,
but paganism.
Before the Heer consented to sanction the
projects of Dominie Kanttwell for abolishing
sports and ballads, he stipulated for full liberty,
on the part of himself and his people of Elsingburgh,
to eat, drink, sing and frolic as much as
they liked, during the winter holydays. In
fact, the Dominie made no particular opposition
to this suspension of his blue-laws, being somewhat
addicted to good eating and drinking,
whenever the occasion justified; that is to say,
whenever such accidents came in his way.
It had long been the custom with Governor
Piper, to usher in the new year with a grand
supper, to which the Dominie, the members of
the council; and certain of the most respectable
Burghers, were always bidden. This year, he
determined to see the old year out, and the new
one in, as the phrase was, having just heard of
a great victory gained by the Bulwark of the
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Protestant Religion, the immortal Gustavus
Adolphus; which, though it happened nearly
four years before, had only now reached the village
of Elsingburgh. Accordingly, the Snow Ball
Bombie, was set to work in the cooking of a
mortal supper; which, agreeably to the taste
of West Indian epicures, she seasoned with such
enormous quantities of red pepper, that whoever
ate, was obliged to drink, to keep his mouth from
getting on fire, like unto a chimney.
Exactly at ten o'clock, the guests sat down
to the table, where they ate and drank to the
success of the Protestant cause, the glory of the
great Gustavus, the downfall of Popery and
the Quakers, with equal zeal and patriotism.
The instant the clock struck twelve, a round
was fired from the fort, and a vast and bottomless
bowl, supposed to be the identical one in
which the famous wise men of Gotham went to
sea, was brought in, filled to the utmost brim
with smoking punch. The memory of the departed
year, and the hopes of the future, was
then drank in a special bumper, after which
the ladies retired, and noise and fun became
the order of the night. The Heer told his great
story of having surprised and taken a whole
picquet-guard, under the great Gustavus; and
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each of the guests contributed his tale, taking
special care, however, not to outdo their host in
the marvellous, a thing which always put the
Governor out of humour.
Counsellor Langfanger talked wonderfully
about public improvements; Counsellor Varlett
sung, or rather roared, a hundred verses of a
song in praise of Rhenish wine; and Othman
Pfegel smoked and tippled, till he actually came
to a determination of bringing matters to a
crisis with the fair Christina the very next day.
Such are the wonder-working powers of hot
punch! As for the Dominie, he departed about
the dawn of day, in such a plight, that if it had
not been impossible, we should have suspected
him of being, as it were, a little overtaken with
the said punch. To one or two persons who
chanced to see him, he actually appeared to
stagger a little; but such was the stout faith of
the good Dominie's parishioners, that neither of
these worthy fellows would believe his own eyes
sufficiently to state these particulars.
A couple of hours sleep sufficed to disperse
the vapours of punch and pepper-pot; for heads
in those days were much harder than now, and
the Heer, as well as his roistering companions,
rose betimes to give and receive the compliments
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and good wishes of the season. The morning
was still, clear, and frosty. The sun shone with
the lustre, though not with the warmth of summer,
and his bright beams were reflected with
indescribable splendour, from the glassy, smooth
expanse of ice, that spread across, and up and
down the broad river, far as the eye could see.
The smoke of the village chimneys rose straight
into the air, looking like so many inverted
pyramids, spreading gradually broader, and
broader, until they melted away, and mixed
imperceptibly with ether. Scarce was the
sun above the horizon, when the village was
alive with rosy boys and girls, dressed in their
new suits, and going forth with such warm anticipations
of happiness, as time and experience
imperceptibly fritter away, into languid hopes,
or strengthening apprehensions. “Happy
New Year!” came from every mouth,
and every heart. Spiced beverages and lusty
cakes, were given away with liberal open hand;
every body was welcomed to every house; all
seemed to forget their little heart-burnings, and
disputes of yore—all seemed happy, and all were
so; and the Dominie, who always wore his coat
with four great pockets on new-year day, came
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home and emptied them seven times, of loads of
new-year cookies.
When the gay groups had finished their
rounds in the village, the ice in front was seen
all alive with the small fry of Elsingburgh,
gamboling and skating, sliding and tumbling, helter
skelter, and making the frost-bit ears of winter
glad with the sounds of mirth and revelry.
In one place was a group playing at hurley,
with crooked sticks, with which they sometimes
hit the ball, and sometimes each other's shins.
In another, a knot of sliders, following in a row,
so that if the foremost fell, the rest were sure to
tumble over him. A little farther might be
seen a few, that had the good fortune to possess
a pair of skates, luxuriating in that most
graceful of all exercises, and emulated by some
half a dozen little urchins, with smooth bones
fastened to their feet, in imitation of the others,
skating away with a gravity and perseverance
worthy of better implements. All was rout,
laughter, revelry and happiness; and that day
the icy mirror of the noble Delaware reflected
as light hearts as ever beat together in the new
world. At twelve o'clock, the jolly Heer, according
to his immemorial custom, went forth
from the edge of the river, distributing apples,
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and other dainties, together with handsfull of
wampum, which, rolling away on the ice in different
directions, occasioned innumerable contests
and squabbles among the fry, whose disputes,
tumbles, and occasional buffetings for the
prizes, were inimitably ludicrous upon the slippery
element. Among the most obstreperous
and mischievous of the crowd was that likely
fellow Cupid, who made more noise, and tripped
up more heels that day, than any half a
dozen of his cotemporaries. His voice could
be heard above all the rest, especially after the
arrival of the Heer, before whom he seemed
to think it his duty to exert himself, while
his unrestrained, extravagant laugh, exhibited
that singular hilarity of spirit which distinguishes
the deportment of the African slave
from the invariable gravity of the free redman
of the western world.
All day, and until after the sun had set, and the
shadows of night succeeded, the sports of the ice
continued, and the merry sounds rung far and
near, occasionally interrupted by those loud
noises, which sometimes shoot across the ice
like a rushing earthquake, and are occasioned
by its cracking, as the water rises or falls. All
at once, however, these bursts of noisy
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merriment ceased, and were succeeded by a hollow,
indistinct murmur, which gradually died
away, giving place to a single voice, calling, as
if from a distance, with a voice growing feebler
at every repetition, “Help! help! help!”
Presently it was rumoured, that a traveller,
coming down the river on the ice, had fallen
into what is called an air-hole, occasioned by
the tide, which was stronger at this spot, in consequence
of the jutting out of a low, rocky
point. In places of this sort, the ice does not
cease all at once, but becomes gradually thinner
and weaker towards the centre, where there
is an open, unfrozen space. The consequence
is, that if a person is so unfortunate as to fall
into one of these places, which are, in fact,
hardly distinguishable at night from the solid
ice, it is next to impossible to escape by his own
efforts, or to be relieved by those of others. As
fast as he raises himself upon the ice, it breaks
from under him, and every effort diminishes his
strength, without affording him relief. Thus
the poor wretch continues his hopeless struggles,
and becomes gradually weaker and weaker, until,
finally, his blood is chilled, his limbs become
inflexible, he loses his hold, and sinks to
rise no more.
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The same cause that forbids his relieving
himself, operates in preventing others; since, if
any one were to approach sufficiently near to
reach his hand, the ice would break under him,
and both would perish together. In this situation
was the poor man whose cries were now
heard, at intervals, growing weaker and weaker.
All the village was out, and many hardy
spirits, actuated by feelings of humanity, made
vain and desperate attempts to approach sufficiently
near to afford assistance. But although
several risked their lives, none succeeded; and
at length the conviction that his fate was inevitable,
was announced in a dismal groan from the
bystanders. At this moment the Long Finne
approached, with two boards upon his shoulder,
which he brought as near to the opening
as was safe to approach it on foot. Standing
exactly at this line, he threw one of the boards
upon the ice before him, and, dragging the other
after, proceeded cautiously along to the end.
Then he drew up the board which he had dragged
behind, and threw it before him, walking
steadily and cautiously on that, dragging the
other after him as before. In this manner,
while the bystanders watched in breathless silence,
he gradually approached the opening,
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encouraging the poor man to hold out, for
God's sake, a few moments longer.
At last he came near enough to throw him a
cord, which he had brought with him. The
perishing wretch caught it, and while Koningsmarke
held the other end, essayed to raise himself
out of the water by its assistance. But the effort
was beyond his strength, the ice again broke
under him, and he disappeared, as all thought,
forever. He arose, however, with a desperate
effort. “Tie the cord around your
waist,” cried the youth. “My fingers are
stiff with cold,” replied the other, “and if I let
go the ice to tie the cord, I am gone.” Koningsmarke
now crawled on his hand and knees,
on one of the boards, and pushing the other before
him, cautiously crept to the end of the
advanced board. He was near enough to
reach the hand of the drowing man, and to fasten
the cord about his arm. Then, receding
in the manner he had advanced, he threw the
other end of the cord to the people, who dragged
the poor wretch out of the water, with a shout
that announced the triumph of courage and
humanity.
During the whole of the scene we have just
described, the anxiety of Christina had been
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excited in the most painful manner. At first, the
situation of the poor perishing traveller monopolized
her feelings; but when it was told her, that
the Long Finne was risking his life for the stranger,
her apprehensions rose to agony; she wrung
her hands, and, unconscious of the presence of
any body, would exclaim, “he will be drowned,
he will be drowned!” The hollow voice of
the Frizzled Head answered, and said, “be
not afraid; the race of him for whose safety thou
fearest, is not destined to close here. He will
not perish by water.”
“What meanest thou!” exclaimed the apprehensive
girl.
“He will go upwards, not downwards, out of
the world,” replied the Frizzled Head, and glided
out of the room.
Now was heard the noise of many footsteps,
and many tongues, approaching, and Christina
summoned her fortitude to go down stairs, for
the purpose of offering her assistance, should
it be necessary. The body of the stranger,
now almost stiff and frozen, was brought in, laid
in a bed with warm blankets, and every means
taken to restore the waning circulation. Slowly,
these applications had the desired effect: the
stranger gradually recovered. He announced
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himself as from Coaquanock, and as being on
his way down to the Hoar Kills, having taken the
ice, as the best and most direct path thither,
The worthy Heer, whose generous feelings never
failed to conquer his antipathies, treated the
stranger with the greatest kindness, during his
progress to a perfect recovery; praised and caressed
the Long Finne, for his gallant presence
of mind; and finally observed, “I would give
twenty rix-dollars, if the galgen schivenkel had
been any thing save a Quaker.”
-- --
CHAPTER V.
“Bonny lass! bonny lass! will you be mine?
Thou shalt neither wash dishes, nor serve the wine;
But sit on a cushion, and sew up a seam,
And dine upon strawberries, sugar and cream.”
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Fortune, or fate, or call it what you will,
seemed to have ordained that the struggles of
the fair Christina, between filial piety and
youthful love, should be perpetually revived,
and become more painfully bitter by the conduct
of the Long Finne. He had saved her from
the violence of the maniac, and thus excited her
everlasting gratitude; and soon after, performed
an act of daring humanity, that called forth all
her admiration. Thus every effort she made to
drive him from her heart, was met by some
action of his, that only riveted him more
strongly there.
Gradually, during the long winter, she
withdrew herself as much as possible from
the society of the youth, and avoided all
private interviews, or solitary walks. She
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was one of those rare females, the rarest and
the most valuable of all the blessed race of
women, who never suffer the weakness of their
nerves, or the intensity of their feelings, to
interfere with filial, maternal, or domestic
duties. She was aware that this was little else
than the indulgence of an overwrought self-love,
and that employment in the discharge of one's
duties, is twice blessed—blessed in the happiness
it communicates to those within the sphere of
its influence, and blessed in the balm it administers
to our own sorrows. She became even more
unremitting than ever, in attending upon her
father, administering to his little infirmities, and
anticipating all his wants. She never willingly
subjected herself to the dangers of idleness, but
sought, on all occasions, to force her mind from
painful contemplation, by the performance of
her domestic duties. Still there were long hours
of the night, when she could not be busy, and
when, in silence and solitude, her woes clustered
around her like shadowy spirits, destroying the
blessed comfort of a quiet sleep, by awakening
recollections of the past unaccompanied by
pleasure, and anticipations of the future destitute
of hope. The paleness of her cheek, the languor
of her figure, and her eye, gradually became
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more and more apparent, until at last the good
Heer began to observe, and to be alarmed at
her looks.
In the mean time, the Long Finne passed
whole days in the woods, with his dog and gun,
either to relieve Christina from his presence, or
to hide his own feelings in the depths of the forest,
where the axe of the woodman, or the voice of
a civilized being, had never been heard. Sometimes
he crossed the river on the ice, and penetrated
into the pines, which reared their green
heads into the heavens, and presented, in their
dark foliage, a contrast to the white snow,
that, if possible, added to the wintry gloom.
At other times, he turned his steps westward,
where, save a little cultivated space about the village,
one vast and uninterrupted world of forest
tended, as it were, to the regions of the setting
sun. Here he roamed about, immersed in
thoughts as gloomy as the black wintry woods
over his head, and unconscious of his purpose,
until the whirring partridge, suddenly rising
and thundering among the branches, or the
sudden barking of his dog at a squirrel, or occasionally
at a bear, roused his attention. He
seldom or never brought home any game, and
numerous were the jests which the Heer cracked
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on his want of skill in the noble sports of hunting.
The Long Finne would often have been
lost in the woods, had it not been for his dog,
who, with unerring sagacity, always showed
him the way home.
One day, we believe it might have been towards
the latter end of February, Koningsmarke
set forth on his customary ramble, with his gun
on his shoulder, his tinder-box, flint, and steel,
the indispensable appendages of ramblers in those
pathless woods. He whistled, and called for his
dog, but the animal had been seduced away, in
the pure spirit of mischief, by that likely fellow,
Cupid. Koningsmarke, therefore, proceeded
without him, with a friendly caution from the
Heer, to look which way he went, not to wander
too far, and, with an arch wink, to be sure and
bring home a fat haunch of venison. The Long
Finne soon forgot the advice, and the joke, and
before noon, had wandered so far into the forest,
that he could see none of his usual landmarks,
nor any object which he recognised.
Towards one o'clock it became overcast, raw
and chilly, and every thing presaged a storm.
The Long Finne thought it high time to retrace
his steps; but without some path, or some guide,
to direct his course, a man in a great forest only
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walks in a circle. He heard that dreary, dismal
howl, which is caused by the wind rushing among
the leafless branches of the trees, gradually increase,
and swell, and sharpen, till it became a shrill
whistle that made his blood run cold. In a little
time the snow began to fall in almost imperceptible
particles, indicating not only intense
cold, but a long-continued and heavy fall. The
Long Finne had just made a discovery that he
had lost his way, and that if,he did not speedily
find it, the chances were ten to one, that he perished
that night in the snow. Now, though
he had, in the course of his day's ramble, twice
come to a resolution to put an end to his miserable
perplexities by shooting himself through
the head, he felt not a little startled at the dangers
of his present situation. There is a great
difference between a man dying of his own accord,
and dying because he cannot help it.
The one is an act of free will, whereas the other
smacks of coercion; and men no more like
to die, than Jack Falstaff did to give a reason,
upon compulsion.
The Long Finne, accordingly, tacitly agreed
with himself to postpone dying for the present,
and make use of the few remaining hours of
daylight to seek his way home. But in his
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perplexity, he wandered about in the labyrinths of
the forest until near dark, without recognising
any object that could assist in deciding where
he was. He hallooed, and fancied he heard
the barking of a dog, but when he approached
it nearer, it turned out to be the howling of a
wolf. At another time he heard, afar off, the
long echoes of a gun, but, in the depths of the
woods, could not distinguish the direction in
which it was fired.
The dusky shadows of night began to gather
around, and reminded the Long Finne, that if
darkness overtook him before he had prepared
some kind of shelter, he would never see the
morning. In looking about, he observed a
large pine tree that had been blown down, to
the roots of which was attached a quantity of
earth, which afforded some shelter in that quarter.
The snow had drifted against the windward
side of the fallen trunk, and, as frequently happens,
left a bare space on the leeward. By
scraping under the snow, he gathered a quantity
of dry leaves, with which he made a bed; and
contrived a sort of covering, by breaking off
the branches of the fallen pine, and laying them
with one end on the ground, the other resting on
the trunk of the tree. He then gathered a
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quantity of brush, dry wood, and leaves, with
which to keep fire during the night, for such
was the intensity of the cold, that without the
aid of artificial warmth, he must have inevitably
perished before morning. By the time these
preparations were finished it was quite dark; the
wind whistled louder and louder through the
leafless branches, that cracked in the onset, and
the storm every moment increased in violence.
In painful anxiety, the Long Finne prepared
his implements for striking fire, and collected
some of the driest leaves and sticks, for the
purpose of lighting them with his tinder. In his
eagerness to strike fire, the flint flew from his
benumbed hand, and he could not find it again
in the obscurity that surrounded him. He then
unscrewed the flint from his gun; but, just at the
instant the sparks had communicated to the
tinder, a sudden puff of wind blew it out of the
box, and scattered it in the air. A moment of
irresolution and despair, and he bethought
himself of one more chance for his life. He replaced
the flint in his gun, which he fired off
against the trunk of the fallen tree; the burning
wad fell upon the dry leaves placed there, and
by carefully blowing it with his mouth, a little
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flame was produced, which at length caught the
leaves, and relieved his breathless anxiety.
The Long Finne carefully placed the wood
over the leaves, until a blazing fire illuminated the
dismal gloom of the forest; and then proceeded to
collect a sufficient quantity of fuel to last the night.
The fire was kindled just at the mouth of his little
shelter, into which he crept with a determination
to watch through the night, and keep up his
fire, well knowing that if he fell asleep, and
suffered it to go out, he would probably never
wake again. But the fatigue he had gone
through during the day, the intense cold he had
endured, and the weakness occasioned by long
fasting, all combined to produce an irresistible
drowsiness, and long before morning he fell
asleep. How long he slept he knew not, but
when he revived to some degree of consciousness,
he was without the use of his limbs; the
fire was almost extinguished, and he was unable
to raise himself up, or move hand or foot. A
horrible apprehension came over him, and the
sudden impulse it communicated to the pulsation
of the heart, probably saved his life. By degrees
he was able to crawl to the fire, which he
raked together, and replenished with fuel;
and then, by violent exercise, restored the
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circulation of his blood. In a little while the day
broke, the clouds cleared away, and the sun rose
bright and clear. By the aid of this sure guide,
he was enabled to shape his course towards the
river, which having once gained, he could easily
find his way back to the village.
It being usual for the Long Finne to stay out
all day on his hunting excursions, his absence
excited no anxiety until it became dark. The
intense cold had gathered the good Heer and
his family close around a blazing hickory fire,
where, at first, they began to wonder what had
become of the youth. By degrees, as the evening
advanced, and the storm grew louder and
louder, their apprehensions became painful, and
each furnished a variety of suggestions, to account
for his non-appearance, none of which,
however, were satisfactory. As bed time drew
near, and he came not, the fair and gentle Christina
could no longer conceal those keen anxieties
which virtuous timidity had hitherto enabled
her to smother in the recesses of her heart. “He
will perish in the snow,” cried she in agony; and
she besought her father to alarm the village.
Accordingly, a party was collected, some carrying
lights, and others guns, to go into the woods
in search of the lost Koningsmarke. They
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hallooed and fired their guns to no purpose: no
answer was received, except from others of the
party; and about midnight they had all returned,
with a full conviction that the Long Finne had
already perished in the snow. The good Heer
shed tears at the thought of his melancholy fate;
but the eyes of his fair daughter were dry, while
her heart wept drops of blood.
She retired to her chamber, and gave vent to
her feelings in exclamations of despairing anguish.
“He has perished alone; he is buried
under the cold snows, and the wolves will devour
his dead corse!” “Better,” answered the
voice of the Frizzled Head—“better that he
should perish alone, than that others should die
for him! better that the wolves should devour
him, than that he should devour the innocent
lamb! Heaven is just.”
“But to perish thus!” exclaimed Christina,
wringing her hands.
“It may serve to expiate his crime,” answered
the Snow Ball. “Better to perish unseen in
the depths of the forest, than dangle in the air,
a spectacle for the multitude to scorn, and the
vultures to peck at!”
“It may be so—it may be so,” replied the
maiden, “but oh! righteous Providence, would
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that I had been spared this dreadful, dreadful
struggle!”
“Remember,” answered the Snow Ball, “remember
what he who saved thy life caused to
her who gave thee thy life: her spirit watches
thee.” So saying, she glided out of the room,
and poor Christina threw herself on the bed,
where she lay till morning, a prey to the most
bitter and conflicting emotions.
As the Long Finne was bending his weary course
towards the rising sun, he heard the barking of
a dog at a distance, which he answered by hallooing
aloud. Presently the barking came
nearer, and in a few minutes he saw his faithful
fox-hound speeding towards him. The poor
animal crawled at his feet, wagged his tail, and
whined his joy at seeing his master. He
then licked his hand, looked up wistfully in his
face, and proceeded onwards, every moment
turning back, as if to see whether his master
followed. Koningsmarke understood all this,
and proceeded on after him, until the sagacious
animal led him directly in a straight line to the
village.
A hundred shouts from the good people of
Elsingburgh hailed his return. The Heer Piper
fell on his neck and blessed him; while his
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pale daughter, after rushing half way into the
room, as if to welcome him, suddenly recoiled,
and fainted away. For the first time, did the
Heer begin to suspect the state of his daughter's
heart; for, although the mysterious hints of the
Snow Ball, together with some occasional sly
innuendoes of his long-headed counsellor, Wolfgang
Langfanger, had sometimes set him thinking
on the subject, he was always called off to
the more weighty affairs of state, before he could
come to any conclusion on the subject. But
the truth flashed upon his mind at once, and
his conviction was followed by the exclamation
of “der teufel.”
Now the Heer was a warm-hearted little man,
that came to his conclusions somewhat suddenly.
He liked the Long Finne, was accustomed to
his society, and, in looking around the village,
could see no one worthy the hand of his daughter,
or of being son-in-law to the Representative
of Majesty. After reflecting a moment on
these matters, he slapped his hand smartly on
his thigh, and pronounced, with an air of decision,
“It shall be so.”
“Long Finne,” quoth the Heer—“Long
Finne, dost thou love my daughter?”
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“She knows I do,” replied the youth, “more
than my life.”
“Christina, my daughter, my darling, come
hither,” said the Heer. Christina approached
her father, pale as a lily, and trembling like the
aspin leaf.
“Christina, art thou willing to be the wife
of this youth? Remember, he saved thee from
death, and worse perhaps than death.”
“And caused the death of—” muttered Bombie
to herself, indistinctly, and without being
noticed.
The poor girl struggled almost to dissolution;
the paleness of death came over her; she trembled,
and sunk on a chair, her head resting on
her heaving bosom. The Heer approached,
took her cold hand, and said, “Answer me, my
daughter; wilt thou be the wife of this youth?”
“I will,” replied she, gasping for breath.
“Then join your hands,” said the good
Heer, the tears starting from his eyes, “and receive
the blessing of a father.”
“And the curses of a mother!” exclaimed
Bombie of the Frizzled Head, as she hobbled
out of the room.
Christina snatched her hand from the eager
grasp of Koningsmarke, and rushed out of the
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Heer's presence, exclaiming in agony, “Oh,
God! direct me.”
“Der teufel hole that infernal black Snow
Ball,” cried the irritated Heer; “what means the
the old hag, Long Finne?”
“She means—she means—that I am—what I
pray God thou mayest never be,” answered the
youth, and staggered out of the room.
“Der teufel is in ye all, I think,” muttered the
Heer Piper, and proceeded to eat his breakfast,
out of humour with every body, and particularly
with himself. It will generally be found, that
a person in this state of mind, at length concentrates
his ill humour upon some particular object;
and accordingly
it happened that the Heer,
by tracing up effects to their causes, discovered
that all the mischiefs of the morning originated
in Cupid's having, as we before stated, enticed
away the Long Finne's dog. Whereupon, he ordered
him a sound flogging, at the hands of Lob
Dotterel. As the stripes of Boadicea whilome
produced a rising of the ancient Britons, so did
those of Cupid bring forth results which were
long afterwards felt by the good people of Elsingburg.
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BOOK FOURTH.
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CHAPTER I.
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As history receives a great portion of its dignity
and importance, not from the magnitude of
those events which it records, but from the rank
and consequence of the personages that figure
in the great drama of the world, so in like manner
doth every work of fiction depend upon the
same cause for its interest. Every word and
action of a legitimate monarch, for instance, is
matter of infinite moment, not only to the present
age, but to posterity; and it is consequently
carefully recorded in books of history.
If he take a ride, or go to church, it is considered,
especially the latter event, such a rarity
that nothing will do but it must be set down in
the chronicles.
Hence the vast advantages accruing to an
author from a discreet choice of his characters,
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whose actions, provided they are persons of a
proper rank, may be both vulgar and insignificant,
without either tiring or disgusting the
reader. The hero, provided he be right royal,
or even noble, may turn his palace into a brothel,
or commit the most paltry meannesses,
without losing his character; and the
heroine, if she be only of sufficient rank,
may, by virtue of her prerogative, swear like a
fisherwoman, without being thought in the least
vulgar. The most delicate and virtuous female,
properly imbued with a taste for the extempore
historical novel, does not mind being
introduced, by a popular author, into the company
of strumpets, pimps, and their dignified employers,
whose titles and patents of nobility give
them the privilege of doing things that would
disgrace the vulgar, who, poor souls, have no
way of becoming tolerably respectable, but by
conforming to the common decencies of life. So
also, a Duke of Buckingham, a Sir Charles Sedley,
or any other distinguished person, historically
witty, may be made by an author as
coarse, flat, and vulgar in his conversations, as the
said author himself, who puts the words into his
mouth, and, ten to one, the reader will think he is
banqueting on the quintessence of refined wit
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and humour. A Sheffield may be made to talk
about his titled mistresses to his valet, as if he
were the lowest bully of a brothel; and yet readers,
who would shrink with disgust from the latter,
will chance to admire the former, simply from the
difference between the rank of the two persons.
Not to multiply particular instances, we may lay
it down as a general rule, that the dignity of
actions, the refinement of morals, and the sharpness
of wit, is exactly in proportion to the rank
and quality of the characters to whom they appertain.
For the reasons above stated, we here take
special occasion to remind the reader, that most
of our principal characters are fully entitled, by
their rank and dignity, to the privilege of being
dull and vulgar, without forfeiting his respect or
admiration. The Heer Piper, though not actually
a king himself, is the representative of a
king. He also held, or at least claimed, sovereign
sway over a space of country as large at least as
Great Britain, and was as little subject to any
laws, except of his own making, as the most
mortal tyrant in Christendom. We see, therefore,
no particular reason why he may not be
allowed to swear, without being thought
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indecent, as well as Elizabeth, Harry the Fourth, or
any other swearing potentate on record.
We also claim the benefit of sublimity for
the effusions of Bombie of the Frizzled Head;
who, as before stated, was the wife and daughter
of an African monarch, superior in state and
dignity to any European legitimate; because
he could actually sell his subjects, whereas the
latter are only entitled to pick their pockets. If
it be objected that she is a slave, we would observe,
that this misfortune, this reverse of fate,
only renders her the more sublimely interesting,
as exhibiting in her person an awful example of
the uncertainty of all human grandeur. Kings
and queens have often been bought and sold;
and, as a king of Cyprus was once publicly
exhibited for sale in the market of Rome, so may
it possibly happen, before some of our readers
die, that others, of the race which has so long
domineered over mankind, may be made to
exhibit examples equally striking, of the mutability
of fortune. We caution our readers also
to bear in mind, that that likely fellow Cupid
has also a portion of the blood royal in his veins,
the effects of which, we trust, will be strikingly
exemplified in the course of this history.
If, after all, the reader should object that this
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is mere secondhand royalty, and be inclined to
pronounce the awful condemnation of vulgarity
upon us and our book, we here take this opportunity
to pledge ourselves, in the course of a few
succeeding chapters, to introduce some genuine
legitimate monarchs, full-blooded, and with
pedigrees equal to that of a Turkish horse, or
the renowned Eclipse himself, meaning not,
however, to detract either from the merits of
Mr. Van Ranst or his horse, by this latter
assertion.
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CHAPTER II.
“How like you my orations? All confess me
Above the three great orators of Rome,
Marcus, Tullius, and Cicero,
The greatest of them all.”
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Now the laughing, jolly spring began
sometimes to show her buxom face in the
bright morning; but ever and anon, meeting
the angry frown of winter, loath to resign his
rough sway over the wide realm of nature, she
would retire again into her southern bower,
Yet, though her visits were at first but short,
her very look seemed to exercise a magic
influence. The buds began slowly to expand
their close winter folds; the dark and melancholy
woods to assume an almost imperceptible
purple tint; and here and there a little chirping
blue-bird hopped about the orchards of
Elsingburgh. Strips of fresh green appeared
along the brooks, now released from their icy
fetters; and nests of little variegated flowers,
nameless, yet richly deserving a name, sprung
up in the sheltered recesses of the leafless woods.
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By and by, the shad, the harbinger at once of
spring and plenty, came up the river before the
mild southern breeze; the ruddy blossoms of
the peach-tree exhibited their gorgeous pageantry;
the little lambs appeared frisking and
gamboling about the sedate mother; young, innocent
calves began their first bleatings; the cackling
hen announced her daily feat, in the barnyard,
with clamorous astonishment; every day
added to the appearance of that active vegetable
and animal life, which nature presents in the progress
of the genial spring; and finally, the
flowers, the zephyrs, the warblers, and the
maidens' rosy cheeks, announced to the eye, the
ear, the senses, the fancy, and the heart, the
return, and the stay of the vernal year.
But the sprightly song, the harmony of
nature, the rural blessings, and the awakened
charms of spring, failed to bring back peace or
joy to the bosom of our blue-eyed maid. Every
heart seemed glad save hers; and the roses
grew every where but on the cheek of Christina.
Yet, however interested we may be for the
repose and happiness of that gentle girl, we
are compelled to lose sight of her for a while,
in order to attend to matters indispensable to the
progress of our history.
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At the period of which we are writing, the
whole of both banks of the Delaware, from
the Hoarkill, now Lewiston, to Elsingburgh,
was in a state of nature. The country had
been granted by different monarchs to different
persons, who had, from time to time, purchased
of the Indians large tracts of country, of which
but a very inconsiderable portion, just about
their forts, was cultivated. Above Elsingburgh,
was the settlement of Coaquanock, on
the same side of the Delaware; and higher up
was Chygoos, and the Falls settlement, where
Trenton now stands. Beyond this, establishments
had been formed, and small villages
built, at Elizabeth-Town, Bergen, Middletown,
Shrewsbury, Amboy, and perhaps a few other
places. With little exceptions, all the settlers
dwelt in villages for their security against the
Indians, having their farms scattered around,
which they cultivated with arms in their hands.
In the intermediate spaces, between these
distant settlements, resided various small tribes
of Indians, who sometimes maintained friendly
relations with their new neighbours, at others
committed depredations and murders. The
early settlers of this country were, perhaps, as
extraordinary a race of people as ever existed.
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Totally unwarlike in their habits, they ventured
upon a new world, and came, few in numbers,
fearlessly into the society and within the power
of a numerous race of savages. The virtuous
and illustrious William Penn, and his
followers, whose principles and practice were
those of non-resistance, and who held even
self-defence unlawful, trusted themselves to the
wilds, not with arms in their hands, to fight their
way among the wild Indians, but with the olive
branch, to interchange the peaceful relations of
social life. There was in these adventurers
generally, a degree of moral courage, faith,
perseverance, hardihood, and love of independence,
civil and religious, that enabled them to
do with the most limited means, what, with the
most ample, others have failed in achieving.
We cannot read their early history, and dwell
upon the patient endurance of labours and
dangers on the part of the men, of heroic faith
and constancy on that of the women, without
feeling our eyes moisten, our hearts expand
with affectionate admiration of these our noble
ancestors, who watered the young tree of liberty
with their tears, and secured to themselves
and their posterity the noblest of all privileges,
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that of worshipping God according to their
consciences, at the price of their blood.
The character of the Indian nations, which
inhabited these portions of the country, and indeed
that of all the various tribes of savages
in North America, was pretty uniform. Like
all ignorant people, they were very superstitious.
When the great comet appeared in 1680, a Sachem
was asked what he thought of its appearance.
“It signifies,” said he, “that we Indians
shall melt away, and this country be inhabited
by another people.” They had a great veneration
for their ancient burying-grounds; and
when any of their friends or relatives died at a
great distance, would bring his bones to be
interred in the ancient cemetery of the tribe.
Nothing, in after times, excited a deeper vengeance
against the white people, than their
ploughing up the ground where the bones of their
fathers had been deposited. When well treated,
they were kind and liberal to the strangers; but
were naturally reserved, apt to resent, to conceal
their resentment, and retain it a long time.
But their remembrance of benefits was equally
tenacious, and they never forgot the obligations
of hospitality.
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An old Indian used to visit the house of a
worthy farmer at Middletown in New-Jersey,
where he was always hospitably received and
kindly entertained. One day the wife of the
farmer observed the Indian to be more pensive
than usual, and to sigh heavily at intervals.
She inquired what was the matter, when he replied,
that he had something to tell her, which,
if it were known, would cost him his life. On
being further pressed, he disclosed a plot of the
Indians, who were that night to surprise the
village, and murder all the inhabitants. “I
never yet deceived thee,” cried the old man;
“tell thy husband, that he may tell his white
brothers; but let no one else know that I have
seen thee to day.” The husband collected
the men of the village to watch that night.
About twelve o'clock they heard the war-whoop;
but the Indians, perceiving them on their guard,
consented to a treaty of peace, which they never
afterwards violated.
Their ideas of justice were nearly confined
to the revenging of injuries; but an offender who
was taken in attempting to escape the punishment
of a crime, submitted to the will of his
tribe, without a murmur. On one occasion, a
chief named Tashyowican lost a sister by the
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small-pox, the introduction of which by the
whites was one great occasion of the hostility of
the Indians. “The Maneto of the white man has
killed my sister,” said he, “and I will go kill the
white man.” Accordingly, taking a friend with
him, they set upon and killed a settler of the name
of Huggins. On receiving information of this
outrage, the settlers demanded satisfaction of
the tribe to which Tashyowican belonged, threatening
severe retaliation if it were refused. The
Sachems despatched two Indians to take him,
dead or alive. On coming to his wigwam,
Tashyowican, suspecting their designs, asked if
they intended to kill him. They replied, “no—
but the Sachems have ordered you to die.”
“And what do you say, brothers?” replied he.
“We say you must die,” answered they. Tashyowican
then covered his eyes, and cried out
“kill me,” upon which they shot him through
the heart.
Previous to their intercourse with the whites,
they had few vices, as their state of society
furnished them with few temptations;
and these vices were counterbalanced by
many good, not to say great qualities. But, by
degrees, they afterwards became corrupted by
that universal curse of their race, spirituous
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liquors, the seductions of which the best and
greatest of them could not resist. It is this
which has caused their tribes to wither away,
leaving nothing behind but a name, which will
soon be forgotten, or, at best, but a miserable
remnant of degenerate beings, whose minds are
debased, and whose forms exhibit nothing of that
tall and stately majesty which once characterized
the monarchs of the forest.
But the most universal and remarkable trait
in the character of the red-men of North America,
was a gravity of deportment, almost approaching
to melancholy. It seemed as if they
had a presentiment of the fate which awaited them
in the increasing numbers of the white strangers;
and it is certain, that there were many
traditions and prophecies among them, which
seemed to indicate the final ruin and extinction
of their race. Their faces bore the expression
of habitual melancholy; and it was observed
that they never laughed or were gay, except
in their drunken feasts, which, however, generally
ended in outrage and bloodshed. The
little Christina always called them THE SAD
PEOPLE; and the phrase aptly expressed their
peculiar character.
It is little to be wondered at, if two races of
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men, so totally distinct in habits, manners, and
interests, and withal objects of mutual jealousy,
suspicion and fear, should be oftener enemies
than friends. Every little singularity observed
in the actions and deportment of each other,
accordingly gave rise to suspicion, often followed
by outrage; and every little robbery committed
on the property of either, was ascribed
to the other party, so that the history of their
early intercourse with each other, is little other
than a narrative of bickerings and bloodshed.
Thus they continued, until it finally happened
in the new, as it hath always happened in the
old world, that the “wise white-man” gained a final
ascendency, and transmitted it to his posterity.
About the period to which our history has
now brought us, there existed considerable misunderstanding
between the Heer Piper and the
neighbouring tribes. A mill had been built
near the mouth of the little river, which being
dammed across, the shad and herrings, which
formed the principal portion of their food at this
season, could no longer ascend the stream into
the interior of the country, where the Indians
came in the spring to fish. The Indians had
likewise drank up the liquor, expended the
powder, and worn out the watch-coats they had
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received for a large territory they had sold to
the Swedish government; and, as usual on such
occasions, began to be sick of their bargain.
The Sachems also complained that Dominie
Kanttwell had been tampering with some of
their people, and, in attempting to teach them
to be good christians, had only taught them to
drink rum, and made them bad Indians.
On the other hand, the Heer Piper charged
them with trespassing on the rights of his
Swedish Majesty, by hunting on the lands ceded
by them in fair purchase. He also hinted his
suspicions of a design on their part to
surprise the town of Elsingburgh, which
suspicion he founded upon some mysterious
hints of the Snow Ball, who of late had given
vent to certain inexplicable obscurities. Dominie
Kanttwell, too, was horribly out of humour, in
consequence of having been sorely puzzled in
argument, not long since, by a sly old Sachem
whom he attempted to convert to what he assured
him was the only true faith. The old
Sachem listened till he had done, it being their
custom never to interrupt any person in speaking,
and then replied with great gravity:—
“Brother, you say your religion is the only
true religion in the world. Good. I have been
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in Canada, and there they told me theirs was
the only true religion. Good. I have been at
Boston, where they assured me the religion of
the people of Canada was the religion of the
bad spirit, and that theirs was the only true
one. Good. I have been at the Manhattans,
where they called the white people of Boston
bad people, and said they had no religion. Good.
I have been at Coaquanock, among the Big
Hats, and they told me the religion of the Manhattans
was not the right sort. Good. I am
here, and you say, brother, ours is the only good
religion, and you must believe like me. Good.
But brother, which am I to believe? You say,
all of you, that the good book out of which you
preach is what you all take for your guide,
and that it is written by the Great Spirit himself,
yet you all differ among yourselves. Now,
brother, hear what I have got to say. As soon
as you shall agree among yourselves which is
the true religion, I shall think of joining you,
Good.”
To explain these apparent contradictions to
the capacity of a man of nature, was out of the
question. Indians cannot comprehend metaphysical
subtilties, and the religion calculated for a
state of society like theirs, must be composed
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of the most simple elements. However this may
be, the Dominie resented the obstinacy of the
old Sachem, and actually talked of converting
the savages with fire and sword. The Heer,
however, preferred calling a conference with
some of the Chiefs, who were accordingly summoned
to meet the Representative of the Swedish
Majesty, at a spot about four miles from Elsingburg,
on the bank of the little river to which
we have so often alluded in the course of this
history.
The place selected for this meeting was a little
flat in a curve of the river, which was here
about twenty yards wide, clothed with majestic
elms and sycamores, standing at various distances
from each other, and without any underwood.
The greensward extended to the edge of the
stream on one side, and on the other rose a lofty
barrier of rocks, clothed with gray mosses, and
laurel bushes, now just exhibiting their pale pink
blossoms. The precipice was crowned, at its
summit, with a primeval growth of lofty oaks
that waved their broad arms beyond the rocks,
and partly overshadowed the stream, which, a
little onward, wound between two high hills and
disappeared.
To this sequestered spot came the Heer Piper,
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accompanied by the Long Finne, Dominie
Kanttwell, the trusty Counsellors of Elsingburg,
together with divers men, women, and children,
drawn thither by curiosity, and whom the trusty
and indefatigable Lob Dotterel kept in order,
by dint of making more noise than all the rest.
Here, too, came ten or a dozen of the monarchs
of the new world, whose names and titles, translated
into English, equal those of the most lofty
and legitimate kings of the east. There came
the Big Buffalo, the Little Duck Legs, the Sharp
Faced Bear, the Walking Shadow, the Rolling
Thunder, the Iron Cloud, the Jumping Sturgeon,
the Belly Ach, and the Doctor, all legitimate
sovereigns, with copper rings in their noses,
blanket robes of state, and painted faces. These
were accompanied by a train of inferior chiefs
and warriors, who seated themselves in silence,
in a half circle, on one side of the little plain.
On the right of these sat the kings, their bodies
bent forward in a posture to listen, and their
blankets drawn closely around their shoulders,
which, when occasionally opened, disclosed the
deadly tomahawk and scalping knife.
On the opposite side, upon a little natural
platform, was placed a bench, or tribune, for
the Heer Piper and his suite. The Heer on this
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occasion was dressed in his uniform as a
Swedish officer, which he wore under the Great
Gustavus, and had on a sword, given him, as he
affirmed, by that Bulwark of the Protestant Faith,
as a reward for certain great services, which
Governor Piper declined to enumerate, except on
new-year's eve, and other remarkable epochs.
The Rolling Thunder produced a long pipe,
ornamented with died horse hair, porcupine's
quills variously coloured, and many enormous
devices. Having lighted it, he took a whiff or
two, handed it to the next, and thus it passed
completely round the circle, till both white-men
and red-men had partaken in the
solemn rite of peace. The Rolling Thunder
then bowed gracefully to the Heer, and waved
his hand in token that they were ready to hear
him. Governor Piper rose, and his speech was
from time to time translated by an interpreter.
“Delawares, Minks, Mingoes, Muskrats,
and Mud Turtles, listen!” said the Heer,
feeling all the dignity of his situation as the
representative of a king, addressing an assemblage
of kings.
“You have behaved badly of late; you have
sold lands, and taken them back again, after
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you had shot away your powder, emptied your
tobacco boxes, and drank your rum.
“Delawares, Minks, Mingoes, Muskrats
and Mud Turtles, listen!
“You grow worse every day, notwithstanding
the trouble we take to make you better;
you get drunk and fight each other with knives,
instead of embracing like brothers. This is
wicked, and the Great Spirit will punish you.
Before many moons are passed away, people
will ask what has become of the Delawares, the
Mingoes, and the rest of the red-men? and the
answer shall be, they have been consumed in
liquid fires.
“Delawares, Minks, Mingoes, Muskrats and
Mud Turtles, listen!
“You have refused to hear those whom I sent
amongst you, to teach you the worship of the
true Great Spirit, who is angry with you, and has
sent the small-pox to punish your obstinacy.
You have hunted on the white-man's ground,
and broke down the dam I caused to be built
across the river, that we might grind our corn,
and saw boards to build our houses. These are
some of the things I wished to talk to you about.
The Great Spirit, I tell you, is angry, and your
great father, across the big lake yonder, will
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take vengeance. Let me hear what you have
to say.”
The red kings heard this harangue in dead
silence, and waited a little while to see if the
Heer had done speaking. The Rolling Thunder
then rose, and, throwing back his blanket, so as to
bare his shoulder and red right arm, spoke as
follows, beginning in a low tone, and gradually
becoming more loud and animated:—
“Long Knife! The strong liquor was first
brought among us by the Dutch, who sold it to
us, and then told us we must not drink it; they
knew it was for our hurt, yet they tempted us to
buy it.
“Long Knife! The next people that came
among us was the English, who likewise sold us
strong liquors, which they blamed us afterwards
for drinking. The next that came were the
Swedes, your people, and they too sold us
strong drinks. All of you knew they were
hurtful to us, and that if you let us have them,
we would drink them, and become mad. We
drink, abuse one another, and throw each other
into the fire. Six score and ten of our people
have been killed by their own brothers, in these
mad fits of drinking. Who is to blame for
this?
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“Long Knife! You say, that after we have
made away with the price of our lands we come
there and hunt on them as if they were our
own. We sold you the land, and the trees upon
it, but we did not sell the fowls of the air, and
the beasts of the forest. These belong to those
who have courage and skill to catch them.
The Long Knives don't know how to hunt any
more than women. You say, too, that we have
destroyed the dam which you made across the
river to grind your corn. This spring, when
we were looking out for the fish to come up the
river as they used to do, none came, and our
women and children were near starving. We
came down to see what was the matter, and
found the fish could not get up your dam, so we
destroyed it. You tell us that men should do
as they would be done by. Why then did you
deprive us of fish, that you might grind your
corn?
“Long Knife! We have listened to the Dominie's
talks, and tried to understand them, but
we cannot. The Great Spirit has given the
red-men one mind, and the white-men another.
When you bargain with us for three beaver skins,
you will not take one for three; yet you want
us to believe that three Great Spirits make but
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one Great Spirit. We can't understand this.
Is that our fault?
“Long Knife! You say we grow worse and
worse every day, and that the Great Spirit will,
in his anger, sweep us from the face of the earth.
We know this, for already our numbers are
growing less and less every day. The white-man
is the fire which is lighted in the woods,
and burns up the leaves, and kills the tall trees
of the forest. We shall perish, or be driven before
it, till we come to where the sun sets in the
great salt lake of the West, and when we can
go no further, there will soon be an end of our
race. If such is the will of the Great Spirit, we
cannot help it; if it is not his will, you cannot
make it so.
“Long Knife! I have answered you: now,
hear me. You came here as strangers, but few
in number, and asked us for a little piece of land
for a garden—we gave it you. By and by,
you asked for more, and it was given. When we
were tired of giving, you purchased of us great
tracts of country for tobacco boxes and rum.
The tobacco boxes and rum are gone, and you
have the land. Is it any wonder that we
are angry at being made fools of, and wish to
have our lands back again? Every day the
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white-man comes, and pushes the Indian farther
and farther back into the woods, where there are
neither fish nor oysters to eat. Is it any wonder
that, when we are hungry, we fall into bad
humours and hate the white-men? The Dominie
tells us that you have a right to our country,
because we don't make fences, plough up the
ground, and grow rich and happy, like your people,
in their own country. If they were so happy
at home, I don't see why they came here.
“Long Knife! We would like to be friends
with you, but you are a bad people; you have
two faces, two hearts, and two tongues; you
tell us one thing, and you do another: a red-man
never lies, except when you have made him
drunk; what he says, he will do; he never crosses
his track. You came here as friends, but you
have been our worst enemies; you brought
us strong drink, small-pox and lies: go home
again, and take these all back with you. We
would, if possible, be as we once were, before
you came amongst us. Go! leave us to our
woods, our waters, our ancient customs, and our
ancient gods. If the Great Spirit wishes us to
plough the land, sell rum, and become Christians,
he can do it. But the means you take will
only bring these things about, when there
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will be nothing left of the red-men but their
name, and their graves.”
When the Rolling Thunder ceased, Dominie
Kanttwell arose and made a speech, which,
however zealous and well meant, only served to
exasperate the red kings. He treated their ancient
belief with scorn; insulted their feelings
of national pride; scoffed at their modes of
thinking and acting; and drew a mortifying
contrast betwixt the ignorant barbarian roaming
the woods, and the white-man enjoying the
comfort and security of civilized life. The surrounding
Indians began to murmur; then to
gnash their teeth, and finally many of them,
starting up, seized their tomakawks, and uttered
the war-whoop. The Heer and his party were
now in imminent danger of falling victims to the
fury of the moment. But the Rolling Thunder
arose, and, waving his hand for silence, spoke as
follows:—
“Red-men!—hear me! The Long Knives
came here in peace, so let them depart. Let
us not imitate their treachery, by taking advantage
of their confidence to destroy them. Behold!
I here extinguish the pipe of peace; I
break the belt of wampum, that was the symbol
of our being friends, and dig up the buried
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tomahawk. We are friends no more. Long
Knife, go hence in peace to day, but to-morrow
count the red-men thy mortal foes. Before
another moon is past, look to see me again.”
He then bared his arm, and, drawing his knife,
stuck it into the fleshy part. The blood spouted
forth, as he exclaimed, “For every drop that
now falls to the ground there shall be counted
one, two, three, ay, four victims, from the nest
of the serpent.”
The red kings then slowly moved off, followed
by their people, who gradually disappeared,
yelling the war-whoop, and chanting
bloody songs, till at length their voices died
away in the recesses of the forest. The alarmed
and irritated Heer muttered to himself “Verflucht
und verdamt sey deine schwarze seele,”
and, together with his train, returned gloomy
and dissatisfied to his village of Elsingburgh.
-- --
CHAPTER III.
The spit that stood behind the door,
Threw the pudding-stick down on the floor;
Odsplut! says the gridiron, can't you agree?
I'm THE HEAD CONSTABLE, bring 'em to me.”
[figure description] Page 211.[end figure description]
Like the old war-horse, when he snuffs the
scent of war, and hears the shrill fife, the braying
trumpet, and the thrilling drum, the Heer Piper
now felt the spirit of the ancient follower of the
great Gustavus reviving within him, even as
the snuff of an expiring lamp or candle; the latter
being rather the most savoury comparison.
He inspected his palisades, scoured his pattereroes,
victualled his garrison, and exercised
the villagers in practising the deadly rifle.
Every day he invested himself in his cocked hat,
invincible sword, and tarnished regimentals,
and strutted about with a countenance so full of
undaunted valour, that the very women and
little children slept soundly every night, save
when a troop of howling wolves approached the
village under cover of darkness, and waked them
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with the apprehension of an attack of the Indians,
led on by the Rolling Thunder himself,
whose very name was enough to alarm a whole
regiment of militia.
One of the most provoking things which
mortal man encounters in this spiteful world, is
that of taking a vast deal of trouble to provide
against a danger which never arrives. Yet
nothing is more common than to see people
laying up treasures they never live to enjoy;
providing against exigencies that never happen;
and sacrificing present ease, pleasure, and enjoyment,
only to guard against the wants of a
period that they never live to see.
It would almost seem that fate delights to
mortify the pride of human wisdom, by exhibiting
daily examples, how often the most watchful
prudence is either idly employed in guarding
against evils that never come, or in vainly attempting
to evade the consequences of those that do;
while, on the other hand, the most daring disregard
to calculations of the future is often coupled with
the most prosperous success. We would give that
world of fancy, which is the only world to which
we heroes of the quill can lay any positive claim,
to be able to decide the question betwixt the
relative prospects of a person of extraordinary
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prudence, and no prudence at all. Possibly,
however, the course of our history may throw
some light upon this matter.
More than a fortnight elapsed, amid the din of
preparation, and the vigilance of watchful alarm,
without any appearance of the Rolling Thunder
and his painted warriors. Every day the Heer
talked and strutted more loftily than the day
before, and boasted more confidently of the
sound drubbing he would give these galgen
schievenkels, if they dared to attack his fortress
of Elsingburgh. But, alas! that man should
always be passing from one extreme to another,
from the fearfulness of apprehension, to the foolhardihood
of unbounded carelessness. Finding
the Indians did not come as soon as he expected
them, the good Heer at length persuaded himself
they would not come at all, though he ought to
have known that the race of the red-men never forget
either a benefit or an injury. He accordingly
remitted his vigilance by degrees, and put his
fortress upon the peace establishment, in spite of
the singular and mysterious warnings of the
Frizzled Head. That declamatory oddity was
now more vehement in her incomprehensible
denunciations, never meeting the Heer without
uttering some dismal raven's note.
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“Sleep on, till thou wakest no more,” cried
she; “dream till thy dreamings end in waking
woes; and believe that what is not will never
be.”
“What meanest thou, thou eternal mill-clapper?”
would the Heer reply; “away with thee,
and either speak what thou knowest, or hold thy
tongue. What knowest thou? der teufel hole
dich.”
“I know what I know—I could tell what I
will not tell—I could save those I love, at the
risk of losing those that I love still better.”
“Confound thee for a muddle-pated, crackbrained
Snow Ball,” quoth the Heer; while Bombie
of the Frizzled Head would go in search of
that likely fellow Cupid, her grandson, who every
day became more moody and ungovernable, and
now spent more than half his time wandering about
with his dog in the woods. These two were observed
to have frequent conferences together, in
which Bombie sometimes seemed greatly agitated;
but the subject of their discussions was not
known, as they excited little interest.
Whitsuntide came, and with it a hundred rural
sports, and sprightly merry-makings. The buxom
lasses, with gayest gear, and cheeks redder
than the rose, accompanied by many a
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rustical and barbarous Corydon, hied forth to the
woods, in search of Pinckster apples, or to play
at hide-and-seek among the blossoms. The boys,
and lads who were yet too young to think of
sweethearts, were gathered together in a large
level common, just without the village, pursuing
such various sports as inclination led them to
prefer. In one place, a party of lusty lads were
playing at ball, having for audience some half
a dozen black fellows, who applauded with obstreperous
admiration any capital stroke or feat
in running. Elsewhere, a party not quite old
enough to be admitted among the others, were
amusing themselves in pairs, by striking their
respective balls from one to the other. A third
set were shooting marbles; a fourth firing little
lead cannons; a fifth setting off ascotches, as they
are 'yclept in boyish parlance; a sixth was playing
at chuck-farthing, with old buttons without
eyes; a seventh rolling in the dirt; and an eighth,
making dirt pies. In short, there was no end to
the diversity of sports; it was holyday, and all
were happy as noise and freedom could make
them.
The only drawback upon the pleasures of
these merry and noisy wights, was the presence
of that busybody Lob Dotterel, the high
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constable of Elsingburgh, who never saw a knot of
people, great or small, making merry together,
that he was not in the thickest of them, making
mischief and raising sport, by what he was
pleased to denominate keeping the peace. We
should have mentioned before, that among the
plans adopted by the Heer and his trusty counsellors
for improving the police of Elsingburgh,
was that of passing laws for the prevention of
various amusements, which children have practised
from time immemorial, and which are as
much their right, as any of the immunities which
men enjoy under the common law. If Lob
Dotterel, who was always on the look-out,
brought information that a horse had thrown
his rider in consequence of being frightened by
a paper kite, a law was forthwith enacted to
forbid that dangerous and unlawful practice;
if an old woman chanced to have her petticoat
singed by the explosion of an ascotch, an ordinance
was straightway fulminated against these
pestilent fireworks; and so on till the urchins of
the village were gradually so hemmed in by laws,
that, if they had paid any attention to these enactments,
the little rogues would hardly have had an
amusement or a play that was not unlawful.
Like many modern legislators of the present
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time, a single fact was sufficient ground for
passing half a dozen great wordy laws, which,
after all, nobody obeyed. These, for the most
part, lay dormant, like a great spider in the
recesses of his web, until the zeal of some
Lob Dotterel would sally out upon some little
buzzing fly of a boy, who had chanced to get
entangled in their mazes.
It was amazing to see the bustling activity of
Lob, on this occasion of the sports of Whitsuntide.
If two little fellows happened to fall out
in playing at marbles, or chuck-farthing, and
proceeded to settle the dispute, by an appeal to
the law of nature; or if a hubbub was raised in
any part of the field, that indefatigable officer
dashed in among them; and wherever he came,
there was an awful silence, till he was called
to some other quarter, to quell another riot,
when his departure was announced by a renewal
of the fight and noise. Never was poor man
in such a worry; and never did poor man get
so little for his pains, as Lob Dotterel,
who might be said to be in the predicament
of certain great conquerors, or rather, of certain
legitimate monarchs, of the present day, who,
the moment they have quelled an insurrection
in one part of their territories, are straightway
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called to another for the like purpose. Various
were the tricks put upon the High Constable.
At one time, they pinned a dishclout to
the bottom of his coat, with which he marched
about for a time, unknowing of this appendage
to his dignity; at another, they exploded an
ascotch under his tail; and at a third, they
pelted him behind his back with a shower of
dirt and missiles of various kinds. It was in
vain that he turned round to punish the delinquent,
for at the instant, the fry dispersed
like a flock of birds, and others attacked his
rear with some new annoyance. Never man
in authority was so baited and worried in the
exercise of his office as Lob Dotterel, who
finally quitted the field, disgusted with official
dignity, leaving the small fry of Elsingburgh
to play at ball, shoot marbles, fly kites,
chuck farthings, roll in the dirt, and fight
rough and tumble, uninterrupted, all day long.
Towards sunset, the Heer, who had a certain
mellowness about him that caused his heart to
curvet and caper at the sight of human
happiness, came out with honest Ludwig Varlett,
who sympathised in such sports as these, to
renovate his age with a sight of the lusty gambols.
While thus employed, he was assailed by
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[figure description] Page 219.[end figure description]
the Frizzled Head, who hovered near him, and
poured forth a more than usual quantity of incomprehensibilities.
Sometimes she addressed
the Heer, and at others, turning towards the
sportive groups, she would apostrophize them in
seeming abstraction.
“Yes,” muttered she, “yes, sport away, ye
grasshoppers, that die dancing and singing! The
cricket chirps in the hearth when the house is on
fire; the insect sports in the noonday sun, and
dreams not of the coming midnight frost that
lays him stiff and cold.”
Then, turning to the Governor, she would exclaim,
with earnest energy—
“Heer! Heer!—Thou seest the sun going
down yonder in the west; take heed lest you never
see it rise again. Remember that danger
comes like a thief in the night, and that the perils
of sleep are greater than those of waking.
To-morrow—who knows which of us shall see
to-morrow?—to-morrow we may be, like yesterday,
a portion of eternity. Remember, and despise
not thy last warning!”
The sun went down; the chilly dews damped
the grass and the hilarity of the sportful groups,
that gradually broke away and returned to the
village.
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All that evening Bombie seemed to hover
about her master, as if impelled by some inscrutable
impulse, and seeming to wish to say what
she dared not utter.
“Der teufel hole dich,” said the Heer at last;
“What wouldst thou? I believe thou hast swallowed
too much liquor, and art drunk.”
“The spirit moves me,” she slowly replied,
“but it is not that spirit which is the curse of
our race and thine.”
“Then let it move thee to talk so as to be understood;
say out, or say nothing, thou croaking
raven.”
“Yes—I am the raven whose notes forebode
and forewarn: when the raven croaks, let the
mortal at whose windows he flutters beware;
when Bombie croaks, do thou too beware, Heer.”
“Of what?”
“Of—I cannot tell. To save the blood of those
who have been kind to me, at least sometimes, I
should shed blood that runs in the veins of
the only being that claims kindred with me in
this wide world. Heer, I have warned thee,
farewell. When thou hearest the murderous yell,
the dying shriek, the shout of triumph, and the
crackling flames, blame not me.—Farewell!
So saying, she slowly retired, and he saw her
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no more. The Heer pondered for a moment on
her strange warnings; but he had been so accustomed
to her wild and wayward talk, that the
impression soon passed away. He retired to
rest, and was soon in his usual profound sleep,
the result of good health and a good conscience.
-- 222 --
CHAPTER IV.
The wolf and weasel roam at night,
Aye seeking bloody prey;
The ghosts come out in sheet of white,
But man is worse than they.
The Robbing of the Roost.
[figure description] Page 222.[end figure description]
Night, that gives to the honest man rest, and
rouses the rogue, the wolf, and the owl, to their
predatory labours, now held her quiet sway
over the peaceful inhabitants of the village.
The vigilant sentinels, whose turn it was to
watch at the gates of the palisades which surrounded
the place, were fast asleep at their
posts, like their legitimate successors, the trusty
watchmen of New-York and Philadelphia; and
nothing disturbed the repose of midnight but the
barkings of some sleepless curs, baying each
other from afar. Not a soul was awake in the
village save the mysterious Frizzled Head, who
wandered about from the kitchen to the hall, and
back again, muttering, and mumbling her incomprehensible,
disjointed talk. Suddenly she
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stopped before the great clock, and, contemplating
it for a moment, exclaimed, “The hour
is almost come. Now is the time, or never.
I may yet save my master and his child without
betraying my own blood.”
So saying, she hobbled up to the chamber of
the Long Finne, and, shaking him till he awoke,
exclaimed, “Arise, Koningsmarke; the wolves
are approaching. Awake, or thy sleep will last
for ever.”
“What of the wolves?” answered he, rubbing
his eyes; “are they abroad to night near the
village?”
“Yes, the wolves that carry the tomahawk
and scalping knife, that devour not the innocent
lambs, but drink the blood of thy race. Ere
half an hour is passed away you will hear the
Rolling Thunder rattling, not in the clouds, but
at thy door. Quick, arm thyself, and awaken
the people that sleep on the brink of the grave.
Be quick, I say; the Indians are out to-night.”
Koningsmarke dressed himself hastily, seized
a sword and a rifle, and sallied forth to alarm
the village; while Bombie went and roused the
Heer, who bestowed upon her his benediction,
for thus disturbing his slumbers. When, however,
he was assured by the Frizzled Head, who
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for once condescended to be explicit, that the
savages were abroad, he hastily dressed himself
in his cocked-hat and rusty regimentals, girded
on his sword, and hastened to perform the
duties of his station. But ere half the men of
the village were dressed, the great clock in the
palace hall struck twelve, and at that moment
a horrible yell that rose from every quarter,
announced that the place was surrounded by the
savage warriors. That yell, which the adventurous
founders of the new world were, alas!
too well accustomed to hear, roused all but the
dead, and in a little time, women and children
were running about, wailing and shrieking in
all directions. All now was confusion, noise and
horror; yet still the hardy spirits of the villagers
did not yield to despair. Every man waited at
his post, and even the women and children
stood ready to load the guns, and hand them to
their brave defenders.
The little village of Elsingburgh was built
close to the river, so that one part of the entrenchment,
which consisted of thick palisades,
about fourteen feet high, with loop-holes at
equal distances for firing upon assailants, and
strongly fastened to two rows of beams in the
inner side, with locust treenails, was immersed
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in the water four or five feet at high tides.
Here the fishing boats belonging to the villagers
were drawn in every night, to secure them
against theft, or injury from any quarter. This
side of the village being in some degree protected
by the river, the Indians bent all their
efforts to set fire to the palisades, and force the
gate, which looked towards the country.
Led on by the Rolling Thunder, the Indians
assailed the gate, where fought the valiant Heer,
seconded by Koningsmarke, and others of the
stoutest of his people, with all the arts with
which their limited modes of warfare furnished
them. They essayed to set the gate on fire, by
piling dry brush and wood against the outside;
but the women and children brought water,
which was handed to those who ventured upon
the upper beams we have described, who
threw it upon the flames, and extinguished
them from time to time. Several times did
the fire catch to the dry palisades, and as
often was it put out, by the unremitting exertions
of those inside. The valiant Elsingburghers
kept up an incessant fire through the loop-holes;
but the obscurity of the night prevented their
taking deadly aim, although now and then a
yell announced that a shot had taken effect.
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Baffled in their attempts to fire the palisades,
the savages now brought large stones, and,
piling them up against the outside, attempted
from thence to climb to the top, and thus jump
into the area within. But the marksmen were
on the watch, and the moment of the appearance
of a head above the palisades, was the signal
of death to the assailant. The Indians have
little perseverance in war, and soon become discouraged
by resistance. Their efforts now
began to flag; when, all at once, an explosion
from the little magazine where the powder was
deposited, announced to the horror struck
villagers, that their great means of defence was
annihilated in one instant. A groan from
within, and a shout from without the defences,
announced the despair of the white-men, and
the triumph of the savages.
The gallant Heer, perceiving now that all
was lost, and that the daylight, that was now just
peering in the east, would witness the massacre
of himself, his daughter, and his people, motioned
to Koningsmarke to go and open the gate
towards the river, prepare the boats, and embark
the women and children, with all possible speed,
while he himself attempted still to make good
the defence of the western gate. With silent
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celerity these orders were obeyed, and Koningsmarke
returned in a few minutes, to say that all
was ready. “Go now,” said the Long Finne,
“while Ludwig Varlett, Lob Dotterel and I,
make a stand here, until you are safe.” “Der
teufel,” quoth the Heer, “go thou—I must be
the last man that deserts his post;—away.”
“Nay,” said the other, “you are old, and
cannot run like us; remember thy daughter,
thy only daughter. If thou shouldst perish,
who will protect her?” “Thou,” said the
Heer; “remember, if any thing happens to me,
I leave her as my dying legacy. Farewell;
we must lose no more time in disputing who
shall go. When you hear a gun, come speedily.”
The Heer and the rest now hastily pursued
their way towards the boats, leaving Koningsmarke
with his two companions, to make a last
stand, for the safety of their poor villagers.
The gate was now in a blaze, and, being battered
with large stones, as well as weakened by
the fire, began to break and totter fearfully,
when the signal was fired. At that moment the
gate fell inward. The Indians gave a shout, and
waited half a minute to let the burning cinders
disperse. That half minute enabled Koningsmarke
and his companions to gain a decisive
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advantage. They fled, pursued by some of
the foremost savages, one of whom seized the
queue of Lob Dotterel, who luckily wore a wig,
which he left in the hands of the astonished warrior
as a trophy. The three fugitives jumped
into the boat, where was the fair Christina and
some two or three women and children, and
pushed it off after the others, which had drawn
off to some distance. A tall Indian rushed into
the water after the last boat, and seized hold
of the gunwale with his left hand, grasping his
tomahawk in his right. Koningsmarke hastened
to the bow with his sword, and with a
well-aimed blow cut off the hand that detained
the boat. The savage then seized her by the
other, which was cut off at the same instant by
Koningsmarke. The Indian yelled with rage
and fury, and, as the last effort of despair, seized
by the side of the boat with his teeth, where he
maintained his hold, till his head was severed
from his body, and he fell dead into the blooddyed
waters.
But his efforts were fatal to the party in the
boat, by enabling several other Indians to rush
into the river and seize her at various points.
“Make no further resistance, and your lives
will be spared; fight, and you die,” exclaimed
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the voice of the Frizzled Head from the shore.
Christina, in this moment of terror, threw her
white arms around Koningsmarke, and conjured
him to listen to the warning. Reluctantly he
yielded; the boat was drawn ashore, and the
party made prisoners by the Indians, among
whom appeared that likely fellow Cupid, who
was now seen for the first time, during the
whole of this eventful night. Bombie kissed
the hand of her young mistress, while the tears
rolled down her withered cheeks, and, turning
to the Long Finne, exclaimed with solemn
earnestness, “The lamb is committed to thee as
its shepherd; prove not a wolf to devour it,
but watch by day and by night; let not thine
eye wink, or thine ear close for a moment, but
watch, watch, watch, like the stars that never
sleep. Be faithful, and the spirit of the sainted
mother may yet forgive the preserver of the
daughter.” Koningsmarke placed his hand on
his heart, lifted his eyes to heaven, and then
bowing to the earth, replied in a low voice, “So
help me God.”
Scarce had the boats which held the fugitives
of Elsingburgh rowed out of the reach of the
savages, when a cloud of smoke rose on the bosom
of the night, succeeded by an hundred
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rising wreaths of fire, that announced the swift
destruction of the homes of the poor villagers.
They sat in their boats, weeping and wringing
their hands, as one by one the roofs fell in, and
the blazing cinders flew aloft in showers of glittering
atoms.
The good Heer, who was unconscious that a
still heavier calamity had fallen on his aged head,
viewed with silent sorrow the destruction of his
little nestling place, which, in his hours of proud
anticipation, he had pictured as the future
capital of a vast empire, of which he would be
hailed as the founder. When nothing remained
of the village but the ruins, a wild,
shrill whoop announced the triumph and departure
of the savages, who, just before the rising
of the sun, set forth, with exulting hearts, for
their forest homes.
As the day advanced, the fugitives ventured
to approach the place where their dwellings
once stood. Slowly and cautiously they
neared the shore, and, perceiving no traces of
the Indians, ventured to land among the smoking
ruins. Nothing remained of their homes but
their ashes, and, like the Israelites, they only returned
to weep. Each had suffered in common
with the others, and while some uttered loud
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[figure description] Page 231.[end figure description]
exclamations of grief, others stood stupified with
overwhelming despair.
But the unfortunate Heer, on discovering, for
the first time, when they came to the shore, that
his daughter was missing, was like one distracted.
He ran about in an agony of sorrow,
blaming every body, accusing every one of
negligence, and himself most of all. Striking
his wrinkled forehead, he cried out—“My
daughter! Oh, my daughter! my only, my
beloved child, where art thou now? Alas!
thy bones are now whitening in these smoking
ashes; or thou art a wretched captive among
cruel savages, who will not spare a hair of thine
innocent head. And Koningsmarke too! they
have perished together, and would to God I had
died with them.”
“they are not dead,” cried a voice, which
announced the presence of the Frizzled Head;
“they are not dead; they are carried into
captivity, and one day thou mayest perhaps see
thy daughter again.”
“I shall die,” replied the Heer, “before she
comes back to me;” and he tore his gray hairs, and
would not be comforted, although aunt Edith
assured him it was the Lord's doing, and therefore
it was sinful to repine.
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“Alas!” said the sorrowing parent, “the
same being gave me an only daughter, and a
father's heart to love her. It cannot be a sin to
weep the loss of what he gave me.” Aunt
Edith called this blasphemy, and began to
lecture him upon the wickedness of permitting
poor Christina to dance and sing. But he heard
her not—he stood half bent in the stupor of overwhelming
grief, the image of withered, woful
despair.
But that salutary necessity for exertion which
was given to man, not as a punishment, but a
solace and an eventual cure for calamity, did
not permit the poor houseless villagers to indulge
in the idleness of grief. Without food
and shelter, and almost out of the reach of those
kindly offices of good neighbourhood, which, in
more thickly settled countries, soon help to repair
the sudden calamities of life, they must depend
on their own resources to supply their
wants. Accordingly, like the indefatigable hornets,
who, when their nest is demolished by
schoolboys, straightway set about rebuilding it
again, our villagers began preparing some temporary
shelter. They erected bowers of the
branches of trees, and made their beds of leaves.
Some employed themselves in fishing, others in
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hunting, and all were busy even unto the Dominie,
who went about comforting the people with
the assurance that the burning of the village and
the loss of their friends was a judgment upon
them for the unseemly sports they had permitted
their children to indulge in at Whitsuntide.
But it was observed, that those who most strenuously
supported this doctrine when the judgments
fell upon their neighbours, found it rather
unpalatable, now that they themselves shared
in the calamity.
Perceiving this to be the case, Dominie Kanttwell
talked about turning misfortunes into blessings;
the privations of the body to the fattening
of the spirit, and the calamities of this
world into rejoicings. The saints of old, he
told them, fasted whole days, nay, sometimes
weeks, in voluntary penance; and were accustomed
to sleep in the woods or open fields, only
to mortify the sinful lusts of the flesh. But for
all this, the Dominie's house was the first that
was rebuilt; the Dominie had always the fattest
fish, and the choicest piece of venison; and
before the village was half rebuilt, aunt Edith
went round with a subscription to purchase him
a new gown, and a silver watch, that he might
know when it was time to go to meetings.
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The day but one after the burning of the village,
the Heer and his people were surprised by
a visit from his old enemy, Shadrach Moneypenny,
accompanied by a good number of Big
Hats, in boats, bringing with them a supply of
food, boards, timber, and other necessaries, together
with mechanics to assist them in rebuilding
their houses. All these were sent by the
good William Penn, who, hearing of their calamity,
had opened—no, his heart was always
open—had sent them this timely relief. Shadrach
was not quite so dry and stiff as at his former
visit, and when he appeared in the Heer's presence,
paid that respect to his misfortunes
which he had refused to his prosperity, by coming
as near to making a bow as his canons of
courtesy would permit.
“Friend Piper,” quoth Shadrach, and the
term friend, which had formerly sounded so uncouth,
was now grateful to the ear of the broken
down parent—“Friend Piper, I come from thy
neighbour William Penn, who hath heard of thy
misfortune, and sent thee the little he can spare
for the relief of thy people.”
“But I cannot pay for these things, and thy
people are said to expect payment for every
thing.”
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“Friend Piper,” replied Shadrach, “it may
be that when our people make bargains in the
way of business, they are earnest for payment;
but when they administer to the sufferings, or
contribute to relieve the calamities of their fellow
creatures, they expect not to be repaid in
this world. William Penn freely bestows upon
thee what I have brought; and moreover, bids
me tell thee he will send to the Indians, by the
first opportunity, to seek, and, if possible, recover
thy lost child.”
The ancient prejudices of the Heer against
his peaceable neighbours of Coaquanock now
rushed to his heart, and were there buried for
ever in a flood of gratitude. The mention of
his daughter, combined with the generous gifts
and never broken promises of William Penn,
overpowered the old father, and he wept aloud.
When his emotions had somewhat subsided, he
took Shadrach's hand and said, “Friend, I
cannot thank thee.” “There is no need, friend
Piper. All that William Penn asks of thee, is
that thou wilt believe that men were not made,
like the beasts of the forest, only to shed each
other's blood.” The Heer stood corrected, for
he remembered the sneers he had thrown out
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against his peaceable neighbours, the Big Hats
of Coaquanock.
Aided by the good people of Coaquanock,
whom the spirit moved to second zealously the
exertions of those of Elsingburgh, that village
was renewed, and swarmed again like a bee-hive.
The Heer and his people long retained a grateful
recollection of the kindness of the good
William Penn, with the exception, however, of
the Dominie and aunt Edith, who were accustomed
to flout all good works, and to despise
the kind offices of all, save those whom they were
pleased to demominate the elect.
END OF VOLUME FIRST.
Back matter
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Paulding, James Kirke, 1778-1860 [1823], Koningsmarke, the long finne: a story of the new world, volume 1 (Charles Wiley, New York) [word count] [eaf302v1].
