Wolfert's roost, and other papers, now first collected
page: 0Illustration (Illustration) [View Page 0Illustration (Illustration) ] page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] WOLFERT'S ROOST AND OTHER PAPERS, NOW FIRST COLLECTED. BY WASHNGTON IRVING. NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM & 00., 12 PARK PLAOE. 1855. page: 0 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0 (Table of Contents) ] ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by WASHNGTON IRVING, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. JOS: p. TROW., PRINTER AND STEREOTYER, "ANN STREET. CONTENTS. 'i -f:' TlThreteKnoB d,. 109 - WOLFERT'S ROOST, . . THE BIRDS OF SPRING, . . . THE CREOLE VILLAGE, . * , , MOUNTOY, . . . THE BERMUDAS, . . . The Three Kings of Bermuda,. TmHE WIDOW's ORDEAL, . . THE KNIGHT OF MALTA, . . , The Grand Prior of Minorca, . , A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY, The Great Mississippi Bubble, . SKEHEcS IN PARIS IN 1825.-The Parisian Hotel, My French Neighbor, . . The Englishman at Paris, . English and French Character,. . The Tuileries and Windsor Castle, The Field of Waterloo, . Paris at the Restoration, . A CONTENTED M, . .AN . BROEK: OR THE DTCH PAMADIS, . page: 8 (Table of Contents) -9[View Page 8 (Table of Contents) -9] 8 CONTENTS. Page GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND, . * 234 TmH ERLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD, . . . 249 THE SEMNOLES, . . . - . . . 289 Origin of the White, the Red, and the Black Men, . 294 The Conspiracy of Neamathla, . . . . 297 THE COUNT VAN HORN, . . . . . 305 DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH, . . . 322 "EGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVNT,. . . . . 34 TEI PHANTOM ISLAND, . . . 34A The Adalantado of'the Seven Cities, . . . 344 RECOLLEoIONS. OF THE ALHAMBRA, . I . 366 The Abencerrage, . .. . 8'70 WOLFERT'S ROOST. CHRONICLE I. ABOUT five-and-twenty miles from the ancient and renowned city of Manhattan, formerly called New-Amsterdam, and vulgarly called New-York, on the eastern bank of that expansion of the Hudson, known among Dutch mariners of yore, as the Tappan Zee, being in fact the great Mediterranean Sea of the New- Netherlands, stands a little old-fashioned stone mansion, all made up of gable-ends, and as full of angles and corners as an old jcocked hat. It is said, in fact, to have been modelled after the cocked hat of Peter the Headstrong, as the Escurial was modelled after the gridiron of the blessed St. Lawrence. Though but of small dimensions; yet, like many small people, it is of mighty spirit, and values itself greatly on its antiquity, being one of the oldest edifices, for its size, in the whole country. It claims to be an ancient seat of empire, I may rather say an empire in itself, and like all empires, great and small, has had its grand historical epochs. In speaking of this doughty and valorous little pile, I shall call it by its usual appellation of "The Roost; " though that is a name given to it in modern days, since it became the abode of the white man. I* page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 WOLFERT'S ROOST. Its origin, in truth, dates far back in that remote region com- monly called the fabulous age, in which vulgar fact becomes mys- tified, and tinted up with delectable fiction. The eastern shore of the Tappan Sea was inhabited in those days by an unsophisti- cated race, existing in all the simplicity of nature; that is to say, they lived by hunting and fishing, and recreated themselves occa- sionally with a little tomahawking and scalping. - Each stream that flows down from the hills into the Hudson, had its petty sachem, who ruled over a hand's breadth of forest on either side, and had his seat of government at its mouth. The chieftain who ruled at the Roost, was,not merely a great warrior, but a medi- cine-man, or prophet, or conjurer, for they all mean the same thing in Indian parlance. Of his fighting propensities, evidences still remain, in various arrow-heads of flint, and stone battle-axes, occasionally digged up about the Roost: of his wizard powers, we have a token in t spring which wells up at the foot of the bank, on the very margin )f the river, which, it is said, was gifted by him with rejuvenating powers, something like the renowned Foun- tain of Youth in the Floridas, so anxiously but vainly sought after by the veteran Ponce de Leon. This story, however, is stoutly contradicted by an old Dutch matter-of-fact tradition, which de- clares that the spring in question was smuggled over from Holland in a churn, by Femmetie Van Blarcom, wife of Goosen Garret Van Blarcom, one of the first settlers, and that she took it up by night, unknown to her husband, from beside their farm-house near Rotterdam; being sure she should find no water equal to it in the new country-and she was right. The wizard sachem had a great passion for discussing territo- rial questions, and settling boundary lines, in other words, he had WOLFERT'S ROOST. " the spirit of annexation; this kept him in continual feud with the neighboring sachems, each of whom stood up stoutly for his hand- breadth of territory; so that there is not a petty stream nor rugged hill in the neighborhood, that has not been the subject of long talks and hard battles. The sachem, however, as has been observed, was a medicine-man, as well as warrior, and vindicated his claims' by arts as well as arms; so that, by dint of a little hard fighting here, and hocus pocus (or diplomacy) there, he man- aged to extend his boundary line from field to field and stream to stream, until it brought him into collision with the powerful sachem of Sing Sing.#* Many were the sharp conflicts between these rival chieftains for the sovereignty of a winding valley, a favorite hunting ground watered by a beautiful stream called the Pocantico. Many were the ambuscades, surprisals, and deadly onslaughts that took place among its fastnesses, of which it grieves me much that I cannot pursue the details, for the gratification of those gentle but bloody-minded readers, of both sexes, who delight in the romance of the tomahawk and scalping-knife. Suf- fice it to say, that the wizard chieftain was at length victorious, though his victory is attributed, in Indian tradition, to a great medicine, or charm, by which he laid the sachem of Sing-Sing and his warriors asleep among the rocks and recesses of the val- ley, where they remain asleep to the present day, with their bows and war-clubs beside them. This was the origin of that potent * A corruption of the Old Indian name, O-sin-sing. Some have rendered it, O-sin-song, or 0-sing-song; in token of its being a great market town; where any thing may be had for a mere song. Its present melodious alter- ation to Sing Sing is said to have been made in compliment to a Yankee sing- ing-master, who taught the inhabitants the art of singing through the nose. page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 - OLFERTS ROOST. and drowsy spell, which still prevails over the valley of the Pocan- tico, and which has gained it. the well-merited appellation of Sleepy - Hollow. Often, in secluded and quiet parts of that valley, where the stream is overhung by dark woods and rocks, the ploughman, on some calm and sunny day, as he shouts to his oxen, is sur- prised at hearing faint shouts from the hill-sides in reply; being, it is said, the spell-bound warriors, who half start from their rocky couches and grasp their weapons, but sink to sleep again. The conquest of the Pocantico was the last triumph of the wizard sachem. Notwithstanding all his medicines and charms, he fell in battle, in attempting to extend his boundary line to the east, so as to take in the little wild valley of the Sprain, and his grave is still shown, near the banks of that pastoral stream. He left, however, a great empire to his successors, extending along the Tappan Sea, from Yonkers quite to Sleepy Hollow, and known H in old records and maps by the Indian name of Wicquaes-Keck. The wizard Sachem was succeeded by a line of chiefs of whom nothing-remarkable remains on record. One of them was the very individual on- whom master Hendrick Hudson and his mate Robert Juet made that sage experiment gravely recorded by the latter, in the narrative of the discovery. "Our master and his mate determined to try some of the cheefe men of the country, whether they had any treacherie in them. So they took them down into the cabin, and gave them so much wine and aqua vitae, that they were all very merrie; one of them had his wife with him, which sate so modestly as any of our countrywomen would do in a strange place. In the end, one of them was drunke; and that was strange to them, for they could not tell how to take it."* * See Juet's Journal, Purchles Pilgrims. WOLFERTS ROOST. 13 How far master Hendrick Hudson and his worthy mate car- ried their experiment with the sachem's wife, is not recorded, nei- ther does the curious Robert Juet make any mention of the after consequences of this grand moral test; tradition, however, affirms that the sachem, on landing, gave his modest spouse a hearty rib- roasting, according to the connubial discipline of the aboriginals; it farther affirms, that he remained a hard drinker to the day of his death, trading away all his lands, acre by acre, for aqua vitse; by which means the Roost and all its domains, from Yonkers to Sleepy Hollow, came, in the regular course of trade: and by right of purchase, into the possession of the Dutchmen. The worthy government of the New Netherlands was not suf- fered to enjoy this grand acquisition unmolested. In the year 1654, the losel Yankees of Connecticut, those swapping, bargain- ing, squatting enemies of the Manhattoes, made a daring inroad into this neighborhood, and founded a colony called Westchester, or, as the ancient Dutch records term it, Vest Dorp, in the right of one Thomas Pell, who pretended to have purchased the whole surrounding country of the Indians; and stood ready to argue their claims before any tribunal of Christendom. This happened during the chivalrous reign of Peter Stuyve- sant, and roused the ire of that gunpowder old hero. Without waiting to discuss claims and titles, he pounced at once upon the nest of nefarious squatters, carried off twenty-five of them in chains to the Manhattoes, nor did he stay his hand, nor give rest to his wooden leg, until he had driven the rest of the Yankees back into Connecticut, or obliged them to acknowledge allegiance to their High Mightinesses. In revenge, however, they intro. duced the plague of witchcraft into the province. This doleful page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " WOLFERTS ROOST. malady broke out at Vest Dorp, and would have spread through- out the country had not the Dutch farmers nailed horse-shoes to the doors of their houses and barns, sure protections against witchcraft, many of which remain to the present day. The seat of empire of the wizard sachem now came into the possession of Wolfert Acker, one of the privy counsellors of Peter Stuyvesant. He was a worthy, but ill-starred man, whose aim through life had been to live in peace and quiet. For this he had emigrated from Holland, driven abroad by family feuds and wrangling neighbors. He had warred for quiet through the fidg- etting reign of William the Testy, and the fighting reign of Peter the Headstrong, sharing in every brawl and rib-roasting, in his eagerness to keep the peace and promote public tranquillity. It was his doom, in fact, to meet a head wind at every turn, and be kept in a constant fume and fret by the perverseness of mankind. Had he served on a modern jury he would have been sure to have eleven unreasonable men opposed to him. At the time when the province of the New Netherlands was wrested from the. domination of their High Mightinesses by the combined forces of Old and New England, Wolfert retired in high dudgeon to this fastness in the wilderness, with the bitter de- termination to bury himself from the world, and live here for the rest of his days in peace and quiet. In token of that fixed pur- pose he inscribed over his door (his teeth clenched at the time) his favorite Dutch motto, "Lust in Rust," (pleasure in quiet). The mansion was thence called Wolfert's Rust-(Wolfert's Rest), but by the uneducated, who did not understand Dutch, Wolfert's Roost; probably from its quaint cock-loft look, and from its hav- ing a weather-cock perched on every gable. WOLFERTS ROOST. 15 Wolfert's luck followed him into retirement. He had shut himself up from the world, but he had brought with him a wife, and it soon passed into a proverb throughout the neighborhood that the cock of the Roost was the most henpecked bird in the country. His house too was reputed to be harassed by Yankee witchcraft. When the weather was quiet every where else, the wind, it was said, would howl and whistle about the gables; witches and warlocks would whirl about upon the weather-cocks, and scream down the chimneys; nay it was even hinted that Wol- fert's wife was in league with the enemy, and used to ride on a broomstick to a witches' sabbath in Sleepy Hollow. This, how- ever, was all mere scandal, founded perhaps on her occasionally flourishing a broomstick in the course of a curtain lecture, or rais- ing a storm within doors, as termagant wives are apt to db, and against which sorcery horse shoes are of no avail. Wolfert Acker died and was buried, but found no quiet even in the grave: for if popular gossip be true, his ghost has occa- sionally been seen walking by moonlight among the old gray moss- grown trees of his apple orchard. CHRONICLE II. The next period at which we find this venerable and eventful pile rising into importance, was during the dark and troublous time of the revolutionary war. It was the keep or stronghold of Jacob Van Tassel, a valiant Dutchman of the old stock of Van Tassels, who abound in Westchester County. The name, as originally written, was Van Texel, being derived from the Texel in Holland, which gave birth to that heroic line. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 WOLFERT'S ROOST. The Roost stood in the very heart of what at that time was called the debatable ground, lying between the British and Amer- ican lines. The British held possession of the city and island of New York; while the Americans drew up towards the Highlands, holding their head-quarters at Peekskill. The intervening coun- try from Croton River to Spiting Devil Creek was the debatable ground in question, liable to be harried by friend and foe, like the Scottish borders of yore. It is a rugged region; full of fastnesses. A line of rocky hills extends through it like a backbone, sending out ribs on either side; but these rude hills are for the most part richly wooded, and inclose little fresh pastoral valleys watered by the Neperan, the Pocantico,* and other beautiful streams, along which the Indians built their wigwams in the olden time. In the fastnesses of these hills, and along these valleys ex- isted, in the time of which I am treating, and indeed exist to the present day, a race of hard-headed, hard-handed, stout-hearted yeo- men, descendants of the primitive Nederlanders. Men obstinately attached to the soil, and neither to be fought nor bought out of * The Neperan, vulgarly called the Saw-Mill River, winds for many miles through a lovely valley, shrouded by groves, and dotted by Dutch farm-houses, and empties itself into the Hudson, at the ancient Dorp of Yonkers. The Pocantico, rising among woody hills, winds in many a wizard maze, through the sequestered haunts of Sleepy hlollow. We owe it to the indefatigable researches of Mr. KNICKERBOCKER, that those beauti- ful streams are rescued from modern common-place, and reinvested with their ancient Indian names. The correctness of the venerable historian may be ascertained by reference to the records of the original Indian grants to the Herr Frederick Philipsen, preserved in the county clerk's office, at White Plains. WOLFERT'S ROOST. 17 their paternal acres. Most of them were strong Whigs through- out the war; some, however, were Tories, or adherents to the old kingly rule; who considered the revolution a mere rebellion, soon to be put down by his majesty's forces. A number of these took refuge within the British lines, joined the military bands of refu- gees, and became pioneers or leaders to foraging parties sent out from New York to scour the country and sweep off supplies for the British army. In a little while the debatable ground became infested by roving bands, claiming from either side, and all pretending to redress wrongs and punish political offences; but all prone in the exercise of their high functions, to sack hen-roosts, drive off cattle, and lay farm-houses under contribution: such was the origin of two great orders of border chivalry, the Skinners and the Cow Boys, famous in revolutionary story; the former fought, or rather marauded under the American, the latter under the British banner. In the zeal of service, both were apt to make blunders, and confound the property of friend and foe. Neither of them in the heat and hurry of a foray had time to ascertain the politics of a horse or cow, which they were driving off into captivity; nor, when they wrung the neck of a rooster, did they trouble their heads whether he crowed for Congress or King George. To check these enormities, a confederacy was formed among the yeomanry who had suffered from these maraudings. It was composed for the most part of farmers' sons, bold, hard-riding lads, well armed, and well mounted, and undertook to clear the country round of Skinner and Cow Boy, and all other border ver- min; as the Holy Brotherhood in old times cleared Spain of the banditti which infested her highways. , ) page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 WOLFERTS ROOST. Wolfert's Roost was one of the rallying places of this confed- eracy, and Jacob Van Tassel one of its members. He was emi- nently fitted for the service : stout of frame, bold of heart, and like his predecessor, the warrior sachem of yore, delighting in daring enterprises. He had an Indian's sagacity in discovering when the enemy was on the maraud, and in hearing the distant tramp of cattle. It seemed as if he had a scout on every hill, and an ear as quick as that of Fine Ear in the fairy tale. The foraging parties of tories and refugees had now to be se- cret and sudden in their forays into Westchester County; to make a hasty maraud among the farms, sweep the cattle into a drove, and hurry down to the lines along the river road, or the valley of the Neperan. Before they were half way down, Jacob Van Tassel, with the holy brotherhood of Tarrytown, Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, would be clattering at their heels. And now there would be a general scamper for King's Bridge, the pass over Spiting Devil Creek into the British lines. Sometimes the moss-troopers would be overtaken, and eased of part of their booty. Sometimes the whole cavalgada would urge its headlong course across the bridge with thundering tramp and dusty whirl- wind. At such times their pursuers would rein up their steeds, survey that perilous pass with wary eye and, wheeling about, in- demnify themselves by foraging the refugee region of Morrisania. While the debatable land was liable to be thus harried, the great Tappan Sea, along which it extends, was likewise domineered over by the foe. British ships of war were anchored here and there in the wide expanses of the river, mere floating castles to hold it in subjection. Stout galleys armed with eighteen pound. ers, and navigated with sails and oars, cruised about like hawks; i WOLFERTS ROOST. 19 j while row-boats made descents upon the land, and foraged the country along shore. It was a sore grievance to the yeomanry along the Tappan Sea -to behold that little Mediterranean ploughed by hostile prows, and the noble river of which they were so proud, reduced to a state of thraldom. Councils of war were held by captains of market-boats and other river craft, to devise ways and means of dislodging the enemy. Here and there on a point of land ex- tending into the Tappan Sea, a mud work would be thrown up, and an old field-piece mounted, with which a knot of rustic artil- lerymen would fire away for a long summer's day at some frigate dozing at anchor far out of reach; and reliques of such works may still be seen overgrown with weeds and brambles, with perad- venture the half-buried fragment of a cannon which may have v burst. Jacob Van Tassel was a prominent man in these belligerent operations; but he was prone moroever, to carry on a petty war- fare of his own for his individual recreation and refreshment. On a row of hooks above the fireplace of the Roost, reposed his great piece of ordnance; a duck, or rather goose gun of unparalleled longitude, with which it was said he could kill a wild goose half way across the Tappan Sea. Indeed there are as many wonders told of this renowned gun, as of the enchanted weapons of clas- sic story. When the belligerent feelingwas strong upon Jacob, he would take down his gun, sally forth alone, and prowl along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, watching for hours together any ship or galley at anchor or becalmed; as a valorous mouser will watch a rat hole. So sure as a boat approached the shore, bang went the great goose gun, sending on board a shower of page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 WOLFERTS ROOST. slugs and buck shot; and away scuttled Jacob Van Tassel through some woody ravine. As the Roost stood Iin a lonely situation, and might be attacked, he guarded against surprise by making loop-holes in the stone walls, through which to fire upon an as- sailant. His wife was stout-hearted as himself, and could load as fast as he could fire, and his sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a re- doubtable widow, was a match, as he said, for the stoutest man in the country. Thus garrisoned, his little castle was fitted to stand a siege, and Jacob was the man to defend it to the last charge of powder. In the process of time the Roost became one of the secret stations, or lurking places, of the Water Guard. This was an aquatic corps in the pay of government, organized to range the waters of the Hudson, and keep watch upon the movements of the enemy. It was composed of nautical men of the river and hardy youngsters of the adjacent country, expert at pulling an oar or handling a musket. They were provided with whale-boats, long and sharp, shaped like canoes, and formed to lie lightly on the water, and be rowed with great rapidity. In these they would lurk out of sight by day, in nooks and bays, and behind points of land; keeping a sharp look-out upon the British ships, and giving intelligence to head quarters of any extraordinary movement. At night they rowed about in pairs, pulling quietly along with muf- fled oars, under shadow of the land, or gliding like spectres about frigates and guard ships to cut off any boat that might be sent to shore. In this way they were a source of constant un- easiness and alarm to the enemy. The Roost, as has been observed, was one of their lurking places; having a cove in front where their whale-boats could be WOLTFERT'S ROOST. 21 drawn up out of sight, and Jacob Van Tassel being a vigilant ally ready to take a part in any " scout or scrummage " by land or water. At this little warrior nest the hard-riding lads from the hills would hold consultations with the chivalry of the river, and here were concerted divers of those daring enterprises which re- sounded from Spiting Devil Creek even unto Anthony's Nose. Here was concocted the midnight invasion of New York Island, and the conflagration of Delancy's Tory mansion, which makes such a blaze in revolutionary history. Nay more, if the tradi- tions of the Roost may be credited, here was meditated by Jacob Van Tassel and his compeers, a nocturnal foray into New York it- self, to surprise and carry off the British commanders Howe and Clinton, and put a triumphant close to the war. There is no knowing whether this notable scheme might not have been carried into effect, had not one of Jacob Van Tassel's egre- gious exploits along shore with his goose-gun, with which he thought himself a match for any thing, brought vengeance on his house. It so happened, that in the course of one of his solitary prowls he descried a British transport aground; the stern swung toward shore within point-blank shot. The temptation was too great to be resisted. Bang! went the great goose-gun, from the covert of the trees, shivering the cabin windows and driving all hands forward. Bang I bang! the shots were repeated. The re- ports brought other of Jacob's fellow bush-fighters to the spot. Before the transport could bring a gun to bear, or land a boat to take revenge, she was soundly peppered, and the coast evac- uated. This was the last of Jacob's triumphs. He fared like some heroic spider that has unwittingly ensnared a hornet to the utter page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 WOLFERTS ROOST. ruin of his web. It was not long after the above exploit that he fell into the hands of the enemy in the course of one of his forays, and was carried away prisoner to New York. The Roost itself, as a pestilent rebel nest, was marked out for signal punishment. The cock of the Roost being captive, there was none to garrison it but his stout-hearted spouse, his redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, and Dinah, a strapping 'negro wench. An armed vessel came to anchor in front; a boat full of men pulled to shore. The garrison flew to arms; that is to say, to mops, broom- sticks, shovels, tongs, and all kinds of domestic weapons; for un- luckily, the great piece of ordnance, the goose-gun, was absent with its owner. Above all, a vigorous defence was made with that most potent of female weapons, the tongue. Never did invaded hen-roost make a more vociferous outcry. It was all in vain. The house was sacked and plundered, fire was set to each corner, and in a few moments its blaze shed a baleful light far over the Tappan Sea. The invaders then pounced upon the blooming Laney Van Tassel, the beauty of the Roost, and endea- vored to bear her off to the boat. But lere was the real tug of war. The mother, the aunt, and the strapping negro wench, all flew to the rescue. The struggle continued down to the very water's edge; when a voice from the armed vessel at anchor, or- dered the spoilers to desist; they relinquished their prize, jumped into their boats, and pulled off, and the heroine of the Roost escaped with a mere rumpling of the feathers. As to the stout Jacob himself, he was detained a prisoner in New York for the greater part of the war; in the mean time the Roost remained a melancholy ruin, its stone walls and brick chim- neys alone standing, the resorts of bats and owls. Superstitious no- WOLFERTS ROOST. 23 tions prevailed about it. None of the country people would ven- ture alone at night down the rambling lane which led to it, over- hung with trees and crossed here and there by a wild wandering brook. The story went that one of the victims of Jacob Van Tas- sel's great goose-gun had been buried there in unconsecrated ground. Even the Tappan Sea in front was said to be haunted. Often in the still twilight of a summer evening, when the Sea would be as glass, and the opposite hills would throw their purple shadows half across it, a low sound would be heard as of the steady vigor- ous pull of oars, though not a boat was to be descried. Some might have supposed that a boat was rowed along unseen under the deep shadows of the opposite shores; but the ancient tradi- tionists of the neighborhood knew better. Some said it was one ? A of the whale-boats of the old water-guard, sunk by the British ships during the war, but now permitted to haunt its old cruising grounds; but the prevalent opinion connected it with the awful fate of Rambout Van Dam of graceless memory. He was a roys- tering Dutchman of Spiting Devil, who in times long past had navigated his boat alone one Saturday the whole length of the Tappan Sea, to attend a quilting frolic at Kakiat, on the western, shore. Here he had danced, and drunk, until midnight, when he entered his boat to return home. He was warned that he was on the verge of Sunday morning; but he pulled off nevertheless, swearing he would not land until he reached Spiting Devil, if it took him a month of Sundays. He was never seen afterwards; but may be heard plying his oars, as above mentioned, being the Flying Dutchman of the Tappan Sea, doomed to ply between Ka- kiat and Spiting Devil until the day of judgment. ^: . 1 g page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 WOLFERT'S ROOST. CHRONICLE III. The revolutionary war was over., The debatable ground had once more become a quiet agricultural region ; the border chivalry had turned their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks, and hung up their guns, only to be taken down occasionally in a campaign against wild pigeons on the hills, or wild ducks upon the Hudson. Jacob Van Tassel, whilome carried captive to New York, a flagitious rebel, had come forth from cap- tivity a ' hero of seventy-six." In a little while he sought the scenes of his former triumphs and mishaps, rebuilt the Roost, re- stored his goose-gun to the hooks over the fireplace, and reared once more on high the glittering weathercocks. Years and years passed over the time-honored little mansion. The honeysuckle and the sweethrier crept up its walls; the wren and the phoebe bird built under the-,eaves; it gradually became almost hidden among trees, through which it looked forth, as with half-shut eyes, upon the Tappan Sea. The Indian spring, famous in the days of the wizard sachem, still welled up at the bottom of the green bank; and the wildibrook, wild as ever, came babbling down the ravine, and threw- itself into the little cove where of yore the water-guard harbored their whaleboats. Such was the state of the Roost many years since, at the time when Diedrich Knickerbocker came into this neighborhood, in the course of his researches among the Dutch families for ma- terials for his immortal history. The exterior of the eventful little pile seemed to him full of promise. The crow-step gables were of the primitive architecture of the province. The weather- cocks which surmounted them had crowed in the glorious days of WOLFERT'S ROOST. 25 the New Netherlands. The one above the porch had actually glittered of yore on the great Vander Heyden palace at Albany! The interior of the mansion fulfilled its external .promise. Here were records of old times; documents of the Dutch dynas- ty, rescued from the profane hands of the English, by Wolfert Acker, when he retreated from New Amsterdam. Here he had treasured them up like buried gold, and here they had been mi- raculously preserved by St. Nicholas, at the time of the conflagra- tion of the Roost. A Here then did old Diedrich Knickerbocker take up his abode for a time, and set to work with antiquarian zeal to decipher these precious documents, which, like the lost books of Livy, had baf- fled the research of former historians; and it is the facts drawn from these sources which give his work the preference, in point of accuracy, over every other history. It was during his sojourn in this eventful neighborhood, that the historian is supposed to have picked up many of those le- gends, which have since been given by him to the world, or found among his papers. Such was the legend connected with the old Dutch church of Sleepy Hollow. The church itself was a monu- ment of bygone days. It had been built in the early times of the province. A tablet over the portal bore the names of its founders: Frederick Filipson, a mighty man of yore, patroon of Yonkers, and his wife Katrina Van Courtland, of the Van Courtlands of Croton; a powerful family connexion, with one foot resting on Spiting Devil Creek, and the other on the Croton River. Two weathercocks, with the initials of these illustrious per- sonages, graced each end of the church, one perched over the bel- fry, the other over the chancel. As usual with ecclesiastical , page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 WOLFERT'S 1IOOST. weathercocks, each pointed a different way; and there was a per- petual contradiction between them on all points of windy doc- trine; emblematic, alas! of the Christian propensity to schism and controversy. I In the burying-ground adjacent to the church, reposed the earliest fathers of a wide rural neighborhood. Here families were garnered together, side by side, in long platoons, in this last gathering place of kindred. With pious hand would Diedrich Knickerbocker turn down the weeds and brambles which had overgrown the tombstones, to decipher inscriptions in Dutch and English, of the names and virtues of succeeding generations of Van Tassels, Van Warts, and other historical worthies, with their portraitures faithfully carved, all bearing the family likeness to cherubs. The congregation in those days was of a truly rural character. City fashions had not as yet stole up to Sleepy Hollow. Dutch sun-bonnets and honest homespun still prevailed. Every thing was in primitive style, even to the bucket of water and tin cup near the door in summer, to assuage the thirst caused by the heat of the weather or the drouth of the sermon. The pulpit, with its wide-spreading sounding board, and the communion table, curiously carved, had each come from Holland in the olden time, before the arts-had:-wfficiently advanced in the colony for such achievements. Around these on Sundays would be gathered the elders of the church, gray-headed men who led the psalmody, and in whom it would be difficult to recognize the hard-riding lads of yore, who scoured the debatable land in the time of the revolution. The drowsy influence of Sleepy Hollow was apt to breathe WOLFERT'S 1t()OST., 27 into this sacred edifice; and now and then an elder might be seen with his handkerchief over his face to keep off the flies, and apparently listening to the dominie; but really sunk into a sum- mer slumber, lulled by the sultry notes of the locust from the neighboring trees. And now a word or two about Sleepy Hollow, which many have rashy deemed a fanciful creation, like the Lubberland of mariners. It was probably the mystic and dreamy sound of the name which first tempted the historian of the Manhattoes into its spellbound mazes. As he entered, all nature seemed for the moment to awake from its slumbers and break forth in gratula- tions. The quail whistled a welcome from the corn -field; the loquacious cat-bird flew from bush to bush with restless wing pro- claiming his approach, or perked inquisitively into his face, as if to get a knowledge of his physiognomy. The woodpecker tapped a tattoo on the hollow apple tree, and then peered round the trunk, as if asking how he relished the salutation; while the squirrel scampered along the fence, whisking his tail over his head by way of a huzza. Here reigned the golden mean extolled by poets, in which no gold was to be found and very little silver. The inhabitants of the Hallow were of the primitive stock, and had intermarried and bre-"zi and in, from the earliest time of the province, never swarhing far from the parent hive, but dividing and subdividing their paternal acres as they swarmed. Here were small farms, each having its little portion of mea- dow and corn field; its orchard of gnarled and sprawling apple trees; its garden in which the rose, the marigold and hollyhock, grew sociably with the cabbage, the pea, and the pumpkin: each page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 WOLFERT'S ROOST. had its low-eaved mansion redundant with white-headed children; with an old hat nailed against the wall for the housekeeping wren; the coop on the grass-plot, where the motherly hen clucked round with her vagrant brood: each had its stone well, with a moss- covered bucket suspended to the long balancing pole, according to antediluvian hydraulics; while within doors resounded the eternal hum of the spinning wheel. Many were the great historical facts which the worthy Died- rich collected in these lowly mansions, and patiently would he sit by the old Dutch housewives with a child on his knee or a purr- ing grimalkin on his lap, listing to endless ghost stories spun forth to the humming accompaniment of the wheel. The delighted historian pursued his explorations far into the foldings of the hills where the Pocantico winds its wizard stream among the mazes of its old Indian haunts; sometimes running darkly in pieces of woodland beneath balancing sprays of beech and chestnut: sometimes sparkling between grassy borders in fresh green intervals; here and there receiving the tributes of silver rills which came whimpering down the hill sides from their parent springs. In a remote part of the Hollow, where the Pocantico forced its way down rugged rocks, stood Carl's mill, the haunted house of the neighborhood. It was indeed a goblin-looking pile; shat- tered and time-worn; dismal with clanking wheels and rush- ing streams, and all kinds of uncouth noises. A horse shoe nailed to the door to keep off witches, seemed to have lost its power; for as Diedrich approached, an old negro thrust his head all dabbled with flour, out of a hole above the water wheel, and grinned and rolled his eyes, and appeared to be the very hobgob- WOLFERT'S ROOST. 29 lin of the place. Yet this proved to be the great historic genius of the Hollow, abounding in that valuable information never to be acquired from books. Diedrich Knickerbocker soon discover- ed his merit. They had long talks together seated on a broken millstone, heedless of the water and the clatter of the mill; and to his conference with that African sage, many attribute the sur- prising, though true story of Ichabod Crane, and the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. We refrain, however, from giving farther researches of the historian of the Manhattoes, during his sojourn at the Roost; but may return to them in future pages. Reader, the Roost still exists. Time, which changes all things, is slow in its operations on a Dutchman's dwelling. The stout Jacob Van Tassel, it is true, sleeps with his fathers; and his great goose-gun with him: yet his strong-hold still bears the impress of its Dutch origin. Odd rumors have gathered about it, as they are apt to do about old mansions, like moss and wea- ther stains. The shade of Wolfert Acker still walks his unquiet rounds at night in the orchard; and a white figure has now and then been seen seated at a window and gazing at the moon, from a room in which a young lady is said to have died of love and green apples. Mementoes of the sojourn of Diedrich Knickerbocker are still cherished at the Roost. His elbow chair and antique writ- ing-desk maintain their place in the room he occupied, and his old cocked hat still hangs on a peg against the wall. page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] THE BIRDS OF SPRING. MY quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, politics, and the money market, leaves me rather at a loss for occupation, and drives me occasionally to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Having few neighbors, also, on whom to keep a watch, and exercise my habits of observation, I am fain to amuse myself with prying into the domestic concerns and peculiarities of the animals around me; and, during the present season, have derived considerable entertainment from certain sociable little birds, al- most the only visitors we have, during this early part of the year. Those who have passed the winter in the country, are sensible of the delightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring; and of these, none are more delightful than the first notes of the birds. There is one modest little sad-colored bird, much resembling a wren, which came about the house just on the skirts of winter, when not a blade of grass was to be seen, and when a few prematurely warm days had given a flattering foretaste of soft weather. He sang early in the dawning, long before sun- rise, and late in the evening, just before the closing in of night, 9 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 31 his matin and his vesper hymns. It is true, he sang occasionally throughout the day; but at these still hours, his song was more remarked. He sat on a leafless tree, just before the window, and warbled forth his notes, few and simple, but singularly sweet, with something of a plaintive tone, that heightened their effect. The first morning that he was heard, was a joyous one among the young folks of my household. The long, death-like sleep of winter was at an end; nature was once more awakening; they now promised themselves the immediate appearance of buds and blos- soms. I was reminded of the tempest-tossed crew of Columbus, when, after their long dubious voyage, the field birds came singing round the ship, though still far at sea, rejoicing them with the be- lief of the immediate proximity of land. A sharp return of winter almost silenced my little songster, and dashed the hilarity of the household; yet still he poured forth, now and then, a few plaintive notes, between the frosty pipings of the breeze, like gleams of sun- shine between wintry clouds. I have consulted my book of ornithology in vain, to find out the name of this kindly little bird, who certainly deserves honor and favor far beyond his modest pretensions. He comes like the lowly violet, the most unpretending, but welcomest of flowers, breathing the sweet promise of the early year. Another of our feathered visitors, who follow close upon the steps of winter, is the Pe-wit, or Pc-wee, or Phoebe-bird; for he is called by each of these names, from a fancied resemblance to 'the sound of his monotonous note. He is a sociable little being, and seeks the habitation of man. A pair of them have built be- neath my porch, and have reared several broods there, for two years past, their nest being never disturbed. They arrive early ,? page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. in the spring, just when the crocus and the snow-drop begin to peep forth. Their first chirp spreads gladness through the house. "The Phoebe birds have come!" is heard on all sides; they are welcomed back like members of the family; and speculations are made upon where they have been, and what countries they have seen, during their long absence. Their arrival is the more cheer- ing, as it is pronounced, by the old weather-wise people of the country, the sure sign that the severe frosts are at an end, and that the gardener may resume his labors with confidence. About this time, too, arrives the blue-bird, so poetically yet truly described by Wilson. His appearance gladdens the whole landscape. You hear his soft warble in every field. He sociably approaches your habitation, and takes up his residence in your vicinity. But why should I attempt to describe him, when I have Wilson's own graphic verses, to place him before the reader? When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, Green meadows and brown furrowed fields reappearing, The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering; When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing, When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing, O then comes the blue-bird, the herald of spring, And hails with his warblings the charms of the season. The loud-piping frogs make the marshes to ring; Then warm glows the sunshine, and warm grows the weather; The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring, And spice-wood and sassafras budding together; O then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair, Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure; / THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 33 The blue-bird will chant from his box such-an air, That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure! He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree, The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms; He snaps up destroyers, wherever they be, And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms; He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours, The worms from the webs where they riot and welter; His song and his services freely are ours, And all that he asks is, in summer a shelter. The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his train, Now searching the furrows, now mounting to cheer him; The gard'ner delights in'his sweet simple strain, And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him. The slow lingering school-boys forget they'll be chid, While gazing intent, as he warbles before them, In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red, That each little loiterer seems to adore him. The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the European lark in my estimation, is the Boblincon, or Boblink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our year, which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May, so often given by the poets. With us, it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearlythe middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year; and later than this, begin the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval, nature is in all her freshness and fragrance: 2* page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. "the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the tur- tle is heard in the land." The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure; the woods are gay with the clus- tered flowers of the laurel; the air is perfumed by the sweet-brier and the wild rose; the meadows are enamelled with clover-blos- soms; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum, begin to swell, and the cherry to glow, among the green leaves. This is the chosen season of revelry of the Boblink. He comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows; and is most in song, when the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long flaunt- ing weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich tinkling notes; crowding one upon another, like the outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the same rapturous character. Sometimes he pitches from the sum- mit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his paramour; always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody; and always with the same appearance of intoxication and delight. Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the Boblink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest .: weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature , called to the fields, and -the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom; I but when I, luckless urchin! was doomed to be mewed up, during At * fb,. '^ THE BIRDS OF SPRING. the livelong day, in that purgatory of boyhood, a school-room. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me, as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. Oh, how I envied him! No lessons, no task, no hateful school; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo: Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy note, No winter in thy year. Oh! could I fly, I'd fly with thee; We'd make, on joyful wing, Our annual visit round the globe, Companions of the spring! Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this little feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to impart, for the benefit of my schoolboy readers, who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a manner devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, and sensibility, and refinement. While this lasted, he was sacred from injury; the very schoolboy would not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover blossoms disappear, and the spring fades page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 THE BIRDS OF SPRING. into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits; doffs his poetical suit of black, assumes a russet dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyments of common vulgar birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear; he is stuffing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become a "bon vivant," a "gourmand;" with him now there is nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while he grows tired of plain homely fare, and is off on a gastronomical tour in quest of foreign luxuries. We next hear of him with myriads of his kind, banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware; and grown corpulent with good feeding. He has changed his name in travelling. Boblincon' no more-he is the Reed-bird now, the much sought for tithit of Pennsylvania epi- cures; the rival in unlucky fame of the ortolan! Wherever he goes, pop! pop! pop! every rusty firelock in the country is blaz- ing away. He sees his companions falling by thousands around him. Does he take warning and reform?-Alas not he! Incor- rigible epicure! again he wings his flight. The rice swamps of the south invite him. He gorges himself among them almost to bursting; he can scarcely fly for corpulency. He has once more changed his name, and is now the famous Rice-bird of the Caro- linas. Last stage of his career; behold him spitted with dozens of his corpulent companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on the table of some Southern gastronome. Such is the story of the Boblink; once spiritual, musical, admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favorite bird of spring; finally, a gross little sensualist who expiates his sensuality in the ^ THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 37 larder. His story contains a moral, worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys; warning them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits, which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of his career; but tp eschew all tendency to that gross and dissipated indulgence, which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end. Which is all at present, from the well-wisher of little boys and little birds, GEOFFREY CRAYON. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] THE CREOLE VILLAGE. A SKETCH FROOM A STEAMBOAT. First published in 1837. IN travelling about our motley country, I am often reminded of Ariosto's account of the moon, in which the good paladin Astolpho found every thing garnered up that had been lost on earth. So I am apt to imagine, that many things lost in the old world, are treasured up in the new; having been handed down from genera- tion to generation, since the early days of the colonies. A European antiquary, therefore, curious in his researches after the ancient and almost obliterated customs and usages of his coun- try, would do well to put himself upon the track of some early band of emigrants, follow them across the Atlantic, and rummage among their descendants on our shores. In the phraseology of New England might be found many an old English provincial phrase, long since obsolete in the parent country; with some quaint relics of the roundheads; while Vir- ginia cherishes peculiarities characteristic of the days of Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh. THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 39 In the same way, the sturdy yeomanry of New Jersey and Pennsylvania keep up many usages fading away in ancient Ger- many; while many an honest, broad-bottomed custom, nearly ex- tinct in venerable Holland, may be found flourishing in pristine vigor and luxuriance in Dutch villages, on the banks of the Mo- hawk and the Hudson. In no part of our country, however, are the customs and pe- culiarities, imported from the old world by the earlier settlers, kept up with more- fidelity than in the little, poverty-stricken vil lages of Spanish and French origin, which border the rivers of ancient Louisiana. Their population is generally made up of the descendants of those nations, married and interwoven together, and occasionally crossed with a slight dash of the Indian. The French character, however, floats on top, as, from its buoyant qualities, it is sure to do, whenever it forms a particle, however small, of an intermixture. In these serene and dilapidated villages, art and nature stand still, and the world forgets to turn round. The revolutions that dis- tract other parts of this mutable planet, reach not here, or pass over without leaving any trace. The fortunate inhabitants have none of that public spirit which extends its cares beyond its horizon, and imports trouble and perplexity from all quarters in newspapers. In fact, newspapers are almost unknown in these villages, and as French is the current language, the inhabitants have little coml munity of opinion with their republican neighbors. They retain, therefore, their old habits of passive obedience to the decrees of government, as though they still lived under the absolute sway of colonial commandants, instead of being part and parcel of the sovereign people, and having a voice in public legislation. page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] A few aged men, who have grown gray on their hereditary acres, and are of the good old colonial stock, exert a patriarchal sway in all matters of public and private import; their opinions are considered oracular, and their word is law. The inhabitants, moreover, have none of that eagerness for gain, and rage for improvement, which keep our people continually on the move, and our country towns incessantly in a state of tran- sition. There the magic phrases, " town lots, " " water privileges," "railroads," and other comprehensive and soul-stirring words, from the speculator's vocabulary, are never heard. The residents dwell in the houses built by their forefathers, without thinking of enlarging or modernizing them, or pulling them down and turn- ing them into granite stores. The trees, under which they have been born, and have played in infancy, flourish undisturbed; though, by cutting them down, they might open new streets, and put money in their pockets. In a word, the almighty dollar, that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages; and unless some of its missionaries penetrate there, and erect banking houses and other pious shrines, there is no knowing how long the inhabi- tants may remain in their present state of contented poverty. In descending one of our great western rivers in a steamboat, I met with two worthies from one of these villages, who had been on a distant excursion, the longest they had ever made, as they seldom ventured far from home. One was the great man, or Grand Seigneur of the village; not that he enjoyed any legal privileges or power there, every thing of the kind having been done away when the province was ceded by France to the United States. His sway over his neighbors was merely one of custom and con. vention, out of deference to his family. Beside, he was worth full fifty thousand dollars, an amount almost equal, in the imaginations of the villagers, to the treasures of King Solomon. This very substantial old gentleman, though of the fourth or fifth generation in this country, retained the true Gallic feature and deportment, and reminded me of one of those provincial po- tentates, that are to be met with in the remote parts of France. He was of a large frame, a ginger-bread complexion, strong fea- tures, eyes that stood out like glass knobs, and a prominent nose, which he frequently regaled from a gold snuff-box, and occasionally blew with a colored handkerchief, until it sounded like a trumpet. He was attended by an old negro, as black as ebony, with a huge mouth, in a continual grin; evidently a privileged and favorite servant, who had grown up and grown old with him. He was dressed in creole style-with white jacket and trou- sers, a stiff shirt collar, that threatened to cut off his ears, a bright madras handkerchief tied round his head, and large gold ear-rings. He was the politest negro I met with in a west- ern tour; and that is saying a great deal, for, excepting the Indians, the negroes are the most gentlemanlike personages to be met with in those parts. It is true, they differ from the Indians in being a little extra polite and complimentary. He was also one of the merriest; and here, too, the negroes, however we may de. plore their unhappy condition, have the advantage of their nmas- ters. The whites are, in general, too free and prosperous to be merry. The cares of maintaining their rights and liberties, adding to their wealth, and making presidents, engross all their thoughts, and dry up all the moisture of their souls. If you hear a broad, hearty, devil-may-care laugh, be assured it is a negro's. i page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 THE CREOLE VILLAGE. Beside this African domestic, the seigneur of the village had another no less cherished ahd privileged attendant. This was a ;1 huge dog, of the mastiff breed, with a deep, hanging mouth, and a look of surly gravity. He walked about the cabin with the air of a dog perfectly at home, and who had paid for his passage. At dinner time he took his seat beside his master, giving him a glance now and then out of a corner of his eye, which bespoke perfect confidence that he would not be forgotten. Nor was he-- every now and then a huge morsel would be thrown to him, perad- venture the half-picked leg of a fowl, which he would receive with a snap like the springing of a steel-trap-one gulp, and all was down; and a glance of the eye told his master that he was ready for another consignment. The other village worthy, travelling in company with the seig- neur, was of a totally different stamp. Small, thin, and weazen- faced, as Frenchmen are apt to be represented in caricature, with a bright, squirrel-like eye, andja gold ring in his ear. His dress was flimsy, and sat loosely on his frame, and he had altogether the look of one with but little coin in his pocket. Yet, though one of the poorest, I was assured he was one of the merriest and most popular personages in his native village. Compere Martin, as he was commonly called, was the facto- tum of the place-sportsman, schoolmaster, and land-surveyor. : He could sing, dance, and, above all, play on the fiddle, an inval- uable accomplishment in an old French creole village, for the in- : habitants have a hereditary love for balls and fetes'; if they work but little, they dance a great deal, and a fiddle is the joy of their : heart. What had sent Compere Martin travelling with the Grand THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 43 Seigneur I could not learn; he evidently looked up to him with :i great deference, and was assiduous in rendering him petty atten- tions; from which I concluded that he lived at home upon the crumbs which fell from his table. He was gayest when out of his sight; and had his song and his joke when forward, among the deck passengers; but altogether Compere Martin was out of his element on board of a steamboat. He was quite another being, I am told, when at home, in his own village. Like his opulent fellow-traveller, he too had his canine follower and retainer-and one suited to his different fortunes-one of the civilest, most unoffending little dogs in the world. Unlike the lordly mastiff, he seemed to think he had no right on board of the steamboat; if you did but look hard at him, he would throw himself upon his back, and lift up his legs, as if imploring mercy. At table he took his seat a little distance from his master; not with the bluff, confident air of the mastiff, but quietly and diffidently; his head on one side, with one ear dubiously slouched, the other hopefully cocked up; his under teeth projecting beyond his black nose, and his eye wistfully following each morsel that went into his master's mouth. If Compere Martin now and then should venture to abstract a morsel from his plate, to give to his humble companion, it was edifying to see with what diffidence the exemplary little animal would take hold of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too great a lib- erty. And then with what decorum would he eat it! How many efforts would he make in swallowing it, as if it stuck in his throat; with what daintiness would he lick his lips; and then with what page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " THE CREOLE VILLAGE. - or an air of thankfulness would he resume his seat, with his teeth once more projecting beyond his nose, and an eye of humble ex- pectation fixed upon his master. It was late in the afternoon when the steamboat stopped at the village which was the residence of these worthies. It stood on the high bank of the river, and bore traces of having been a frontier trading post. There were the remains of stockades that once protected it from the Indians, and the houses were in the ancient Spanish and French colonial taste, the place having been success- ively under the domination of both those nations prior to the ces- sion of Louisiana to the United States. The arrival of the seigneur of fifty thousand dollars, and his humble companion, Compere Martin, had evidently been looked forward to as an event in the village. Numbers of men, women, and children, white, yellow, and black, were collected on the river bank; most of them clad in old-fashioned French garments, and their heads decorated with colored handkerchiefs, or white night- caps. The moment the steamboat came within sight and hear- ing, there was a waving of handkerchiefs, and a screaming and bawling of salutations, and felicitations, that baffle all descrip- tion. The old gentleman of fifty thousand dollars was received by a train of relatives, and friends, and children, and grandchildren, whom he kissed on each cheek, and who formed a procession in his rear, with a legion of domestics, of all ages, following him to a large, old-fashioned French house, that domineered over the village. His black valet de chambre, in white jacket and trousers, and gold ear-rings, was met on the shore by a boon, though rustic com- THE CREOLE VILLAGE. 45 panion, a tall negro fellow, with a long, good-humored face, and the profile of a horse, which stood out from beneath a narrow- rimmed straw hat, stuck on the back of his head. The ex- plosions of laughter of these two varlets on meeting and ex- changing compliments, were 'enough to electrify the country round. The most hearty reception, however, was that given to Com-r pere Martin. Every body, young and old, hailed him before he got to land. Every body had a joke for Compere Martin, and Compere Martin had a joke for every body. Even his little dog appeared, to partake of his popularity, and to be caressed by every hand. Indeed, he was quite a different animal the moment he touched the land. Here he wasat home; here he was of con- sequence, He barked, he leaped, he frisked about his old friends, and then would skim round the place in a wide circle, as if mad. I traced Compere Martin and his little dog to their home. It was an old ruinous Spanish house, of large dimensions, with ve- randas overshadowed by ancient elms. The house had probably been the residence, in old times, of the Spanish commandant. In one wing of this- crazy, but aristocratical abode, was nestled the family of my fellow-traveller; for poor devils are apt to be magni- ficently clad and lodged, in the cast-off clothes and abandoned pal- aces of the great and wealthy. The arrival of Compere Martin was welcomed by a legion of women, children, =a mongrel curs; and, as poverty and gayety generally go hand in hand among the French and their descend- ants, the crazy mansion soon resounded with loud gossip and light- hearted laughter. page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " THE CREOLE VILLAGE. As the steamboat paused a short time at the village, I took occasion to stroll about the place. Most of the houses were in the French taste, with casements and rickety verandas, but most of them in flimsy and ruinous condition. All the waggons, ploughs, and other utensils about the place were of ancient and inconven- ient Gallic construction, such as had been brought from France in the primitive days of the colony. The very looks of the people reminded me of the villages of France. From one of the houses came the hum of a spinning wheel, ac- companied by a scrap of an old French chanson, which I have heard many a time among the peasantry of Languedoc, doubtless a tra- ditional song, brought over by the first French emigrants, and handed down from generation to generation. Half a dozen young lasses emerged from the adjacent dwellings, reminding me, by their light step and gay costume, of scenes in ancient France, where taste in dress comes natural to every class of females. The trim bodice and colored petticoat, and little apron, with its pockets to receive the hands when in an attitude for conversation; the colored kerchief wound tastefully round the head, with a coquettish knot perking above one ear; and the neat slipper and tight drawn stocking, with its braid of narrow ribbon embracing the ancle where it peeps from its mysterious curtain. It is from this ambush that Cupid sends his most incit- ing arrows. While I was musing upon the recollections thus accidentally summoned up, I heard the sound of a fiddle from the mansion of Compere Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joyous gathering. I was disposed to turn my steps thither, and witness the festivities of one of the very few villages I had met with in my wide tour, THEE CREOLE VILLAGE. 41 that was yet poor enough to be merry; but the bell of the steam- boat summoned me to re-embark. As we swept away from the shore, I cast back a wistful eye upon the moss-grown roofs and ancient elms of the village, and prayed that the inhabitants might long retain their happy ignorance, their absence of all enterprise and improvement, their respect for the fiddle, and their contempt for the almighty dollar.* I fear, however, my prayer is doomed to be of no avail. In a little while, the steamboat whirled me to an American town, just springing into bustling and prosperous existence. The surrounding forest had been laid out in town lots; frames of wooden buildings were rising from among stumps'and burnt trees. The place already boasted a court-house, a jail, and two banks, all built of pine boards, on the model of Grecian temples. There were rival hotels, rival churches, and rival newspapers; to- gether with the usual number of judges, and generals, and gover- nors; not to speak of doctors by the dozen, and lawyers by the score. . The place, I was told, was in an astonishing career of improve- ment, with a canal and two railroads in embryo. Lots doubled in price every week; every body was speculating in land; every body was rich; and every body was growing richer. The com- munity, however, was torn to pieces by new doctrines in religion * This phrase used for the first time, in this sketch, has since passed into current circulation, and by some has been questioned as savoring of ir- reverence. The author, therefore, owes it to his orthodoxy to declare that no irreverence was intended even to the dollar itself; which he is aware is daily becoming more and more an object of worship. * . t page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 THE CREOLE VILLAGE. and in political economy; there were camp meetings, and agrarian meetings; and an election was at hand, which, it was expected, would throw the whole country into a paroxysm. Alas! with such an enterprising neighbor, what is to become of the poor little creole village i MOUNTOY: OR SOME PASSAGES OUT OF THE LIFE OF A CASTLE-BUILDER. I was born among romantic scenery, in one of the wildest parts of the Hudson, which at that time was not so thickly settled as at present. My father was descended from one of the old Hu- guenot families, that came over to this country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. He lived in a style of easy, rural indepen- dence, on a patrimonial estate that had been for two or three gen- erations in the family. He was an indolent, good-natured man, took the world as it went, and had a kind of laughing philos- ophy, that parried all rubs and mishaps, and served him in the place of wisdom. This was the part of his character least to my taste; for I was of an enthusiastic, excitable temperament, prone to kindle up with new schemes and projects, and he was apt to dash my sallying enthusiasm by some unlucky joke; so that whenever I was in a glow with any sudden excitement, I stood in mortal dread of his good-humor. Yet he indulged me in every vagary; for I was an only son, and of course a personage of importance in the household. I had 3 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 60 MOUNTOY. two sisters older than myself, and one younger. The former were educated at New York, under the eye of a maiden aunt; the lat- ter remained at home, and was my cherished playmate, the com- panion of my thoughts. We were two imaginative little beings, of quick susceptibility, and prone to see wonders and mysteries in every thing around us. Scarce had we learned to read, when our mother made us holiday presents of all the nursery literature of the day; which at that time consisted of little books covered with gilt paper, adorned with ' cuts," and filled with tales of fairies, giants, and enchanters. What draughts of delightful fiction did we then inhale! My sister Sophy was of a soft and tender na- ture. She would weep over the woes of the Children in the Wood, or quake at the dark romance of Blue-Beard, and the terrible mysteries of the blue chamber. But I was all for enterprise and adventure. I burned to emulate the deeds of that heroic prince, who delivered the white cat from her enchantment; or he of no less royal blood, and doughty emprise, who broke the charmed slumber of the Beauty in the Wood! The house in which we lived, was just the kind of place to foster such propensities. It was a venerable mansion, half villa, half farm-house. The oldest part was of stone, with loopholes for musketry, having served as a family fortress, in the time of the Indians. To this there had been made various additions, some of brick, some of wood, according to the exigencies of the mo- ment; so that it was full of nooks and crooks, and chambers of all sorts and sizes. It was buried among willows, elms, and cherry trees, and surrounded with roses and hollyhocks, with honey. suckle and sweethrier clambering about every window. A brood of hereditary pigeons sunned themselves upon the roof; hereditary MOUNTOY. 51 swallows and martins built about the eaves and chimneys; and hereditary bees hummed about the flower-beds. Under the influence of our story-books, every object around us now assumed a new character, and a charmed interest. The wild flowers were no longer the mere ornaments of the fields, or the resorts of the toilful bee; they were the lurking-places of fairies. We would watch the humming-bird, as it hovered around the trumpet creeper at our porch, and the butterfly as it flitted up into the blue air, above the sunny tree tops, and fancy them some of the tiny beings from fairy land. I would call to mind all that I hadiread of Robin Goodfellow, and his power of transformation. O how I envied him that power! How I longed to be able to compress my form into utter littleness; to ride the bold dragon- fly; swing on the tall bearded grass; follow the ant into his sub- terraneous habitation, or dive into the cavernous depths of the honeysuckle! While I was yet a mere child, I was sent to a daily school, about two miles distant. The school-house was on the edge of a wood, close by a brook overhung with birches, alders, and dwarf willows. We of the school who lived at some distance, came with our dinners put up in little baskets. In the intervals of school hours, we would gather round a spring, under a tuft of hazel- bushes, and have a kind of picnic; interchanging the rustic dainties with which our provident mothers had fitted us out. Then, when our joyous repast was over, and my companions were disposed for play, I would draw forth one of my cherished story- books, stretch myself on the greensward, and soon lose myself in its bewitching contents. I became an oracle among my school-mates, on account of my page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 MOUNTOY. superior erudition, and soon imparted to them the contagion of my infected fancy. Often in the evening, after school hours, we : would sit on the trunk of some fallen tree in the woods, and vie i with each other in telling extravagant stories, until the whip-poor- will began his nightly moaning, and the fire-flies sparkled in the gloom. Then came the perilous journey homeward. What de- light we would take in getting up wanton panics, in some dusky - part of the wood; scampering like frightened deer; pausing to take breath; renewing the panic, and scampering off again, wild with fictitious terror! I Our greatest trial was to pass a dark, lonely pool, covered . with pond-lilies, peopled with bull-frogs and water snakes, and haunted by two white cranes. Oh! the terrors of that pond! How our little hearts would beat, as we approached it; what fearful glances we would throw around! And if by chance a plash of a wild duck, or the guttural twang of a bull-frog, struck our ears, as we stole quietly by-away we sped, nor paused until completely out of the woods. Then, when I reached home, what a world of adventures, and imaginary terrors, would I have to re- - late to my sister Sophy! - As I advanced in years, this turn of mind increased upon me, and became more confirmed. I abandoned myself to the impulses of a romantic imagination, which controlled my studies, and gave . a bias to all my habits. My father observed me continually with a book in my hand, and satisfied himself that I was a profound i student; but what were my studies? Works of fiction; tales of chivalry; voyages of discovery; travels in the east; every thing, X in short, that partook of adventure and romance. I well remem- ber with what zest I entered upon that part of my studies which MOUNTOY. 53 treated of the heathen mythology, and particularly of the sylvan deities. Then indeed my school-books became dear to me. The neighborhood was well calculated to foster the reveries of a mind like mine. It abounded with solitary retreats, wild streams, solemn forests, and silent valleys. I would ramble about for a whole day, with a volume of Ovid's Metamorphoses in my pocket, and work myself into a kind of self-delusion, so as to identify the sur- rounding scenes with those of which I had just been reading. I would loiter about a brook that glided through the shadowy depths of the forest, picturing it to myself the haunt of Naiades. I would steal round some bushy copse that opened upon a glade, as if I expected to come suddenly upon Diana and her nymphs; or to behold Pan and his satyrs bounding, with whoop and halloo, through the woodland. I would throw myself, during the panting heats 'of la summer noon, under the shade of some wide-spreading tree, and muse and dream away the hours, in a state of mental intoxication. I drank in the very light of day, as nectar, and my soul see ned to bathe with ecstasy in the deep blue of a summer sky. In these wanderings, nothing occurred to jar my feelings, or bring me back to the realities of life. There is a repose in our mighty forests, that gives full scope to the imagination. Now and then I would hear the distant sound of the wood-cutter's axe, or the crash of some tree which he had laid low; but these noises, echoing along the quiet landscape, could easily be wrought by fancy into harmony with its illusions. In general, however, the woody recesses of the neighborhood were peculiarly wild and unfre- quented. I could ramble for a whole day, without coming upon any traces of cultivation. The partridge of the wood scarcely page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] " MOUNTOY. II seemed to shun my path, and the squirrel, from his nut-tree, would gaze at me for an instant, with sparkling eye, as if wonder- : ing at the unwonted intrusion. I cannot help dwelling on this delicious period of my life; : when as yet I had known no sorrow, nor experienced any worldly j care. I have since studied much, both of books and men, and of 7 course have grown too wise to be so easily pleased; yet with all my wisdom, I must confess I look back with a secret feeling of regret to the days of happy ignorance, before I had begun to be a philosopher. It must be evident that I was in a hopeful training, for one who was to descend into the arena of life, and wrestle with the world. The tutor, also, who superintended my studies, in the more advanced stage of my education, was just fitted to complete the fata morgana which was forming in my mind. His name was Glencoe. He was a pale, melancholy-looking man, about forty years of age; a native of Scotland, liberally educated, and who had devoted himself to the instruction of youth, from taste : rather thin necessity; for, as he said, he loved the human heart, and delighted to study it in its earlier impulses. My two elder j! sisters, having returned home from a city boarding-school, were ^ likewise placed under his care, to direct their reading in history i and belles-lettres. - ^: We all soon became attached to -Glencoe. It is true, we were -.: at first somewhat prepossessed against him. His meagre, pallid countenance, his broad pronunciation, his inattention to the little -0 forms of society, and an awkward and embarrassed manner, on X i :X MOUNTOY. 55 first acquaintance, were much against him; but we soon discovered that under this unpromising exterior' existed the kindest ur- banity; Ithe warmest sympathies; the most enthusiastic benev- olence. I His mind was ingenious and acute. His reading had been various, but more abstruse than profound: his memory was stored, on all subjects, with facts, theories, and quotations, and crowded with crude materials for thinking. These, in a moment of excitement, would be, as it were, melted down, and poured forth in the lava of a heated imagination. At such moments, the change in the whole man was wonderful. His meagre form would acquire a dignity and grace; his long, pale visage would flash with a hectic glow; his eyes would beam with intense speculation; and there would be pathetic tones and deep modulations in his voice, that delighted the ear, and spoke movingly to the heart. But what most endeared him to us, was the kindness and sympathy with which he entered into all our interests and wishes. Instead of curbing and checking our young imaginations with the reins of sober reason, he was a little too apt to catch the impulse, and be hurried away with us. He could not withstand the excite- ment of any sally of feeling or fancy; and was prone to lend heightening tints to the illusive coloring of youthful anticipation. Under his guidance, my sisters and myself soon entered upon a more extended range of studies; but while they wandered, with delighted minds, through the wide field of history and belles-let- tres, a nobler walk was opened to my superior intellect. The mind of Glencoe presented a singular mixture of philoso- phy and poetry. He was fond of metaphysics, and prone to in- dulge in abstract speculations; though his metaphysics were some- what fine spun and fanciful, and his speculations were apt to par- page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] " MOUNTOY. take of what my father most irreverently termed "humbug." For my part, I delighted in them, and the more especially, because they set my father to sleep, and completely confounded my sis- ters. I entered, with my accustomed eagerness, into this new branch of study. Metaphysics were now my passion. My sisters attempted to accompany me, but they soon faltered, and gave out before they had got half way through Smith's Theory of Mo- ral Sentiments. I, however, went on, exulting in my strength. Glencoe supplied me with books, and I devoured them with appe- tite, if not digestion. We walked and talked together under the trees before the house, or sat apart, like Milton's angels, and held high converse upon themes beyond the grasp of ordinary in- tellects. Glencoe possessed a kind of philosophic chivalry, in im- itation of the old peripatetic sages, and was continually dreaming of romantic enterprises in morals, and splendid systems for the improvement of society. He had a fanciful mode of illustrating abstract subjects, peculiarly to my taste; clothing them with the language of poetry, and throwing round them almost the magic hues of fiction. "How charming," thought I, "' is divine philoso- phy; " not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, "But a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns." I felt a wonderful self-complacency at being on such excellent terms with a man whom I considered on a parallel with the sages of antiquity, and looked down with a sentiment of pity on the feebler intellects of my sisters, who could comprehend nothing of metaphysics. It is true, when I attempted to study them by my- self I was apt to get in a fog; but when Glencoe came to my aid, MOUNTOY. every thing was soon as clear to me as day. My ear drank in the beauty of his words; my imagination was dazzled with the splen- dor of his illustrations. It caughtup the sparkling sands of poe- try that glittered through his speFuulations, and mistook them for the golden ore of wisdom. Struck with the facility with which I seemed to imbibe and relishithe most abstract doctrines, I con- ceived a still higher opinion of my mental powers, and was con- vinced that I also was a philospher. I was now verging toward man's estate, and though my edu- cation had been extremely irregular-following the caprices of my humor, which I mistook fdr the impulses of my genius-yet I was regarded with wonder and delight by my mother and sisters, who considered me almost as wise and infallible as I considered myself. This high opinion of me was strengthened by a declamatory hab- it, which mademe an oracle and orator at the domestic board. The time was now at hand, however, that was to put my philoso- phy to the test. We had passed through a long winter, and the spring at length opened upon us, with unusual sweetness. The soft serenity of the weather; the beauty of the surrounding country; the joyous notes of the birds; the balmy breath of flower and blossom, all com- bined to fill my bosom with indistinct sensations, and nameless wishes. Amid the soft seductions of the season, I lapsed into a state of utter indolence, both of body and mind. Philosophy had lost its charms for me. Metaphysics-faugh! I tried to study; took down volume after volume, ran my eye va- cantly over a few pages, and threw them by with distaste. I loi- 3* page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 MOUNTOY. tered about the house, with my hands in my pockets, and an air of complete vacancy. Something was necessary to make me hap- py; but what was that something! I sauntered to the apart- ments of my sisters, hoping their conversation might amuse me. They had walked out, and the room was vacant. On the table lay a volume which they had been reading. It was a novel. I had never read a novel, having conceived a contempt for works of the kind, from hearing them universally condemned. It is true, I had remarked they were universally read; but I considered them beneath the attention of a philosopher, and never would venture to read them, lest I should lessen my mental superiority in the eyes of my sisters.. Nay, I had taken up a work of the kind, now and then, when I knew my sisters were observing me, looked into it for a moment, and then laid it down, with a slight supercilious smile. On the present occasion, out of mere listless- ness, I took up the volume, and turned over a few of the first pages. I thought I heard some one coming, and laid it down. I was mistaken; no one was near, and what I had read, tempted my curiosity to read a little farther. I leaned against a window-frame, )I and in a few minutes was completely lost in the story. How long I stood there reading, I know not, but I believe for nearly i two hours. Suddenly I heard my sisters on the stairs, when I thrust the book into my bosom, and the two other volumes, which lay near, into my pockets, and hurried out of the house to my beloved woods. Here I remained all day beneath the trees, be- wildered, bewitched; devouring the contents of these delicious volumes; and only returned to the house when it was too dark to peruse their pages. This novel finished, I replaced it in my vister's apartment, and iI MOUNTOY. 69 looked for others. Their stock was ample, for they had brought home all that were current in the city; but my appetite demanded an immense supply. All this course of reading was carried on clandestinely, for I was a little ashamed of it, and fearful that my wisdom might be called in question; but this very privacy gave it additional zest. It was " bread eaten in secret; " it had the charm of a private amour. But think what must have been the effect of such a course of reading on a youth of my temperament and turn of mind; in- dulged, too, amidst romantic scenery, and in the romantic season of the year. It-seemed as if I had entered upon a new scene of ex- istence. A train of combustible feelings were lighted up in me, and my soul was all tenderness and passion. Never was youth more completely love sick, though as yet it was a mere general sentiment, and wanted a definite object. Unfortunately, our neighborhood was particularly deficient in female society, and I languished in vain for some divinity, to whom I might offer up this most uneasy burthen of affections. I was at one time seri- ously enamored of a lady whom I saw occasionally in my rides, reading at the window of a country-seat; and actually serenaded her with my flute; when, to my confusion, I discover that she was old enough to be my mother. It was a sad damper to my romance; especially as my father heard of it, and made it the subject of one of those household jokes, which he was apt to serve up at every meal-time. I soon recovered from this check, however, but it was only to relapse into a state of amorous excitement. I passed whole days in the fields, and along the brooks; for there is something in the tender passion that makes us alive to the beauties of nature. A page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 MOUNTOY. i soft sunshine morning infused a sort of rapture into my breast. I flung open my arms, like the Grecian youth in Ovid, as if I would take in and embrace the balmy atmosphere.* The song of the birds melted me to tenderness. I would lie by the side of some rivulet, for hours, and form garlands of the flowers on its banks) and muse on ideal beauties, and sigh from the crowd of undefined emotions that swelled my bosom. In this state of amorous delirium, I was strolling one morning along a beautiful wild brook which I had discovered in a glen. There was one place where a small water-fall, leaping from among rocks into a natural basin, made a scene such as a poet might - have chosen as the haunt of some shy Naiad. It was here I usually retired to banquet on my novels. In visiting the place this morning, I traced distinctly, on the margin of the basin, - which was of fine clear sand, the prints of a female foot, of the most-slender and delicate proportions. This was sufficient for an r imagination like mine. Robinson Crusoe himself, when he dis- covered the print of a savage foot on the beach of his lonely - island, could not have been more suddenly assailed with thick- coming fancies. I endeavored to track the steps, but they only passed for a few paces along the fine sand, and then were lost among the herb- , age. I remained gazing in reverie upon this passing trace of : loveliness. It evidently was not made by any of my sisters, for . they knew nothing of this haunt; besides, the foot was smaller , : than theirs; it was remarkable for its beautiful delicacy. : My eye accidentally caught two or three half-withered wild H * Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book vii. - MOUNTOY. 61 flowers, lying on the ground. The unknown nymph had doubtless dropped them from her bosom! Here was a new document of taste and sentiment. I treasured them up as invaluable relics. The place, too, where I found them, was remarkably picturesque, and the most beautiful part of the brook. It was overhung with a fine elm, entwined with grape-vines. She who could select such a spot, who could delight in wild brooks, and wild flowers, and silent solitudes, must have fancy, and feeling, and tenderness; and with all these qualities, she must be beautiful! But who could be this Unknown, that had thus passed by, as in a morning dream, leaving merely flowers and fairy footsteps, to tell of her loveliness! There was a mystery in it that bewildered me. It was so vague and disembodied, like those " airy tongues that syllable men's names " in solitude. Every attempt to solve the mystery was vain. I could hear of no being in the neighbor- hood to whom this trace could be ascribed. I haunted the spot, and became more and more enamored. Never, surely, was pas- sion more pure and spiritual, and never lover in more dubious situation. My case could only be compared with that of the amorous prince, in the fairy tale of Cinderella; but he had a glass slipper on which to lavish his tenderness. I, alas! was in love with a footstep! The imagination is alternately a cheat and a dupe; nay more, it is the most, subtle of cheats, for it cheats itself, and becomes the dupe of its own delusions. It conjures up "airy nothings," gives to them a " local habitation and a name," and then bows to their control as implicitly as if they were realities. Such was page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 MOUNTOY. now my case. The good Numa could not more thoroughly have persuaded himself that the nymph Egeria hovered about her sacred fountain, and communed with him in spirit, than I had deceived myself into a kind of visionary intercourse with the airyi phantom fabricated in my brain. I constructed a rustic seat at the foot of the tree where I had discovered the footsteps. I made a kind of bower there, where I used to pass my mornings, read- ing poetry and romances. I carved hearts and darts on the tree, and hung it with garlands. My heart was full to overflowing, and wanted some faithful bosom into which it might relieve itself. What is a lover without a confidante? I thought at once of my sister Sophy, my early playmate, the sister of my affections. She was so reasonable, too, and of such correct feelings, always listen- ing to my words as oracular sayings, and admiring my scraps of poetry, as the very inspirations of the muse. From such a devot- ed, such a rational being, what secrets could I have-? I accordingly took her, one morning, to my favorite retreat. She looked around, with delighted surprise, upon the rustic seat, the bower, the tree carved with emblems of the tender passion. She turned her eyes upon me to inquire the meaning. "Oh, Sophy," exclaimed I, clasping both her hands in mine, and looking earnestly in her face," I am in love!" : She started with surprise. I "Sit down," said I, " and I will tell you all." She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and I went into a full history of the footstep, with all the associations of idea that had been conjured up by my imagination. Sophy was enchanted; it was like a fairy tale: She had read of such mysterious visitations in books, and the loves thus con- - : MOUNTOY. 63 ceived were always for beings of superior order, and were always happy. She caught the illusion, in all its force; her cheek glow- ed; her eye brightened. "I dare say she's pretty," said Sophy. "Pretty!" echoed I, "she is beautiful!" I went through all the reasoning by which I had logically proved the fact to my own satisfaction. I dwelt upon the evidences of her taste, her sensi- bility to the beauties of nature; her soft meditative habit, that delighted in solitude; " oh," said I, clasping my hands " to have such a companion to wander through these scenes; to sit with her by this murmuring stream; to wreathe garlands round her brows; to hear the music of her voice mingling with the whisperings of these groves;--" "Delightful! delightful!" cried Sophy; "what a sweet creature she must be! She is just the friend I want. How I shall dote upon her! Oh, my dear brother! you must not keep her all to yourself. You must let me have some share of her!" I caught her to my bosom: "You shall-you shall!" cried I, "my dear Sophy; we will all live for each other!" The conversation with Sophy heightened the illusions of my mind; and the manner in which she had treated my day-dream, identified it with facts and persons, and gave it still more the stamp of reality. I walked about as one in a trance, heedless of the world around, and lapped in an elysium of the fancy. In this mood I met, one morning, with Glencoe. He accosted me with his usual smile, and was proceeding with some general ob- servations, but paused and fixed on me an inquiring eye. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " MOUNTOY. "What is the matter with you?" said he; "you seem agitated; has any thing in particular happened?" "Nothing," said I, hesitating; at least nothing worth commu- nicating to you." Nay, my dear young friend," said he, "whatever is of sufficient importance to agitate you, is worthy of being communicated to me." "Well; but my thoughts are running on what you would think a frivolous subject." "No subject is frivolous, that has the power to awaken strong feelings." "What think you," said I, hesitating, "what think you of love?" Glencoe almost started at the question. Do you call that a frivolous subject?" replied he. "Believe me, there is none fraught with such deep, such vital interest. If you talk, indeed, of the capricious inclination awakened by the mere charm of perishable beauty, I grant it to be idle in the extreme; but that love which springs from the concordant sympathies of virtuous hearts; that love which is awakened by the perception of moral excellence, and : fed by meditation on intellectual as well as personal beauty; that is a passion which refines and ennobles the human heart. Oh, where is there a sight more nearly approaching to the intercourse of angels, than that of two young beings, free from the sins and follies of the world, mingling pure thoughts, and looks, and feel- ings, and becoming as it were soul of one soul, and heart of one heart! How exquisite the silent converse that they hold; the soft devotion of the eye, that needs no words to make it eloquent! Yes, my friend, if there be any thing in this weary world worthy of heaven, it is the pure bliss of such a mutual affection!" The words of my worthy tutor overcame all farther reserve. "Mr. Glencoe," cried I, blushing still deeper, "I am in love!" MOUNTOY. 65 L And is that what you were ashamed to tell me? Oh, never seek to conceal from your friend so important a secret. If your passion be unworthy, it is for the steady hand of friendship to pluck it forth; if honorable, none but an enemy would seek to stifle it. On nothing does the character and happiness so much depend, as on the first affection of the heart. Were you caught by some fleeting and superficial charm-a bright eye, a blooming cheek, a soft voice, or a voluptuous form-I would warn you to beware; I would tell you that beauty is but a passing gleam of the morning, a perishable flower; that accident may becloud and blight it, and that at best it must soon pass away. But were you in love with such a one as I could describe; young in years, but still younger in feelings; lovely in person, but as a type of the mind's beauty; soft in voice, in token of gentleness of spirit; blooming in countenance, like the rosy tints of morning kindling with the promise of a genial day; an eye beaming with the benig- nity of a happy heart; a cheerful temper, alive to all kind impul- ses, and frankly diffusing its own felicity; a self-poised mind, that needs not lean on others for support; an elegant taste, that can embellish solitude, and furnish out its own enjoyments-- " "My dear sir," cried I, for I could contain myself no longer, C" you have described the very person!" "Why then, my dear young friend," said he, affectionately pressing my hand, "in God's name, love on I For the remainder of the day, I was in some such state of dreamy beatitude as a Turk is said to enjoy, when under the in- fluence of opium. It must be already manifest, how prone I was page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " - MOUNTOY. to bewilder myself with picturings of the fancy, so as to confound -! them with existing realities. In the present instance, Sophy and Glencoe had contributed to promote the transient delusion. So- phy, dear girl, had as usual joined with me in my castle-building, ;' and indulged in the same train of imaginings, while Glencoe, dup- ed by my enthusiasm, firmly believed that I spoke of a being I had seen and known. By their sympathy with my feelings, they in a ; manner became associated with the Unknown in my mind, and thus linked her with the circle of my intimacy. In the evening, our family party was assembled in the hall; to enjoy the refreshing breeze. Sophy was playing some favorite Scotch airs on the piano, while Glencoe, seated apart, with his forehead resting on his hand, was buried in one of those pensive reveries, that made him so interesting to me. "What a fortunate being I am!" thought I, " blessed with such a sister and such a friend! I have only to find out this -: amiable Unknown, to wed her, and be happy! What a paradise A will be my home, graced with a partner of such exquisite refine- ! ment! It will be a perfect fairy bower, buried among sweets and roses. Sophy shall live with us, and be the companion of all a our enjoyments. Glencoe, too, shall no more be the solitary being that he now appears. He shall have a home with us. He shall ! have his study, where, when he pleases, he may shut himself up from the world, and bury himself in his own reflections. His re- treat shall be held sacred; no one shall intrude there; no one . but myself, who will visit him now and then, in his seclusion, where we will devise grand schemes together for the improvement ? of mankind. How delightfully our days will pass, in a round of : rational pleasures and elegant employments! Sometimes we will MOUNTOY. 67 have music; sometimes we will read; sometimes we will wander through the flower-garden, when I will smile with complacency on every flower my wife has planted; while in the long winter even- ings, the ladies will sit at their work and listen, with hushed at- tention, to Glencoe and myself, as we discuss the abstruse doc- trines of metaphysics." From this delectable reverie, I was startled by my father's slapping me on the shoulder: "What possesses the lad?" cried he: "here have I been speaking to you half a dozen times, with- out receiving an answer." "Pardon me, sir," replied I; "'I was so completely lost in thought, that I did not hear you."' "Lost in thought! And pray what were you thinking of? Some of your philosophy, I suppose." "Upon my word," said my sister Charlotte, with an arch laugh, "I suspect Harry's in love again." "And if I were in love, Charlotte," said I, somewhat nettled, and recollecting Glencoe's enthusiastic eulogy of the passion, " if I were in love, is that a matter of jest and laughter? Is the ten- derest and most fervid affection that can animate the human breast, to be made a matter of cold-hearted ridicule? ' My sister colored. -"Certainly not, brother!-nor did I mean to make it so, nor to say any thing that should wound your feel- ings. Had I really suspected that you had formed some genuine attachment, it would have been sacred in my eyes; but-but," said she, smiling, as if at some whimsical recollection, "I thought that you-you might be indulging in another little freak of the imagination." "' I'll wager any money," cried my father, " he has fallen in love again with some old lady at a window!" page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 MOUNTOY. "Oh no!" cried my dear sister Sophy, with the most gracious warmth; " she is young and beautiful." "From what I understand," said Glencoe, rousing himself, "she must be lovely in mind as in person." I found my friends were getting me into a fine scrape. I be- gan to perspire at every pore, and felt my ears tingle. "Well, but," cried my father, "who is she?-what is she? Let us hear something about her." This was no time to explain so delicate a matter. I caught up my hat, and vanished out of the house. The moment I was in the open air, and alone, my heart up- braided me. Was this respectful treatment to my father-to such a father too-who had always regarded me as the pride of his age-the staff of his hopes? It is true, he was apt, sometimes, to laugh at my enthusiastic flights, and did not treat my philoso- phy with due respect; but when had he ever thwarted a wish of my heart? Was I then to act with reserve toward him, in a matter which might affect the whole current of my future life? "I have done wrong," thought I; "but it is not too late to remedy it. I will hasten back, and open my whole heart to my father!" I returned accordingly, and was just on the point of entering the house, with my heart full of filial piety, and a contrite speech upon my lips, when I heard a burst of obstreperous laughter from my father, and a loud titter from my two elder sisters. "A footstep!" shouted he, as soon as he could recover him- S self; "in love with a footstep! why, this beats the old lady at L the window!" And then there was another appalling burst of , laughter. Had it been a clap of thunder, it could hardly have C, MOUNTOY. 69 astounded me more completely. Sophy, in the simplicity of her heart, had told all, and had set my father's risible propensities in full action. Never was poor mortal so thoroughly crest-fallen as myself. The whole delusion was at an end. I drew off silently from the house, shrinking smaller and smaller at every fresh peal of laugh: ter; and wandering about until the family had retired, stole quietly to my bed. Scarce any sleep, however, visited my eyes that night! I lay overwhelmed with mortification, and meditating how I might meet the family in the morning. The idea of ridi- cule was always intolerable to me; but to endure it on a subject by which my feelings had been so much excited, seemed worse than death. I almost determined, at one time, to get up, saddle my horse, and ride off, I knew not whither. At length I came to a resolution. Before going down to breakfast, I sent for Sophy, and employed her as ambassador to treat formally in the matter. I insisted that the subject should be buried in oblivion; otherwise, I would not show my face at table. It was readily agreed to; for not one of the family would have given me pain for the world. They faithfully kept their promise. Not a word was said of the matter; but there were wry faces, and suppressed titters, that went to my soul; and whenever my father looked me in the face, it was with such a tra- gic-comical leer-such an attempt to pull down a serious brow upon a whimsical mouth-that I had a thousand times rather he had laughed outright. For a day or two after the mortifying occurrence mentioned, I kept as much as possible out of the way of the family, and wan- page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 MOUNTOY. dered about the fields and woods by myself. I was sadly out of tune: my feelings were all jarred and unstrung. The birds sang q from every grove, but I took no pleasure in their melody; and the flowers of the field bloomed unheeded around me. To be crossed in love, is bad enough; but then one can fly to poetry for relief; and turn one's woes to account in soul-subduing stanzas. But to have one's whole passion, object and all, annihilated, dis- pelled, proved to be such stuff as dreams are made of-or, worse than all, to be turned into a proverb and a jest-what consolation is there in such a case? I avoided the fatal brook where I had seen the footstep. My favorite resort was now the banks of the Hudson, where I sat : upon the rocks, and mused upon the current that dimpled by, or ;: the waves that laved the shore; or watched the bright mutations of the clouds, and the shifting lights and shadows of the distant - mountain. By degrees, a returning serenity stole over my feel- ings; and a sigh now and then, gentle and easy, and unattended by pain, showed that my heart was recovering its susceptibility. As I was sitting in this musing mood, my eye became gradu- iX ally fixed upon an object that was borne along by the tide. It proved to be a little pinnace, beautifully modelled, and gaily painted and decorated. It was an unusual sight in this neighbor- hood, which was rather lonely: indeed, it was rare to see any pleasure-barks in this part of the river. As it 'drew nearer, I perceived that there was no one on board; it had apparently drifted from its anchorage. There was not a breath of air: the little bark came floating along on the glassy stream, wheeling about with the eddies. At length it ran aground, almost at the foot of the rock on which I was seated. I descended to the mar- MOUNTOY. 1 gin of the river, and drawing the bark to shore, admired its light and elegant proportions, and the taste with which it was fitted up. The benches were covered with cushions, and its long streamer was of silk. On one of the cushions lay a lady's glove, of delicate size and shape, with beautifully tapered fingers. I instantly seized it and thrust it in my bosom: it seemed a match for the fairy footstep that had so fascinated me. In a moment, all the romance of my bosom was again in a glow. Here was one of the very incidents of fairy tale: a bark sent by some invisible power, some good genius, or benevolent fairy, to waft me to some delectable adventure. I recollected something of an enchanted bark, drawn by white swans, that con- veyed a knight down the current of the Rhine, on some enterprise connected with love and beauty. The glove, too, showed that there was a lady fair concerned in the present adventure. It might be a gauntlet of defiance, to dare me to the enterprise. In the spirit of romance, and the whim of the moment, I sprang on board, hoisted the light sail, and pushed from shore. As if breathed by some presiding power, a light breeze at that moment sprang up, swelled out the sail, and dallied with the silken streamer. For a time I glided along under steep umbrageous banks, or across deep sequestered bays; and then stood out over a wide expansion of the river, toward a high rocky promontory. It was a lovely evening: the sun was setting in a congregation of clouds that threw the whole heavens in a glow, and were reflected in the river. I delighted myself with all kinds of fantastic fancies, as to what enchanted island, or mystic bower, or necromantic palace, I was to be conveyed by the fairy bark. In the revel of my fancy, I had not noticed that the gorgeous page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 12 MOUINTOY. congregation of clouds which had so much delighted me, was in fact a gathering thunder-gust. I perceived the truth too late. The clouds came hurrying on, darkening as they advanced. The whole face of nature was suddenly changed, and assumed that bale- ful and livid tint, predictive of a storm. I tried to gain the shore, but before I could reach it, a blast of wind struck the water, and lashed it at once into foam. The next moment it overtook the boat. Alas! I was nothing of a sailor; and my protecting fairy forsook me in the moment of peril. I endeavored to lower the sail: but in so doing, I had to quit the helm; the bark was over- turned in an instant, and I was thrown into the water. I en- deavored to cling to the wreck, but missed my hold: being a poor swimmer, I soon found myself sinking, but grasped a light oar that was floating by me. It was not sufficient for my sup- port; I again sank beneath the surface; there was a rushing and . bubbling sound in my ears, and all sense forsook me. How long I remained insensible, I know not. I had a con- fused notion of being moved and tossed about, and of hearing strange beings and strange voices around me; but all was like a hideous dream. When I at length recovered full consciousness and perception, I found myself in bed, in a spacious chamber, furnished with more taste than I had been accustomed to. The bright rays of a morning sun were intercepted by curtains of a delicate rose color, that gave a soft, voluptuous tinge to every object. Not far from my bed, on a classic tripod, was a basket of beautiful exotic flowers, breathing the sweetest fragrance. C Where am I? How came I here?" MOUNTOY. 73 I tasked my mind to catch at some previous event, from which I might trace up the thread of existence to the present moment. By degrees I called to mind the fairy pinnace, my daring embar- cation, my adventurous voyage, and my disastrous shipwreck. Beyond that, all was chaos. How came I here ? What unknown region had I landed upon ? The people that inhabited it must be gentle and amiable, and of elegant tastes, for they loved downy beds, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored curtains. While I lay thus musing, the tones of a harp reached my ear. Presently, they were acompanied by a female voice. It came from the room below; but in the profound stillness of my chamber, not a modulation was lost. My sisters were all considered good musicians, and sang very tolerably; but I had never heard a voice like this. There was no attempt at difficult execution, or striking effect; but there were exquisite inftexions, and tender turns, which art could not reach. Nothing but feeling and sentiment could produee them. It was soul breathed forth in sound. I was always alive to the influence of music: indeed, I was susceptible of vo. luptuous in fluences of every kind-sounds, colors, shapes, and fragrant odors. I was the very slave of sensation. I lay mute and breathless, and drank in every note of this siren strain. It thrilled through my whole frame, and filled my soul with melody and love. I pictured to myself, with curious logic, the form of the unseen musician. Such melodious sounds and exquisite infexions could only be produced by organs of the most delicate fleribility. Such organs do not belong to coarse, vulgar forms; they are the harmonious results of fair propor. tions and admirable symm etry. A being so organized, must be lovely. page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 MOUNTOY. Again my busy imagination was at work. I called to mind the Arabian story of a prince, borne away during sleep by a good genius, to the distant abode of a princess, of ravishing beauty. I do not pretend to say that I believed in having experienced a similar ? transportation; but it was my inveterate habit to cheat myself ; with fancies of the kind, and to give the tinge of illusion to sur- rounding realities. The witching sound had ceased, but its vibrations still played i round my heart, and filled it with a tumult of soft emotions. At i this moment, a self-upbraiding pang shot through my bosom. , "Ah, recreant!-" a voice seemed to exclaim, ' is this the stability X of thine affections? What! hast thou so soon forgotten the nymph of the fountain? Has one song, idly piped in thine ear, been sufficient to charm away the cherished tenderness of a whole summer?" The wise may smile-but I am in a confiding mood, and must confess my weakness. I felt a degree of compunction at this sudden infidelity, yet I could not resist the power of present fasci- nation. My peace of mind was destroyed by conflicting claims. The nymph of the fountain came over my memory, with all the associations of fairy footsteps, shady groves, soft echoes, and wild streamlets; but this new passion was produced by a strain of soul-subduing-melody, still lingering in my ear, aided by a downy bed, fragrant flowers, and rose-colored curtains. "Unhappy youth!" sighed I to myself, " distracted by such rival passions, and the empire of thy heart thus violently contested by the sound ; of a voice, and the print of a footstep!" *^ , MOUNTOY. q5 I had not remained long in this mood, when I heard the door of the room gently opened. I turned my head to see what inhab- itant of this enchanted palace should appear; whether page in green, hideous dwarf, or haggard fairy. It, was my own man Scipio. He advanced with cautious step, and was delighted, as he said, to find me so much myself again. My first questions were as to where I was, and how I came there? Scipio told me a long story of his having been fishing in a canoe, at the time of my hare-brained cruise; of his noticing the gathering squall, and my impending danger; of his hastening to join me, but arriving just in time to snatch me from a watery grave; of the great difficulty in restoring me to animation; and of my being subsequently con- veyed, in a state of insensibility, to this mansion. "But where am I?" was the reiterated demand. "In the house of Mr. Somerville." "Somerville-Somerville! I recollected to have heard that a gentleman of that name had recently taken up his residence at some distance from my father's abode, on the opposite side of the Hudson. He was commonly known by the name of "French Somerville," from having passed part of his early life in France, and from his exhibiting traces of French taste in his mode of living, and the arrangements of his house. In fact, it was in his pleasure-boat, which had got adrift, that I had made my fan- ciful and disastrous cruise. All this was simple straight-forward matter of fact, and threatened to demolish all the cobweb romance I had been spinning, when fortunately I again heard the tinkling of a harp. I raised myself in bed, and listened. "Scipio," said I, with some little hesitation, "I heard some one singing just now. Who was it?" page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] '6 MOUNTOY. "Oh, that was Miss Julia." "Julia! Julia! Delightful! what a name! And, Scipio-is she-is she pretty?" Scipio grinned from ear to ear. "Except Miss Sophy, she was the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen." I should observe, that my sister Sophia was considered by all the servants a paragon of perfection. Scipio now offered to remove the basket of flowers; he was afraid their odor might be too powerful; but Miss Julia had given them that morning to be placed in my room. These flowers, then, had been gathered by the fairy fingers of my unseen beauty; that sweet breath which had filled my ear with melody, had passed over them. I made Scipio hand them to me, culled several of the most delicate, and laid them on my bosom. Mr. Somerville paid me a visit not long afterward. He was an interesting study for me, for he was the father of my unseen beauty, and probably resembled her. I scanned him closely. He was a tall and elegant man, with an open, affable manner, and an erect and graceful carriage. His eyes were bluish-gray, and, though not dark, yet at times were sparkling and expressive. His hair was dressed and powdered, and being lightly combed up from his forehead, added to the loftiness of his aspect. He was fluent in discourse, but his conversation had the quiet tone of pol- ished society, without any of those bold flights of thought, and picturings of fancy, which I so much admired. My imagination was a little puzzled, at first, to make out o;his assemblage of personal and mental qualities, a picture that Whould harmonize with my previous idea of the fair unseen. By dint, however, of selecting what it liked, and rejecting what it did not MOUINTOY. 7 like, and giving a touch here and a touch there, it soon finished out a satisfactory portrait. "Julia must be tall," thought-I, " and of exquisite grace and dignity. She is not quite so courtly as her father, for she has been brouight up in the retirement of the country. Neither is she of such vivacious deportment; for the tones of her voice are soft and plaintive, and she loves pathetic music. She is rather pen- sive-yet not too pensive; just what is called interesting. Her eyes are like her father's, except that they are- of a purer blue, and more tender and languishing. She has light hair-not exact- ly flaxen, for I do not not like flaxen hair, but between that and auburn. In a word, she is a tall, elegant, imposing, languishing, blue-eyed, romantic-looking beauty." And having thus finished her picture, I felt ten times more in love with her than ever. I felt so much recovered, that I would at once have left my room, but Mr. Somerville objected to it. He had sent early word to my family of my safety; and my father arrived in the course of the morning. He was shocked at learning the risk I had run, but rejoiced to find me so much restored, and was warm in his thanks to Mr. Somerville for his kindness. The other only re- quired, in return, that I might remain two or three days as his guest, to give time for my recovery, and for our forming a closer acquaintance; a request which my father readily granted. Scipio accordingly accompanied my father home, and returned with a sup- ply of clothes, and with affectionate letters from my mother and sisters. page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] '78 MOUNTOY. The next morning, aided by Scipio, I made my toilet with rather more care than usual, and descended the stairs, with some trepidation, eager to see the original of the portrait which had been so completely pictured in my imagination. On entering the parlor, I found it deserted. Like the rest of the house, it was furnished in a foreign style. The curtains were of French silk; there were Greciap couches, marble tables, pier- glasses, and chandeliers. What chiefly attracted my eye, were documents of female taste that I saw around me; a piano, with an ample stock of Italian music; a book of poetry lying on the sofa; a vase of fresh flowers on a table, and a portfolio open with a skilful and half-finished sketch of them. In the window was a Canary bird, in a gilt cage, and near by, the harp that had been in Julia's arms. Happy harp! But where was the being that reigned in this little empire of delicacies?-that breathed poetry and song, and dwelt among birds and flowers, and rose-colored curtains? Suddenly I heard the hall door fly open, the quick pattering of light steps, a wild, capricious strain of music, and the shrill barking of a dog. A light frolic nymph of fifteen came tripping into the room, playing on a flageolet, with a little spaniel ramping after her. Her gypsy hat had fallen back upon her shoulders; a profusion of glossy brown hair was blown in rich ringlets about her face, which beamed through them with the brightness of miles and dimples. At sight of me, she stopped short, in the most beautiful con- fusion, stammered out a word or two about looking for her father, glided out of the door, and I heard her bounding up the stair- case, like a frightened fawn, with the little dog barking after her. MOUNTOY. 179 When Miss Somerville returned to the parlor, she was quite a different being. She entered, stealing along by her mother's side with noiseless step, and sweet timidity: her hair was prettily ad- justed, and a soft blush mantled on her damask cheek. Mr. Som- erville accompanied the ladies, and introduced me regularly to them. There were many kind inquiries, and much sympathy ex- pressed on the subject of my nautical accident, and some remarks upon the wild scenery of the neighborhood, with which the ladies seemed perfectly acquainted. You must know," said Mr. Somerville, " that we are great navigators, and delight inexploring every nook and corner of the river. My daughter, too, is a great hunter of the picturesque, and transfers every rock and glen to her portfolio. By the way, my dear, show Mr. Mountjoy that pretty scene you have lately sketched." Julia complied, blushing, and drew from her port- folio a colored sketch. I almost started at the sight. It was my favorite brook. A sudden thought darted across my mind. I glanced down my eye, and beheld the divinest little foot in the world. Oh, blissful conviction! The struggle of my affections was at an end. The voice and the footstep were no longer at va- riance. Julia Somerville was the nymph of the fountain! What conversation passed during breakfast, I do not recol- lect, and hardly was conscious of at the time, for my thoughts were in complete confusion. I wished to gaze on Miss Somerville, but did not dare. Once, indeed, I ventured a glance. She was at that moment darting a similar one from under a covert of ring- page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 MOUNTOY. lets. Our eyes seemed shocked by the rencontre, and fell; hers through the natural modesty of her sex, mine through a bashful- ness produced by the previous workings of my imagination. That glance, however, went like a sunbeam to my heart. i A convenient mirror favored my diffidence, and gave me the reflection of Miss Somerville's form. It is true it only presented the back of her head, but she had the merit of an ancient statue; contemplate her from any point of view, she was beautiful. And yet she was totally different from every thing I had before conceived of beauty. She was not the serene, meditative maid that I had pic- tured the nymph of the fountain; nor the tall, soft, languishing, blue-eyed, dignified being, that I had fancied the minstrel of the harp. There was nothing of dignity about her: she was girlish in her appearance, and scarcely of the middle size; but then there was the tenderness of budding youth; the sweetness of the half- blown rose, when not a tint or perfume has been withered or ex- haled; there were smiles and dimples, and. all the soft witcheries of ever-varying expression. I wondered that I could ever have admired any other style of beauty. After breakfast, Mr. Somerville departed to attend to the con- cerns of his estate, and gave me in charge of the ladies. Mrs. Somerville also was called away by household cares, and I was left alone with Julia! Here then was the situation which of all others I had most coveted. I waa in the presence of the lovely being that had so long been the desire of my heart. We were alone; propitious opportunity for a lover! Did I sieze upon it? Did I break out in one of my accustomed rhapsodies? No such thing! Never was being more awkwardly embarrassed. "What can be the cause of this?" thought I. "Surely I can- MOUNTOY. 81 not stand in awe of this young girl. I am of course her superior in intellect, and am never embarrassed in company with my tutor notwithstanding all his wisdom." It was passing strange. I felt that if she were an old woman, I should be quite at my ease; if she were even an ugly woman, I should make out very well; it was her beauty that overpowered me. How little do lovely women know what awful beings they are, in the eyes of inexperienced youth! Young men brought up in the fashionable circles of our cities will smile at all this. Accus- tomed to mingle incessantly in female society, and to have the romance of the heart deadened by a thousand frivolous flirtations, women are nothing but women in their eyes; but to a susceptible youth like myself, brought up in the country, they are perfect divinities. Miss Somerville was at first a little embarrassed herslf; but, somehow or other, women have a natural adroitness in recovering their self-possession; they are more alert in their minds, and graceful in their manners. Besides, I was but an ordinary per- sonage in Miss Somerville's eyes; she was not under the influence of such a singular course of imaginings as had surrounded her, in my eyes, with the illusions of romance. Perhaps, too, she saw the confusion in the opposite camp, and gained courage from the discovery. At any rate, she was the first to take the field, Her conversation, however, was only on common-place topils, and in an easy, well-bred style. I endeavored to respond in the same manner; but I was strangely incompetent to the task. My ideas were frozen up; even words seemed to fail me. I was ex- cessively vexed at myself, for I wished to be uncommonly elegant. I tried two or three times to turn a pretty thought, or to utter a 4* page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 MOUNTOY. fine sentiment; but it would come forth so trite, so forced, so mawkish, that I was ashamed of it. My very voice sounded dis- cordantly, though I sought to modulate it into the softest tones. "The truth is," thought I to myself, "I cannot bring my mind down to the small talk necessary for young girls; it is too mascu- line and robust for the mincing measure of parlor gossip. I am a philosopher-and that accounts for it." The entrance of Mrs. Somerville at length gave me relief. I at once breathed freely, and felt a vast deal of confidence come over me. "This is strange," thought I, " that the appearance of another woman should revive my courage; that I should be a better match for two women than one. However, since it is so, I will take advantage of the circumstance, and let this young lady see that I am not so great a simpleton as she probably thinks me." I accordingly toi up the book of poetry which lay upon the sofa. It was Milton's Paradise Lost. Nothing could have been more fortunate; it afforded a fine scope for my favorite vein of grandiloquence. I went largely into a discussion of its merits, or rather an enthusiastic eulogy of them. My observations were ad- dressed to Mrs. Somerville, for I found I could talk to her with more ease than to her daughter. She appeared- perfectly alive to the beauties of the poet, and- disposed to meet me in the discus- sion; but it was not my object to hear her talk; it was to talk myself. I anticipated all she had to say, overpowered her with the copiousness of my ideas, and supported and illustrated them by long citations from the author. While thus holding forth, I cast a side glance to see how Miss Somerville was affected. She had some embroidery stretched on a frame before her, but had paused in her labor, and was looking MOUNTOY. 83 down as if lost in mute attention. I felt a glow of self-satisfaction, but I recollected, at the same time, with a kind of pique, the advan- tage she had enjoyed over me in our tte-a-tete. I determined to push my triumph, and accordingly kept on with redoubled ardor, until I had fairly exhausted my subject, or rather my thoughts. I had scarce come to a full stop, when Miss Somerville raised her eyes from the work on which they had been fixed, and turning to her mother, observed: "I have been considering, mamma, whether to work these flowers plain, or in colors." Had an ice-bolt been shot to my heart, it could not have chilled me more effectually. "What a fool," thought I, " have I been making myself-squandering away fine thoughts, and fine language, upon a light mind, and an ignorant car! This girl knows nothing of poetry. She has no soul, I fear, for its beauties. Can any one have real sensibility of heart, and not be alive to poetry? How- ever, she is young: this part of her education has been neglected: there is time enough to remedy it. I will be her preceptor. I will kindle in her mind the sacred flame, and lead her through the fairy land of song. But after all, it is rather unfortunate that I should have fallen in love with a woman who knows nothing of poetry." I passed a day not altogether satisfactory. I was a little dis- appointed that Miss Somerville did not show more poetical feeling. I am afraid, after all," said I to myself, "she is light and girl- ish, and more fitted to pluck wild flowers, play on the flageolet, and romp with little dogs, than to converse with a man of my turn." a I believe, however, to tell the truth, I was more out of humor with myself. I thought I had made the worst first appearance ll " * , \ I', page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 MOUNTOY. that ever hero made, either in novel or fairy tale. I was out of all patience, when I called to mind my awkward attempts at ease and elegance, in the tfte-a-tote. And then my intolerable long lecture about poetry, to catch the applause of a heedless auditor! But there I was not to blame. I had certainly been eloquent; it was her fault that the eloquence was wasted. To meditate upon the embroidery of a flower, when I was expatiating on the beauties of Milton! She might at least have admired the poetry, if she did not relish the manner in which it was delivered; though that was not despicable, for I had recited passages in my best style, which my mother and sisters had always considered equal to a play. "Oh, it is-evident," thought I, "Miss Somerville has very little soul!" Such were my fancies and cogitations, during the day, the greater part of which was spent in my chamber, for I was still languid. My evening was passed in the drawing-room, where I overlooked Miss Somerville's portfolio of sketches. They were executed with great taste, and showed a nice observation of the peculiarities of nature. They were all her own, and free from those cunning tints and touches of the drawing-master, by which young ladies' drawings, like their heads, are dressed up for com- pany. There was no garish and vulgar trick of colors, either; all was executed with singular truth and simplicity. "And yet," thought I, "this little being, who has so pure an eye to take in, as in a limpid brook, all the graceful forms and magic tints of nature, has no soul for poetry!" Mr. Somerville toward the latter part of the evening, observ- ing my eye to wander occasionally to the harp, interpreted and met my wishes with his accustomed civility. - MOUNTOY. .g "Julia, my dear," said he, "Mr. Mountjoy would like to hear a little music from your harp; let us hear, too, the sound of your voice." Julia immediately complied, without any of that hesitation and difficulty, by which young ladies are apt to make the company pay dear for bad music. She sang a sprightly strain, in a brilliant style, that came trilling playfully over the eari and tht bright eye and dimpling smile showed that her little heart danced with the song. Her pet Canary bird, who hung closd by, was wakened by the music, and burst forth into an emulating strain. Julia smiled with a pretty air of defiance, and played louder. After some time, the music changed, and ran into a plaintive strain, in a minor key. Then it was, that all the former witchery of her voice came over me; then it was, that she seemed to sing fi'om the heart and to the heart. Her fingers moved about the chords as if they scarcely touched them. Her whole manner and appearance changed; her eyes beamed with the softest expres- sion; her countenance, her frame, all seemed subdued into tender- ness. She rose from the harp, leaving it still vibrating, with sweet sounds, and moved toward her father, to bid ]iim good night. His eyes had been fixed on her intently, during her perform- ance. As she came before him, he parted her shining ringlets with both his hands, and looked down with the fondness of a father on her innocent face. The music seemed still lingering in its lin- eaments, and the action of her father brought a moist gleam in her eye. He kissed her fair forehead, after the French mode of parental caressing: "Good night, and God bless vou," said he, "my good little girl!" Julia tripped away, with a tear in'- her eye, a dimple in her page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 MOUNTOY. cheek, and a light heart in her bosom. I thoughtit the prettiest picture of paternal and filial affection I had ever seen. When I retired to bed, a new train of thoughts crowded into my brain. "After all," said I to myself, " it is clear this girl has a soul, though she was not moved by my eloquence. She has all the outward signs and evidences of poetic feeling. She paints well, and has an eye for nature. She is a fine musician, and enters into the very soul of song. What a pity that she knows nothing of poetry! But we will see what is to be done. I am irretrievably in love with her; what then am I to do? Come down to the level of her mind, or endeavor to raise her to some kind of intellectual equality with myself? That is the most gen- erous course. She will look up to me as a benefactor. I shall become associated in her mind with the lofty thoughts and har- monious graces of poetry. She is apparently docile: besides, the difference of our ages will give me an ascendency over her. She cannot be above sixteen years of age, and I am full turned of twenty." So, having built this most delectable of air-castles, I fell asleep. The next morning, I was quite a different being. I no longer felt fearful of stealing a glance at Julia; on the contrary, I con- templated her steadily, with the benignant eye of a benefactor. Shortly after breakfast, I found myself alone with her, as I had on the preceding morning; but I felt nothing of the awkwardness of our previous tete-a-tete. I was elevated by the consciousness of my intellectual superiority, and should almost have felt a sen- timent of pity for the ignorance of the lovely little being, if I h-fd MOUNTOY. 87 not felt also the assurance that I should be able to dispel it. "But it is time," thought I, "to open school." Julia, was occupied in arranging some music on her piano. I looked over two or three songs; they were Moore's Irish melodies. "These are pretty things," said I, flirting the leaves over lightly, and giving a slight shrug, by way of qualifying the opinion. "Oh, I love them of all things!" said Julia, "they're so touching!" "Then you like them for the poetry," said I, with an encour- aging smile. "Oh yes; she thought them charmingly written." Now was my time. "Poetry," said I, assuming a didactic attitude and air, " poetry is one of the most pleasing studies that can occupy a youthful mind. It renders us susceptible of the gentle impulses of humanity, and cherishes a delicate perception of all that is virtuous and elevated in morals, and graceful and beautiful in physics. It--- " I was going on in a style that would have graced a professor of rhetoric, when I saw a light smile playing about Miss Somer- ville's mouth, and that she' began to turn over the leaves of a music book. I recollected her inattention to my discourse of the preceding morning. "There is no fixing her light mind," thought I, "by abstract theory; we will proceedipractically." As it hap- pened, the identical volume of Milton's Paradise Lost was lying at hand. "Let me recommend to you, my young friend," said I, in one of those tones of persuasive admonition, which I had so often loved in Glencoe -" let me recommend to you this admirable page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 MOUNTOY. poem: you will find in it sources of intellectual enjoyment far superior to those songs which have delighted you." Julia looked at the book, and then at me, with a whimsically dubious air. "Milton's Paradise Lost?" said she; " oh, I know the greater part of that by heart." I had not expected to find my pupil so far advanced; however, the Paradise Lost is a kind of school book, and its finest passages are given to young ladies as tasks. "I find," said I to myself, "I must not treat her as so com- plete a novice; her inattention, yesterday, could not have pro- ceeded from absolute ignorance, but merely from a want of poetic feeling. I'll try her again." I now determined to dazzle her with my own erudition, and launched into a harangue that would have done honor to an insti- tute. Pope, Spenser, Chaucer, and the old dramatic writers, were all dipped into, with the excursive flight of a swallow. I did not confine myself to English poets, but gave a glance at the French and Italian schools: I passed over Ariosto in full wing, but paused on Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered. I dwelt on the character of Clorinda: "There's a character," said I, "that you will find well worthy a woman's study. It shows to what exalted heights of heroism the sex can rise; how gloriously they may share even in the stern concerns of men." "For my part," said Julia, gently taking advantage of a pause-" for my part, I prefer the character of Sophronia.5" I was thunderstruck. She then had read Tasso! This girl- that I had been treating as an ignoramus in poetry! She pro- ceeded, with a slight glow of the cheek, summoned up perhaps by a casual glow of feeling: MOUNTOY. 89 "I do not admire those masculine heroines," said she, "who aim at the bold qualities of the opposite sex. Now Sophronia only exhibits the real qualities of a woman, wrought up to their highest excitement. She is modest, gentle, and retiring, as it becomes a woman to be; but she has all the strength of affection proper to a woman. She cannot fight for her people, as Clorinda does, but she can offer herself up, and die, to serve them. You may admire Clorinda, but you surely would be more apt to love Sophronia ; at least," added she, suddenly appearing to recollect herself, and blushing at having launched into such a discussion, at least, that is what papa observed, when we read the poem together." "Indeed," said I, dryly,'for I felt disconcerted and nettled at being unexpectedly lectured by my pupil-" indeed, I do not ex- actly recollect the passage." "Oh," said Julia, "I can repeat it to you; " and she imme- diately gave it in Italian. Heavens and earth!-here was a situation! I knew no more of Italian than I did of the language of Psalmanazar. What a dilemma for a would-be-wise man to be placed in! I saw Julia waited for my opinion. "In fact," said I, hesitating, "H do not exactly under- stand Italian." "Oh," said Julia, with the utmost naivete, "I have no doubt it is very beautiful in the translation." I was glad to break up school, and get back to my chamber, full of the mortification which a wise man in love experiences on finding his mistress wiser than himself. "Translation! transla- tion!" muttered I to myself, as I jerked the door shut behind page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 MOUNTOY. me: 1"I am surprised my father has never had me instructed in the modern languages. They are all-important. What is the use of Latin and Greek? No one speaks them; but here, the moment I make my appearance in the world, a little girl slaps Italian in my face. However, thank Heaven, a language is easily learned. The moment I return home, I'll set about studying Italian; and to prevent future surprise, I will study Spanish and German at the same time; and if any young lady attempts to quote Italian upon me again, I'll bury her under a heap of High Dutch poetry!" I felt now like some mighty chieftain, who has carried the war into a weak country, with full confidence of success, and been re- pulsed and obliged to draw off his forces from before some incon- siderable fortress. "However," thought I," I have as yet brought only my light artillery into action; we shall see what is to be done with my heavy ordnance. Julia is evidently well versed in poetry; but it is natural she should be so; it is allied to painting and music, and is congenial to the light graces of the female character. We will try her on graver themes." I felt all my pride awakened; it even for a time swelled higher than my love. I was determined completely to establish my mental superiority, and subdue the intellect of this little being: it would then be time to sway the sceptre of gentle empire, and win the affections of her heart. Accordingly, at dinner I again took the field, en potence. I now addressed myself to Mr. Somerville, for I was about to enter upon topics in which a young girl like her could not be well versed. I led, or rather forced, the conversation into a vein of historical erudition, discussing several of the most prominent facts of ancier t 1OUNTrJOY. ..... 9 1 history, and accompanying them with sound, indisputable apo- thegms. Mr. Somerville listened to me with the air of a man receiving imformation. I was encouraged, and went on gloriously from theme to theme of school declamation. I sat with Marius on the ruins of Carthage; I defended the bridge with Horatius Cocldes; thrust my hand into the flame with. Martius Scevola, and plunged with Curtius into the yawning gulf; I fought side by side with -Leonidas, at the straits of Thermopylae; and was going full drive into the battle, of Platea, when my memory, which is the worst in the world, failed me, just as I wanted the name of the Lacedemo- nian commander. "Julia, my dear," said Mr. Somerville, "perhaps you may recollect the name of which Mr. Mountjoy is in quest?" Julia colored slightly: "I believe," said she, in a low voice, "I believe it was Pausanias.", This unexpected sally, instead of reinforcing me, threw my whole scheme of battle into confusion, and the Athenians remain- ed unmolested in the field. I am half inclined, since, to think Mr. Somerville meant this as a sly hit at my school-boy pedantry; but he was too well bred not to seek to relieve me from my mortification. "Oh!" said he, "Julia is our family book of reference for names, dates, and dis- tances, and has an excellent memory for history and geography." I now became desperate; as a last resource, I turned to meta- physics. "If she is a philosopher in petticoats," thought I, " it is all over with me." Here, however, I had the field to myself. I gave chapter and verse of my tutor's lectures, heightened by all his poetical illus- page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 MOUNTOY. trations: I even went farther than he had ever ventured, and plunged into such depths of metaphysics, that I was in danger of sticking in the mire at the bottom. Fortunately, I had auditors who apparently could not detect my flounderings. Neither Mr. Somerville nor his daughter offered the least interruption. When the ladies had retired, Mr. Somerville sat some time with me; and as I was no longer anxious to astonish, I permitted myself to listen, and found that he was really agreeable. He was quite communicative, and from his conversation I was enabled to form a juster idea of his daughter's character, and the mode in which she had been brought up. Mr. Somerville had mingled much with the world, and with what is termed fashionable society. He had experienced its cold elegancies, and gay insincerities; its dissipation of the spirits, and squanderings of the heart. Like many men of the world, though he had wandered too far from nature ever to return to it, yet he had the good taste and good feeling to look back fondly to its simple delights, and to determine that his child, if possible, should never leave them. He had'su- perintended her education with scrupulous care, storing her mind with the graces of polite literature, and with such knowledge as would enable it to furnish its own amusement and occupation, and giving her all the accomplishments that sweeten and enliven the circle of domestic life. He had been particularly sedulous to exclude all fashionable affectations; all false sentiment, false sen- sibility, and false romance. "' Whatever advantages she may pos- sess," said he, she is quite unconscious of them. She is a ca- pricious little being, in every thing but her affections; she is, however, free from art: simple, ingenuous, innocent, amiable, and, I thank God! happy." MOUNTTOY. 93 Such was the eulogy of a fond father, delivered with a tender- ness that touched me. I could not help making a casual inquiry, whether, among the graces of polite literature, he had included a slight tincture of metaphysics. He smiled, and told me he had not. On the whole, when, as usual, that night, I summed up the day's observations on my pillow, I was not altogether dissatisfied. "Miss Somerville," said I, "loves poetry, and I like her the bet- ter for it. She has the advantage of me in Italian: agreed; what is it to know a variety of languages, but merely to have a variety of sounds to express the samedidea? Original thought is the ore of the mind; language is but the accidental stamp and coinage, by which it is put into circulation. If I can furnish an original idea, what care I how many languages she can translate it into? She may be able, also, to quote names, and dates, and latitudes, better than I; but that is a mere effort of the memory. I admit she is more accurate in history and geography than I; but then she knows nothing of metaphysics." I had now sufficiently recovered, to return home; yet I could not think of leaving Mr. Somerville's, without having a little farther conversation with him on the subject of his daughter's education. "This Mr. Somerville," thought I, " is a very accomplished, elegant man; he has seen a good deal of the world, and, upon the whole, has profited by what he has seen. He is not without in- formation, and, as far as he thinks, appears to think correctly; but after all, he is rather superficial, and does not think pro- foundly. He seems to take no delight in those metaphysical abstractions, that are the proper aliment of masculine minds. I page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " MOUNTOY. called to mind various occasions in which I had indulged largely in metaphysical discussions, but could recollect no instance where I had been able to draw him out. He had listened, it is true, with attention, and smiled as if in acquiescence, but had always appeared to avoid reply. Besides, I had made several sad blunders in the glow of eloquent declamation; b ut he had never interrupted me, to notice and correct them, as he would have done had he been versed in the theme. "Now it is really a great pity," resumed I, " that he should have the entire management of Miss Somerville's education. What a vast advantage it would be, if she could be put for a little time under the superintendence of Glencoe. He would throw some deeper shades of thought into her mind, which at present is all sunshine; not but that Mr. Somerville has done very well, as far as he has gone; but then he has merely prepared the soil for the strong plants of useful knowledge. She is well versed in the leading facts of history, and the general course of belles-lettres," said I; " a little more philosophy would do wonders." I accordingly took occasion to ask Mr. Somerville for a few moments' conversation in his study, the morning I was to depart. When we were alone, I opened the matter fully to him. I com- menced with the warmest eulogium of Glencoe's powers of mind, and vast acquirements, and ascribed to him all my proficiency in the higher branches of knowledge. I begged, therefore, to recom- mend him as a friend calculated to direct the studies of Miss ' Somerville; to lead her mind, by degrees to the contemplation of abstract principles, and to produce habits of philosophical analy- sis; ac which," added I, gently smiling, " are not often cultivated Iby young ladies. " I ventured to hint, in addition, that he would '*a MOUNTOY. 95 find Mr. Glencoe a most valuable and interesting acquaintance for himself; one who would stimulate and evolve the powers of his mind ; and who might open to him tracts of inquiry and specula- tion, to which perhaps he had hitherto been a stranger. Mr. Somerville listened with grave attention. When I had finished, he thanked me in the politest manner for the interest I took in the welfare of his daughter and himself. He observed that, as regarded himself, he was afraid he was too old to benefit by the instructions of Mr. Glencoe, and that as to his daughter, he was afraid her mind was but little fitted for the study of metaphysics. "I do not wish," continued he, " to strain her intellects with subjects they cannot grasp, but to make her familiarly acquainted with those that are within the limits of her capacity. I do not pretend to prescribe the boundaries of female genius, and am far from indulging the vulgar opinion, that women are unfitted by nature for the highest intellectual pursuits. I speak only with reference to my daughter's taste and talents. She will never make a learned woman; nor in truth do I desire it; for such is the jealousy of our sex, as to mental as well as p ical ascendency, that a learned woman is not always the happiest. I do not wish my daughter to excite envy, nor to battle with the prejudices of the world; but to glide peaceably through life, on the good will and kind opinion of her friends. She has ample employment for her little head, in the course I have marked out for her; and is busy at present with some branches of natural history, calculated to awaken her perceptions to the beauties and wonders of nature, and to the inexhaustible volume of wisdom constantly spread open before her eyes. I consider that woman most likely to make an agreeable companion, who can draw topics page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] O96 MOUNTOY. of pleasing remark from every natural object; and most likely to be cheerful and contented, who is continually sensible of theorder, the harmony, and the invariable beneficence, that reign through- out the beautiful world we inhabit." "But," added he, smiling, "I am betraying myself into a lecture, instead of merely giving a reply to your kind offer. Per- mit me to take the liberty, in return, of inquiring a little about your own pursuits. You speak of having finished your education; but of course you have a line of private study and mental occupa- tion marked out; for you must know the importance, both in point of interest and happiness, of keeping the mind employed. May I ask what system you observe in your intellectual exer- cises?" "Oh, as to system," I observed, "I could never bring myself into any thing of the kind. I thought it best to let my genius take its own course, as it always acted the most vigorously when stimulated by inclination." Mr. Somerville shook his head. "This same genius," said he, "is a wild quality, that runs away with our most promising young men. It has become so much the fashion, too, to give it the reins, that it is now thought an animal of too noble and generous a nature to be brought to the harness. But it is all a mistake. Nature never designed these high endowments to run riot through society, and throw the whole system into confusion. No, my dear sir: genius, unless it acts upon system, is very apt to be a useless quality to society; sometimes an injurious, and certainly a very uncomfortable one, to its possessor. I have had many opportu- nities of seeing the progress through life of young men who were accounted geniuses, and have found it too often end in early ex- MOUNTOY. 97 haustion and bitter disappointment; and have as often noticed that these effects might be traced to a total want of system. There were no habits of business, of steady purpose, and regular application, superinduced upon the mind; every thing was left to chance and impulse, and native luxuriance, and every thing of course ran to waste and wild entanglement. Excuse me, if I am tedious on this point, for I feel solicitous to impress it upon you, being an error extremely prevalent in our country, and one into which too many of our youth have fallen. I am happy, how- ever, to observe the zeal which still appears to actuate you for the acquisition of knowledge, and augur every good from the ele- vated bent of your ambition. May I ask what has been your course of study for the last six months?" Never was question more unluckily timed. For the last six months I had been absolutely buried in novels and romances. Mr. Somerville perceived that the question was embarrassing, and with his invariable good breeding, immediately resumed the conversation, without waiting for a reply. He took care, however, to turn it in such a way as to draw from me an account of the whole manner in which I had been educated, and the various cur- rents of reading into which my mind had run. He then went on to discuss briefly, but impressively, the different branches of knowledge most important to a young man in my situation; and to my surprise I found him a complete master of those studies on which I had supposed him ignorant, and on which I had been de- scanting so confidently. He complimented me, however, very graciously, upon the pro- gress I had made, but advised me for the present to turn my at- tention to the physical rather than the moral ciennces, "These 6ra 5 1 ' ' '^ r ' r page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 MOUNTOY. studies," said he, " store a man's mind with valuable facts, and at the same time repress self-confidence, by letting him know how boundless are the realms of knowledge, and how little we can pos- sibly know. Whereas metaphysical studies, though of an ingen- ious order of intellectual employment, are apt to bewilder some minds with vague speculations. They never know how far they ihave advanced, or what may be the correctness of their favorite theory. They render many of our young men verbose and decla- matory, and prone to mistake the aberrations of their fancy for --the inspirations of divine philosophy." I could not but interrupt him, to assent to the truth of these remarks, and to say that it had been my lot, in the course of my limited experience, to encounter young men of the kind, who had overwhelmed me by their verbosity. Mr. Somerville smiled. "I trust," said he, kindly, " that you will guard against these errors. Avoid the eagerness with which a young man is apt to hurry into conversation, and to utter the crude and ill-digested notions which he has picked up in his re- cent studies. Be assured that extensive and accurate knowledge is the slow acquisition of a studious lifetime; that a young man, however pregnant his wit, and prompt his talent, can have master- ed but the rudiments of learning, and, in a manner, attained the implements of study. Whatever may have been your past assi- duity, you must be sensible that as yet you have but reached the threshold of true knowledge; but at the same time, you have the advantage that you are still very young, and have ample time to learn." Here our conference ended. I walked out of the study, a very different being from what I was on entering it. I had gone in MOUNTOY. 99 with the air of a professor about to deliver a lecture; I came out like a student, who had failed in his examination, and been de- graded in his class. "Very young," and " on the threshold of knowledge!" This was extremely flattering, to one who had considered himself an accomplished scholar, and profound philosopher! "It is singular," thought I; " there seems to have been a spell upon my faculties, ever since I have been in this house. I cer- tainly have not been able to do myself justice. Whenever I have undertaken to advise, I have had the tables turned upon me. It must be that I am strange and diffident among people I am not accustomed to. I wish they could hear me talk at home!" "After all," added I, on farther reflection,-- after all, there is a great deal of force in what Mr. Somerville has said. Some how or other, these men of the world do now and then hit upon remarks that would do credit to a philosopher. Some of his general observations came so home, that I almost thought they were meant for myself. His advice about adopting a system of study, is very judicious. I will immediately put it in practice. My mind shall operate henceforward with the regularity of clock- work." How far I succeeded in adopting this plan, how I fared in the farther pursuit of knowledge, and how I succeeded in my suit to Julia Somerville, may afford matter for a farther communication to the public, if this simple record of my early life is fortunate enough to excite any curiosity. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] THE BERMUDAS. A SHAKSPEARIAN RESEARCH "Who did not think, till within these foure yeares, but that these islands had been rather a habitation for Divells, than fit for men to dwell in? Who did not hate the name, when hee was on land, and shun the place when he was on the seas? But behold the misprision and conceits of the world! For true and large experience hath now told us, it is one of the ? sweetest paradises that be upon earth." l "A PLAINE DESCRIPT. OF ThE BABMUDAS: " 1613. : IN the course of a voyage home from England, our ship had : been struggling, for two or three weeks, with perverse head-winds, and a stormy sea. It was in the month of May, yet the weather had at times a wintry sharpness, and it was apprehended that we were in the neighborhood of floating islands of ice, which at that season of the year drift out of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, and sometimes occasion the wreck of noble ships. Wearied out by the continued opposition of the elements, our captain bore away to the south, in hopes of catching the expiring breath of the trade-winds, and making what is called the southern passage. A few days wrought, as it were, a magical "-sea change " in every thing around us. We seemed to emerge into a different world. The late dark and angry sea, lashed up into roaring and swashing surges, became calm and sunny; the rude winds died , THE BERMUDAS. 101 away; and gradually a light breeze sprang up directly aft, filling out every sail, and wafting us smoothly along on an even keel. The air softened into a bland and delightful temperature. Dol- phins 'began to play about us; the yau uls came floating by, like a fairy ship, with its mimic sail and rainbow tints; and flying- fish, from time to time, made their short excursive flights, and occasionally fell upon the deck. The cloaks and overcoats in which we had hitherto wrapped ourselves, and moped about the vessel, were thrown aside; for a summer warmth had succeeded to the late wintry chills. , Sails were stretched as awnings over the quarter-deck, to protect us from the mid-day sun. Under these we lounged away the day, in luxurious indolence, musing, with half-shut eyes, upon the quiet ocean. The night was scarcely less beautiful than the day. The rising moon sent a quivering column of silver along the undulating surface of the deep, and, gradually climbing the heaven, lit up our towering topsails and swelling mainsails, and spread a pale, mysterious light around. As our ship made her whispering way through this dreamy world of waters, every boisterous sound on board was charmed to silence; and the low whistle, or drowsy song, of a sailor from the forecastle, or the tinkling of a guitar, and the soft warbling of a female voice from the quarter-deck, seemed to derive a witching melody from the scene and hour. I was reminded of Oberon's exquisite description of music and moonlight on the ocean: -- , Thou rememberest Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song; page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] la TITHE BERMUDAS.' And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,. To hear the sea-maid's music." Indeed, I was in the very mood to conjure up all the imagi- nary beings with which poetry has peopled old ocean, and almost ready to fancy I heard the distant song of the mermaid, or the mellow shell of the triton, and to picture to myself Neptune and Amphitrite with all their pageant sweeping along the dim horizon. A day or two of such fanciful voyaging, brought us in sight of the Bermudas, which first looked like mere summer clouds, peering above the quiet ocean. All day we glided along in sight of them, with just wind enough to fill our sails; and never did land appear more lovely. They were clad in emerald verdure, be- neath the serenest of skies: not an angry wave broke upon their quiet shores, and small fishing craft, riding on the crystal waves, seemed as if hung in air. It was such a scene that Fletcher pictur- ed to himself, when he extolled the halcyon lot of the fisherman: Ah! would thou knewest how much it better were To bide among the simple fisher-swains: No shrieking owl, no night-crow lodgeth here, Nor is our simple pleasure mixed with pains. Our sports begin with the beginning year; In calms, to pull the leaping fish to land, In roughs, to sing and dance along the yellow sand. In contemplating these beautiful islands, and the peaceful sea around them, I could hardly realize that these were the " still vexed Bermoothes" of Shakspeare, once the dread of mariners, and infamous in the narratives of the early discoverers, for the dangers and disasters which beset them. Such, however, was the THE BERMUDAS. Iw case; and the islands derived additional interest in my eyes, from fancying that I could trace in their early history, and in the super- stitious notions connected with them, someof the elements of Shakspeare's wild and beautiful drama of the Tempest. I shall take the liberty of citing a few historical facts, in support of this idea, which may claim some additional attention from the Ameri- can reader, as being connected with the first settlement of Virginia. At the time when Shakspeare was in the fulness of his talent, and seizing upon every thing that could furnish aliment to his im- agination, the colonization of Virginia was a favorite object of enterprise among people of condition in England, and several of the courtiers of the court of Queen Elizabeth were personally en- gaged in it. In the year 1609, a noble armament of nine ships and five hundred men sailed for the relief of the colony. It was commanded by Sir George Somers, as admiral, a gallant and gen- erous gentleman, above sixty years of age, and possessed of an ample fortune, yet still bent upon hardy enterprise, and ambitious of signalizing himself in the service of his country. On board of his flag-ship, the Sea-Vulture, sailed also Sir Thomas Gates, lieutenant-general of the colony. The voyage was long and boisterous. On the twenty-fifth of July, the admiral's ship was separated from the rest in a hurricane. For several days she was driven about at the mercy of the elements, and so strained and racked, that her seams yawned open, and her hold was half filled with water. The storm subsided, but left her a mere foundering wreck. The crew stood in the hold to their waists in water, vainly endeavoring to bail her with kettles, buckets, and other vessels. The leaks rapidly gained on them, while their strength was as rapidly declining. They lost all hope page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 THE BERMUDAS. of keeping the ship afloat, until they should reach the American coast; and wearied with fruitless toil, determined, in their despair, to give up all farther attempt, shut down the hatches, and abandon themselves to Providence. Some, who had spirituous liquors, or "comfortable waters," as the old record quaintly terms them, brought them forth, and shared them with their comrades, and they all drank a sad farewell to one another, as men who were soon to part company in this world. In this moment of extremity, the worthy admiral, who kept sleepless watch from the high stern of the vessel, gave the thrill- ing cry of "land!" All rushed on deck, in a frenzy of joy- and nothing now was to be seen or heard on board, but the transports of men who felt as if rescued from the grave. It is true the land in sight would not, in ordinary circumstances, have inspired much self-gratulation. It could be nothing else but the group of isl- ands called after their discoverer, one Juan Bermudas, a Span- iard, but stigmatized among the mariners of those days as " the islands of devils!" " For the islands of the Bermudas," says the old narrative of this voyage, "as every man knoweth that hath heard or read of them, were never inhabited by any chris- tian or heathen people, but were ever esteemed and reputed a most prodigious and inchanted place, affording nothing but gusts, stormes, and foul weather, which made every navigator and mari- ner to avoide them as Scylla and Charybdis, or as they would shun the Divell himself." * Sir George Somers and his tempest-tossed comrades, however, hailed them with rapture, as if they had been a terrestrial para- dise. Every sail was spread, and every exertion made to urge * "A Plaine Description of the Barmudaa" THE BERMUDAS. 105 the foundering ship to land. Before long, she struck upon a rock. Fortunately, the late stormy winds had subsided, and there was no surf. A swelling wave lifted her from off the rock, and bore her to another; and thus she was borne on from rock to rock, until she remained wedged between two, as firmly as if set upon the stocks. The boats were immediately lowered, and, though the shore was above a mile distant, the whole crew were landed in safety. Every one had now his task assigned him. Some made all haste to unload the ship, before she should go to pieces; some constructed wigwams of palmetto leaves, and others ranged the island in quest of wood and water. To their surprise and joy, they found it far different from the desolate and frightful place they had been taught by seamen's stories to expect. It was well wooded and fertile; there were birds of various kinds, and herds of swine roaming about, the progeny of a number that had swum ashore, in former years, from a Spanish wreck. The island abounded with turtle, and great quantities of their eggs were to be found among the rocks. The bays and inlets were full of fish; so tame, that if any one stepped into the water, they would throng around him. Sir George Somers, in a little while, caught enough with hook and line to furnish a meal to his whole ship's company. Some of them were so large, that two were as much as a man could carry. Craw-fish, also, were taken in abundance. The air was soft and salubrious, and the sky beautifully serene. Waller, in his "Summer Islands,' has given us a faithful picture of the climate: ( For the kind spring, (which but salutes us here,) Inhabits these, and courts them all the year: page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 THE BERMUDAS. Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live; At once they promise, and at once they give: So sweet the air, so moderate the clime, None sickly lives, or dies before his time. I Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncursed, To show how all things were created first." We may imagine the feelings of the shipwrecked mariners, on finding themselves cast by stormy seas upon so happy a coast; where abundance was to be had without labor; where what in other climes constituted the costly luxuries of the rich, were with- in every man's reach; and where life promised to be a mere holi- day. Many of the common sailors, especially, declared they de- sired no better lot than to pass the rest of their lives on this fa- vored island. The commanders, however, were not so ready to console them- selves with mere physical comforts, for the severance from the enjoyment of cultivated life, and all the objects of honorable am- bition. Despairing of the arrival of any chance ship on these shunned and dreaded islands, they fitted out the long-boat, mak- ing a deck of the ship's hatches, and having manned her with eight picked men, despatched her, under the command of an able and hardy mariner, named Raven, to proceed to Virginia, and procure shipping to be sent to their relief. While waiting in anxious idleness for the arrival of the looked- for aid, dissensions arose between Sir George Somers and Sir Thomas Gates, originating, very probably, in jealousy of the lead which the nautical experience and professional station of the ad- miral gave him in the present emergency. Each commander of course had his adherents: these dissensions ripened into a com- THE BERMUDAS. 107 plete schism; and this handful of shipwrecked men, thus thrown together on an uninhabited island, separated into two parties, and lived asunder in bitter feud, as men rendered fickle by prosperity, instead of being brought into brotherhood by a common calamity. Weeks and months elapsed, without bringing the looked-for aid from Virginia, though that colony was within but a few days' sail. Fears were now entertained that the long-boat had been either swallowed up in the sea, or wrecked on some savage coast; one or other of which most probably was the case, as nothing was ever heard of Raven and his comrades. Each party now set to work to build a vessel for itself out of -the cedar with which the island abounded. The wreck of the Sea-Vulture furnished rigging, and various other articles; but they had no iron for bolts, and other fastenings; and for want of pitch and tar, they payed the seams of their vessels with lime and turtle's oil, which soon dried, and became as hard as stone. On the tenth of may, 1610, they set sail, having been about nine months on the island. They reached Virginia without far- ther accident, but found the colony in great distress for provisions. The account that they gave of the abundance that reigned in the Bermudas, and especially of the herds of swine that roamed the island, determined Lord Delaware, the governor of Virginia, to send thither for supplies. Sir George Somers, with his wonted promptness and generosity, offered to undertake what was still considered a dangerous voyage. Accordingly on the nineteenth of June, he set sail, in his own cedar vessel of thirty tons, ac- companied by another small vessel, commanded by Captain Ar- gall. The gallant Somers was doomed again to be tempest-tossed, page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 THE BERMUDAS. His companion vessel was soon driven back to port, but he kept I the sea; and, as usual, remained at his post on deck, in all wea- thers. His voyage was long and boisterous, and the fatigues and exposures which he underwent, were too much for a frame impair. ed by age, and by previous hardships. He arrived at Bermudas completely exhausted and broken down.. His nephew, Captain Matthew Somers, attended him in his illness with affectionate assiduity. Finding his end approaching, the veteran called his men together, and exhorted them to be true to the interests of Virginia; to procure provisions, with all pos- sible despatch, and hasten back to the relief of the colony. With this dying charge, he gave up the ghost, leaving his ne- phew and crew overwhelmed with grief and consternation. Their first thought was to pay honor to his remains. Opening the body, they took out the heart and entrails, and buried them, erecting a cross over the grave. They then embalmed the body, and set sail with it for England; thus, while paying empty honors to their deceased commander, neglecting his earnest wish and dying in- junction, that they should return with relief to Virginia. The little bark arrived safely at Whitechurch in Dorsetshire, with its melancholy freight. The body of the worthy Somers was interred with the military honors due to a brave soldier, and many volleys fired over his grave. The Bermudas have since re- ceived the name of the Somer Islands, as a tribute to his me- mory. The accounts given by Captain Matthew Somers and his crew of the delightful climate, and the great beauty, fertility, and abundance of these islands, excited the zeal of enthusiasts, and the cupidity of speculators, and a plan was set on foot to colonize THE BERMUDAS. 109 them. The Virginia company sold their right to the islands to one hundred and twenty of their own members, who erected themselves into a distinct corporation, under the name of the ' So- mer Island Society; " and Mr. Richard More was sent out, in 1612, as governor, with sixty men, to found a colony: and this leads me to the second branch of thisresearch. TIE THREE KINGS OF BERMUDA. AND THEIR TREASURE OF AMBERGRIS. At the time that Sir George Somers was preparing to launch his cedar-built bark, and sail for Virginia, there were three cul- prits among his men, who had been guilty of capital offences. One of them was shot; the others, named Christopher Carter and Edward Waters, escaped. Waters, indeed, made a very nar- row escape, for he had actually been tied to a tree to be executed, but cut the rope with a knife, which he had concealed about his person, and fled to the woods, where- he was joined by Carter. These two worthies klept themselves concealed in the secret parts of the island, until the departure of the two vessels. When Sir George Somers revisited the island, in quest of supplies for the Virginia colony, these culprits hovered about the landing-place, and succeeded in persuading another seaman, named Edward Chard, to join them, giving him the most seductive picture of the ease and iabundance in which they revelled. When the bark that bore Sir George's body to England had faded from the watery horizon, these three vagabonds walked forth in their majesty and might, the lords and sole inhabitants page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] 1l10 THE BERMUDAS. of these islands. For a time their little commonwealth went on prosperously and happily. They built a house, sowed corn, and the seeds of various fruits; and having plenty of hogs, wild fowl, and fish of all kinds, with turtle in abundance, carried on their tripartite sovereignty with great harmony and much feasting. All kingdoms, however, are doomed to revolution, convulsion, or de- cay; and so it fared with the empire of the three kings of Ber- muda, albeit they were monarchs without subjects. In an evil hour, in their search after turtle, among the fissures of the rocks, they came upon a great treasure of ambergris, which had been cast on shore by the ocean. Besides a number of pieces of smaller dimensions, there was one great mass, the largest that had ever been known, weighing eighty pounds, and which of itself, according to the market value of ambergris in those days, was worth about nine or ten thousand-pounds. From that moment the happiness and harmony of the three kings of Bermuda were gone for ever. While poor devils, with nothing to share but the common blessings of the island, which administered to present enjoyment, but had nothing of converti- ble value, they were loving and united; but here was actual wealth, which would make them rich men, whenever they could transport it to market. Adieu the delights of the island! They now became flat and insipid. Each pictured to himself the consequence he might now aspire to, in civilized life, could he once get there with this mass of ambergris. No longer a poor Jack Tar, frolicking in the low taverns of Wapping, he might roll through London in his coach, and perchance arrive, like Whittington, at the dignity of Lord Mayor. THE BERMUDAS. 1" With riches came envy and covetousness. Each was now for assuming the supreme power, and getting the monopoly of the ambergris. A civil war at length broke out: Chard and Waters defied each other to mortal combat, and the kingdom of the Bermu- das was on the point of being deluged with royal blood. Fortunate- ly, Carter took no part in the bloody feud. Ambition might have made him view it with secret exultation; for if either or both of his brother potentates were slain in the conflict, he would be a gainer in purse and ambergris. But he dreaded to be left alone in this uninhabited island, and to find himself the monarch of a solitude: so he secretly purloined land hid the weapons of the belligerent rivals, who, having no means of carrying on the war, gradually cooled down into a sullen armistice. The arrival of Governor More, with an overpowering force of sixty men, put an end to the empire. He took possession of the kingdom, in the name of the Somer Island Company, and forthwith proceeded to make a settlement. The three kings tacitly relin- quished their sway, but stood up stoutly for their treasure. It was determined, however, that they had been fitted out at the ex- pense, and employed in the service, of the Virginia Company; that they had found the ambergris while in the service of that company, and on that company's land; that the ambergris there- fore belonged to that company, or rather to the Somer Island Company, in consequence of their recent purchase of the island, and all their appurtenances. Having thus legally established their right, and being moreover able to back it by might, the company laid the lion's paw upon the spoil; and nothing more remains on historic record of the Three Kings of Bermuda, and their treasure of ambergris. page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] L2 THE BERMUDAS. The reader will now determine whether I am more extrava- gant than most of the commentators on Shakespeare, in my sur- mise that the story of Sir George Somers' shipwreck, and the sub- sequent occurrences that took place on the uninhabited island may have furnished the bard with some of the elements of his drama of the Tempest. The tidings of the shipwreck, and of the incidents connected with it, reached England not long before the production of this drama, and made a great sensation there. A narrative of the whole matter, from which most of the forego- ing particulars are extracted, was published at the time in Lon- don, in a pamphlet form, and could not fail to be eagarly perused by Shakespeare, and to make a vivid impression on his fancy. His expression, in the Tempest, of " the still vext Bermoothes," accords exactly with the storm-beaten character of those islands. The enchantments, too, with which he has clothed the island of Prospero, may they not be traced to the wild and superstitious notions entertained about the Bermudas? I have already cited two passages from a pamphlet published at the time, showing that they were esteemed " a most prodigious and inchanted place," and the " habitation of divells ;" and another pamphlet, published shortly afterward, observes: "And whereas it is reported -that this land of the Barmudas, with the islands about, (which are many, at least an hundred), are inchanted, and kept with evil and wicked spirits, it is a most idle false report." * The description, too, given in the same pamphlets, of the real beauty and fertility of the Bermudas, and of their serene and * "Newes from the Barmudas:" 1612. THE BERMUDAS. 113 happy climate, so opposite to the dangerous and inhospitable char. acter with which they had been stigmatized, accords with the eu- logium of Sebastian on the island of Prospero. "Though this island seem to be desert, uninhabitable, and almost inac- cessible, it must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Here is every thing advantageous to life. How lush and lusty the grass looks I how green " I think too, in the exulting consciousness of ease, security, and abundance, felt by the late tempest-tossed mariners, while revelling in the plenteousness of the island, and their inclination to remain there, released from the labors, the cares, and the ar- tificial restraints of civilized life, I can see something of the gol- den commonwealth of honest Gonzalo: "Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord, And were the king of it, what would I do 8 I the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate: Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none: No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: No occupation; all men idle, all. * * '* * * All things in common, nature should produce, Without sweat or endeavor: Treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind all foizon, all abundance, To feed my innocent people." page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 THE BERMUDAS. But above all, in the three fugitive vagabonds who remained in possession of the island of Bermuda, on the departure of their comrades, and in their squabbles about supremacy, on the finding of their treasure, I see typified Sebastian, Trinculo, and their worthy companion Caliban: "Trinculo, the king and all our company being drowned, we will in- herit here." "Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I will be king and queen, (save our graces!) and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys." I do not mean to hold up the incidents and characters in the narrative and in the play as parallel, or as being strikingly simi- lar: neither would I insinuate that the narrative suggested the play; I would only suppose that Shakespeare, being occupied about that time on the drama of the Tempest, the main story of which, I believe, is of Italian origin, had many of the fanciful ideas of it suggested to his mind by the shipwreck of Sir George Somers on the "still vext Bermoothes," and by the popular super- stitions connected with these islands, and suddenly put in circula- tion by that event. THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL, OR A JUDICIAL TRIAL BY COMBAT. THE world is daily growing older and wiser. Its institutions vary with is years, and mark its growing wisdom; and none more so than its modes of investigating truth, and ascertaining guilt or innocence. In its nonage, when man was yet a fallible being, and doubted the accuracy of his own intellect, appeals were made to heaven in dark and doubtful cases of atrocious ac- cusation. The accused was required to plunge his hand in boiling oil, or to walk across red-hot ploughshares, or to maintain his innocence in armed fight and listed field, in person or by champion. If he passed these ordeals unscathed, he stood acquitted, and the result was regarded as a verdict from on high. It is somewhat remarkable that, in the gallant age of chival- ry, the gentler sex should have been most frequently the subjects of these rude trials and perilous ordeals; and that, too, when as. sailed in their most delicate and vulnerable part-their honor. In the present very old and enlightened age of the world, page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. when the human intellect is perfectly competent to the manage- ment of its own concerns, and needs no special interposition of heaven in its affairs, the trial by jury has superseded these super- human ordeals; and the unanimity of twelve discordant minds is necessary to constitute a verdict. -Such a unanimity would, at first sight, appear also to require a miracle from heaven; but it is produced by a simple device of human ingenuity. The twelve jurors are locked up in their box, there to fast until ab- stinence shall have so clarified their intellects that the whole jar- ring panel can discern the truth, and concur in a unanimous de- cision. One point is certain, that truth is one, and is immutable -until the jurors all agree, they cannot all be right. It is not our intention, however, to discuss this great judicial point, or to question the avowed superiority of the mode of in- vestigating truth, adopted in this antiquated and very sagacious era. It is our object merely to exhibit to the curious reader, one of the most memorable cases of judicial combat we find in the an- nals of Spain. It occurred at the bright commencement of the reign, and in the youthful, and, as yet, glorious days, of Roderick" the Goth; who subsequently tarnished his fame at home by his misdeeds, and, finally, lost his kingdom and his life on the banks of the Guadalete, in that disastrous battle which gave up Spain a conquest to the Moors. The following is the story:- There was once upon a time a certain duke of Lorraine, who was acknowledged throughout his domains to be one of the wisest princes that ever lived. In fact, there was no one measure adopt. ed by him that did not astonish his privy counsellors and gentle- men in attendance; and he said such witty things, and made such THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL sensible speeches, that the jaws of his high chamberlain were well nigh dislocated from laughing with delight at one, and gap- ing with wonderat the other. This very witty and exceedingly wise potentate lived for half a century in single-blessedness; at length his courtiers began to think it a great pity so wise and wealthy a prince should not have a child after his own likeness, to inherit his talents and domains; so they urged him most respectfully to marry, for the good of his estate, and the welfare of his subjects. He turned their advice over in his mind some four or five years, and then sent forth emissaries to summon to his court all the beautiful maidens in the land, who were ambitious of sharing a ducal crown. The court was soon crowded with beauties of all styles and complexions, from among whom he chose one in the earliest budding of her charms, and acknowledged by all the gentlemen to be unparalleled for grace and loveliness. The cour- tiers extolled the duke to the skies for making such a choice, and considered it another proof of his great wisdom. "The duke," said they, " is waxing a little too old, the damsel, on the other hand, is a little too young; if one is lacking in years, ,the other has a superabundance; thus a want on one side, is balanced by an excess on the other, and the result is a well-assorted marriage." The duke, as is often the case with wise men who marry rather late, and take damsels rather youthful to their bosoms, be- came dotingly fond of his wife, and very properly indulged her in all things. He was, consequently, cried up by his subjects in general, and by the ladies in particular, as a pattern for hus- bands; and, in the end, from the wonderful docility with which he submitted to be reined and checked, acquired the amiable and eniiable appellation of Duke Philibert the wife-ridden. ,1 ' page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. There was only one thing that disturbed the conjugal felicity of this paragon of husbands-though a considerable time elapsed after his marriage, there was still no prospect of an heir. The good duke left no means untried to propitiate Heaven. He made vows and pilgrimages, he fasted and he prayed, but all to no purpose. The courtiers were all astonished at the circumstance. They could not account for it. While the meanest peasant in the country had sturdy brats by dozens, without putting up a prayer, the duke wore himself to skin and bone with penances and fast. ings, yet seemed farther off from his object than ever. At length, the worthy prince fell dangerously ill, and felt his end approaching. He looked sorrowfully and dubiously upon his young and tender spouse, who hung over him with tears and sob- bings. "Alas!" said he, "tears are soon dried from youthful eyes, and sorrow lies lightly on a youthful heart. In a little while thou wilt forget in the arms of another husband him who has loved thee so tenderly." "Never! never!" cried the duchess. "Never will I cleave to another! Alas, that my lord should think me capable of such inconstancy!" The worthy and wife-ridden duke was soothed by her assur- ances; for he could not brook the thought of giving her up, even after he should be dead. Still he wished to have some pledge of her enduring constancy: "Far be it from me, my dearest wife," said he, " to control thee through a long life. A year and a day of strict fidelity will appease my troubled spirit. Promise to remain faithful to my memory for a year and a day, and I will die in peace." The duchess made a solemn vow to that effect, but the uxo- THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 119 rious feelings of the duke were not yet satisfied. "Safe bind, safe find," thought he; so he made a will, bequeathing to her all his domains, on condition of her remaining true to him for a year and a day after his decease; but, should it appear that, within that time, she had in anywise lapsed from her fidelity, the inheritance should go to his nephew, the lord of a neighboring territory. Having made his will, the good duke died and was buried. Scarcely was he in his tomb, when his nephew came to take pos- session, thinking, as his uncle had died without issue, the do- mains would be devised to him of course. He was in a furious passion, when the will was produced, and the young widow de- clared inheritor of the dukedom. As he was a violent, high- handed man, and one of the sturdiest knights in the land, fears were entertained that he might attempt to seize on the territories by force. He had, however, two bachelor uncles for bosom coun- sellors,-swaggering rakehelly old cavaliers, who, having led loose and riotous lives, prided themselves upon knowing the world, and being deeply experienced in human nature. "Prithee, man, be of good cheer," said they, "the duchess is a young and buxom widow. She has just buried our brother, who, God rest his soul! *as somewhat too much given to praying and fasting, and kept his -pretty wife always tied to his girdle. She is now like a bird from a cage. Think you she will keep her vow? Pooh, pooh- impossible!-Take our words for it-we know mankind, and, above all, womankind. She cannot hold out for such a length of time; it is not in womanhood-it is not in widowhood-we know it, and that's enough. Keep a sharp look-out upon the widow, therefore, and within the twelvemonth you will catch her tripping--and then the dukedom is your own." page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. The nephew was pleased with this counsel, and immediately placed spies round the duchess, and bribed several of her servants to keep watch upon her, so that she could not take a single step, even from one apartment of her palace to another, without being observed. Never was young and beautiful widow exposed to so terrible an ordeal. The duchess was aware of the watch thus kept upon her. Though confident of her own rectitude, she knew that it is not enough for a woman to be virtuous-she must be above the reach of slander. For the whole term of her probation, therefore, she proclaimed a strict non-intercourse with the other sex. She had females for cabinet ministers and chamberlains, through whom she transacted all her public and private concerns; and it is said that never were the affairs of the dukedom so adroitly administered. All males were rigorously excluded from the palace; she never went out of its precincts, and whenever she moved about its courts and gardens, she surrounded herself with a body-guard of young maids of honor, commanded by dames renowned for dis- cretion. She slept in a bed without curtains, placed in the centre of a room illuminated by innumerable wax tapers. Four ancient spinsters, virtuous as Virginia, perfect dragons of watchfulness, who only slept during the daytime, kept vigils throughout the night, seated in the four corners of the room on stools without backs or arms, and with seats cut in checkers of the hardest wood, to keep them from dozing. Thus wisely and warily did the young duchess conduct her- self for twelve long months, and slander almost bit her tongue off in despair, at finding no room even for a surmise. Never was ordeal more burdensome, or more enduringly sustained. THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL 121 The year passed away. The last, odd day arrived, and a long, long day it was. It was the twenty-first of June, the longest day in the year. It seemed as if it would never come to an end. A thousand times did the duchess and her ladies watch the sun from the windows of the palace, as he slowly climbed the vault of heaven, and seemed still more slowly to roll down. They could not help expressing their wonder, now and then, why the duke should have tagged this supernumerary day to the end of the year, as if three hundred and sixty-five days were not sufficient to try and task the fidelity of any woman. It is the last grain that turns the scale-the last drop that overflows the goblet-and the last moment of delay that exhausts the patience. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, the duchess was in a fidget that passed all bounds, and, though several hours were yet to pass before the day regularly expired, she could not have remained those hours in durance to gain a royal crown, much less a ducal coronet. So she gave orders, and her palfrey, magnificently caparisoned, was brought into the court-yard of the castle, with palfreys for all her ladies in attendance. In this way she sallied forth, just as the sun had gone down. It was a mission of piety -a pilgrim cavalcade to a convent at the foot of a neighboring mountain-to return thanks to the blessed Virgin, for having sustained her through this fearful ordeal. The orisons performed, the duchess and her ladies returned, ambling gently along the border of a forest. It was about that mellow hour of twilight when night and day are mingled, and all objects are indistinct. Suddenly, some monstrous animal sprang from out a thicket, with fearful howlings. The female body-guard was thrown into confusion, and fled different ways. 6 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL It was some time before they recovered from their panic, and gathered once more together; but the duchess was not to be found. The greatest anxiety was felt for her safety. The hazy mist of twilight had prevented their distinguishing perfectly the { animal which had affrighted them. Some thought it a wolf, others a bear, others a wild man of the woods. For upwards of an hour did they beleaguer the forest, without daring to venture in, and were on the point of giving up the duchess as torn to pieces and devoured, when, to their great joy, they beheld her advancing in the gloom, supported by a stately cavalier. He was a stranger knight, whom nobody knew. It was im- possible to distinguish his countenance in the dark; but all the ladies agreed that he was of noble presence and captivating address. 'He had rescued the duchess from the very fangs of the monster, which, he assured the ladies, was neither a wolf, nor a bear, nor yet a wild man of the woods, but a veritable fiery dragon, a species of monster peculiarly hostile to beautiful females in the days of chivalry, and which all the efforts of knight-errantry had not been able to extirpate. The ladies crossed themselves when they heard of the danger from which they had escaped, and could not enough admire the gal- lantry of the cavalier. - The duchess would fain have prevailed on her deliverer to accompany her to her court; but he had no time to spare, being a knight-errant, who had many adventures on hand, and many distressed damsels and afflicted widows to rescue and relieve in various parts of the country. Taking a respectful leave, therefore, he pursued his wayfaring, and the duchess and her train returned to the palace. Throughout the whole way, the ladies were unwearied in chanting the praises of the stranger knight; THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 123 nay, many of them would willingly have incurred the danger of the dragon to have enjoyed the happy deliverance of the duchess. As to the latter, she rode pensively along, but said nothing. No sooner was the adventure of the wood made public, than a whirlwind was raised about the ears of the beautiful duchess. The blustering nephew of the deceased duke went about, armed to the teeth, with a swaggering uncle at each shoulder, ready to back him, and swore the duchess had forfeited her domain. It was in vain that she called all the saints, and angels, and her ladies in attendance into the bargain, to witness that she had passed a year and a day of immaculate fidelity. One fatal hour remained to be accounted for; and into the space of one little hour sins enough may be conjured up by evil tongues, to blast the fame of a whole life of virtue. The two graceless uncles, who had seen the world, were ever ready to bolster the matter through, and as they were brawny, broad-shouldered warriors, and veterans in brawl as well as debauch, they had great sway with the multitude. If any one pretended to assert the innocence of the duchess, they interrupted him with a loud ha! ha! of derision. "A pretty story, truly," would they cry, " about a wolf and a dragon, and a young widow rescued in the dark by A sturdy varlet, who dares not show his face in the daylight. You may tell that to those who do not know human nature; for our parts, we know the sex, and that's enough." If, however, the other repeated his assertion, they would sud- denly knit their brows, swell, look big, and put their hands upon their swords. As few people like to fight in a cause that does not touch their own interests, the nephew and the uncles were suffered to have their way, and swagger uncontradicted. page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL The matter was at- length referred to a tribunal composed of all the dignitaries of the dukedom, and many and repeated con- sultations were held. The character of the duchess, throughout the year was as bright and spotless as the moon in a cloudless night; one fatal hour of darkness alone intervened to eclipse its brightness. Finding human sagacity incapable of dispelling the mystery, it was determined to leave the question to Heaven; or in other words, to decide it by the ordeal of the sword-a sage tribunal in the age of chivalry. The nephew and two bully uncles were to maintain their accusation in listed combat, and six months were allowed to the duchess to provide herself with three cham- pions, to meet them in the field. Should she fail in this, or should her champions be vanquished, her honor would be considered as attainted, her fidelity as forfeit, and her dukedom would go to the nephew, as a matter of right. With this determination the duchess was fain to comply. Pro- clamations were accordingly made, and heralds sent to various parts; but day after day, week after week, and month after month, elapsed, without any champion appearing to assert her loyalty throughout that darksome hour. The fair widow was reduced to despair, when tidings reached her of grand tournaments to be held at Toledo, in celebration of the nuptials of Don Roderick, the last of the Gothic kings, with the Morisco princess Exilona. As a last resort, the duchess repaired to the Spanish court, to im- plore the gallantry of its assembled chivalry. The ancient city of Toledo was a scene of gorgeous revelry on the event of the royal nuptials. The youthful king, brave, ardent, and magnificent, and his lovely bride, beaming with all the radiant beauty of the east, were hailed with shouts and acola- [2 THE WI]DOW'S ORDEAL. 12 mations whenever they appeared. Their nobles vied with each other in the luxury of their attire, their prancing steeds, and splendid retinues; and the haughty dames of the court appeared in a blaze of jewels. In the midst of all this pageantry, the beautiful, but afflicted Duchess of Lorraine made. her approach to the throne. She was dressed in black, and closely veiled; four duennas of the most staid and severe aspect, and six beautiful demoiselles, formed her female attendants. She was guarded by several very ancient, withered, and grayheaded cavaliers; and her train was borne by one of the most deformed and diminutive dwarfs in existence. Advancing to the foot of the throne, she knelt down, and, throwing up her veil, revealed a countenance so beautiful that half the courtiers present were ready to renounce wives and mis- tresses, and devote themselves to her service; but when she made known that she came in quest of champions to defend her fame, every cavalier pressed forward to offer his arm and sword, without inquiring into the merits of the case; for it seemed clear that so beauteous a lady could have done nothing but what was right; and that,-at any rate, she ought to be championed in following the bent of her humors, whether right or wrong. Encouraged by such gallant zeal, the duchess suffered her. self to be raised from the ground, and related the whole story of her distress. When- she concluded, the king remained for some time silent, charmed ty the music of her voice. At length: " As I hope for salvation, most beautiful duchess," said he, "were I not a sovereign king, and bound in duty to my kingdom, I myself would put lance in rest to vindicate your cause; as it is, I here give full permission to my knights, and promise lists and a fair page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL field, and that the contest shall take place before the walls of Toledo, in presence of my assembled court." As soon as the pleasure of the king was known, there was a strife among the cavaliers present, for the honor of the contest. It was decided by lot, and the successful candidates were objects of great envy, for every one was ambitious of finding favor in the eyes of the beautiful widow. Missives were sent, summoning the nephew and his two uncles to Toledo, to maintain their accusation, and a day was ap- pointed for the combat. When the day arrived, all Toledo was in commotion at an early hour. The lists had been prepared in the usual place, just without the walls, at the foot of the rugged rocks on which the city is built, and on that beautiful meadow along the Tagus, known by the name of the king's garden. The populace had already assembled, each one eager to secure a fa- vorable place; the balconies were filled with the ladies of the court, clad in their richest attire, and bands of youthful knights, splendidly armed and decorated with their ladies' devices, were man- aging their superbly caparisoned steeds about the field. The king at length came forth in state, accompanied by the que'en Exilona. They took their seats in a raised balcony, under a canopy of rich damask; and, at sight of them, the people rent the air with accla- mations. The nephew and his uncles now rode into the field, armed cap-a-pie, and followed by a train of cavaliers of their own roystering cast, great swearers and carousers, arrant swashbuck- lers, with clanking armor and jingling spurs. When the people of Toledo beheld the vaunting and discourteous appearance of these knights, they were more anxious than ever for the success of the THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. 127 gentle duchess; but, at the same time, the sturdy and stalwart frames of these warriors, showed that whoever won the victory from them, must do it at the cost of many a bitter blow. As the nephew and his riotous crew rode in at one side of the field, the fair widow appeared at the other, with her suite of grave grayheaded courtiers, her ancient duennas and dainty demoiselles, and the little dwarf toiling along under the weight of her train. Every one made way for her as she passed, and blessed her beau- tiful face, and prayed for success to her cause. She took her seat in a lower balcony, not far from the sovereigns; and her pale face, set off by her mourning weeds, was as the moon, shining forth from among the clouds of night. The trumpets sounded for the combat. The warriors were just entering the lists, when a stranger knight, armed in panoply, and followed by two pages and an esquire, came galloping into the field, and, riding up to the royal balcony, claimed the combat as a matter of right. "In me," cried he, "behold the cavalier who had the happi- ness to rescue the beautiful duchess from the peril of the forest, and the misfortune to bring on her this grievous calumny. It was but recently, in the course of my errantry, that tidings of her wrongs have reached my ears, and I have urged hither at all speed, to stand forth in her vindication." No sooner did the duchess hear the accents of the knight than she recognized his voice, and joined her prayers with his that he might enter the lists. The difficulty was, to determine which of the three champions already appointed should yield his place, each insisting on the honor of the combat. The stranger knight would have settled the point, by taking the whole contest upon f page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 TE WIDOW'S ORDEAL. himself; but this the other knights would not permit. It was at length determined, as before, by lot, and the cavalier who lost the chance retired murmuring and disconsolate. The trumpets again sounded-the lists were opened. The arrogant nephew and his two drawcansir uncles appeared so com- pletely cased in steel, that they and their steeds were like moving masses of iron. When they understood the stranger knight to be the same that had rescued the duchess from her peril, they greet- ed him with the most boisterous derision: "O ho! sir Knight of the Dragon," said they, ' you who pre- tend to champion fair widows in the dark, come on, and vindicate your deeds of darkness in the open day." The only reply of the cavalier was, to put lance in rest, and brace himself for the encounter. Needless is it to relate the par- ticulars of a battle, which was like so many hundred combats that have been said and sung in prose and verse. Who is there but must have foreseen the event of a contest, where Heaven had to decide on the guilt or innocence of the most beautiful and immacu- late of widows? The sagacious reader, deeply read in this kind of judicial com- bats, can imagine the encounter of thegraceless nephew and the stranger knight. He sees their concussion, man to man, and horse to horse, in mid career, and sir Graceless hurled to the ground, and slain. He will not wonder that the assailants of the brawny uncles were less successful in their rude encounter; but he will picture to himself the stout stranger spurring to their rescue, in the very critical moment; he will see him transfixing one with his lance, and cleaving the other to the chine with a back stroke of his sword, thus leaving the trio of accusers dead upon the field, THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL 129 and establishing the immaculate fidelity of the duchess, and her title to the dukedom, beyond the shadow of a doubt. The air rang with acclamations; nothing was heard but praises of the beauty and virtue of the duchess, and of the prowess of the stranger knight; but the public joy was still more increased when the champion raised his visor, and revealed the countenance of one of the bravest cavaliers 4f Spain, renowned for his gallantry in the service of the sex, and who had been round the world in quest of similar adventures. That worthy knight, however, was severely wounded, and re- mained for a long time ill of his wounds. The lovely duchess, grateful for having twice owed her protection to his arm, attended him daily during his illness; and finally rewarded his gallantry with her hand. The king would fain have had the knight establish his title to such high advancement by farther deeds of arms; but his cour- tiers declared that he already merited the lady, by thus vindi- cating her fame and fortune in a deadly combat to outrance; and the lady herself hinted that she was perfectly satisfied of his prowess in arms, from the proofs she had received in his achieve- ment in the forest. Their nuptials were celebrated with great magnificence. The present husband of the duchess did not pray and fast like his pre- decessor, Philibert the wife-ridden; yet he found greater favor in the eyes of Heaven, for their union was blessed with a numerous progeny-the daughters chaste and beauteous as their mother; the sons stout and valiant as their sire, and renowned, like him, for relieving disconsolate damsels and desolated widows. 6* page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. IN the course of a tour in Sicily, in the days of my juvenility, I passed some little time at the ancient city of Catania, at the foot of Mount AEtna. Here I became acquainted with the Chev- alier L- , an old knight of Malta. It was not many years after the time that Napoleon had dislodged the knights from their island, and he still wore the insignia of his order. He was not, however, one of those reliques of that once chivalrous body, who have been described as " a few worn-out old men, creeping about certain parts of Europe, with the Maltese cross on their breasts;" on the contrary, though advanced in life, his form was still light and vigorous: he had a pale, thin, intellectual visage, with a high forehead, and a bright, visionary eye. He seemed to take a fancy to me, as I certainly did to him, and we soon be- came intimate. I visited him occasionally, at his apartments, in the wing of an old palace, looking toward Mount AEtna. He was an antiquary, a virtuoso, and a connoisseur. His rooms were decorated with mutilated statues, dug up from Grecian and Roman ruins; old vases, lachrymals, and sepulchral lamps. He had THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 131 astronomical and chemical instruments, and black-letter books, in various languages. I found that he had dipped a little in chimerical studies, and had a hankering after astrology and alchemy. He affected to believe in dreams and visions, and delighted in the fan- ciful Rosicrucian doctrines. I cannot persuade myself, however, that he really believed in all these; I rather think he loved to let his imagination carry him away into the boundless fairy land which they unfolded. Ii company with the chevalier, I made several excursions on horseback about the environs of Catania, and the picturesque skirts of Mount ]Etna. One of these led through a village, which had sprung up on the very track of an ancient eruption, the houses being built of lava. At one time we passed, for some distance, along a narrow lane, between two high dead convent walls. It was a cut-throat looking place, in a country where assassinations are frequent; and just about midway through it, we observed blood upon the pavement and the walls, as if a murder had actu- ally been committed there. The chevalier spurred on his horse, until he had extricated himself completely from this suspicious neighborhood. He then observed, that it reminded him of a similar blind alley in Malta, infamous on account of the many assassinations that had taken place there; concerning one of which, he related a long and tra- gical story, that lasted until we reached Catania. It involved various circumstances of a wild and supernatural character, but which he assured me were handed down in tradition, and gener- ally credited by the old inhabitants of Malta. As I like to pick up strange stories, and as I was particularly struck with several parts' of this, I made a minute of it, on my page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. return to my lodgings. The memorandum was lost, with several of my travelling papers, and the story had faded from my mind, when recently, on perusing a French memoir, I came suddenly upon it, dressed up, it is true, in a very different mannet, but agreeing in the leading facts, and given upon the word of that famous adventurer, the Count Cagliostro. I have amused myself, during a snowy day in the country, by rendering it roughly into English, for the entertainment of a youthful circle round the Christmas fire. It was well received by my auditors, who, however, are rather easily pleased. One proof of its merits is, that it sent some of the youngest of them quaking to their beds, and gave them very fearful dreams. Hoping that it may have the same effect upon the ghost-hunting reader, I subjoin it. I would observe, that wherever I have modified the French version of the story, it has been in conformity to some re- collection of the narrative of my friend, the Knight of Malta. THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. A VERITABLE GHOST STORY. "Keep my wits, heaven I They say spirits appear To melancholy minds, and the graves open " FLETCHER. About the middle of the last century, while the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem still maintained something of their ancient state and sway in the island of Malta, a tragical event took place there, which is the groundwork of the following narrative. It may be as well to premise, that at the time we are treating THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 133 of, the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, grown excessively wealthy, had degenerated from its originally devout and warlike character. Instead of being a hardy body of "monk-knights," sworn soldiers of the cross, fighting the Paynim in the Holy Land, or scouring the Mediterranean, and scourging the Barbary coasts with their galleys, or feeding the poor, and attending upon the sick at their hospitals, they led a life of luxury and libertin- ism, and were to be found in the most voluptuous courts of Europe. The order, in fact, had become a mode of providing for the needy branches of the Catholic aristocracy of Europe. "A commandery," we are told, was a splendid provision for a younger brother; and men of rank, however dissolute, provided they belonged to the highest aristocracy, became Knights of Malta, just as they did bishops, or colonels of regiments, or court chamberlains. After a brief residence at Malta, the knights passed the rest of their time in their own countries, or only made a visit now and then to the island. While there, having but little military duty to perform, they beguiled their idleness by paying attentions to the fair. There was one circle of society, however, into which they could not obtain currency. This was composed of a few families of the old Maltese nobility, natives of the island. These families, not being permitted to enroll any of their members in the order, affected to hold no intercourse with its chevaliers; admitting none into their exclusive coteries, but the Grand Master, whom they acknowledged as their sovereign, and the members of the chapter which composed his council. To indemnify themselves for this exclusion, the chevaliers carried their gallantries into the next class of society, composed page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA of those who held civil, administrative, and judicial situations. The ladies of this class were called honorate, or honorables, to distinguish them from the inferior orders; and among them were many of superior grace, beauty and fascination. Even in this more hospitable class, the chevaliers were not all equally favored. Those of Germany had the decided preference, owing to their fair and fresh complexions, and the kindliness of their manners: next to these, came the Spanish cavaliers, on account of their profound and courteous devotion, and most dis- creet secrecy. Singular as it may seem, the chevaliers of France fared the worst. The Maltese ladies dreaded their volatility, and their proneness to boast of their amours, and shunned all entanglement with them. They were forced, therefore, to content themselves with conquests among females of the lower orders. They revenged themselves, after the gay French manner, by mak- ing the "honorate " the objects of all kinds of jests and mystifi- cations; by prying into their tender affairs with the more favored chevaliers and making them the theme of song and epigram. About this time, a French vessel arrived at Malta, bringing out a distinguished personage of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, the Commander de Foulquerre, who came to solicit the post of commander-in-chief of the galleys. He was descended from an old and warrior line of French nobility, his ancestors having long been seneschals of Poitou, and claiming descent from the first Counts of Angouleme. The arrival of the commander caused a little uneasiness among the peaceably inclined, for he bore the character, in the island, of being fiery, arrogant, and quarrelsome. He had already been three times at Malta, and on each visit had signal- THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 135 ized himself by some rash and deadly affray. As he was now thirty-five years of age, however, it was hoped that time might have taken off the fiery edge of his spirit, and that he might prove more quiet and sedate than formerly. The commander set up an establishment befitting his rank .and pretensions; for he arrogated to himself an importance greater even than that of the Grand Master. His house immediately became the rallying place of all the young French chevaliers. They informed him of all the slights they had experienced or imagined, and indulged their petulant and satirical vein at the expense of the honorate and their admirers. The chevaliers of other nations soon found the topics and tone of conversation at the commander's irksome and offensive, and gradually ceased to visit there. The com- mander remained at the head of a national clique, lwho looked up to him as their model. If he was not as boisterousland quarrel- some as formerly, he had become haughty and overbearing. He was fond of talking over his past affairs of punctilio and bloody duel. When walking the streets, he was generally attended by a ruffling train of young French chevaliers, who caught his own air of assumption and bravado. These he would conduct to the scenes of his deadly encounters, point out the very spot where each fatal lunge had been given, and dwell vaingloriously on every particular. Under his tuition, the young French chevaliers began to add bluster and arrogance to their former petulance and levity; they fired up on the most trivial occasions, particularly with those who had been most successful with the fair; and would put on the most intolerable draweansir airs. The other chevaliers conducted themselves with all possible forbearance and reserve; but they page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. saw it would be impossible to keep on long, in this manner, with. out coming to an open rupture. Among the Spanish cavaliers, was one named Don Luis de Lima Vasconcellos. He was distantly related to the Grand Master; and had been enrolled at an early age among his pages, but had been rapidly promoted by him, until, at the age of twenty- six, he had been given the richest Spanish commandery in the order. He had, moreover, been fortunate with the fair, with one of whom, the most beautiful honorata of Malta, he had long maintained the most tender correspondence. The character, rank, and connections of Don Luis put him on a par with the imperious Commander de Foulquerre, and pointed him out as a leader and champion to his countrymen. The Span- ish cavaliers repaired to him, therefore, in a body; represented all the grievances they had sustained, and the evils they appre- hended, and urged him to use his influence with the commander and his adherents to put a stop to the growing abuses. Don Luis was gratified by this mark of confidence and esteem, on the part of his countrymen, and promised to have an interview with the Commander de Foulquerre on the subject. He resolved to conduct himself with the utmost caution and delicacy on the occasion; to represent to the commander the evil consequences which might result from the inconsiderate conduct of the young French chevaliers, and to entreat him to exert the great influence he so deservedly possessed over them, to restrain their excesses. Don Luis was aware, however, of the peril that attended any in- terview of the kind with this imperious and fractious man, and apprehended, however it might commence, that it would terminate in a duel. Still, it was an affair of honor, in which Castilian THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. -137 dignity was concerned; beside, he had a lurking disgust at the overbearing manners of De Foulquerre, and perhaps had been somewhat offended by certain intrusive attentions which he had presumed to pay to the beautiful honorata. It was now Holy Week; a time too sacred for worldly feuds and passions, especially in a community under the dominion of a religious order: it was agreed, therefore, that the dangerous interview in question should not take place until after the Easter holydays. It is probable, from subsequent circumstances, that the Commander de Foulquerre had some information of this ar- rangement among the Spanish cavaliers, and was determined to be beforehand, and to mortify the pride of their champion, who was thus preparing to read him a lecture. He chose Good Friday for his purpose. On this sacred day, it is customary in Catholic countries to make a tour of all the churches, offering up prayers in each. In every Catholic church, as is well known, there is a vessel of holy water near the door. In this, every one, on enter- ing, dips his fingers, and makes therewith the sign of the cross on his forehead and breast. An office of gallantry, among the young Spaniards, is to stand near the door, dip their hands in the holy vessel, and extend them courteously and respectfully to any lady of their acquaintance who may enter; who thus receives the sacred water at second hand, on the tips of her fingers, and pro- ceeds to cross herself, with all due decorum. The Spaniards, who are the most jealous of lovers, are impatient when this piece of devotional gallantry is proffered to the object of their affections by any other hand: on Good Friday; therefore, when a lady makes a tour of the churches, it is the usage among them for the inamorato to follow her from church to church, so as to present her the holy page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 188 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. water at the door of each; thus testifying his own devotion, and at the same time preventing the officious services of a rival. On the day in question, Don Luis followed the beautiful honorata, to whom, as has already been observed, he had long been devoted. At the very first church she visited, the Com- mander de Foulquerre was stationed at the portal, with several of the young French chevaliers about him. Before Don Luis could offer her the holy water, he was anticipated by the commander, who thrust himself between them, and, while he performed the gallant office to the lady, rudely turned his back upon her ad- mirer, and trod upon his feet. The insult was enjoyed by the young Frenchmen who were present: it was too deep and grave to be forgiven by Spanish pride; and at once put an end to all Don Luis's plans of caution and forbearance. He repressed his passion for the moment, however, and waited until all the parties left the church: then, accosting the commander with an air of coolness and unconcern, he inquired after his health, and asked to what church he proposed making his second visit. "To the Magisterial Church of Saint John." Don Luis offered to conduct him thither, by the shortest route. His offer was accepted, ap- parently without suspicion, and they proceeded together. After walking some distance, they entered a long, narrow lane, without door or window opening upon it, called the "Strada Stretta," or narrow street. It was a street in which duels were tacitly per- mitted, or connived at, in Malta, and were suffered to pass as accidental encounters. Every where else, they were prohibited. This restriction had been instituted to diminish the number of duels formerly so frequent in Malta. As a farther precaution to render these encounters less fatal, it was an offence, punishable THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 139 with death, for any one to enter this street armed with either poniard or pistol. It was a lonely, dismal street, just wide enough for two men to stand upon their guard, and cross their swords; few persons ever traversed it, unless with some sinister design; and on any preconcerted duello, the seconds posted them- selves at each end, to stop all passengers, and prevent inter- ruption. In the present instance, the parties had scarce entered the street, when Don Luis drew his sword, and called upon the com- mander to defend himself. De Foulquerre was evidently taken by surprise: he drew back, and attempted to expostulate; but Don Luis persisted in defying him to the combat. After a second or two, he likewise drew his sword, but im- mediately lowered the point. "Good Friday!" ejaculated he, shaking his head: one word with you; it is full six years since I have been in a confessional: I am shocked at the state of my conscience; but within three days-that is to say, on Monday next--" Don Luis would listen to nothing. Though naturally of a peaceable disposition, he had been stung to fury, and people of that character when once incensed, are deaf to reason. He com- pelled the commander to put himself on his guard. The latter, though a man accustomed to brawl and battle, was singularly dis- mayed. Terror was visible in all his features. Hex placed him- self with his back to the wall and the weapons were crossed. The contest was brief and fatal. kt the very first thrust, the sword of Don Luis passed through the body of his antagonist. The commander staggered to the wall, and leaned against it. page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O 'HE KNIGHT OF MALTA. "On Good Friday!" ejaculated he again, with a failing voice, and despairing accents. "Heaven pardon you!") added he; " take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the castle, for the repose of my soul!" With these words he expired. The fury of Don Luis was at an end. \ e stood aghast, gaz- ing at the bleeding body of the commander. He called to mind the prayer of the deceased for three days' respite, to make his peace with heaven; he had refused it; had sent him to the grave, with all his sins upon his head! His conscience smote him to the core; he gathered up the sword of the commander, which he had been enjoined to take to Tetefoulques, and hurried from the fatal Strada Stretta. The duel of course made a great noise in Malta, but had no injurious effect on the worldly fortunes of Don Luis. He made a full declaration of the whole matter, before the proper authorities; the chapter of the order considered it one of those casual en- counters of the Strada Stretta, which were mourned over, but tol- erated; the public by whom the late commander had been gener- ally detested, declared that he deserved his fate. It was but three days after the event, that Don Luis was advanced to one of the highest dignities of the order, being invested by the Grand Master with the Priorship of the kingdom of Minorca. From that time forward, however, the whole character and conduct of Don Luis underwent a change. He became a prey to a dark melancholy, which nothing could assuage. 'The most aus- tere piety, the severest penances, had no effect in allaying the horror which preyed upon his mind. He was absent for a long time from Malta; having gone, it was said, on remote pilgrim- THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 141 ages: when he returned, he was more haggard than ever. There seemed something mysterious and inexplicable in this disorder of his mind. The following is the revelation made by himself, of the horrible visions or chimeras by which he was haunted: "When I had made my declaration before the chapter," said he, "my provocations were publicly known, I had made my peace with-man; but it was not so with God, nor with my. confessor, nor with my own conscience. My act was doubly criminal, from the day on which it was committed, and from my refusal to a de- lay of three days, for the victim of my resentment to receive the sacraments. His despairing ejaculation, 'Good Friday! Good Friday!' continually rang in my ears. 'Why did I not grant the respite!' cried I to myself; ' was it not enough to kill the body, but must I seek to kill the soul!' "On the night following Friday, I started suddenly from my sleep. An unaccountable horror was upon me. I looked wildly around. It seemed as if I were not in my apartment, nor in my bed, but in the fatal Strada Stretta, lying on the pavement. I again saw the commander leaning against the wall; I again heard his dying words: Take my sword to T6tefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the castle, for the re- pose of my soul!' "On the following night, I caused one of my servants to sleep in the same room with me. I saw and heard nothing, either on that night or any of the nights following, until the next Friday; when I had again the same vision, with this dif- ference, that my valet seemed to be lying some distance from me on the pavement of the Strada Stretta. The vision continued to be repeated on every Friday night, the commander always appear- page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. ing in the same manner, and uttering the same words:' Take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the chapel of the castle, for the repose of my soul! "On questioning my servant on the subject, he stated, that on these occasions he dreamed that he was lying in a very nar- row street, but he neither saw nor heard any thing of the com- mander. "I knew nothing of this Tetefoulques, whither the defunct was so urgent I should carry his sword. I made inquiries, there- fore, concerning it, among the French chevaliers. They informed me that it was an old castle, situated about four leagues from Poitiers, in the midst of a forest. It had been built in old times, several centuries since by Foulques Taillefer, (or Fulke Hack-iron,) a redoubtable hard-fighting Count of Angouleme, who gave it to an illegitimate son, afterwards created Grand Seneschal of Poitou, which son became the progenitor of the Foulquerres of Tetefoulques, hereditary seneschals of Poitou. They. farther in- formed me, that strange stories were told of this old castle, in the surrounding country, and that it contained many curious reliques. Among these, were the arms of Foulques Taillefer, together with those of the warriors he had slain; and that it was an imme- morial usage with the Foulquerres to have the weapons deposited there which they had yielded either in war or single combat. This, then, was the reason of the dying injunction of the com- mander respecting his sword. I carried this weapon with me, wherever I went, but still I neglected to comply with his request. "The vision still continued to harass me with undiminished horror. I repaired to Rome, where I confessed myself to the Grand Cardinal penitentiary, and informed him of the terrors THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 143 with which I was haunted. He promised me absolution, after I should have performed certain acts of penance, the principal of which was to execute the dying request of the commander, by carrying his sword to Tetefoulques, and having the hundred mass- es performed in the chapel of the castle for the repose of his soul. "I set out for France as speedily as possible, and made no de- lay in my journey. On arriving at Poitiers, I found that the tidings of the deathof the commander had reached there, but had caused no more affliction than among the people of Malta. Leav- ing my equipage in the town, I put on the garb of a pilgrim, and taking a guide, set out on foot for Tetefoulques. Indeed the roads in this part of the country were impracticable for carriages. "I found the castle of Tetefoulques a grand but gloomy and dilapidated pile. All the gates were closed, and there reigned over the whole place an air of almost savage loneliness and de- sertion. I had understood that its only inhabitants were the concierge, or warder, and a kind of hermit who had charge of the chapel. After ringing for some time at the gate, I at length suc- ceeded in bringing forth the warder, who bowed with reverence to my pilgrim's garb. I begged him to conduct me to the chapel, that being the end of my pilgrimage. We found the hermit there, chanting the funeral service; a dismal sound to one who came to -perform a penance for the death of a member of the family. When he had ceased to chant, I informed him that I came to ac- complish an obligation of conscience, and that I wished him to perform a hundred masses for the repose of the soul of the com- mander. He replied that, not being in orders, he was not author- ized to perform mass, but that he would willingly undertake to see that my debt of conscience was discharged. I laid my offer- page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. ing on the altar, and would have placed the sword of the com- mander there, likewise. 'Hold!' said the hermit, with a me- lancholy shake of the head, 'this is no place for so deadly a weapon, that has so often been bathed in Christian blood. Take M it to the armory; you will find there trophies enough of like char- ? acter. It is a place into which I never enter.' I "The warder here took up the theme abandoned by the 1 peaceful man of God. He assured me that I would see in the armory the swords of all the warrior race of Foulquerres, together with those of the enemies over whom they had triumphed. This, he observed, had been a usage kept up since the time of Mellu- sine, and of her husband, Geoffrey a la Grand-dent, or Geoffrey i with the Great-tooth. "I followed the gossiping warder to the armory. It was a 1 great dusty hall, hung round with Gothic-looking portraits, of a stark line of warriors, each with his weapon, and the weapons of those he had slain in battle, hung beside his picture. The most conspicuous portrait was that of Foulques Taillefer, (Fulke Hack- iron,) Count of Angouleme, and founder of the castle. He was represented at full length, armed cap-a-pie, and grasping a huge buckler, on which were emblazoned three lions passant. The figure was so striking, that it seemed ready to start from the canvas: and I observed beneath this picture, a trophy composed of many weapons, proofs of the numerous triumphs of this hard- fighting old cavalier. Beside the weapons connected with the portraits, there were swords of all shapes, sizes, and centuries, hung round the hall; with piles of armor, placed as it were in effigy. "On each side of an immense chimney, were- suspended the i' THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 145 portraits of the first seneschal of Poitou (the illegitimate son of Foulques Taillefer) and his wife Isabella de Lusignan; the pro- genitors of the grim race of Foulquerres that frowned around. They had the look of being perfect likenesses; and as I gazed on them, I fancied I could trace in their antiquated features some family resemblance to their unfortunate descendant, whom I had slain! Tlhis was a dismal neighborhood, yet the armory was the only part of the castle that had a habitable air; so I asked the warder whether he could not make a fire, and give me something for sup- per there, and prepare me a bed in one corner. "A fire and a supper you shall have, and that cheerfully, most worthy pilgrim,' said he; 'but as to a bed, I advise you to come and sleep in my chamber.' "'Why so?' inquired I; 'why shall I not sleep in this hall?' "I have my reasons; I will make a bed for you close to mine.' "I made no objections, for I recollected that it was Friday, and I dreaded the return of my vision. He brought in billets of wood, kindled a. fire in the great overhanging chimney, and then went forth to prepare my supper. I drew a heavy chair be- fore the fire, and seating myself in it, gazed musingly round upon the portraits of the Foulquerres, and the antiquated armor and weapons, the mementos of many a bloody deed. As the day de- clined, the smoky draperies of the hall gradually became con- founded with the dark ground of the paintings, and the lurid gleams from the chimney only enabled me to see visages staring at me from the gathering darkness. All this was dismal in the extreme, and somewhat appalling: perhaps it was the state of my 7 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. conscience that rendered me peculiarly sensitive, and prone- to fearful imaginings. ", At length the warder brought in my supper. It consisted of a dish of -trout, and some crawfish taken in the fosse - of the castle. He procured also a bottle of wine, which he informed me was wine of Poitou. I requested him to invite the hermit to join me in my repast; but the holy man sent back word that he allowed himself nothing but roots and herbs, cooked with water. I took my meal, therefore, alone, but prolonged it as much as possible, and sought to cheer my drooping spirits by the wine of Poitou, which I found very tolerable. "When supper was over, I prepared for my evening devotions. I have always been very punctual in reciting my breviary; it is the prescribed and bounden duty of all cavaliers of the religious orders; and I can answer for it, is faithfully performed by those of Spain. I accordingly drew forth from my pocket a small mis- sal and a rosary, and told the warder he need only designate to me the way to his chamber, where I could come and rejoin him, when I had finished my prayers. "He accordingly pointed out a winding stair-case, opening- from the hall. ' You will descend this stair-case,' said he, 'until you come to the fourth landing-place, where you enter a vaulted pas. sage, terminated by an arcade, with a statue of the blessed Jeanne of France: you cannot help finding my room, the door of which I will leave open; it is the sixth door from the landing- place., I advise you not to remain in this hall after midnight. Before that hour, you will hear the hermit ring the bell, in going the rounds of the corridors. Do? not linger here after that signal.' THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 147 "The warder retired, and I commenced my devotions. I con- tinued at them earnestly; pausing from time to time to put wood upon the fire. I did not dare to look much around me, for I felt myself becoming a prey to fearful fancies. The pictures appeared to become animated. If I regarded one attentively, for any length of time, it seemed to move the eyes and lips. Above all, the portraits of the Grand Seneschal and his lady, which hung on each side of the great chimney, the progenitors of the Foulquerrcs of Tetefoulques, regarded me, I thought, with angry and baleful eyes: I even fancied they exchanged significant glances with each other. Just then a terrible blast of wind shook all the case- ments, and, rushing through the hall, made a fearful rattling and clashing among the armor: To my startled fancy, it seemed something supernatural. "At length I heard the bell of the hermit, and hastened to quit the hall. Taking a solitary light, which stood on the upper table, I descended the winding stair-case; but before I had reached the vaulted passage, leading to the statue of the blessed Jeanne of France, a blast of wind extinguished my taper. I hastily remounted the stairs, to light it again at the chimney; but judge of my feelings, when, on arriving at the entrance to the ar- mory, I beheld the Seneschal and his lady, who had descended from their frames, and seated themselves on each side of the fire-place! "' Madam, my love,' said the Seneschal, with great formality, and in antiquated phrase, 'what think you of the presumption of this Castilian, who comes to harbor himself and make wassail in this our castle, after having slain our descendant, the com- mander, and that without granting him time for confession?' - I page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. "' Truly, my lord,' answered the female spectre, with no less stateliness of manner, and with great asperity of tone-' truly, my lord, I opine that this Castilian did a grievous wrong in this encounter; and he should never be suffered to depart hence, with- out your throwing him the gauntlet.' I paused to hear no more, but rushed again down stairs, to seek the chamber of the warder. It was impossible to find it in the darkness, and in the perturbation of my mind. After an hour and a half of fruitless search, and mortal horror and anxieties, I endeavored to persuade myself that the day was about to break, and listened impatiently for the crowing of the cock; for I thought if I could hear his cheerful note, I should be reassured; catching, in the disordered state of my nerves, at the popular notion that ghosts never ap- pear after the first crowing of the cock. "At length I rallied myself, and endeavored to shake off the vague terrors which haunted me. I tried to persuade myself that the two. figures which I had seemed to see and hear, had existed only in my troubled imagination. I still had the end of a candle in my hand, and determined to make another effort to re-light it, and find my way to bed; for I was ready to sink with fatigue. I accordingly sprang up the stair-case, three steps at a time, stop- ped at the door of the armory, and peeped cautiously in. The two Gothic figures were no longer in the chimney corners, but I neglected to notice whether they had re-ascended to their frames. I entered, and made desperately for the fire-place, but scarce had I advanced three strides, when Messire Foulques Taillefer stood before me, in the centre of the hall, armed cap-A-pie, and stand- ing in guard, with the point of his sword silently presented to me. I would have retreated to the stair-case, but the door of it THE GRAND PRIOR OF MNORCA. 149 was occupied by the phantom figure of an esquire, who rudely flung a gauntlet in my face. Driven to fury, I snatched down a sword from the wall: by chance, it was that rf the commander which I had placed there. I rushed upon my fantastic adversary, and seemed to pierce him through and through; but at the same time I felt as if something pierced my heart, burning like a red- hot iron. My blood inundated the hall, and I fell senseless. "When I recovered consciousness, it was broad day, and I found myself in a small chamber, attended by the warder and the hermit. The former told me that on the previous night, he lead awakened long after the midnight hour, and perceiving that I had not come to his chamber, he had furnished himself with a vase of holy water, and set out to seek me. He found me stretchDed senseless on the pavement of the armory, and bore me to his room. I spoke of my wound; and of the quantity of blood that I had lost. He shook his head, and knew nothing about it; and to my surprise, on examination, I found myself perfectly sound and un- harmed. The wound and blood, therefore, had been all delusion. Neither the warder nor the hermit put any questions to me, but advised me to leave the castle as soon as possible. I lost no time in complying with their counsel, and felt my heart relieved from an oppressive weight, as I left the gloomy and fate-bound battlements of Tetefoulques behind me. ' I arrived at Bayonne, on my way to Spain, on the following Friday. At midnight I was startled from my sleep, as I had formerly been; but it was no longer by the vision of the dying commander. It was old Foulques Taillefer who stood before me, page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. armed cap-a-pie, and presenting the point of his sword. I made the sign of the cross, and the spectre vanished, but I received the same red-hot thrust in the heart which I had felt in the ar- mory, and I seemed to be bathed in blood. I would have called out, or have risen from my bed and gone in quest of succor, but I could neither speak nor stir. This agony endured until the crowing of the cock, when I fell asleep again; but the next day I was ill, and in a most pitiable state. I have continued to be harassed by the same vision every Friday night; no acts of peni- tence and devotion have been able to relieve me from it; and it is only a lingering hope in divine mercy that sustains me, and enables me to support so lamentable a visitation." The Grand Prior of Minorca wasted gradually away under this constant remorse of conscience, and this horrible incubus. He died some time after having revealed the preceding particulars of his ease, evidently the victim of a diseased imagination. The above relation has been rendered, in many parts literally, from the French memoir, in which it is given as a true story: if so, it is one of those instances in which tfuth is more romantic than fiction. "A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY." IN the course of a voyage from England, I once fell in'with a convoy of merchant ships, bound for the West Indies. The weather was uncommonly bland; and the ships vied with each other in spreading sail to catch a light, favoring breeze, until their hulls were almost hidden beneath a cloud of canvas. The breeze went down with the sun, and his last yellow rays shone upon a thousand sails, idly flapping against the masts. I exulted in the beauty of the scene, and augured a prosper- ous voyage; but the veteran master of the s'ip shook his head, and pronounced this halcyon calm a c weathe:-breeder." And so it proved. A storm burst forth in the night: the sea roared and raged; and when the day broke, I beheld the late gallant convoy scattered in every direction; some dismasted, others scudding under bare poles, and many firing signals of distress. I have since been occasionally reminded of this scene, by those calm, sunny seasons in the commercial world, which are known by the name of " times of unexampled prosperity." They arc the sure weather-breeders of traffic. Every now and then the world is visited by one of these delusive seasons, when " the cre- dit system," as it is called, expands to ful luxuriance: every page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. body trusts every body; a bad debt is a thing unheard of; the broad way to certain and sudden wealth lies plain and open; and men are tempted to dash forward boldly, from the facility of bor- rowing. Promissory notes, interchanged between scheming individuals, are liberally discounted at the banks, which become so many mints to coin words into cash; and as the supply of words is inexhaust- ible, it may readily be supposed what a vast amount of promis- sory capital is soon in circulation. Every one now talks in thou- sands; nothing is heard but gigantic operations in trade; great purchases and sales of real property, and immense sums made at every transfer. All, to be sure, as yet exists in promise; but the believer in promises calculates the aggregate as solid capital, and falls back in amazement at the amount of public wealth, the " un- exampled state of public prosperity!" Now is the time for speculative and dreaming or designing men. They relate their dreams and projects to the ignorant and credulous, dazzle them with golden visions, and set them madden- ing after shadows. The example of one stimulates another; speculation rises on speculation; bubble rises on bubble; every one helps with his breath to swell the windy superstructure, and ad- mires and wonders at the magnitude of the inflation he has con- tributed to produce. Speculation is the romance of trade, and casts contempt upon all its sober realities. It renders the stock-jobber a magician, and the exchange a region of enchantment. It elevates the merchant into a kind of knight-errant, or rather a commercial Quixote. The slow but sure gains of snug percentage become despicable in his eyes: no " operation" is thought worthy of attention, that does I { f A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPRRITY. 153 not double or treble the investment. No business is worth fol- lowing, that does not promise an immediate fortune. As he sits musing over his ledger, with pen behind his ear, he is like La Man cha's hero in his study, dreaming over his books of chivalry. His dusty counting-house fades before his eyes, or changes into a Spanish mine: he gropes after diamonds, or dives after pearls. The subterranean garden of Aladdin is nothing to the realms of wealth that break upon his imaglination. Could this delusion always last, the life of a merchant would indeed be a golden dream; but it is as short as it is brilliant. Let but a doubt enter, and the " season of unexampled prosperity" is at end. The coinage of words is suddenly Curtailed; the pro- missory capital begins to vanish into smoke; a panic succeeds, and the whole superstructure, built upon credit, and reared by speculation, crumbles to the ground, leaving scarce a wreck behind: It is such stuff as dreams are made of." When a man of business, therefore, hears on every side rumors of fortunes suddenly acquired; when he findg banks liberal, and brokers busy; when he sees adventurers flush of paper capital, and full of scheme and enterprise; when he perceives a greater disposition to buy than to sell; when trade overflows its ac- customed channels, and deluges the country; when he hears of new regions of commercial adventure; of distant marts and dis- tant mines, swallowing merchandise and disgorging gold; when he finds joint stock companies of all kinds forming; railroads, canals, and locomotive engines, springing up on every side; when idlers suddenly become men of business, and dash into the game of commerce as they would into the hazards of the faro ta- 7* page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. ble; when he beholds the streets glittering with new equipages, palaces conjured up by the magic of speculation; tradesmen flush- ed with sudden success, and vying with each other in ostentatious expense; in a word, when he hears the whole community joining in the theme of " unexampled prosperity," let him look upon the whole as a " weather-breeder," and prepare for the impending storm. The foregoing remarks are intended merely as a prelude to a narrative I am about to lay before the public, of one of the most memorable instances of the infatuation of gain, to be found in the whole history of commerce. I allude to the famous Mis- sissippi bubble. It is a matter that has passed into a proverb, and become a phrase in every one's mouth, yet of which not one merchant in ten has probably a distinct idea. I have therefore thought that an authentic account of it would be interesting and salutary, at the present moment, when we are suffering under the effects of a severe access of the credit system, and just re- covering from one of its ruinous delusions. THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. Before entering into the story of this famous chimera, it is pro- per to give a few particulars concerning the individual who engen- dered it. JOHN LAW was born in Edinburgh, in 1671. His father, William Law, was a rich goldsmith, and left his son an estate of considerable value, called Lauriston, situated about four THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 155 miles from Edinburgh. Goldsmiths, in those days, acted occa- sionally as bankers, and his father's operations, under this charac- ter, may have originally turned the thoughts of the youth to the science of calculation, in which he became an adept; so that at an early age he excelled in playing at all games of combination. In 1694, he appeared in London, where a handsome person, and an easy and insinuating address, gained him currency in the first circles, and the nickname of "Beau Law." The same per- sonal advantages gave him success in the world of gallantry, until he became involved in a quarrel with Beau Wilson, his rival in fashion, whom he killed in a duel, and then fled to France to avoid prosecution. He returned to Edinburgh in 1700, and remained there sever- al years; during which time he first broached his great credit sys- tem, offering to supply the deficiency of coin by the establishment of a bank, which, according to his views, might emit a paper cur- rency equivalent to the whole landed estate of the kingdom. His scheme excited great astonishment in Edinburgh; but, though the government was not sufficiently advanced in financial knowledge to detect the fallacies upon which it was founded, Scottish caution and suspicion served in place of wisdom, and the project was rejected. Law met with no better success with the English parliament; and the fatal affair of the death of Wilson still hanging over him, for which he had never been able to pro- cure a pardon, he again went to France. The financial affairs of France were at this time in a deplora- ble condition. The wars, the pomp, and profusion, of Louis XIV., and his religious persecutions of whole classes of the most indus- trious of his subjects, had exhausted his treasury, and overwhelm- page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 A TIME OF UXNEAMPLED PROSPERITY. ed the nation with debt. The old monarch clung to his selfish magnificence, and could not be induced to diminish his enormous expenditure; and his minister of finance was driven to his wits' end to devise all kinds of disastrous expedients to keep up the royal state, and to extricate the nation from its embarrassments. In this state of things, Law ventured to bring forward his fi- nancial project. It was founded on the plan of the Bank of England, which had already been in successful operation several years. He met with immediate patronage, and a congenial spirit, in the Duke of Orleans, who had married a natural daughter of the king. The duke had been astonished at the facility with which England had supported the burden of a public debt, crea- ted by the wars of Anne and William, and which exceeded in amount that under which France was groaning. The whole mat- ter was soon explained by Law to his satisfaction. The latter maintained that England had stopped at the mere threshold of an art capable of creating unlimited sources of national wealth. The duke was dazzled with his splended views and specious rea- sonings, and thought he clearly comprehended his system. Dem- arets, the Comptroller General of Finance, was not so easily de- ceived. He pronounced the plan of Law more pernicious than any of the disastrous expedients that the government had yet been driven to. The old king also, Louis XIV., detested all in- novations, especially those which came from a rival nation: the project of a bank, therefore, was utterly rejected. Law remained for a while in Paris, leading a gay and affluent existence, owing to his handsome person, easy manners, flexible temper, and a faro-bank which he had set up. His agreeable ca- reer was interrupted by a message from D'Argenson, Lieutenant THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 157 General of Police, ordering him to quit Paris, alleging that he was " rather too skilful at the game wtich he had introduced!" For several succeeding years, he shifted his residence from state to state of Italy- and Germany; offering his scheme of fi- nance to every court that he visited, but without success. The Duke of Savoy, Victor Amadeas, afterward King of Sardinia, was much struck with his project; but after considering it for a time, replied; "I am not sufficiently powerful to ruin myself." The shifting, adventurous life of Law, and the equivocal means by which he appeared to live, playing high, and always with great success, threw a cloud of suspicion over him, wher- ever he went, and caused him to be expelled by the magistracy from the semi-commercial, semi-aristocratical cities of Venice and Genoa. The events of 1715, brought Law back again to Paris. Louis XIV. was dead. Lous XV. was a mere child, and during his minority the Duke of Orleans held the reins of government as Regent. Law had at length found his man. The Duke of Orleans has been differently represented by dif- ferent contemporaries. He appears to have had excellent natural qualities, perverted by a bad education. He was of the middle size, easy and graceful, with an agreeable countenance, and open, affable demeanor. His mind was quick and sagacious, rather than profound; and his quickness of intellect and excellence of memory, supplied the lack of studious application. His wit was prompt and pungent; he expressed himself with vivacity and pre- cision; his imagination was vivid, his temperament sanguine and joyous; his courage daring. His mother, the Duchess of Orleans, expressed his character in a jeu d'esprit. "The fairies,' said she, page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. (t were invited to be present at his birth, and each one conferring a talent on my son, he possesses them all. Unfortunately, we had forgotten to invite an ,old fairy, who, arriving after all the others, exclaimed, He shall have all the talents, excepting that to make good use of them." Under proper tuition, the duke might have risen to real greatness; but in his early years, he was put under the tutelage of the Abbe Dubois, one of the subtlest and basest spirits that ever intrigued its way into eminent place and power. The Abb6 was of low origin and despicable exterior, totally destitute of morals, and perfidious in the extreme; but with a supple, insinu- ating address, and an accommodating spirit, tolerant of all kinds of profligacy in others. Conscious of his own inherent baseness, he sought to secure an influence over his pupil, by corrupting his principles, and fostering his vices: he debased him, to keep him- self from being despised. Unfortunately he succeeded. To the early precepts of this infamous pander have been attributed those excesses that disgraced the manhood of the Regent, and gave a licentious character to his whole course of government. His love of pleasure, quickened and indulged by those who should have restrained it, led him into all kinds of sensual indulgence. He had been taught to think lightly of the most serious duties and sacred ties, to turn Virtue into a jest, and consider religion mere hypocrisy. He was a gay misanthrope, that had a sover- eign but sportive contempt for mankind; believed that his most devoted servant would be his enemy, if interest prompted; and maintained that an honest man was he who had the art to con- ceal that he was the contrary. He surrounded himself with a set of dissolute men like himself, THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 159 who, let loose from the restraint under which they had been held, during the latter hypocritical days of Louis XIV., now gave way to every kind of debauchery. With these men the Regent used to shut himself up, after the hours of business, and exclud- ing all graver persons and graver concerns, celebrate the most drunken and disgusting orgies, where obscenity and blasphemy formed the seasoning of conversation. For the profligate com- panions of these revels he invented the appellation of his roues, the literal meaning of which is, men broken on the wheel; in- tended, no doubt, to express their broken-down characters and dislocated fortunes; although a contemporary asserts that it designated the punishment that most of them merited. Madame de Labran, who was present at one of the Regent's suppers, was disgusted by the conduct and conversation of the host and his guests, and observed at table, that God, after he had created man, took the refuse clay that was left, and made of it the souls of lackeys and princes. Such was the man that now ruled the destinies of France. Law found him full of perplexities, from the disastrous state of the finances. He had already tampered with the coinage, calling in the coin of the nation, re-stamping it, and issuing it at a nomi- nal increase of one fifth; thus defrauding the nation out of twenty per cent. of its capital. He was not likely, therefore, to be scru- pulous about any means likely to relieve him from financial diffi- culties: he had even been led to listen to the cruel alternative of a national bankruptcy. Under these circumstances, Law confidently brought forward his scheme of a bank, that was to pay off the national debt, in- crease the revenue, and at the same time diminish the taxes. page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. The following is stated as the theory by which he recommended his system to the Regent. The credit enjoyed by a banker or a merchant, he observed, increases his capital tenfold; that is to say, he who has a capital of one hundred thousand livres, may, if he possess sufficient credit, extend his operations to a million, and reap profits to that amount. In like manner, a state that can collect into a bank all the current coin of the kingdom, would be as powerful as if its capital were increased tenfold. The specie must be drawn into the bank, not by way of loan, or by taxations, but in the way of deposit. This might be effected in different modes, either by inspiring confidence, or by exerting authority. One mode, he observed, had already been in use. Each time that a state makes a re-coinage, it becomes momen- tarily the depository of all the money called in, belonging to the subjects of that state. His bank was to effect the same purpose; that is to say, to receive in deposit all the coin of the kingdom, but to give in exchange its bills, which, being of an invariable value, bearing an interest, and being payable on demand, would not only supply the place of coin, but prove a better and more profitable currency. The Regent caught with avidity at the scheme. It suited his bold, reckless spirit, and his grasping extravagance. Not that he was altogether the dupe of Law's specious projects: still he was apt, like many other men, unskilled in the arcana of finance, to. mistake the multiplication of money, for the multiplication of wealth; not understanding that it was a mere agent or instru- ment in the interchange of traffic, to represent the value of the various productions of industry; and that an increased circulation of coin' or bank-bills, in the shape of currency, only adds a propor- THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 161 tionably increased and fictitious value to such productions. Law enlisted the vanity of the Regent in his cause. He persuaded him that he saw more clearly than others into sublime theories of finance, which were quite above the ordinary apprehension. He used to declare that, excepting the Regent! and the Duke of Savoy, no one had thoroughly comprehended his system. It is certain that it met with strong opposition from the Regent's ministers, the Duke de Noailles and the Chancellor d'Anguesseau; and it was no less strenuously opposed by the parliament of Paris. Law, however, had a potent though secret coadjutor in the Abbe Dubois, now rising, during the regency, into great political power, and who retained a baneful influence over the mind of the Regent. This wily priest, as avaricious as he was ambitious, drew large sums from Law as subsidies, and aided him greatly in many of his most pernicious operations. He aided him, in the present instance, to fortify the mind of the Regent against all the remonstrances of his ministers and the parliament. Accordingly, on the 2d of May, 1716, letters patent were granted to Law, to establish a bank of deposit, discount, and cir- culation, under the firm of L Law and Company," to continue for twenty years. The capital was fixed at six millions of livres, di- vided into shares of five hundred livres each, which were to be sold for twenty-five per cent. of the regent's debased coin, and seventy-five per cent. of the public securities, which were then at a great reduction from their nominal value, and which then amounted to nineteen hundred millions. The ostensible objoect of the bauk, as set forth in, the patent, was to encourage the com- merce and manufactures of France. The louis-d'ors, and crowns page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162' A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY of the bank were always to retain the same standard of value, and its bills to be payable in them on demand. At the outset, while the bank was limited in its operations, and while its paper really represented the specie in its vaults, it seemed-to realize all that had been promised from it. It rapidly acquired public confidence, and an extended circulation, and pro- duced an activity in commerce, unknown under the baneful government of Louis XIV. As the bills of the bank bore an interest, and as it was stipulated they would be of invariable value, and as hints had been artfully circulated that the coin- would experience successive diminution, every body hastened to the bank to exchange gold and silver for paper. So great became the throng of depositors, and so intense their eagerness, that there was quite a press and struggle at the back door, and a ludicrous panic was awakened, as if there was danger of their not being admitted. An anecdote of the time relates, that one of the clerks, with an ominous smile, called out to the struggling multitude, "Have a little patience, my friends; we mean to take all your money; " an assertion disastrously verified in the sequel. Thus by the simple establishment of a bank, Law and the Regent obtained pledges of confidence for the consummation of farther and more complicated schemes, as yet hidden from the public. In a little while the bank shares rose enormously, and the amount of its notes in circulation exceeded one hundred and: ten millions of livres. A subtle stroke of policy had rendered it popu- lar with the aristocracy. Louis XIV. had several years previously imposed an income tax of a tenth, giving his royal word that it should cease in 1717. This tax had been exceedingly irksome to the privileged orders; and, in the present disastrous times, they THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 163 had dreaded an augmentation of it. In consequence of the suc- cessful operation of Law's scheme, however, the tax was abolished, and now nothing was to be heard among the nobility and clergy but praises of the Regent and the bank. Hitherto all had gone well, and all might have continued to go well, had not the paper system been farther expanded. But Law had yet the grandest part of his scheme to develope. He had to open his ideal world of speculation, his El Dorado of unbounded wealth. The English had brought the vast imaginary commerce of the South Seas in aid of their banking operations. Law sought to bring, as an immense auxiliary of his bank, the whole trade of the Mississippi. Under this name was included not merely the river So called, but the vast region known as Louisi- ana, extending from north latitude 29 up to Canada in north latitude 40. This country had been granted by Louis XIV. to the Sieur CrJozat, but he had been induced to resign his patent. In conformity to the plea of Mr. Law, letters patent were granted in August, 1717, for the creation of a commercial company, which was to have the colonizing of this country, and the monopoly of its trade and resources, and of the beaver or fur trade with Canada. It was called the Western, but became better known as the Mississippi Company. The capital was fixed at one hun- dred millions of livres, divided into shares, bearing an interest of four per cent., which were subscribed for in the public securities. As the bank was to cooperate with the company, the Regent ordered that its bills should be received the same as coin, in all payments of the public revenue. Law was appointed chief director of this company, which was an exact copy of the Earl of Oxford's South Sea Company, set on foot in 1711, and which dis- page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. tracted all England with the frenzy of speculation. In like man- ner with the delusive picturings given in that memorable scheme of the sources of rich trade to be opened in the South Sea countries, Law held forth magnificent prospects of the fortunes to be made in colonizing Louisiana, which was represented as a veritable land of promise, capable of yielding every variety of the most precious produce. Reports, too, were artfully circulated, with great mystery, as if to the " chosen few," of mines of gold and silver recently discovered in Louisiana, and which would insure instant wealth to the early purchasers. These confidential whis- pers of course soon became public; and were confirmed by travel- lers fresh from the Mississippi, and doubtless bribed, who had seen the mines in question, and declared them superior in richness to those of Mexico and Peru. Nay more, ocular proof was fur- nished to public credulity, in ingots of gold, conveyed to the mint, as if just brought from the mines of Louisiana. Extraordinary measures were adopted to force a colonization. An edict was issued to collect and transport settlers to the Mis- sissippi. The police lent its aid. The streets and prisons-of Paris, and of the provincial cities, were swept of mendicants and vagabonds of all kinds, who were conveyed to Havre de Grace. About six thousand were crowded into ships, where no precautions had been taken for their health or accommodation. Instruments of all kinds proper for the working of mines were ostentatiously paraded in public, and put on board the vessels; and the whole set sail for this fabled El Dorado, which was to prove the grave of the greater part of its wretched colonists. D'Anguesseau, the chancellor, a man of probity and integrity, still lifted his voice against the paper system of Law, and his pro. R THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 165 ject of colonization, and was eloquent and prophetic in picturing the evils they were calculated to produce; the private distress and public degradation; the corruption of morals and manners; the triumph of knaves and schemers; the ruin of fortunes, and down- fall of families. He was incited more and more to this opposition by the Duke de Noailles, the Minister of Finance, who was jealous of the growing ascendency of Law over the mind of the regent, but was less honest than the chancellor in his opposition. The Regent was excessively annoyed by the difficulties they conjured up in the way of his darling schemes of finance, and the counte- nance they gave to the opposition of parliament; which body, dis- gusted more and more with the abuses of the regency, and the system of Law, had gone so far as to carry its remonstrances to the very foot of the throne. He determined to relieve himself from these two ministers, who, either through honesty or policy, interfered with all his plans. Accordingly, on the 28th of January, 1718, he dismissed the chancellor from office, and exiled him to his estate in the country; and shortly afterward removed the Duke de Noailles from the administration of the finance. The opposition of parliament to the Rcgent and his measures was carried on with increasing violence. That body aspired to an equal authority with the Regent in the administration of affairs, and pretended, by its decree, to suspend an edict of the regency ordering a new coinage, and altering the value of the currency. But its chief hostility was levelled against Law, a foreigner and a heretic, and one who was considered by a majority of the mem- bers in the light of a malefactor. In fact, so far was this hostili. ty carried, that secret measures were taken to investigate his mal- i page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] 4 166 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. versations, and to collect evidence against him; and it was resolv- ed in parliament that, should the testimony collected justify their suspicions, they would have him seized and brought before them; would give him a brief trial, and if convicted, would hang him in the court-yard of the palace, and throw open the gates after the execution, that the public might behold his corpse! Law received intimation of the danger hanging over him, and was in terrible trepidation. He took refuge in the Palais Royal, the residence of the Regent, and implored his protection. The Regent himself was embarrassed by the sturdy opposition of parlia- ment, which contemplated nothing less than a decree reversing most of his public measures, especially those of finance. His in- decision kept Law for a time in an agony of terror and suspense. Finally, by assembling a board of justice, and bringing to his aid the absolute authority of the king, he triumphed over parliament, and relieved Law from his dread of being hanged. The system now went on with flowing sail. The Western, or Mississippi Company, being identified with the bank, rapidly in- creased in power and privileges. One monopoly after another was granted to it; the trade of the Indian Seas; the slave trade with Senegal and Guinea; the farming of tobacco; the national coinage, etc. Each new privilege was made a pretext for issuing more bills, and caused an immense advance in the price of stock. At length, on the 4th of December, 1718, the Regent gave the es- tablishment the imposing title of THE ROYAL BANK,- and pro- claimed that he had effected the purchase of all the shares, the pro- ceeds of which he had added to its capital. This measure seemed to shock the public feeling more than any other connected with the system, and roused the indignation of parliament. The French * THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 167 nation had been so accustomed to attach an idea of every thing noble, lofty, and magnificent, to the royal name and person, es- pecially during the stately and sumptuous reign of Louis XIV:, that they could not at first tolerate the idea of royalty being in any degree mingled with matters of traffic and finance, and the king being in a manner a banker. It was one of the downward steps, however, by which royalty lost its illusive splendor in France and became gradually cheapened in the public mind. Arbitrary measures now began to be taken to force the bills of the bank into artificial currency. On the 27th of December, ap- peared an order in council, forbidding, under severe penalties, the payment of any sum above six hundred livres in gold or silver. This decree rendered bank bills necessary in all transactions of purchase and sale, and called for a new emission. The prohibi- tion was occasionally evaded or opposed; confiscations were the consequence; informers were rewarded, and spits and traitors be- gan to spring up in all the domestic walks of life. The worst effect of this illusive system was the mania for r ' ngain, or rather for' gambling in stocks, that now seized upon the whole nation. Under the exciting effects of lying reports, and the forcing effects of government decrees, the shares of the comn- pany went on rising in value, until they reached thirteen hundred per cent. Nothing was now spoken of but the price of shares, and the immense fortunes suddenly made by lucky speculators. Those whom Law had deluded used every eans to delude others. The most extravagant dreams were indulged, concerning the wealth to flow in upon the company, from its colonies, its trade, and its various monopolies. It is true, nothing as yet had been realized, nor could in some time be realized, from these distant sources, ,.f page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. even if productive; but the imaginations of speculators are ever in the advance, and their conjectures are immediately converted into facts. Lying reports now flew from mouth to mouth, of sure avenues to fortune suddenly thrown open. The more extrava- gant the fable, the more readily was it believed. To doubt, was *o awaken anger, or incur ridicule. In a time of public infatua- tion, it requires no small exercise of courage to doubt a popular fallacy. Paris now became the centre of attraction for the adventurous and the avaricious, who flocked to it not merely from the prov- inces, but from neighboring countries. A stock exchange was es- tablished in a house in the Rue Quincampoix, and became imme- diately the gathering place of stock-jobbers. The exchange open- ed at seven o'clock with the beat of drum and sound of bell, and closed at night with the same signals. Guards were stationed at each end of the street, to maintain order and exclude carriages and horses. The whole street swarmed throughout the day-like a bee-hive. Bargains of all kinds were seized upon with avidity. Shares of stock passed from hand to hand, mounting in value; one knew not why. Fortunes were made in a moment as if by magic; and every lucky bargain prompted those around to a more despe- rate throw of the die. The fever went on, increasing in intensity as the day declined; and when the drum beat, and the bell rang, at night, to close the exchange, there were exclamations of impatience and despair, as if the wheel of fortune had suddenly been stopped, when about to make its luckiest evolution. ' To ingulf all classes in this ruinous vortex, Law now split the shares of fifty millions of stock each into one hundred shares; thus, as in the splitting of lottery tickets, accommodating the ven- THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 169 ture to the humblest purse. Society was thus stirred up to its very dregs, and adventurers of the lowest order hurried to the stock market. All honest, industrious pursuits, and modest gains, were now despised. Wealth was to be obtained instantly, without labor, and without stint. The upper classes were as base in their venality as the lower. The highest and most powerful nobles, abandoning all generous pursuits and lofty aims, engaged in the vile scuffle for gain. They were even baser than the lower classes for some of them, who were members of the council of the regency, abused their station and their influence, and promo- ted measures by which shares arose while in their hands, and they made immense profits. The Duke de Bourbon, the Prince of Conti, the Dukes de la Force and D'Antin, were among the foremost of these illustrious stock-jobbers. They were nicknamed the Mississippi Lords, and they smiled at the sneering title. In fact, the usual distinctions of society had lost their consequence, under the reign of this new' passion. Rank, talent, military fame, no longer inspired defer. ence. All respect for others, all self-respect, were forgotten in the mercenary struggle of the stock-market. Even prelates and ecclesiastical corporations, forgetting their true objects of devo- tion, mingled among the votaries of mammon. They were not behind those who wielded the civil power in fabricating ordinances suited to their avaricious purposes. Theological decisions forth- - with appeared, in which the anathema launched by the church against usury, was conveniently construed as not extending to the traffic in bank shares! The Abbe Dubois entered into the mysteries of stock-jobbing with all the zeal of an apostle, and enriched himself by the spoils page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. of the credulous; and he continually drew large sums from Law, as considerations for his political influence. Faithless to his country, in the course of his gambling speculations he transferred to England a great amount of specie, which had been paid into the royal treasury; thus contributing to the subsequent dearth of the precious metals. The female sex participated in this sordid frenzy. Princesses of the blood, and ladies of the highest nobility, were among the most rapacious of stock-jobbers. The Regent seemed to have the riches of Croesus at his command, and lavished money by hun- dreds of thousands upon his female relatives and favorites, as well as upon his roues, the dissolute companions of his debauches. "My son," writes the Regent's mother, in her correspondence, "gave me shares to the amount of two millions, which I distri- buted among my household. The king also took several millions for his own household. All the royal family have had them; all the children and grandchildren of France, and the princes of the blood." Luxury and extravagance kept pace with this sudden inflation of fancied wealth. The hereditary palaces of nobles were pulled downs and rebuilt on a scale of augmented splendor. Entertain- ments were given, of incredible cost and magnificence. Never before had been such-display in houses, furniture, equipages, and amusements. This was particularly the case among persons of the lower ranks, who had suddenly become possessed of millions. Ludicrous anecdotes are related of some of these upstarts. One, who had just launched a splendid carriage, when about to use it for the first time, instead of getting in at the door, mounted, through habitude, to his accustomed place behind. Some ladies THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLER 171 of quality, seeing a well-dressed woman covered with diamonds, but whom nobody knew, alight from a very handsome carriage, inquired who she was, of the footman. He replied, with a sneer: ' It is a lady who has recently tumbled from a garret into this carriage;"Mr, Law's domestics were said to become in like man- ner suddenly enriched by the crumbs that fell from his table. His coachman, having made a fortune, retired from his service. Mr. Law requested him to procure a coachman in his place. He appeared the next day with two, whom he pronounced equally good, and told Mr. Law: "Take which of them you choose, and I will take the other!" Nor were these novi homini treated with the distance and disdain they would formerly have experienced from the haughty aristocracy of France. The pride of the old noblesse had been stifled by the stronger instinct of avarice. They rather sought the intimacy and confidence of these lucky upstarts; and it has been observed that a nobleman would gladly take his seat at the table of the fortunate lackey of yesterday, in hopes of learning from him the secret of growing rich! Law now went about with a countenance radiant with success, and apparently dispensing wealth on every side. "He is admira- bly skilled in all that relates to finance," writes the Duchess of Orleans, the Regent's mother, " and has put the affairs of the state in such good order, that all the king's debts have been paid. He is so much run after, that he has no repose night or day. A duchess even kissed his hand publicly. If a duchess can do this, what will other ladies do" " Wherever he went, his path, we are told, was beset by a sor- did throng, who waited to see him pass, and sought to obtain the page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] a ii 172 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. favor of a word, a nod, or smile, as if a mere glance from him would bestow fortune. When at home, his house was absolutely besieged by furious candidates for fortune. "They forced the doors," says the Duke de St. Simon; "they scaled his windows from the garden; they made their way into his cabinet down the chimney!" The same venal court was paid by all classes to his family. The highest ladies of the court vied with each other in mean- nesses, to purchase the lucrative friendship of Mrs. Law and her daughter. They waited upon them with as much assiduity and adulation as if they had been princesses of the blood. The Re- gent one day expressed a desire that some duchess should accom- pany his daughter to Genoa. "My Lord," said some one present, "if you would have a choice from among the duchesses, you need but send to Mrs. Law's; you will find them all assembled there." The wealth of Law rapidly increased with the expansion of the bubble. In the course of a few months, he purchased four- teen titled estates, paying for them in paper; and the public hailed these sudden and vast acquisitions of landed property, as so many proofs of the soundness of his system. In one instance, he met with a'shrewd bargainer, who had not the general faith in his paper money. The President de Novion insisted on being paid for an estate in hard coin. Law accordingly brought the amount, four hundred thousand livres, in specie, saying, with a sarcastic smile, that he preferred paying in money, as its weight rendered it a mere incumbrance. As it happened, the President could give no clear title to the land, and the money had to be re- funded. He paid it back in paper, which Law dared not refuse, lest he should depreciate it in the market! THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 173 The course of illusory credit went on triumphantly for eighteen months. Law had nearly fulfilled one of his promises, for the greater part of the public debt had been paid off; but how paid? In bank shares, which had been trumped up several hundred per cent. above their value, and which were to vanish like smoke in the-hands of the holders. One of the most striking attributes of Law, was the imper- turbable assurance and self-possession with which he replied to every objection, and found a solution for every problem. He had the dexterity of a juggler in evading difficulties; and what was peculiar, made figures themselves, which are the very elements of exact demonstration, the means to dazzle and bewilder. Toward the latter end of 1719, the Mississippi scheme had reached its highest point of glory. Half a million of strangers had crowded into Paris, in quest of fortune. The hotels and lodging-houses were overflowing; lodgings were procured with excessive difficulty; granaries were turned into bedrooms; pro- visions had risen enormously in price; splendid houses were mul- tiplying on every side; the streets were crowded with carriages; above a thousand new equipages had been launched. On the eleventh of December, Law obtained another prohibi- tory decree, for the purpose of sweeping all the remaining specie in circulation into the bank. By this it was forbidden to make any payments in silver above ten livres, or in gold above three hundred. The repeated decrees of this nature, the object of which was to depreciate the value of gold, and increase the illusive credit of paper, began to awaken doubts of a system which required such bolstering. Capitalists gradually awoke from their bewilderment. page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] "4 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. Sound and able financiers consulted together, and agreed to make common cause against this continual expansion of a paper system. The shares of the bank and of the company began to decline in value. Wary men took the alarm, and began to realize, a word now first brought into use, to express the conversion of ideal pro- perty into something real. The Prinoe of Conti, one of the most prominent and grasping of the Mississippi lords, was the first to give a blow to the credit of the bank. There was a mixture of ingratitude in his conduct, that characterized the venal baseness of the times. He had re- ceived, from time to time, enormous sums from Law, as the price of his influence and patronage. His avarice had increased with every acquisition, until Law was compelled to refuse one of his exactions. In revenge, the prince immediately sent such an amount of paper to the bank to be cashed, that it required four waggons to bring away the silver, and he had the meanness to loll out of the window of his hotel, and jest and exult, as it was trun- dled into his port cochere. This was the signal for other drains of like nature. The Eng- lish and Dutch merchants, who had purchased a great amount of bank paper at low prices, cashed them at the bank, and carried the money out of the country. Other strangers did the like, thus draining the kingdom of its specie, and leaving paper in its place. The Regent, perceiving these symptoms of decay in the sys- tem, sought to restore it to public confdence, by conferring marks of confidence upon its author. He accordingly resolved to make Law Comptroller General of the Finances of France. There was a material obstacle in the way. Law was a protestant, and the Regent, unscrupulous as he was himself, did not dare publicly to THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 175 outrage the severe edicts which Lous XIV., in his bigot days, had fulminated against all heretics. Law soon let him know that there would be no difficulty on that head. He was ready, at any moment to abjure his religion in the way of business. For decen- cy's sake, however, it was judged proper he should previously be convinced and converted. A ghostly instructor was soon found, ready to accomplish his conversion in the shortest possible time. This was the Abbe Tencin, a profligate creature of the profligate Dubois, and like him working his way to ecclesiastical promotion and temporal wealth, by the basest means. Under the instructions of the Abbe Tencin, Law soon mastered the mysteries and dogmas of the Catholic doctrine; and, after a brief course of ghostly training, declared himself thoroughly con- vinced and converted. To avoid the sneers and jests of the Parisian public, the ceremony of abjuration took place at Melun. Law-made a pious present of one hundred thousand livres to the Church of St. Roque, and the Abbe Tencin was rewarded for his edifying labors, by sundry shares and bank-bills, which he shrewdly took care to convert into cash, having as little faith in the system, as in the piety of his new convert. A more grave and moral community might have been outraged by this scandal- ous farce; but the Pr risians laughed at it with their usual levity, gnd contented themselves with making it the subject of a number of songs and epigrams. Law being now orthodox in his faith, took out letters of natu- ralization, and having thus surmounted the intervening obstacles, was elevated by the Regent to the post of Comptroller General. So accustomed had the community become to all juggles and transmutations in this herq of finance, that no one seemed shocked page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 1u1 A lTME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. i or astonished at his sudden elevation. On the contrary, being now considered perfectly established in place and power, he be- came more than ever the object of venal adoration. Men of rank and dignity thronged his antechamber, waiting patiently their turn for an audience; and titled dames demeaned themselves to take the front seats of the carriages of his wife and daughter, as if they a had been riding with princesses of the blood royal. Law's head grew giddy with his elevation, and he began to aspire after aris- tocratical distinction. There was to be a court ball, at which several of the young noblemen were to dance in a ballet with the youthful king. Law requested that his son might be admitted into the ballet, and the Regent consented. The young scions of nobility, however, were indignant, and scouted the " intruding up- start." Their more worldly parents, fearful of displeasing the modern Midas, reprimanded them in vain. The striplings had not yet imbibed the passion for gain, and still held to their high blood. The son of the banker received slights and annoyances on all sides, and the public applauded them for their spirit. A fit of illness came opportunely to relieve the youth from an honor which would have cost him a world of vexations and affronts. In February, 1720, shortly after Law's instalment in office a lecree came out, uniting the bank to the India Company, by which last name the whole establishment was now known. The decree stated, that as the bank was royal, the king was bound to nake good the value of its bills; that he committed to the com- pany the government of the bank for fifty years, and sold to it ifty millions of stock belonging to him, for nine hundred millions; I simple advance of eighteen hundred per cent. The decree far- her declared, in the king's name, that he would never draw on *- *;, THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 1 the bank, until the value of his drafts had first been lodged in it by his receivers general. The bank, it was said, had by this time issued notes to the amount of one thousand millions; being more paper than' all the banks of Europe were able to circulate. To aid its credit, the receivers of the revenue were directed to take bank-notes of the sub-receivers. All payments, also, of one hundred livres and up- ward, were ordered to be made in bank-notes. These compulso- ry measures for a short time gave a false credit to the bank, which proceeded to discount merchants' notes, to lend money on jewels, plate, and other valuables, as well as on mortgages. Still farther to force on the system, an edict next appeared, forbidding any individual, or any corporate body, civil or reli- gious, to hold in possession more than five hundred livres in current coin; that is to say, about seven louis-d'ors; the value of the louis-d'or in paper being, at the time, seventy-two livres. All the gold and silver they might have, above this pittance, was to be brought to the royal bank, and exchanged either for shares or bills. As confiscation was the penalty of disobedience to this decree, and informers were assured a share of the forfeitures, a bounty was in a manner held out to domestic spies and traitors; and the most odious scrutiny was awakened into the pecuniary affairs of families and individuals. The very confidence between friends and relatives was impaired, and all the domestic ties and virtues of society were threatened, until a general sentiment of indigna- tion broke forth, that compelled the Regent to rescind the odious decree. Lord Stairs, the British ambassador, speaking of the system of espionage encouraged by this edict, observed that it 8* page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. was impossible to doubt that Law was a thorough Catholic, since he had thus established the inquisition, after having already proved transubstantiation, by changing specie into paper. Equal abuses had taken place under the colonizing project. In his thousand expedients to amass capital, Law had sold par- cels of land in Mississippi, at the rate of three thousand livres for a league square. Many capitalists had purchased estates large enough to constitute almost a principality; the only evil was, Law had sold a property which he could not deliver. The agents of police, who aided in recruiting the ranks of the colonists, had been guilty of scandalous impositions. Under pretence of taking up mendicants and vagabonds, they had scoured the streets at night, seizing upon honest mechanics, or their sons, and hurrying them to their crimping-houses, for the sole purpose of extort- ing money from them as a ransom. The populace was roused to indignation by these abuses. The officers of police were mob- bed in the exercise of their odious functions, and several of them were killed, which put an end to this flagrant abuse of power. In March, a most extraordinary decree of the council fixed the price of shares of the India Company at nine thousand livres each. All ecclesiastical communities and hospitals were now pro- hibited from investing money at interest, in any thing but India stock. With all these props and stays, the system continued to totter. How could it be otherwise, under a despotic government, that could alter the value of property at every moment? The very compulsory measures that were adopted to establish the credit of the bank, hastened its fall: plainly showing there was a want of solid security. Law caused pamphlets to be published, setting forth, in eloquent language, the vast profits that must ac- THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 179 erue to holders of the stock, and the impossibility of the king's ever doing it any harm. On the very back of these assertions, came forth an edict of the king, dated the 22d of May, wherein, under pretence of having reduced the value of his coin, it was declared necessary to reduce the value of his bank-notes one half, and of the India shares fromjnine thousand to five thousand livres! This decree came like a clap of thunder upon shareholders. They found one half of the pretended value of the paper in their hands annihilated in an instant: and what certainty had they with respect to the other half? The rich considered themselves ruined'; those in humbler circumstances looked forward to abject beggary. The parliament seized the occasion to stand forth as the pro- tector of the public, and refused to register the decree. It gained the credit of compelling the Regent to retrace his step, though it is more probable he yielded to the universal burst of public astonishment and reprobation. On the 27th of May, the edict was revoked, and bank-bills were restored to their previous value. But the fatal blow had been struck; the delusion was at an end. Government itself had lost all public confidence, equal- ly with the bank it had engendered, and which its own arbitrary acts had brought into discredit. "All Paris," says the Regent's mother, in her letters, "has been mourning at the cursed decree which Law has persuaded my son to make. I have received anony- mous letters, stating that I have nothing to fear on my own ac- count, but that my son shall be pursued with fire and sword." The Regent now endeavored to avert the odium of his ruin- ous schemes from himself. He affected to have suddenly lost confidence in Law, and on the 29th of May, discharged him from page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLEI PROSPERITY. his employ, as Comptroller General, and stationed a Swiss guard of sixteen men in his house. He even refused to see him, when, on the following day, he applied at the portal of the Palais Royal for admission: but having played off this farce before the public, he admitted him secretly the same night, by a private door, and continued as before to co-operate with him in his financial schemes. On the first of June, the Regent issued a decree, permitting persons to have as mudh money as they pleased in their posses- sion. Few, however, were in a state to benefit by this permis- sion. There was a run upon the bank, but a royal ordinance immediately suspended payment, until farther orders. To relieve the public mind, a city stock was created, of twenty-five millions, bearing an interest of two and a half per cent., for which bank- notes were taken in exchange. The banksnotes thus withdrawn from circulation, were publicly burnt before the Hotel de Ville. The public, however, had lost confidence in every thing and every body, and suspected fraud and collusion in those who pretended to burn the bills. A general confusion now took place in the financial world. Families who had lived in opulence, found themselves suddenly reduced to indigence. Schemers who had been revelling in the delusion of princely fortunes, found their estates vanishing into thin air. Those who had any property remaining, sought to se- cure it against reverses. Cautious persons found there was no safety for property in a country where the coin was continually shifting in value, and where a despotism was exercised over public securities, and even over the private purses of individuals. They began to send their effects into other countries; when lo! on the THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 181 20th of June, a royal edict commanded them to bring back their effects, under penalty of forfeiting twice their value; and forbade them, under like penalty, from investing their money in foreign stocks. This was soon followed by an another decree, forbidding any one to retain precious stones in his possession, or to sell them to foreigners: all must be deposited in the bank, in exchange for depreciating paper I Execrations were now poured out, on all sides, against Law. and menaces of vengeance. What a contrast, in a short time, to the venal incense once offered up to him!"This person," writes the Regent's mother, " who was formerly worshipped as a god, is now not sure of his life. It is astonishing how greatly terrified he is. He is as a dead man; he is pale as a sheet, and it is said he can never get over it. My son is not dismayed, though he is threatened on all sides, and is very much amused with Law's terrors." About the middle of July, the last grand attempt was made by Law and the Regent, to keep up the system, and provide for the immense emission of paper. A decree was fabricated, giving the India Company the entire monopoly of commerce, on condi- tion that it would, in the course of a year, reimburse six hundred millions of livres of its bills, at the rate of fifty millions per month. On the 17th, this decree 'was sent to parliament to be regis- tered. It at once raised a storm of opposition in that assembly; and a vehement discussion took place. While that was going on, a disastrous scene was passing out of doors. The calamitous effects of the system had reached the hum- blest concerns of human life. Provisions had risen to an enor- ... page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. mous price; paper money was refused at all the shops; the people had not wherewithal to buy bread. It had been found absolutely indispensable to relax a little from the suspension of specie pay- ments, and to allow small sums to be scantily exchanged for paper. The doors of the bank and the neighboring street were immediate- ly thronged with a famishing multitude, seeking cash for bank- notes of ten livres. So great was the press and struggle, that several persons were stifled and crushed to death. The mob car- ried three of the bodies to the court-yard of the Palais Royal. Some cried for the Regent to come forth, and behold the effect of his system; others demanded the death of Law, the impostor, who had brought this misery and-ruin upon the nation. The moment was critical: the popular fury was rising to a tempest, when Le Blanc, the Secretary of State, stepped forth. He had previously sent for the military, and now only sought to gain time. Singling out six or seven stout fellows, who seemed to be the ringleaders of the mob; "My good fellows," said he, calmly, " carry away these bodies, and place them in some church, and then come back quickly to me for your pay." They imme- diately obeyed; a kind of funeral procession was formed; the arrival of troops dispersed those who lingered behind; and Paris was probably saved from an insurrection. About ten o'clock in the morning, all being quiet, Law ven- tured to go in his carriage to the Palais Royal. He was salut- ed with cries and curses, as he passed along the streets; and he reached the Palais Royal in a terrible fright. The Regent amused himself with his fears, but retained him with him, and sent off his carriage, which was assailed by the mob, pelted with stones, and the glasses shivered. The news of this outrage was THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 183 communicated to parliament in the midst of a furious discussion of the decree for the commercial monopoly. The first president, who had been absent for a short time, re-entered, and communicat- ed the tidings in a whimsical couplet: "Messieurs, Messieurs! bonne nouvelle! Le carrosse de Law est reduite en carrelle!" "Gentlemen, Gentlemen! good news! The carriage of Law is shivered to atoms!" The members sprang up with joy; "And Law!" exclaimed they, " has he been torn to pieces?" The president Was igno- [ rant of the result of the tumult; whereupon the debate was cut short, the decree rejected, and the house adjourned; the members hurrying to learn the particulars. Such was the levity with which public affairs were treated, at that dissolute and disastrous period. On the following day, there was an ordinance from the king, prohibiting all popular assemblages; and troops were stationed at x: various points, and in all public places. The regiment of guards was ordered to hold itself in readiness; and the musketeers to be at their hotels, with their horses ready saddled. A number of small offices were opened, where people might cash small notes, though with great delay and difficulty. An edict was also issued, declaring that whoever should refuse to take bank-notes in the course of trade, should forfeit double the amount! The continued and vehement opposition of parliament to the !4' ,t whole delusive system of finance, had been a constant source of r' annoyance to the Regent; but this obstinate rejection of his last ' grand expedient of a commercial monopoly, was not to be tolerat- ed. He determined to punish that intractable body. The Abb6 ? page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. Dubois and Law suggested a simple mode; it was to suppress the parliament altogether, being, as they observed, so far from useful, that it was a constant impediment to the march of public affairs,. The Regent was half inclined to listen to their advice; but upon calmer consideration, and the advice of friends, he adopted a more moderate course. On the 20th of July, early in the morning, all the doors of the parliament-house were taken possession of by the troops. Others were sent to surround the house of the first presi- dent, and others to the houses of the various members; who were all at first in great alarm, until an order from the king was put into their hands, to render themselves at Pontoise, in the course of two days, to which place the parliament was thus suddenly and arbitrarily transferred. This despotic act, says Voltaire, would at any other time have caused an insurrection; but one half of the Parisians were occu- pied by their ruin, and the other half by their fancied riches, which were soon to vanish. The president and members of parliament acquiesced in the mandate without a murmur; they even went as if on a party of pleasure, and made every preparation to lead a joyous life in their exile. The musketeers, who held possession of the vacated parliament-house, a gay corps of fashionable young fellows, amused themselves with making songs and pasquinades, at the expense of the exiled legislators; and at length, to pass away time, formed themselves into a mock parliament; elected their presidents, kings, ministers, and advocates; took their seats in due form; arraigned a cat at their bar, in place of the Sieur Law, and after giving it a "fair trial," condemned it to be hanged. In this manner, public affairs and public institutions were lightly turned to jest. THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 185 As to the exiled parliament, it lived gaily and luxuriously at Pontoise, at the public expense; for the Regent had furnished funds, as usual, with a lavish hand. The first president had the mansion of the Duke de Bouillon put at his disposal, all ready furnished, with a vast and delightful garden on the borders of a river. There he kept open house to all the members of parlia- ment. Several tables were spread every day, all furnished lux- uriously and splendidly; the most exquisite wines and liquors, the choicest fruits and refreshments of all kinds, abounded. A number of small chariots for one and two horses were always at hand, for such ladies and old gentlemen as wished to take an air- ing after dinner, and card and billiard tables for such as chose to amuse themselves in that way until supper. The sister and the daughter of the first president did the honors of his house, and he himself presided there with an air of great ease, hospitali- ty, and magnificence. It became a party of pleasure to drive from Paris to Pontoise, which was six leagues distant, and par- take of the amusements and festivities of the place. Business was openly slighted; nothing was thought of but amusement. The Regent and his government were laughed at, and made the sub- jects of continual pleasantries; while the enormous expenses in- curred by this idle and lavish course of life, more than doubled the liberal sums provided. This was the way in which the par- liament resented their exile. During all this time, the system was getting more and more involved. The stock exchange had some time previously been re- moved to the Place Vendome; but the tumult and noise becom- ing intolerable to the residents of that polite quarter, and espe- cially to the chancellor, whose hotel was there, the Prince and page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. Princess Carignan, both deep gamblers in Mississippi stock, of- fered the extensive garden of their Hotel de Soissons as a rally- ing-place for the worshippers of mammon. The offer was ac- cepted. A number of barracks were immediately erected in the garden, as offices for the stock-brokers, and an order was obtain- ed from the Regent, under pretext of police regulations, that no bargain should be valid,- unless concluded in these barracks. The rent of them immediately mounted to a hundred livres a month for each, and the whole yielded these noble proprietors an ignoble revenue of half a million of livres. The mania for gain, however, was now at an end. A univer- sal panic succeeded. "Sauve qui peut!? was the watchword. Every one was anxious to exchange falling paper for something of intrinsic and permanent value. Since money was not to be had, jewels, precious stones, plate, porcelain, trinkets of gold and silver, all commanded any price, in paper. Land was bought at fifty yearsi purchase, and he esteemed himself happy, who could get it even at this price. Monopolies now became the rage among the noble holders of paper. The Duke de la Force bought up nearly all the tallow, grease, and soap; others the coffee and spices; others hay and oats. Foreign exchanges were almost im- practicable. The debts of Dutch and English merchantsowere paid in this fictitious money, all the coin of the realm having disap: peared. All the relations of debtor and creditor were confounded. With one thousand, crowns one might pay a debt of eighteen thousand livres. The Regent's mother, who once exulted in the affluence of J bank paper, now wrote in a very different tone: "I have often wished,'" said she, in her letters, " that these bank-notes were in, /, THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 187 the depths of the infernal regions. They have given my son more trouble than relief. Nobody in France has a penny. " * ' My son was once popular, but since the arrival of this cursed Law, he is hated more and more. Not a week passes, without my re- ceiving letters filled with frightful threats, and speaking of him as a tyrant. I have just received one, threatening him with poi- son. When I showed it to him, he did nothing but laugh." In the mean time, Law was dismayed by the increasing troubles, and terrified at the tempest he had raised. He- was not a man of real, courage; and fearing for his personal safety, from popular tumult, or the despair of ruined individuals, he again took refuge in the palace of the Regent. The latter, as usual, amused himself with his terrors, and turned every new dis- aster into a jest; but he, too, began to think of his own security. In pursuing the schemes of Law, he had no doubt calculated to carry through his term of government with ease and splendor; and to enrich himself, his connections, and his favorites; and had hoped that the catastrophe of the system would not take place un- til after the expiration of the regency. He now saw his mistake; that it was impossible much longer to prevent ani explosion; and he determined at once to get Law out of the way, and then to charge him with the whole tissue of delusions of this paper alchemy. He accordingly took occasion of the recall of parliament in December, 1720, to suggest to Law the policy of his avoiding an encounter with that hostile and ex- I asperated body. Law needed no urging to the measure. His only desire was to escape from Paris and its tempestuous popu- lace. Two days before the return of parliament, he took his sud- den and secret departure, He travelled in a chaise bearing the RE page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. arms of the Regent, and was escorted by a kind of safe-guard of servants, in the duke's livery. His first place of refuge was an estate of the Regent's, about six leagues from Paris, from whence he pushed forward to Bruxelles. As soon as Law was fairly out of the way, the Duke of Orleans summoned a council of the regency, and informed them that they were assembled to deliberate on the state of the finances, and the affairs of the India Company. Accordingly La Houssaye, Comp- troller-General, rendered a perfectly clear statement, by which it appeared that there were bank-bills in circulation to the amount of two milliards, seven hundred millions of livres, without any evidence that this enormous sum had been emitted in virtue of any ordinance from the general assembly of the India Company, which alone had the right to authorize such emissions. The council was astonished at this disclosure, and looked to the Regent for explanation. Pushed to the extreme, the Regent avowed that Law had emitted bills to the amount of twelve hundred millions beyond what had been fixed by ordinances, and in contradiction to express prohibitions; that the thing being done, he, the Regent, had legalized or rather covered the transaction, by decrees ordering such emissions, which decrees he had ante- dated. A stormy scene ensued between the Regent and the Duke de Bourbon, little to the credit of either, both having been deeply implicated in the cabalistic operations of the system. In fact, the several members of the council had been among the most venal "beneficiaries of the scheme, and had interests at stake which they were anxious to secure. From all the circumstances of the case, I am inclined to think that others were more to blame than THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 189 Law, for the disastrous effects of his financial projects. His bank, had it been confined to its original lilmits, and left to the control of its own internal regulations, might have gone on pros- perously, and been of great benefit to the nation. It was an in- stitution fitted for a free country; but unfortunately, it was sub- ject to the control of a despotic government, that could, at its pleasure, alter the value of the specie within its vaults, and com- pel the most extravagant expansions of its paper circulation. The vital principle of a bank is security in the regularity of its operations, and the immediate :convertibility of its paper into coin; and what confidence could be reposed in an institution, or its paper promises, when the sovereign could at any moment centuple those promises in the market, and seize upon all the money in the bank? The compulsory measures used, likewise, to force bank-notes into currency, against the judgment of the public, was fatal to the system; for credit must be free and un- controlled as the common air. The Regent was the evil spirit of the system, that forced Law on to an expansion of his piper cur- rency far beyond what he had ever dreamed of. He it was that in a manner compelled the unlucky projector to devise all kinds of collateral companies and monopolies, by which to raise funds to meet the constantly and enormously increasing emissions of shares and notes. Law was but like a poor conjuror in the hands of a potent spirit that he has evoked, and that obliges him to go on, desperately and ruinously, with his conjurations. He only thought at the outset to raise the wind, but the Regent compel- led him to raise the whirlwind. The investigation of the affairs of the company by the council, resulted in nothing beneficial to the public. The princes and no- page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 A TIME OF UNEXAMPLED PROSPERITY. bles who had enriched themselves by all kinds of juggles and ex- tortions, escaped unpunished, and retained the greater part of their spoils. Many of the " suddenly rich," who had risen from obscurity to a giddy height of imaginary prosperity, and had in- dulged in all kinds of vulgar and ridiculous excesses, awoke as out of a dream, in their original poverty, now made more galling and humiliating by their transient elevation. The weight of the evil, however, fell on more valuable classes of society; honest tradesmen and artisans, who had been seduced away from the slow accumulations of industry, to the specious chances of speculation. Thousands of meritorious families, also, once opulent, had been reduced to indigence, by a too great confi- dence in government. There was a general derangement in the fi- nances, that long exerted a baneful influence over the national pros- perity; but the most disastrous effects of the system were upon the morals and manners of the nation. The faith of engage- ments, the sanctity of promises in affairs of business, were at an end. Every expedient to grasp present profit, or to evade present difficulty, was tolerated. While such deplorable laxity of princi- ple was generated in the busy classes, the chivalry of France had soiled their pennons; and honor and glory, so long the idols of the Gallic nobility, had been tumbled to the earth, and trampled in the dirt of the stock-market. As to Law, the originator of the system, he appears eventu- ally to have profited but little by his schemes. "He was a quack," says Voltaire, " to whom the state was given to be cured, but who poisoned it with his drugs, and who poisoned himself." The effects which he left behind in France, were sold at a low price, and the proceeds dissipated. His landed estates were con- THE GREAT MSSISSIPPI BUBBLE. 19i fiscated. He carried away with him barely enough to maintain himself, his wife, and daughter, with decency. The chief relic of his immenfse fortune was a great diamond, which he was often obliged to pawn. He was in England in 1721, and was present- ed to George the First. He returned, shortly afterward, to the continent; shifting about from place to place, and died in Venice, in 1729. His wife and daughter, accustomed to live with the pro- digality of princesses, could not conform to their altered fortunes, but dissipated the scanty means left to them, and sank into ab- ject poverty. "I saw his wife," says Voltaire, " at Bruxelles, as much humiliated as she had been haughty and triumphant at Paris." An elder brother of Law remained in France, and was pro- tected by the Duchess of Bourbon. His descendants acquitted themselves honorably, in various public employments; and one of them was the Marquis Lauriston, sometime Lieutenant General and Peer of France. 1 page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] SKETCIES IN PARIS IN 1825: FROM THE TRAVELLING NOTE-BOOK OF GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT. THE PARISIAN HOTEL. A. GREAT hotel in Paris is a street set on end: the grand stair- case is the highway, and every floor or apartment a separate hab- itation. The one in which I am lodged may serve as a specimen. It is a large quadrangular pile, built round a spacious paved court. The ground floor is occupied by shops, magazines, and do- mestic offices. Then comes the entre-sol, with low ceilings, short windows, and dwarf chambers; then succeed a succession of floors, or stories, rising one above the other, to the number of Mahomet's heavens. Each floor is a mansion, complete within itself, with ante-chamber, saloons, dining and sleeping rooms, kitch- en and other conveniences. Some floors are divided into two or more suites of apartments. Each apartment has its main door of entrance, opening upon the staircase, or landing-places, and locked like a street door. Thus several families and numerous single persons live under the same roof, totally independent of each other, and may live so for years, without holding more inter- :j9 THE PARISIAN HOTEL. 193 course than is kept up in other cities by residents in the same street. ?t Like the great world, this little microcosm has its gradations of rank and style and importance. The Premier, or first floor with its grand saloons, lofty ceilings, and splendid furniture, is decidedly the aristocratical part of the establishment. The se- cond floor is scarcely less aristocratical and magnificent; the other floors go on lessening in splendor as they gain in altitude, and end with the attics, the region of petty tailors, clerks, and sewing girls. To make the filling up of the mansion complete, every odd nook and corner is fitted up as a joli petit appartement a garcon, (a pretty little bachelor's apartment,) that is to say, some little dark inconvenient nestling-place for a poor devil of a bachelor. --The whole domain is shut up from the street by a great porte- cochere, or portal, calculated for the admission of carriages. This consists of two massy folding doors, that swing heavily open upon a spacious entrance, passing under the front of the edifice into the court-yard. On one side is-a grand staircase leading to the upper apartments. Immediately without the portal, is the por- ter's lodge, a small room with one or two bedrooms adjacent, for the accommodation of the concierge, or porter, and his family. This is one of the most important functionaries of the hotel. He is, in fact, the Cerberus of the establishment, and no one can pass in or out without his knowledge and consent. The porte-cochere in general is fastened by a sliding bolt, from which a cord or wire passes into the porter's lodge., Whoever wishes to go out must speak to the porter, who draws the bolt. A visitor from without gives a single rap with the massive knocker; the bolt is immedi- ately drawn, as if by an invisible hand; the door stands ajar, 9 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 SKETCHES IN PARIS. the visitor pushes it open, and enters. A face presents itself at the glass door of the porter's little chambers: the stranger pro- nounces the name of the person he comes to seek. If the person or family is of importance, occupying the first or second floor, the porter sounds a bell once or twice, to give notice that a visitor is at hand. The stranger in the mean time ascends the great stair- case, the highway common to all, and arrives at the outer door, equivalent to a street door, of the suite of rooms inhabited by his friends. Beside this hangs a bell-cord, with which he rings for admittance. When the family or person inquired for is of less importance, or lives in some remote part of the mansion less easy to be ap- prised, no signal is given. The applicant pronounces the name at the porter's door, and is told, "Montez au troisieme, au qua- trieme; sonnez a porte a droite, ou d gauche;" ("Ascend to the third or fourth story; ring the bell on the right or left hand door,") as the case may be. The porter and his wife act as domestics to such of the in- mates of the mansion as do not keep servants; making their beds, arranging their rooms, lighting their fires, and doing other menial offices, for which they receive a monthly stipend. They are also in confidential intercourse with the servants of the other inmates, and, having an eye on all the incomers and outgoers, are thus enabled, by hook and by crook, to learn the secrets and the do- mestic history of every member of the little territory within the porte-cochere. The porter's lodge is accordingly a great scene of gossip, where all the private affairs of this interior neighborhood are dis- cussed. The court-yard, also, is an assembling place in the even- ings for the servants of the different families, and a sisterhood of MY FRENCH NEIGHBOR. 19B sewing girls from the entre-sols and the attics, to play at various games, and dance to the music of their own songs, and the echoes of their feet; at which assemblages the porter's daughter takes the lead; a fresh, pretty, buxom girl, generally called "La Pe- tite," though almost as tall as a grenadier. These little evening gatherings, so characteristic of this gay country, are countenanced by the various families of the mansion, who often look down from their windows and balconies, on moonlight evenings, and enjoy the simple revels of their domestics. I must observe, how- ever that the hotel I am describing is rather a quiet, retired one, where most of the inmates are permanent residents from year to year, so that there is more of the spirit of neighborhood, than i the bustling, fashionable hotels in the gay parts of Paris, which are continually changing their inhabitants. MY FRENCH NEIGHBOR. I often amuse myself by watching from my window (which by the by is tolerably elevated) the movements of the teeming little world below me; and as I am on sociable terms with the porter and his wife, I gather from them, as they light my fire, or serve my breakfast, anecdotes of all my fellow-lodgers. I have been somewhat curious in studying a little antique Frenchman, who oc- cupies one of the jolie chambres garon already mentioned. He is one of those superannuated veterans who flourished before the revolution, and have weathered all the storms of Paris, in conse- quence, very probably, of being fortunately too insignificant to at- tract attention. He has a small income, which he manages with the skill ofa French economist: appropriating so much for his page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 1986 SKETCHES IN PARIS. lodgings, so much for his meals, so much for his visits to St. Cloud and Versailles, and so much for his seat at the theatre. He has resided at the hotel for years, and always in the same cham- ber, which he furnishes at his own expense. The decorations of the room mark his various ages. There are some gallant pic- tures, which he hung up in his younger days, with a portrait of a lady of rank, whom he speaks tenderly of, dressed in the old French taste, and a pretty opera dancer, pirouetting in a hoop petticoat, who lately died at a good old age. In a corner of this picture is stuck a prescription for rheumatism, and below it stands an easy-chair. He has a small parrot at the window, to amuse him when within doors, and a pug-dog to accompany him in his daily peregrinations. While I am writing, he is crossing the court to go out. He is attired in his best coat, of sky-blue, and is doubtless bound for the Tuileries. His hair is dressed in the old style, with powdered ear-locks and a pigtail. His little dog trips after him, sometimes on four legs, sometimes on three, and looking as if hiis leather small-clothes were too tight for him. Now the old gentleman stops to have a word with an old crony who lives in the entre-sol, and is just returning from his prome- nade. Now they take a pinch of snuff together; now they pull out huge red cotton handkerchiefs, (those " flags of abomination," as they have well been called,) and blow their noses most sonor- ously. Now they turn to make remarks upon their two little dogs, who are exchanging the morning's salutation; now they part, and my old gentleman stops to have a passing word with the porter's wife; and now he sallies forth, and is fairly launched upon the town for the day. No man is so methodical as a complete idler, and none so scrupulous in measuring and portioning out his time as he whose :!IM: MY FRENCH NEIGHBOR. 197 time is worth nothing. The old gentleman in question has his exact hour for rising, and for shaving himself by a small mirror hung against his casement. He sallies forth at a certain hour every morning, to take his cup of coffee and his roll at a certain cafe, where he reads the papers. He has been a regular admir- er of the lady who presides at the bar, and always stopsto have a little badinage with her, en passant. He has his regular walks on the Boulevards and in the Palais Royal, where he sets his watch by the petard fired off by the sun at mid-day. He has his daily resort in the Garden of the Tuileries, to meet with a knot of veteran idlers like himself, who talk on pretty much the same subjects whenever they meet. He has been present at all the sights and shows and rejoicings of Paris for the last fifty years; has witnessed the great events of the revolution; the guillotining of the king and queen; the coronation of Bonaparte; the capture of Paris, and the restoration of the Bourbons. All these he speaks of with the coolness of a theatrical critic; and I question wheth- or he has not been gratified by each in its turn; not from any in- herent love of tumult, but from that insatiable appetite for speo- tacle, which prevails among the inhabitants of this metropolis. I have been amused with a farce, in which one of these systematic old triflers is represented. He sings a song detailing his whole day's round of insignificant occupations, and goes to bed de- lighted with the idea that his next day will be an exact repetition of the same routine: "Je me couche le soir, Enchante de pouvoir Recommencer mon train Le -lendemain Matin." page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] THE ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS. In another part of the hotel, a handsome suite of rooms is occu- pied by an old English gentleman, of great probity, some under- standing, and very considerable crustiness, who has come to France to live economically. He has a very fair property, but hi$ wife, being of that blessed kind compared in Scripture to the fruitful vine, has overwhelmed him with a family of buxom daughters, who hang clustering about him, ready to be gathered by any hand. He is seldom to be seen in public, without one hanging on each arm, and smiling on all the world, while his own mouth is drawn down at each corner like a mastiff's, with internal growling at every thing about him. He adheres rigidly to Eng- lish fashion in dress, and trudges about in long gaiters and broad- brimmed hat; while his daughters almost overshadow him with feathers, flowers, and French bonnets. He contrives to keep up an atmosphere of English habits, opinions, and prejudices, and to carry a semblance of London into the very heart of Paris. His mornings are spent at Galignani's newsroom, where he forms one of a knot of inveterate quid-nuncs, who read the same articles over a dozen times in a dozen different papers. ie generallydinesin company with some of his own eoun- trymen, and they have what is called a " comfortable sitting," after dinner, in the English fashion, drinking wine, discussing the news of the London papers, and canvassing the French character, the French metropolis, and the French revolution, endingwith a unan- imous admission of English courage, English morality, English -d cookery, English wealth, the magnitude of London, and the ingratitude of the French. His evenings are chiefly spent at a club of his countrymen, where the London papers are taken. Sometimes his daughters entice him to the theatres, but not often. He abuses French tragedy, as all fustian and bombast, Talma as a ranter, and Du- chesnois as a mere termagant. It is true his ear is not sufficient- ly familiar with the language to understand French verse, and he generally goes to sleep during the performance. The wit of the French comedy is flat and pointless to him. He would not give one of Munden's wry faces, or Liston's inexpressible looks, for the whole of it. He will not admit that Paris has any advantage over London. The Seine is a muddy rivulet in comparison with the Thames; the West End of London surpasses the finest parts of the French capital;' and on some one's observing that there was a very thick fog out of doors: "Pish!" said he, crustily, " it's nothing to the fogs we have in London!" He has infinite trouble in bringing his table into any thing like conformity to English rule. With his liquors, it is true, he is tolerably successful. He procures London porter, and a stock of port and sherry, at considerable expense; for he observes that he cannot stand those cursed thin French wines: they dilute his blood so much as to give- him the rheumatism. As to their white wines, he stigmatizes them as mere substitutes for cider; and as to claret, why " it would be port if it could." He has continual quarrels with his French cook, whom he renders wretched by in- sisting on his conforming to Mrs. Glass; for it is easier to con- vert a Frenchman from his religion than his cookery. The poor page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] SKETCHES IN PARIS. fellow, by dint of repeated efforts, once brought himself to serve up ros bif sufficiently raw to suit what he considered the cannibal taste of his master; but then he could not refrain, at the last moment, adding some exquisite sauce, that put the old gentleman in a fury. He detests wood-fires, and has procured a quantity of coal; but not having a grate, he is obliged to burn it on the hearth. Here he sits poking and stirring the fire with one end of a tongs, while the room is as murky as a smithy; railing at French chim- neys, French masons, and French architects; giving a poke, at the end of every sentence, as though he were stirring up the very bowels of the delinquents he is anathematizing. He lives in a state militant with inanimate objects around him; gets into high dudgeon with doors and casements, because they will not come under English law, and has implacable feuds with sundry refrac- tory pieces of furniture. Among these is one in particular with which he is sure to have a high quarrel every time he goes to dress. It is a commode, one of those smooth, polished, plausible pieces of French furniture, that have the perversity of five hun- dred devils. Each drawer has a will of its own; will open or not, just as the whim takes it, and sets lock and key at defiance. Sometimes a drawer will refuse to yield to either persuasion or force, and will part with both handles rather than yield; another will come out in the most coy and coquettish manner imaginable; elbowing along, zigzag; one corner retreating as the other ad- vances, making a thousand difficulties and objections at every move; until the old gentleman, out of all patience, gives a sudden jerk, and brings drawer and contents into the middle of the floor. His hostility to this unlucky piece of furniture increases every o] i i-,' ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHARACTER. 201 day, as if incensed that it does not grow better. He is like the fretful invalid, who cursed his bed, that the longer he lay, the harder it grew. The only benefit he has derived from the quarrel is, that it has furnished him with a crusty joke, which he utters on all occasid6n. He swears that a French commode is the most incommodious thing in existence, and that although the nation cannot make a joint-stool that will stand steady, yet they are always talking of every thing's being perfectionee. His servants understand his humor, and avail themselves of it. He was one day disturbed by a pertinacious rattling and shaking at one of the'doors, and bawled out in an angry tone to know the cause of the disturbance. ' Sir," said the footman, testily, " it's this confounded French lock!"Ah!" said the old gentleman, pacified by this hit at the nation, "I thought there was something French at the bottom of it!" ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHARACTER. As I am a mere looker-on in Europe, and hold myself as much as possible aloof from its quarrels and prejudices, I feel something like one overlooking a game, who, without any great skill of his own, can occasionally perceive the blunders of much abler players. This neutrality of feeling enables me to enjoy the contrasts of character presented in this time of general peace; when the various people of Europe, who have so long been sundered by wars, are brought together, and placed side by side in this great gathering place of nations. No greater contrast, however, is exhibited, than that of the French and English. The peace has deluged this gay capital with English visitors, of all ranks and conditions. They 9* page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] Ova MilKWTCHES IN PARIS. throng every place of curiosity and amusement; fill the public gardens, the galleries, the cafes, saloons, theatres; always herding together, never associating with the French. The two nations are like two threads of different colors, tangled together, but never blended. In fact, they present a continual antithesis, and seem to value themselves upon being unlike each other; yet each have their peculiar merits, which should entitle them to each other's esteem. The French intellect is quick and active, It flashes its way into a subject with the rapidity of lightning; seizes upon remote con- clusions with a sudden bound, and its deductions are almost intui- tive. The English intellect is less rapid, but more persevering; less sudden, but more sure in its deductions. The quickness and: mobility of the French enable them to find enjoyment in the mul- tiplicity of sensations. They speak and act more from immediate impressions than from reflection and meditation. They are there. fore more social and communicative; more fond of society, and of places of public resort and amusement. An Englishman is more reflective in his habits. He lives in the world of his own thoughts, and seems more self-existent and self-dependent. He loves the quiet of his own apartment; even when abroad, he in a manner makes a little solitude around him, by his silence and reserve: he moves about shy and solitary, and as it were, buttoned up, body and soul. X The French are great optimists: they seize upon every good as it flies, and revel in the passing pleasure. The Englishman is too apt to neglect the present good, in preparing against the pos- sible evil. However adversities may lower, let the sun shine but for a moment, and forth sallies the mercurial Frenchman, in holi- ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHARACTER. 203 day dress and holiday spirits, gay as a butterfly, as though his sunshine were perpetual; but let the sun beam never so brightly, so there be but a cloud in the horizon, the wary Englishman ven- tures forth distrustfully, with his umbrella in his hand. The Frenchman has a wonderful facility at turnipg small things to advantage. No one can be gay and luxurious on small- er means; no one requires less expense to be happy. He prac- tises a kind of gilding in his style of living, and hammers out every guinea into gold leaf. The Englishman, on the contrary, is expensive in his habits, and expensive in his enjoyments. He values every thing, whether useful or ornamental, by what it costs. He has no satisfaction in show, unless it be solid and com- plete. Every thing goes with him by the square foot. Whatever display he makes, the depth is sure to equal the surface. The Frenchman's habitation, like himself, is open, cheerful, bustling, and noisy. He lives in a part of a great hotel, with wide portal, paved court, a spacious dirty stone staircase, and a family on every floor. All is clatter and chatter. He is good-humored and talkative with his servants, sociable with, his neighbors, and complaisant to all the world. Any body has access to himself and his apartments; his very bedroom is open to visitors, what- ever may be its state of confusion; and all this not from any pe- culiarly hospitable feeling, but from that communicative habit which predominates over his character. The Englishman, on the contrary, ensconces himself in a snug brick mansion, which he has all to himself; locks the front door; puts broken bottles along his walls, and spring-guns and man-traps in his gardens; shrouds himself with trees and window-curtains; exults in his quiet and privacy, and seems disposed to keep out page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 SKETCHES IN PARIS. noise, daylight, and company. His house, like himself, has a reserved, inhospitable exterior; yet whoever gains admittance, is apt to find a warm heart and warm fireside within. The French excel in wit; the English in humor: the French have gayer fancy, the English richer imaginations. The former are full of sensibility; easily moved, and prone to sudden and great excitement; but their excitement is not durable: the Eng- lish are more phlegmatic; not so readily affected; but capable of being aroused to great enthusiasm. The faults of these opposite temperaments are, that the vivacity of the French is apt to sparkle up and be frothy, the gravity of the English to settle down and grow muddy. When the two characters can be fixed in a medium, the French kept from effervescence and the English from stagna- tion, both will be found excellent. This contrast of character may also be noticed in the great concerns of the two nations. The ardent Frenchman is all for military renown: he fights for glory, that is to say, for success in arms. For, provided the national flag be victorious, he cares little about the expense, the injustice, or the inutility of the war. It is wonderful how the poorest Frenchman will revel on a triumph- ant bulletin; a great victory is meat and drink to him; and at the sight of a military sovereign, bringing home captured cannon and captured standards, he throws up his greasy cap in the air, and is ready to jump out of his wooden shoes for joy. John Bull, on the contrary, is a reasoning, considerate person. If he does wrong, it is in the most rational way imaginable. He fights because the good of the world requires it. He is a moral person, and makes war upon his neighbor for the maintenance of peace and good order, and sound principles. He is a money- THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 205 making personage, and fights for the prosperity of commerce and manufactures. Thus the two nations have been fighting, time out of mind, for glory and good. The French, in pursuit of glo- ry, have had their capital twice taken; and John, in pursuit of good, has run himself over head and ears in debt. THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. I have sometimes fancied I could discover national character- istics in national edifices. In the Chateau 6f the Tuileries, for instance, I perceive the same jumble of contrarieties that marks the French character; the same whimsical mixture of the great and the little; the splendid and the paltry, the sublime and the grotesque. On visiting this famous pile, the first thing that strikes both eye and ear, is military display. The courts glitter with steel-clad soldiery, and resound with tramp of horse, the roll of drum, and the bray of trumpet. Dismounted guardsmen pa- trol its arcades, with loaded carbines, jingling spurs, and clank- ing sabres. Gigantic grenadiers are posted about its staircases; young officers of the guards loll from the balconies, or lounge in groups upon the terraces: and the gleam of bayonet from window to window, shows that sentinels are pacing up and down the cor- ridors and ante-chambers. The first floor is brilliant with the splendors of a court. French taste has tasked itself in adorning the sumptuous suites of apartments; nor are the gilded chapel and splendid theatre forgotten, where Piety and Pleasure are next-door neighbors, and harmonize together with perfect French bienseance. page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 SKETCHES IN PARIS. Mingled up with all this regal and military magnificence, is a world of whimsical and make-shift detail. A great part of the huge edifice is cut up into little chambers and nestling-places for retainers of the court, dependants on retainers, and hangers-on of dependants. Some are squeezed into narrow entre-sols, those low, dark, intermediate slices of apartments between floors, the in- habitants of which seem shoved in edgeways, like books between narrow shelves; others are perched, like swallows, under the eaves; the high roofs, too, which are as tall and steep as a French cocked hat, have rows of little dormer windows, tier above tier, just large enough to admit light and air for some dor- mitory, and to enable its occupant to peep out at the sky. Even to the very ridge of the roof, may be seen, here and there, one of these air-holes, with a stove-pipe beside it, to carry off the smoke from the handful of fuel with which its weasen-faced tenant sim- mers his demi-tasse of coffee. On approaching the palace from the Pont Royal, you take in at a glance all the various strata of inhabitants; the garreteer in the roof; the retainer in the entre-sol; the courtiers at the casements of the royal apartments; while on the ground-floor a steam of savory odors, and a score or two of cooks, in white caps, bobbing their heads about the windows, betray that scientific and all-important laboratory, the royal kitchen. Go into the grand ante-chamber of the royal apartments on Sunday, and see the mixture of Old and New France : the old emi- gres, returned with the Bourbons; little withered, spindle- shanked old noblemen, clad in court dresses, that figured in these saloons before the revolution, and have been carefully treasured up during their exile; with the solitaires and ailes de pigeon of' I THE TUILERIES AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 207 I former days: and the court swords strutting out behind, like pins stuck through dry beetles. See them haunting the scenes of their former splendor, in hopes of a restitution of estates, like ghosts haunting the vicinity of buried treasure: while around them you see Young France, grown up in the fighting school of Napoleon; equipped en militaire: tall, hardy, frank, vigorous, sunburnt, fierce-whiskered; with tramping boots, towering crests, and glittering breastplates. It is incredible the number of ancient and hereditary feeders on royalty said to be housed in this establishment. Indeed all the royal palaces abound with noble families returned frm exile, and who have nestling-places allotted them while they await the restoration of their estates, or the much-talked-of law, indemnity. Some of them have fine quarters, but poor living. Some families have but five or six hundred francs a year, and all their retinue consists of a servant woman. With all this, they maintain their old aristocratical hauteur, look down with vast contempt upon the opulent families which have risen since the revolution; stigmatize them all as parvenus, or upstarts, and refuse to visit them. In regarding the exterior of the Tuileries, with all its out- ward signs of internal populousness, I have often thought what a rare sight it would be to see it suddenly unroofed, and all its nooks and corners laid open to the day. It would be like turn. ing up the stump of an old tree, and dislodging the world of grubs, and ants, and beetles lodged beneath. Indeed there is a scandalous anecdote current, that in the time of one of the petty plots, when petards were exploded under the windows of the Tuil- eries, the police made a sudden investigation of the palace at four o'clock in the morning, when a scene of the most whimsical l page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 SKETCHES IN PARIS. confusion ensued. Hosts of supernumerary inhabitants were found foisted into the huge edifice: every rat-hole had its occu- pant; and places which had been considered as tenanted only by spiders, were found crowded with a surreptitious population. It is added, that many ludicrous accidents occurred; great scam- I pering and slamming of doors, and whisking away in night-gowns and slippers; and several persons, who were found by accident in their neighbors' chambers, evinced indubitable astonishment at the circumstance. As I have fancied I could read the French character in the national palace of the Tuileries, so I have pictured to myself some of the traits of John Bull in his royal abode of Windsor Castle. The Tuileries, outwardly a peaceful palace, is in effect a swaggering military hold; while the old castle, on the contrary, in spite of its bullying look, is completely under petti- coat government. Every corner and nook is built up into some snug, cosy nestling-place, some "procreant cradle," not tenanted by meagre expectants or whiskered warriors, but by sleek place- I men; knowing realizers of present pay and present pudding; who seem placed there not to kill and destroy, but to breed and multi- ply. Nursery maids and children shine with rosy faces at the win- dows, and swarm about the courts and terraces. The very soldiery have a pacific look, and when off duty, may be seen loitering about the place with the nursery-maids; not making love to them in the gay gallant style of the French soldiery, but with infinite bon- hommie aiding them to take care of the broods of children. Though the old castle is in decay, every thing about it thrives; the very crevices of the walls are tenanted by-swallows, rooks, and pigeons, all sure of quiet lodgment: the ivy strikes THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 209 its roots deep in the fissures, and flourishes about the moulder- ing tower.* Thus it is with honest John: according to his own account, he is ever going to ruin; yet every thing that lives on him, thrives and waxes fat. He would fain be a soldier; and swagger like his neighbors; but his domestic, quiet-loving, uxo- rious nature continually gets the upper hand; and though he may mount his helmet and gird on his sword, yet he is apt to sink into the plodding, painstaking father of a family; with a troop of children at his heels, and his womenkind hanging on each arm. THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. I have spoken heretofore with some levity of the contrast that exists between the English and French character; but it deserves more serious consideration. They are the two great nations of modern times most diametrically opposed, and most worthy of each other's rivalry; essentially distinct in their char- acters, excelling in opposite qualities, and reflecting lustre on each other by their very opposition. In nothing is this contrast more strikingly evinced than in their military conduct. For ages have they been contending, and for ages have they crowded each other's history with acts of splendid heroism. Take the Battle of Waterloo, for instance, the last and most memorable trial of their rival prowess. Nothing could surpass the brilliant daring on the one side, and the steadfast enduring on the other. * The above sketch was written' before the thorough repairs and mag- nificent additions made of late years to Windsor Castle. page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 SKETCHES IN PARIS. The French cavalry broke like waves on the compact squares of English infantry. They were seen galloping round those serried walls of men, seeking in vain for an entrance; tossing their arms in the air, in the heat of their enthusiasm, and braving the whole front of battle. The. British troops, on the other hand, forbid- den to move or fire, stood firm and enduring. Their columns were ripped up by cannonry; whole rows were swept down at a shot: the survivors closed their ranks, and stood firm. In this way many columns stood through the pelting of the iron tempest without firing a shot; without any action to stir their blood, or excite their spirits. Death thinned their ranks, but could not shake their souls. A beautiful instance of the quick and generous impulses to which the French are prone, is given in the case of a French cavalier, in the hottest of the action, charging furiously upon a British officer, but perceiving in the moment of assault that his adversary had lost his sword-arm, dropping the point of his sa- bre, and courteously riding on. Peace be with that generous warrior, whatever were his fate! If he went down in the storm of battle, with the foundering fortunes of his chieftain, may the turf of Waterloo grow green above his grave!-and happier far would be the fate of such a spirit, to sink amidst the tempest, unconscious of defeat, than to survive, and mourn over the blighted laurels of his country. In this way the two armies fought through a long and bloody day. The French with enthusiastic valor, the English with cool, inflexible courage, until Fate, as if to leave the question of supe- riority still undecided between two such adversaries, brought up the Prussians to decide the fortunes of the field. THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 2" It was several years afterward, that I visited the field of Waterloo. The ploughshare had-been busy with its oblivious labors, and the frequent harvest had nearly obliterated the ves- tiges of war. Still the blackened ruins of Hoguemont stood, a monumental pile, to mark the violence of this vehement strug- gle. Its broken walls, pierced by bullets, and shattered by ex- plosions, showed the deadly strife that had taken place within; when Gaul and Briton, hemmed in between narrow walls, hand to hand and foot to foot, fought from garden to court-yard, from court-yard to chamber, with intense and concentrated rivalship. Columns of smoke towered from this vortex of battle as from a volcano: "it was," said my guide, "like a little hell upon earth." Not far off, two or three broad spots of rank, unwholesome green still marked the places where these rival warriors, after their fierce and fitful struggle, slept quietly together in the lap of their common mother earth. Over all the rest of kthe field, peace had resumed its sway. The thoughtless whistle of the peasant floated on the air, instead of the trumpet's clangor; the team slowly labored up the hill-side, once shaken by the hoofs of rush- ing squadrons; and wide fields of corn waved peacefully over the soldiers' grave, as summer seas dimple over the place where the tall ship lies buried. To the foregoing desultory notes on the French military character, let me append a few traits which I picked up verbally in one of the French provinces. They may have already ap- peared in print, but I have never met with them. page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] SKETCHES IN PARIS. At the breaking out of the revolution, when so many of the old families emigrated, a descendant of the great Turenne, by the name of De Latour D'Auvergne, refused to accompany his relations, and entered into the republican army. He served in all the campaigns of the revolution, distinguished himself by his valor, his accomplishments, and his generous spirit, and might have risen to fortune and to the highest honors. He refused, however, all rank in the army, above that of captain, and would receive no recompense for his achievements but a sword of honor. Napoleon, in testimony of his merits, gave him the title of Pre- mier Grenadier de France (First Grenadier of France), which was the only title he would ever bear. He was killed in Ger- many, at the battle of Neuburg. To honor his memory, his place was always retained in his regiment, as if he still occupied it; and whenever the regiment was mustered, and the name of De Latour D'Auvergne was called- out, the reply was: Dead on the field of honor" i" PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. Paris presented a singular aspect just after the downfall of Napoleon, and the restoration of the Bourbons. It was filled with a restless, roaming population; a dark, sallow race, with fierce moustaches, black cravats, and feverish, menacing looks; men suddenly thrown out of employ by the return of peace; officers cut short in their career, and cast loose with scanty means, many of them in utter indigence, upon the world; the PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. . 213 broken elements of armies. They haunted the places of public resort, like restless, unhappy spirits, taking no pleasure; hang- ing about, like lowering clouds that linger after a storm, and giving a singular air of gloom to this otherwise gay metropolis. The vaunted courtesy of the old school, the smooth urbanity that prevailed in former days of settled government and long- established aristocracy, had disappeared amidst the savage re- publicanism of the revolution and the military furor of the em- pire: recent reverses had stung the national vanity to the quick; and English travellers, who crowded to Paris on the return of peace, expecting to meet with a gay, good-humored, complaisant populace, such as existed in the time of the "Sentimental Jour- ney," were surprised at finding them irritable and fractious, quick at fancying affronts, and not unapt to offer insults. They accordingly inveighed with heat and bitterness at the rudeness they experienced in the French metropolis: yet what better had they to expect? Had Charles II. been reinstated-in his king- dom by the valor of French troops; had he been wheeled trium- phantly to London over the trampled bodies and trampled stand- ards of England's bravest sons; had a French general dictated to the English capital, and a French army been quartered in Hyde-Park; had Paris poured forth its motley population, and the wealthy bourgeoisie of every French trading town swarmed to London; crowding its squares; filling its streets with their equipages; thronging its fashionable hotels, and places of amuse- ments; elbowing its impoverished nobility out of their palaces -and opera boxes, and looking down on the humiliated inhabitants as a conquered people; in such a reverse of the case, what de. page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 sliTCHOES IN PARIS. gree of courtesy would the populace of London have been apt to exercise toward their visitors?* On the contrary, I have always admired the degree of mag- nanimity exhibited by the French on the occupation of their capital by the English. When we consider the military ambi- tion of this nation, its love of glory, the splendid height to which its renown in arms had recently been carried, and with these, the tremendous reverses it had just undergone, its armies - shattered, annihilated, its capital captured, garrisoned, and over- run, and that too by its ancient rival, the English, toward whom it had cherished for centuries a jealous and almost religious hos- tility; could we have wondered, if the tiger spirit of this fiery people had broken out in bloody feuds and deadly quarrels; and that they had sought to rid themselves in any way, of their in- vaders? But it is cowardly nations only, those who dare not wield the sword, that revenge themselves with the lurking dag- ger. There were no assassinations in Paris. The French had fought valiantly, desperately, in the field; but, when valor was no longer of avail, they submitted like gallant men to a fate they could not withstand. Some instances of insult from the populace were experienced by their English visitors; some per- sonal rencontres, which led to duels, did take place; but these smacked of open and honorable hostility. No instances of lurk- ing and perfidious revenge occurred, and the British soldier pa- trolled the streets of Paris safe from treacherous assault. If the English met with harshness and repulse in social inter- * The above remarks were suggested by a conversation with the late Mr. Canning, whom the author met in Paris, and who expressed himself in the most liberal way concerning the magnanimity of the French on the occupation of their capital by strangers. PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 215 course, it was in some degree a proof that the people are more sincere than has been represented. The emigrants who had just returned, were not yet reinstated. Society was constituted of those who had flourished under the late regime; the newly en- nobled, the recently enriched, who felt their prosperity and their consequence endangered by this change of things. The broken. down officer, who saw his glory tarnished, his fortune ruined, his occupation gone, could not be expected to look with complacency upon the authors of his downfall. The English visitor, flushed with health, and wealth, and victory, could little enter into the feelings of the blighted warrior, scarred with a hundred battles, an exile from the camp, broken in constitution by the wars, im- poverished by the peace, and cast back, a needy stranger in the splendid but captured metropolis of his country. "Oh! who can tell what heroes feel When all but life and honor's lost 1" And here let me notice the conduct of the French soldiery on the dismemberment of the Army of the Loire, when two hun- dred thousand men were suddenly thrown out of employ; men who had been brought up to the camp, and scarce knew any other home. Few in civil, peaceful life, are aware of the severe trial to the feelings that takes place on the dissolution of a regiment. There is a fraternity in arms. The community of dangers, hard- ships, enjoyments; the participation in battles and victories; the companionship in adventures, at a time of life when men's feelings are most fresh, susceptible, and ardent, all these bind the members of a regiment strongly together. To them the re- giment is friends, family, home. They identify themselves with page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 SKETCHES IN PARIS. its fortunes, its glories, its disgraces. Imagine this romantic tie suddenly dissolved; the regiment broken up; the occupation of its members gone; their military pride mortified; the career of glory closed behind them; that of obscurity, dependence, want, neglect, perhaps beggary, before them. Such was the case with the soldiers of the Army of the Loire. They were sent off in squads, with officers, to the principal towns where they were to be disarmed and discharged. In this way they passed through the country with arms in their hands, often exposed to slights and scoffs, to hunger and various hardships and privations; but they conducted themselves magnanimously, without any of those outhreaks of violence and wrong that so often attend the dis- memberment of armies. The few years that have elapsed since the time above alluded to, have already had their effect. The proud and angry spirits which then roamed about Paris unemployed, have cooled down, and found occupation. The national character begins to recover its old channels, though worn deeper by recent torrents. The natural urbanity of the French begins to find its way, like oil, to the surface, though there still remains a degree of roughness and bluntness of manner, partly real, and partly affected, by such as imagine it to indicate force and frankness. The events of the last thirty years have rendered the French a more reflecting people. They have acquired greater independence of mind and strength of judgment, together with a portion of that prudence which re- sults from experiencing the dangerous consequences of excesses. However that period may have been stained by crimes, and filled PARIS AT THE RESTORATION. 217 with extravagances, the French have certainly come out of it a greater nation than before. One of their own philosophers ob- serves, that in one or two generations the nation will probably com- bine the ease and elegance of the old character with force and solidity. They were light, he says, before the revolution; then wild and savage; they have become more thoughtful and reflective. It is only old Frenchmen, now-a-days, that are gay and trivial; the young are very serious personages. P S. In te course of a morning's walk, about the time the above remarks were written, I observed the Duke of Wellington, who was on a brief visit to Paris. le was alone, simply attired in a blue frock; with an umbrella under his arm, and his hat drawn over his eyes, and sauntering across the Place Vendome, close by the column of Napoleon. He gave a glance up at the column as he passed, and continued his loitering way up the Rue de la Paix; stopping occasionally to gaze in at the shop-windows; de la Paix; stopplug ocotsionally to who little suspected that elbowed now and then by other gazers, w the quiet, lounging individual they were jostling so unceremo niously, was the conqueror who had twice entered their capital victoriously; had controlled the destinies of the nation, ad eclipsed the glory of the military idol, at the base of whose column he was thus negligently sauntering. Some years afterwards I was at an evening's entertainment given by the Duke at Apsley House, to William IV. The Dulke had manifested his admiration of his great adversary, by having portraits of him in different parts f the house. At the bottom of the grand staircase, stood the colossal statue of the Emperor, of 10 page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] Bi;TCHES IN PARIS. by (Canova. It was of marble, in the antique style, with one ar partly extended, holding a figureofvictory. Overthisarmthe ladies, in tripping up stairs to the ball, had thrown their shawls. It was a singular office for the statue of Napoleon to perform in the mansion of the Duke of Wellington! "Imperial Caesar dead, and turned to clay," etc., etc. 1.1 A CONTENTED MAN. IN the garden of the Tuileries there is a sunny corner under the wall of a terrace which fronts the south. Along the wall is a range of benches commanding a view of the walks and avenues of the garden. This genial nook is a place of great resort in the latter part of autumn, and in fine days in winter, as it seems to retain the flavor of departed summer. On a calm, bright morning it is quite alive with nursery-maids and their playful little charges. Hither also resort a number of ancient ladies and gen- tlemen, who, with laudable thrift in small pleasures and small ex- penses, for which the French are to be noted, come here to enjoy sunshine and save firewood. Here may often be seen some cava- lier of the old school, when the sunbeams have warmed his blood into something like a glow, fluttering about like a frosthitten moth thawed before the fire, putting forth a feeble show of gal- lantry among the antiquated dames, and now and then eyeing the buxom nursery-maids with what might almost be mistaken for an air of libertinism. Among the habitual frequenters of this place, I had often re- page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 A CONTENTED MAN. marked an old gentleman, whose dress was decidedly anti-revolu- tional. He wore the three-cornered cocked hat of the ancien re- gime; his hair was frizzed over each ear into ailes de pigeon, a style strongly savoring of Bourbonism; and a queue stuck out be- hind, the loyalty of which was not to be disputed. His dress, though ancient, had an air of decayed gentility, and I observed that he took his snuff out of an elegant though old-fashioned gold box. He appeared to be the most popular man on the walk. He had a compliment for every old lady, he kissed every child, and he pat- ted every little dog on the head, for children and little dogs are very important members of society in France., I must observe, however, that he seldom kissed a child without, at the same time, pinching the nursery-maid's cheek; a Frenchman of the old school never forgets his devoirs to the sex. I had taken a liking to this old gentleman. There was an ha- bitual expression of benevolence in his face, which I have very frequently remarked in these relics of the politer days of France. The constant interchange of those thousand little courtesies which imperceptibly sweeten life, have a happy effect upon the features and spread a mellow evening charm over the wrinkles of old age. Where there is a favorable predisposition, one soon forms a kind of tacit intimacy by often meeting on the same walks. Once or twice I accommodated him with a bench, after which we touched hats on passing each other; at length we got so far as to take a pinch of snuff together out of his box, which is equivalent to eat- ing salt together in the East; from that time our acquaintance was established. I now became his frequent companion in his morning prome. nades, and derived much amusement from his good-humored re- A CONTENTED MAN. 221 marks on men and manners. One morning, as we were strolling through an alley of the Tuileries, with the autumnal breeze whirl- ing the yellow leaves about our path, my companion fell into a peculiarly communicative vein, and gave me several particulars of his history. -He had once been wealthy, and possessed of a fine estate in the country, and a noble hotel in Paris; but the revolution, which effected so many disastrous changes, stripped him of every thing. He was secretly denounced by his own stew- ard during a sanguinary period of the revolution, and a number of the bloodhounds of the Convention were sent to arrest him. He received private intelligence of their approach in time to effect his escape. He landed in England without money or friends, but considered himself singularly fortunate in having his head upon his shoulders; several of his neighbors having been guillotined as a punishment for being rich. When he reached London he had but a louis in his pocket, and no prospect of getting another. He ate a solitary dinner on beefsteak, and was almost poisoned by port wine, which from its color he had mistaken for claret. The dingy look of the chop-house, and of the little mahogany-colored box in which he ate his dinner, contrasted sadly with the gay saloons of Paris. Every thing looked gloomy and disheartening. Poverty stared him in the face; he turned over the few shillings he had of change; did not know what was to become of him; and-went to the theatre I He took his seat in the pit, listened attentively to a tragedy of which he did not understand a word, and which Seemed made up of fighting, and stabbing, and scene-shifting, and began to feel his spirits sinking within him; when, casting his eyes into the orchestra, what was his surprise to recognize an old friend and page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 A CONTENTED MAN neighbor in the very act of extorting music from a huge violon- cello. As soon as the evening's performance was over he tapped his friend on the shoulder; they kissed each other on each cheek, and the musician took him home, and shared his lodgings with him. Hie had learned music as an accomplishment; by his friend's advice he now turned to it as a mean of support. le procured a violin, offered himself for the orchestra, was received, and again considered himself one of the most fortunate men upon earth. Here therefore he lived for many years during the ascendency of the terrible Napoleon. He found several emigrants living like himself, by the exercise of their talents. They associated together, talked of France and of old times, and endeavored to keep up a semblance of Parisian life in the centre of London. They dined at a miserable cheap French restaurateur in the neighborhood of Leicester-square, where they were served with a caricature of French cookery. They took their promenade in St. James's Park, and endeavored to fancy it the Tuileries; in short, they made shift to accommodate themselves to every thing but an English Sunday. Indeed the old gentleman seemed to have nothing to say against the English, whom he affirmed to be braves gens; and he mingled so much among them, that at the end of twenty years he could speak their language almost well enough to be understood. The downfall of Napoleon was another epoch in his life. He had considered himself a fortunate man to make his escape penni- less out of France, and he considered himself fortunate to be able to return penniless into it. It is true that he found his Parisian hotel had passed through several hands during the vicissi. A CONTENTED MAN. 223 tudes of the times, so as to be beyond the reach of recovery; but then he had been noticed benignantly by government, and had a pension of several hundred francs, upon which, with careful man- agefhent, he lived independently, and, as far as I could judge, happily. As his once splendid hotel was now occupied as a hotel garni, he hired a small chamber in the attic; it was but, as he said, changing his bedroom up two pair of stairs-he was still in his own house. His room was decorated with pictures of several beauties of former times, with whom he professed to have been on favorable terms: among them was a favorite opera-dancer, who had been the admiration of Paris at the breaking out of the re- volution. She had been a protegee of my friend, and one of the few of his youthful favorites who had survived the lapse of time and its various vicissitudes. They had renewed their acquaint- ance, and she now and then visited him; but the beautiful Psyche, once the fashion of the day and the idol of the parterre, was now a shrivelled, little old woman, warped in the back, and with a hooked nose. The old gentleman was a devout attendant upon levees: he was most zealous in his loyalty, and could not speak of the royal family without a burst of enthusiasm, for he still felt towards them as his companions in exile. As to his poverty he made light of it, and indeed had a good-humored way of consoling him- self for every cross and privation. If he had lost his chateau in the country, he had half a dozen royal palaces, as it were, at his command. He had Versailles and St. Cloud for his country re- sorts, and the shady alleys of the Tuileries and the Luxembourg for his town recreation. Thus all his promenades and relaxations page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 24 A CONTENTED MAS. were magnificent, yet cost nothing. When I walk through these fine gardens, said he, I have only to fancy myself the owner of them, and they are mine. 'All these gay crowds are my visitors, and I defy the grand seignior himself to, display a greater variety of beauty. Nay, what is better, I have not the trouble of enter- taining them. Mry estate is a perfect Sans Souci, where every one does as he pleases, and no one troubles the owner. All Paris is my theatre, and presents me with a continual spectacle. I have a table spread for me in every street, and thousands of waiters ready to fly at my bidding. When my servants have waited upon me I pay them, discharge them, and there's an end: I have no fears of their wronging or pilfering me when my back is turned. Upon the whole, said the old gentleman, with a smile of infinite good humor, when I think upon the various risks I have run, and the manner in which I have escaped them; when I recollect all that I have suffered, and consider all that I at present enjoy, I cannot but look upon myself as a man of singular good fortune. Such was the brief history of this practical philosopher, and it is a picture of many a Frenchman ruined by the revolution. The French appear to have a greater facility than most men in accom- modating themselves to the reverses of life and of extracting honey out of the bitter things of this world. The- first shock of calamity is apt to overwhelm them, but when it is once past, their natural buoyancy of feeling soon brings them to the surface. This may be called the result of levity of character, but it answers the end of reconciling us to misfortune, and if it be not true, phi- losophy, it is something almost as efficacious. Ever since I have heard the story of my little Frenchman, I have treasured it up in my heart; and I thank my stars I have at length found, what I A CONTENTED MAN. 225 had long considered as not to be found on earth-a contented man. P. S. There is no calculating on human happiness. Since writing the foregoing, the law of indemnity has been passed, and my friend restored to a great part of his fortune. I was absent from Paris at the time, but on my return hastened to congratulate him. I found him magnificently lodged on the first floor of his hotel. I was ushered, by a servant in livery, through splendid saloons, to a cabinet richly furnished, where I found my little Frenchman reclining on a couch. He received me with his usual cordiality; but I saw the gayety and benevolence of his counte- nance had fled; he had an eye full of care and anxiety. I congratulated him on his good fortune. "Good fortune?" echoed he; " bah! I have been plundered of a princely fortune, and they give me a pittance as an indemnity." Alas! I found my late poor and contented friend one of the richest and most miserable men in Paris. Instead of rejoicing in the ample competency restored to him, he is daily repining at the superfluity withheld. He no longer wanders in happy idleness about Paris, but is a repining attendant in the ante-chambers of ministers. His loyality has evaporated with his gayety; he screws his mouth when the Bourbons are mentioned, and even shrugs his shoulders when he hears the praises of the king. In a word, he is one of the many philosophers undone by the law of indemnity, and his case is desperate, for I doubt whether even another reverse of fortune, which should restore him to poverty, could make him again a happy muan. 10* page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] BROEK: THE DUTCH PARADISE. IT has long been a matter of discussion and controversy among the pious and the learned, as to the situation of the terrestrial paradise whence our first parents were exiled. This question has been put to rest by certain of the faithful in Holland, who have decided in favor of the vilage of BROEK, about six miles from Amsterdam. It may not, they observe, correspond in all respects to the description of the garden of Eden, handed down from days of yore, but it comes nearer to their ideas of a perfect paradise than any other place on earth. This eulogium induced me to make some inquiries as to this favored spot, in the course of a sojourn at the city of Amsterdam, and the information I procured fully justified the enthusiastic praises I had heard. The village of Broek is situated in Water- land, in the midst of the greenest and richest pastures of Holland, I may say, of Europe. These pastures are the source of its wealth, for it is famous for its dairies, and for those oval cheeses which regale and perfume the whole civilized world. The popula- tion consists of about six hundred persons, comprising several u BROEK: OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. 22' families which have inhabited the place since time immemorial, and have waxed rich on the products of their meadows. They keep all their wealth among themselves; intermarrying, and keep- ing all strangers at a wary distance. They are a " hard money" people, and remarkable for turning the penny the right way. It is said to have been an old rule, established by one of the primi- tive financiers and legislators of Broek, that no one should leave the village with more than six guilders in his pocket, or return with less than ten; a shrewd regulation, well worthy the attention of modern political economists, who are so anxious to fix the bal- ance of trade. What, however, renders Broek so perfect an elysium, in the eyes of all true Hollanders, is the matchless height to which the spirit of cleanliness is carried there: It amounts almost to a re- ligion among the inhabitants, who pass the greater part of their time rubbing and scrubbing, and painting and varnishing: each housewife vies with her neighbor in her devotion to the scrubbing brush, as zealous Catholics do in their devotion to the cross; and it is said, a notable housewife of the place in days of yore, is held in pious remembrance, and almost canonized as a saint, for hav- ing died of pure exhaustion and chagrin, in an ineffectual attempt to scour a black man white. These particulars awakened my ardent curiosity to see a place which I pictured to myself the very fountain-head of certain hered- itary habits and customs prevalent among the descendants of the original Dutch settlers of my native state. I accordingly lost no time in performing a pilgrimage to Broek. Before I reached the place, I beheld symptoms of the tranquil character of its inhabitants. A little clump-built boat was in full page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 BROEK: OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. sail along the lazy bosom of a canal, but its sail consisted of the blades of two paddles stood on end, while the navigator sat steer- ing with a third paddle in the stern, crouched down like a toad, with a slouched hat drawn over his eyes. -I presumed him to be some nautical lover, on the way to his mistress. After proceeding a little farther, I came in sight of the harbor or port of destina- tion of this drowsy navigator. This was the Broeken-Meer, an artificial basin, or sheet of olive-green water, tranquil as a mill- pond. On this the village of Broek is situated, and the borders are laboriously decorated with flower-beds, box-trees clipped into all kinds of ingenious shapes and fancies, and little " lust " houses or pavilions. I alighted outside of the village, for no horse nor vehicle is permitted to enter its precincts, lest it should cause defilement of the well-scoured pavements. Shaking the dust off my feet, there- fore, I prepared to enter, with due reverence and circumspection, this sanctum sanctorum of Dutch cleanliness. I entered by a narrow street, paved with yellow bricks, laid edgewise, and so clean that one might eat from them Indeed, they were actually worn deep, not by the tread of feet, but by the friction of the scrubbing-brush. The houses were built of wood, and all appeared to have been freshy painted, of green, yellow, and other bright colors. They were separated from each other by gardens and orchards, and stood at some little distance from the street, with wide areas or court- yards, paved in mosaic, with variegated stones, polished by fre- quent rubbing. The areas were divided from the street by curi- ously-wrought railings, or balustrades, of iron, surmounted, with brass and copper balls, scoured into dazzling effulgence. The BROEK: OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. 229 very trunks of the trees in front of the houses were by the same process made to look as if they had been varnished. The por- ches, doors, and window-frames of the houses were of exotic woods, curiously carved, and polished like costly furniture. The front doors are never opened, excepting on christenings, marriages, or funerals: on all ordinary occasions, visitors enter by the back door. In former times, persons when admitted had to put on slippers, but this oriental ceremony is no longer insisted upon. A poor devil Frenchman, who attended upon me as cicerone, boasted with some degree of exultation, of a triumph of his coun- trymen over the stern regulations of the place. During the time that Holland was overrun by the armies of the French republic, a French general, surrounded by his whole 6tat major, who had come from Amsterdam to view the wonders of Broek, applied for admission at one of these taboo'd portals. The reply was, that the owner never received any one who did not come introduced by some friend. "Very well," said the general; "take my compli- ments to your master, and tell him I will return here to-morrow with a company of soldiers, pour parler raison avec mon ami Hollandais." Terrified at the idea of having a company of sol- diers billeted upon him, the owner threw open his house, enter- tained the general and his retinue with unwonted hospitality; though it is said it cost the family a month's scrubbing and scour- ing, to restore all things to exact order, after this military invasion. My vagabond informant seened to consider this one of the great- est victories of the republic. I walked about the place in mute wonder and admiration. A dead stillness prevailed around, like that in the deserted streets of Pompeii., No sign of life was to be seen, excepting now and page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] otumi: OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. then a hand, and a long pipe, ana an oeca ional puff of smoke, out of the window of some "lust-haus" overhanging a miniature canal; and on approaching a little nearer, the periphery in pro- file of some robustious burgher. Among the grand houses pointed out to me, were those of Claes Bakker, and Cornelius Bakker, richly carved and gilded, with flower-gardens and clipped shrubberies; and that of the Great Ditmus, who, my poor devil cicerone imformed me, in a whisper, was worth two millions; all these were mansions shut up from the world, and only kept to be cleaned. After having been conducted from one wonder to another of the village, I was ushered by my guide into the grounds and gardens of Mynheer Broekker, another mighty cheese-manufaturer, worth eighty thousand guilders a year. I had repeatedly been struck with the similarity of all that I had seen in this amphibious little village, to the buildings and landscapes on Chinese platters and tea-pots; but here I found the similarity complete; for I was told tat i these gardens were modelled upon Van Bramm's description of those of Yuen min Yuen, in China. Here were serpentine walks, with trellised borders; winding canals, with fanciful Chinese bridges; flower beds resembling huge baskets, with the flower of "Iove lies bleeding" falling over to the ground. But mostly had the fancy of Mynheer Broekker been displayedabout a stagnant little lake, on which a corpulent like pinnace lay at anchor. On ;he border was a cottage, within which were a wooden man and voman seated at table, and a wooden dog beneath, all the size of ife: on pressing a spring, the woman commenced spinning, and he dog barked furiously. On the lake were wooden swans, ,ainted to the life: some floating, others on the nest among the BROEK: OR THE DUTCH PARADISE. 231 rushes; while a wooden sportsman, crouched among the bushes, was preparing his gun to take deadly aim. In another part of the garden was a dominie in his clerical robes, with wig, pipe, and cocked hat; and mandarins with nodding heads, amid red lions, green tigers, and blue hares. Last of all, the heathen dei- ties, in wood and plaster, male and female, naked and barefaced as usual, and seeming to stare with wonder at finding themselves in such strange company. My shabby French guide, while he pointed out all these me- chanical marvels of the garden, was anxious to let me see that he had too polite a taste to be pleased by them. At every new nick- nack he would screw down his mouth, shrug up his shoulders, take a pinch of snuff, and exclaim: "Ma foi, Monsieur, ces Hol- landais sont forts pour ces betises la!" To attempt to gain admission to any of these stately abodes was out of the question, having no company of soldiers to enforce a solicitation. I was fortunate enough, however, through the aid of my guide, to make my way into the kitchen of the illustrious Ditmus, and I question whether the parlor would have proved more worthy of observation. The cook, a little wiry, hook-nosed woman, worn thin by incessant action and friction, was bustling about among her kettles and sauce-pans, with the scullion at her heels, both clattering in wooden shoes, which were as clean and white as the milk-pails; rows of vessels, of brass and copper, regi- ments of pewter dishes, and portly porringers, gave resplendent evidence of the intensity of their cleanliness; the very trammels and hangers in the fire-place were highly scoured, and the bur- nished face of the good Saint Nicholas shone forth from the iron plate of the chimney-back. page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] v... -, tt uj DUTCH PARADISE. Among the decorations of the kitchen, was a printed sheet of wood-cuts, representing the various holiday customs of Holland, with explanatory rhymes. Here I was delighted to recognize the jollities of New-Year's day; the festivities of Paas and Pinkster, and all te other merrymakings handed down in my native place from the earliest times of New-Amsterdam, and which had been t such bright spots in the year, in my childhood. I eagerly made myself master of this precious document, for a trifling consider- ation, and bore it off as a memento of the place; though I ques- tion if, in so doing, I did not carry off with me the whole current literature of Broek. I must not omit to mention, that this village is the paradise of cows as well as men: indeed you would almost suppose the cow to be as much an object of worship here, as the bull was among the ancient Egyptians; and well does she merit it, for she is in fact the patroness of the place. The same scrupulous cleanliness, however, which pervades every thing else) is manifested in the Treatment of this venerated animal. She is not permitted to per- umbulate the place, but in winter, when she forsakes the rich pas- ure, a well-built house is provided for her, well painted, and main- ained in the most perfect order. Her stall is of ample dimensions; he floor is scrubbed and polished; her hide is daily curried and rushed, and sponged to her heart's content, and her tail is aintily tucked up to the ceiling, and decorated with a ribbon! On my way back through the village, I passed the house of e prediger, or preacher; a very comfortable mansion, which led le to augur well of the state of religion in the village. On in- liry, I was told that for a long time the inhabitants lived. in a eat state of indifference as to religious matters: it was in vain B1iuK:. S 'L'rjHE DU 'I'kiI. PARADiSE. '233 that their preachers endeavored to arouse their thoughts as to a future state: the joys of heaven, as commonly depicted, were but little to their taste. At length a dominie appeared among them, who struck out in a different vein. He depicted the New Jeru- salem as a place all smooth and level; with beautiful dykes, and ditches, and canals; and houses all shining with paint and varnish, and glazed tiles; and where there should never come horse, nor ass, nor cat, nor dog, nor any thing that could make noise or dirt; but there should be nothing but rubbing and scrubbing, and wash- ing and painting, and gilding and varnishing, for ever and ever, amen! Since that time, the good housewives of Broek have all turned their faces Zionward. page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. -a Xgvnbr of (tommunftiao. FOUND AMONG THE NIC BO PAPERS AT WOLET'S ROOST. WHOEVER has visited the ancient and renowned village of Com- munipaw, may have noticed an old stone building, of most ruin- ous and sinister appearance. The doors and window-shutters are ready to drop from their hinges; old clothes are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, while legions of half-starved dogs prowl about the premises, and rush out and bark at every passer by for your beggarly house in a village is most apt to swarm with profligate and ill-conditioned dogs. What adds to the sinister ap- pearance of this mansion, is a tall frame in front, not a little re- sembling a gallows, and which looks as if waiting to accommodate gallows, however, but an ancient sign-post; for this dwelling in the golden days of Communipaw, was one of the most order. ly and peaceful of village taverns, where public affairs were talked and smoked over. In fact, it was in this very build. ing that Oloffe the Dreamer, and his companions, concerted thati great voyage of discovery and colonization, in which they explor- ^*s^.^s;-^: I ^ 'S^" ^s .l GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 235 ed Buttermilk Channel, were nearly shipwrecked in the strait of Hell-gate, and finally landed on the island of Manhattan, and founded the great city of New-Amsterdam. Even after the province had been cruelly wrested from the sway of their High Mightinesses, by the combined forces of the British and the Yankees, this tavern continued its ancient loyalty. It is true, the head of the Prince of Orange disappeared from the sign, a strange bird being painted over it, with the explanatory legend of "DIE WILDE GANS,) or, The Wild Goose; but this all the world knew to be a sly riddle of the landlord, the worthy Teunis Van Gieson, a knowing man, in a small way, who laid his finger beside his nose and winked, when any one studied the sig- nification of his sign, and observed that his goose was hatching, but would join the flock whenever they flew over the water; an enigma which was the perpetual recreation and delight of the loyal but fat-headed burghers of Communipaw. Under the sway of this patriotic, though discreet and quiet publican, the tavern continued to flourish in primeval tranquil- lity, and was the resort of true-hearted Nederlanders, from all parts of Pavonia; who met here quietly and secretly, to smoke and drink the downfall of Briton and Yankee, and suc- cess t0tAdmiral Van Tromp. The only drawhack on the comfort of the establishment, was a nephew of mine host, a sister's son, Yan Yost Vanderscamp by name, and a real scamp by nature. This unlucky whipster showed an early propensity to mischief, which he gratified in a small way, by playing tricks upon the frequenters of the Wild Goose; putting gunpowder in their pipes, or squibs in their pockets, and astonishing them with an explosion, while they sat page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] du^f GGUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. nodding round the fireplace in the bar-room; and if perchance a worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia lingered until dark over his potation, it was odds but young Vanderscamp would slip a brier under his horse's tail, as he mounted, and send him clattering along the road, in neck-or-nothing style, to the in- finite astonishment and discomfiture of the rider. It may be wondered at, that mine host of the Wild Goose did not turn such a graceless varlet out of doors; but Teunis Van Gieson was an easy-tempered man, and having no child of his own, looked upon his nephew with almost parental indul- gence. His patience and good nature were doomed to be tried by another inmate of his mansion. This was a cross-grained curmudgeon of a negro, named Pluto, who was a kind of enigma in Communipaw. Where he came from, nobody knew. He was found one morning, after a storm, cast like a sea-monster on the strand, in front of the Wild Goose, and lay there, more dead than alive. The neighbors gathered round, and speculated on this production of the deep; whether it were fish or flesh, or a com- pound of both, commonly yclept a merman. The kind-hearted Teunis Van Gieson, seeing that he wore the human form, took him into his house, and warmed him into life. By degrees, he showed signs of intelligence, and even uttered sounds very much like language, but which no one in Communipaw could under- stand. Some thought him a negro just from Guinea, who had either fallen overboard, or escaped from a slave-ship. Nothing, however, could ever draw from him any account of his origin. When questioned on the subject, he merely pointed to Gibbet- Island, a small rocky islet, which lies in the open bay, just oppo. site Communipaw, as if that were his native place, though every body knew it had never been inhabited. GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 237 In the process of time, he acquired something of the Dutch language, that is to say, he learnt all its vocabulary of oaths and maledictions, with just words sufficient to string them together. Donder en blicksem!" (thunder and lightning), was the gen- tlest of his ejaculations. For years he kept about the Wild Goose, more like one of those familiar spirits, or household gob- lins, we read of, thah' like a human being. He acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performed various domestic offices, when it suited his humor; waiting occasionally on the guests; grooming the horses, cutting wood, drawing water; and all this without being ordered. Lay any command on him, and the stubborn sea-urchin was sure to rebel. He was never so much at home, however, as when on the water, plying about in skiff or canoe, entirely alone, fishing, crabbing, or grabbing for oysters, and would bring home quantities for the larder of the Wild Goose, which he would throw down at the kitchen door, with a growl. No wind nor weather deterred him from launch- ing forth on his favorite element: indeed, the wilder the weather, the more he seemed to enjoy it. If a storm was brewing, he was sure to put off from shore; and would be seen far out in the bay, his light skiff dancing like a feather on the waves, when sea and sky were in a turmoil, and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails. Sometimes on such occasions he would be absent for days together. How he weathered the tempest, and how and where he subsisted, no one could divine, nor did any one venture to ask, for all had an almost superstitious awe of him. Some of the Communipaw oystermen declared they had more than once seen him suddenly disappear, canoe and all, as if plunged beneath the waves, and after a while come up page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. again, in quite a different part of the bay; whence they con- cluded that he could live under water like that notable species of wild duck, commonly called the hell-diver. All began to consider him in the light of a foul-weather bird, like the Mother Carey's Chicken, or stormy petrel; and whenever they saw him putting far out in his skiff, in cloudy weather, made up their minds for a storm. The only being for whom he seemed to have any liking, was Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and him he liked for his very wicked- ness. He in a manner took the boy under his tutelage, prompt- ed him to all kinds of mischief, aided him in every wild harum- scarum freak, until the lad became the complete scape-grace of the village; a pest' to his uncle, and to every one else. Nor were his pranks confined to the land; he soon learned to accom- pany old Pluto on the water. Together these worthies would cruise about the broad bay, and all the neighboring straits and rivers; poking around in skiffs and canoes; robbing the set nets of the fishermen; landing on remote coasts, and laying waste orchards and water-melon patches; in short, carrying on a com- plete system of piracy, on a small scale. Piloted by Pluto, the youthful Vanderscamp soon became acquainted with all the bays, rivers, creeks, and inlets of the watery world around him; could navigate from the Hook to Spiting-devil on the darkest night, and learned to set even the terrors of Hell-gate at defiance. At length, negro and boy suddenly disappeared, and days and weeks elapsed, but without tidings of them. Some said they must have run away and gone to sea; others jocosely hint- ed, that told Pluto, being no other than his namesake in dis- guise, had spirited away the boy to the nether regions. All, GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 239 however, agreed in one thing, that the village was well rid of them. In the process of time, the good Tennis Van Gieson slept with his fathers, and the tavern remained shut up, waiting for a claimant, for the next heir was Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and he had not been heard of for years. At length, one day, a boat was seen pulling for shore, from a long, black, rakish-looking schooner, that lay at anchor in the bay. The boat's crew seemed worthy of the craft from which they debarked. Never had such a set of noisy, roistering, swaggering varlets landed in peaceful Communipaw. They were outlandish in garb and demeanor, and were headed by a rough, burly, bully ruffian, with fiery whis- kers, a copper nose, a scar across his face, and a great Flaun- derish beaver slouched on one side of his head, in whom, to their dismay, the quiet inhabitants were made to recognise their early pest, Yan Yost Vanderscamp. The rear of this hopeful gang was brought up by old Pluto, who had lost an eye, grown grizzly- headed, and looked more like a devil than ever. Vanderscamp renewed his acquaintance with the old burghers, much against their will, and in a manner not at all to their taste. He slapped them familiarly on the back, gave them an iron grip of the hand, and was hail fellow well met. According to his own account, he had been all the world over; had made money by bags full; had ships in every sea, and now meant to turn the Wild Goose into a country-seat, where he and his comrades, all rich mer- chants from foreign parts, might enjoy themselves in the interval of their voyages. Sure enough, in a little while there was a complete metamor- phose of the Wild Goose. From being a quiet, peaceful Dutchi page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. public house, it became a most riotous, uproarious private dwell- ing; a complete rendezvous for boisterous men of the seas, who came here to have what they called a " blow out " on dry land, and might be seen at all hours, lounging about the door, or loll- ing out of the windows; swearing among themselves, and crack- ing rough jokes on every passer by. The house was fitted up, too, in so strange a manner: hammocks slung to the walls, in- stead of bedsteads; odd kinds of furniture, of foreign fashion; bamboo couches, Spanish chairs; pistols, cutlasses, and blunder- busses, suspended on every peg; silver crucifixes on the mantel- pieces, silver candlesticks and porringers on the tables, contrast- ing oddly with the pewter and Delf ware of the original estab- lishment. And then the strange amusements of these sea-mon- sters! Pitching Spanish dollars, instead of quoits; firing blun- derbusses out of the window; shooting at a mark, or at any un- happy dog, or cat, or pig, or barn-door fowl, that might happen to come within reach. The only being who seemed to relish their rough waggery, was old Pluto; and yet he led but a dog's life of it; for they practised all kinds of manual jokes upon him; kicked him about like a foothall; shook him by his grizzly mop of wool, and never spoke to him without coupling a curse by way of adjective to his name, and consigning him to the infernal regions. The old fel- low, however, seemed to like them the better, the more they cursed him, though his utmost expression of pleasure never amounted to more than the growl of a petted bear, when his ears are rubbed. Old Pluto was the ministering spirit at the orgies of the Wild Goose; and such orgies as took place there! Such drink- GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 241 ing, singing, whooping, swearing; with an occasional interlude of quarrelling and fighting. The noisier grew -the revel, the more old Pluto plied the potations, until the guests would be- come frantic in their merriment, smashing every thing to pieces, and throwing the house out of the windows. Sometimes, after a drinking bout, they sallied forth and scoured the village, to the dismay of the worthy burghers, who gathered their women with- in doors, and would have shut up the house. Vanderscamp, however, was not to be rebuffed. He insisted on renewing ac- quaintance with his old neighbors, and on introducing his friends, the merchants, to their families; swore he was on the look-out for a wife, and meant, before he stopped, to find husbands for all their daughters. So, will-ye, nill-ye, sociable he was; swaggered about their best parlors, with his hat on one side of his head; sat on the good wife's nicely-waxed mahogany table, kicking his heels against the carved and polished legs; kissed and tousled the young vrouws; and, if they frowned and pouted, gave them a gold rosary, or a sparkling cross, to put them in good humor again. Sometimes nothing would satisfy him, but he must have some of his old neighbors to dinner at the Wild Goose. There was no refusing him, for he had the complete upper hand of the community, and the peaceful burghers all stood in awe of him. But what a time would the quiet, worthy men have, among these rake-hells, who would delight to astound them with the most extravagant gunpowder tales, embroidered with all kinds of foreign oaths; clink the can with them; pledge them in deep potations; bawl drinking songs in their ears ; and occa- sionally fire pistols over their heads, or under the table, and then " page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. laugh in their faces, and ask them how they liked the smell of gunpowder. Thus was the little village of Communipaw for a time like the unfortunate wight possessed with devils; until Vanderscamp and his brother merchants would sail on another trading voyage, when the Wild Goose would be shut up, and every thing relapse into quiet, only to be disturbed by his next visitation. The mystery of all these proceedings gradually dawned upon the tardy intellects of Communipaw. These were the times of the notorious Captain Kidd, when the American harbors were the resorts of piratical adventurers of all kinds, who, under pre- text of mercantile voyages, scoured the West Indies, made plun- dering descents upon the Spanish Main, visited even the remote Indian Seas, and then came to dispose of their booty, have their revels, and fit out new expeditions, in the English colonies. Vanderscamp had served in this hopeful school, and having risen to importance among the buccaneers, had pitched upon his native village and early home, as a quiet, out-of-the way, unsus- pected place, where he and his comrades, while anchored at New York, might have their feasts, and concert their plans, without molestation. At length the attention of the British government was called to these piratical enterprises, that were becoming so frequent and outrageous. Vigorous measures were taken to check and punish them. Several of the most noted freebooters were caught and executed, and three of Vanderscamp's chosen comrades, the most riotous swashbucklers of the Wild Goose, were hanged in chains on Gibbet-Island, in full sight of their favorite resort. As to Vanderscamp himself, he and his man Pluto again disap- GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 243 peared, and it was hoped by the people of Communipaw that he had fallen in some foreign brawl, or been swung on some foreign gallows. For a time, therefore, the tranquillity of the village was re- stored; the worthy Dutchmen once more smoked their pipes in peace, eyeing, with peculiar complacency, their old pests and ter- rors, the pirates, dangling and drying in the sun, on Gibbet- Island. This perfect calm was doomed at length to be ruffled.. The fiery persecution of the pirates gradually subsided. Justice was satisfied with the examples that had been made, and there was no more talk of Kidd, and the other heroes of like kidney. On a calm summer evening, a boat, somewhat heavily laden, was seen pulling into Communipaw. What was the surprise and disquiet of the inhabitants, to see Yan Yost Vanderscamp seated at the helm, and his man Pluto tugging at the oar! Vanderscamp, however, was apparently an altered man. He brought home with him a wife, who seemed to be a shrew, and to have the upper hand of him. He no longer was the swaggering, bully ruffian, but affected the regular merchant, and talked of retiring from business, and settling down quietly, to pass the rest of his days in his na- tive place. The Wild Goose mansion was again opened, but with dimin- ished splendor, and no riot. It is true, Vanderscamp had frequent nautical visitors, and the sound of revelry was occasionally over- heard in his house; but every thing seemed to be done under the rose; and old Pluto was the only servant that officiated at these orgies. The visitors, indeed, were by no means of the turbulent stamp of their predecessors; but quiet, mysterious traders, full l \ D page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. of nods, and winks, and hieroglyphic signs, with whom, to use their cant phrase, " every thing was smug." Their ships came to an- chor at night, in the lower bay; and, on a private signal, Vander- scamp would launch his boat, and accompanied solely by his man Pluto, would make them mysterious visits. Sometimes boats pulled in at night, in front of the Wild Goose, and various articles of merchandise were landed in the dark, and spirited away, no- body knew whither. One of the more curious of the inhabitants kept watch, and caught a glimpse of the features of some of these night visitors, by the casual glance of a lantern, and declared that he recognized more Ithan one of the freebooting frequenters of the Wild Goose, in former times; whence he concluded that Van- derscamp was at his old game, and that this mysterious mer- chandise was nothing more nor less than piratical plunder. The more charitable opinion, however, was, that Vanderscamp and his comrades, having been driven from their old line of business, by the " oppressions of government," had resorted to smuggling to make both ends meet. Be that as it may: I come now to the extraordinary fact, which is the butt-end of this story. It happened late one night, that Yan Yost Vanderscamp was returning across the broad bay, in his light skiff, rowed by his man Pluto. He had been carous- ing on board of a vessel, newly arrived, and was somewhat obfus- cated in intellect, by the liquor he had imbibed. It was a still, sultry night; a heavy mass of lurid clouds was rising in the west, with the low muttering of distant thunder. Vanderscamp called on Pluto to pull lustily, that they might get home before the gathering storm. The old negro made no reply, but shaped his course so as to skirt the rocky shores of Gibbet-Island. A faint GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 246 creaking overhead caused Vanderscamp to cast up his eyes, when to his horror, he beheld the bodies of his three pot companions and brothers in iniquity dangling in the moonlight, their rags fluttering, and their chains creaking, as they were slowly swung backward and forward by the rising breeze. What -do you mean, you blockhead!" cried Vanderscamp, "by pulling so close to the island? ' "I thought you'd be glad to see your old friends once more," growled the negro: "you were never afraid of a living man, what do you fear from the dead?" Who's afraid?" hiccupped Vanderscamp, partly heated by liquor, partly nettled by the jeer of the negro; "who's afraid! Hang me, but I would be glad to see them once more, alive or dead, at the Wild Goose. Come, my lads in the wind!" contin- ued he, taking a draught, and flourishing the bottle above his head, " here's fair weather to you in the other world; and if you should be walking the rounds to-night, odds fish! but I'll be happy if you will drop in to supper." A dismal creaking was the only reply. The wind blew loud and shrill, and as it whistled round the gallows, and among the bones, sounded as if they were laughing and gibbering in the air. Old Pluto chuckled to himself, and now pulled for home. The storm burst over the voyagers, while they were yet far from shore. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder crashed and pealed, and the lightning kept up an incessant blaze. It was stark midnight be- fore they landed at Communipaw. Dripping and shivering, Vanderscamp crawled homeward. He was completely sobered by the storm; the water soaked from without, having diluted and cooled the liquor within. Arrived page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. at the Wild Goose, he knocked timidly and dubiously at the door, for he dreaded the reception he was to experience from his wife. He had reason to do so. She met him at the threshold, in a precious ill-humor. "Is this a time," said she, " to keep people out of their beds, and to bring home company, to turn the house upside down?" "Company?" said Vanderscamp, meekly; 'I have brought no company with me, wife." "No indeed! they have got here before you, but by your in- vitation; and blessed-looking company they are, truly!" Vanderscamp" knees smote together. "For the. love of heaven, where are they, wife?" "Where?-why in the blue room up stairs, making themselves as much at home as if the house were their own." Vanderscamp made a desperate effort, scrambled up to the room, and threw open the door. Sure enough, there at a table, on which burned a light as blue as brimstone, sat the three guests from Gibbet-Island, with halters round their necks, and bobbing their cups together, as if they were hob-or-nobbing, and trolling the old Dutch freebooter's glee, since translated into English: "For three merry lads be we, And three merry lads be we; I on the land, and thou on the sand, And Jack on the gallows-tree." Vanderscamp saw and heard no more. Starting back with horror, he missed his footing on the landing place, and fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom. He was taken up speechless, and, either from the fall or the fright, was buried in the yard of the little Dutch church at Bergen, on the following Sunday. GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. 247 From that day forward, the fate of the Wild Goose was seal- ed. It was pronounced a haunted house, and avoided according- ly. No one inhabited it but Vanderscamp's shrew of a widow, and old Pluto, and they were considered but little better than its hob- goblin visitors. Pluto grew more and more haggard and mo- rose, and looked more like an imp of darkness than a human being. He spoke to no one, but went about muttering to himself; or, as some hinted, talking with the devil, who, though unseen, was ever at his elbow. Now and then he was seen pulling about the bay alone, in his skiff, in dark weather, or at the approach of night- fall; nobody could tell why, unless on an errand to invite more guests from the gallows. Indeed it was affirmed that the Wild Goose still continued to be a house of entertainment for such guests, and that on stormy nights, the blue chamber was occasion- ally illuminated, and sounds of diabolical merriment were over- heard, mingling with the howling of the tempest. Some treat- ed these as idle stories, until on one such night, it was about the time of the .equinox, there was a horrible uproar in the Wild Goose; that could not be mistaken. It was not so much the sound of revelry, however, as strife, with two or three piercing shrieks, that pervaded every part of the village. Nevertheless, no one thought of hastening to the spot. On the contrary, the honest burghers of Communipaw drew their nightcaps over their ears, and buried their heads under the bed-clothes, at the thoughts of Vanderscamp and his gallows companions. The next morning, some of the bolder and more curious un- dertook to reconnoitre. All was quiet and lifeless at the Wild Goose. The door yawned wide open, and had evidently been open all night, for the storm had beaten into the house. Gathering page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND. more courage from the silence and apparent desertion, they gradu- ally ventured over the threshold. The house had indeed the air of having been possessed by devils. Every thing was topsy-turvy; trunks had been broken open, and chests of drawers and corner cup- boards turned inside out, as in a time of general sack and pillage; but the most woeful sight was the widow of Yan Yost Vander- scamp, extended a corpse on the floor of the blue chamber, with the marks of a deadly gripe on the windpipe. All now was conjecture and dismay at Communipaw; and the disappearance of old Pluto, who was nowhere to be found, gave rise to all kinds of wild surmises. Some suggested that the ne- gro had betrayed the house to some of Vanderscamp's buccaneering associates, and that they had decamped together with the booty; others surmised that the negro was nothing more nor less than a devil incarnate, who had now accomplished his ends, and made off with his dues. Events, however, vindicated the negro from this last imputa- tion. His skiff was picked up, drifting about the bay, bottom up- ward, as if wrecked in a tempest; and his body was found, shortly afterward, by some Communipaw fishermen, stranded among the rocks of Gibbet-Island, near the foot of the pirates' gallows. The fishermen shook their heads, and observed that old Pluto had ventured once too often to invite Guests from Gibbet-Island. THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. NOTED DOWN FROM HS C ONVERSATIONS: BY GEOFFREY CRAYON7 GENT. " I AM a Kentuckian by residence and choice, but a Virginian by birth. The cause of my first leaving the 'Ancient Dominion,' and emigrating to Kentucky, was a jackass! You stare, but have a little patience, and I'll soon show you how it came to pass. My father, who was of one of the old Virginian families, resided in Richmond. He was a widower, and his domestic affairs were managed by a housekeeper of the old school, such as used to ad- minister the concerns of opulent Virginian households. She was a dignitary that almost rivalled my father in importance, and seemed to think every thing belonged to her; in fact she was so considerate in her economy, and so careful of expense, as some- times to vex my father; who would swear she was disgracing * Ralph Ringwood, though a fictitious name, is a real personage-thle late Governor Duval of Florida. I have given some anecdotes of his early and eccentric career in, as nearly as I can recollect, the very words in which he related them. They certainly afford strong temptations to the embellishments of fiction; but I thought them so strikingly characteristic of the individual, and of the scenes and society into which his peculiar humors carried him, that I preferred giving them in their original sin- plicity. G. C. " . page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. him by her meanness. She always apppeared with that an- cient insignia of housekeeping trust and authority, a great bunch of keys jingling at her girdle. She superintended the arrange- ments of the table at every meal, and saw that the dishes were all placed according to her primitive notions of symmetry. In the evening she took her stand and served out tea with a mingled re- spectfulness and pride of station, truly exemplary. Her great ambition was to have every thing in order, and that the establish- ment under her sway should be cited as a model of good house- keeping. If any thing went wrong, poor old Barbara would take it to heart, and sit in her room and cry; until a few chapters in the Bible would quiet her spirits, and make all calm again. The Bible, in fact, was her constant resort in time of trouble. She opened it indiscriminately, and whether she chanced among the Lamentations of Jeremiah, the Canticles of Solomon, or the rough enumeration of the tribes in Deuteronomy, a chapter was a chapter, and operated like balm to her soul. Such was our good old housekeeper Barbara; who was destined, unwittingly, to have a most important effect upon my destiny. "It came to pass, during the days of my juvenility, while I was yet what is termed 'an unlucky boy,' that a gentleman of our neighborhood, a great advocate for experiments and improvements of all kinds, took it into his head that it would be an immense public advantage to introduce a breed of mules, and accordingly imported three jacks to stock the neighborhood. This in a part of the country where the people cared for nothing but blood horses! Why, sir! they would have considered their mares disgraced, and their whole stud dishonored, by such a mis- alliance. The whole matter was a town-talk, and a town scandal. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 251 The worthy amalgamator of quadrupeds found himself in a dis. mal scrape so he backed out in time, abjured the whole doctrine of amalgamation, and turned his jacks loose to shift for themselves upon the town common. There they used to run about and lead an idle, good-for-nothing, holiday life, the happiest animals in the country. "It so happened, that my way to school lay across the com- mon. The first time that I saw one of these animals, it set up a braying and frightened me confoundedly. However, I soon got over ny fright, and seeing that it had something of a horse look, my Virginian love for any thing of the equestrian species predom- inated, and I determined to back it. I accordingly applied at a grocer's shop, procured a cord that had been round a loaf of sugar, and made a kind of halter; then summoning some of my school- fellows, we drove master Jack about the common until we hemmed him in an angle of a 'worm fence.' After some difficulty, we fixed the halter round his muzzle, and I mounted. Up flew his heels, away I went over his head, and off he scampered. How- ever, I was on my legs in a twinkling, gave chase, caught him, and remounted. By dint of repeated tumbles I soon learned to stick to his back, so that he could no more cast me than he could his own skin. From that time, master Jack and his com- panions had a scampering life of it, for. we all rode them between school hours, and on holiday afternoons; and you may be sure school-boys' nags are never permitted to suffer the grass to grow under their feet. They soon became so knowing, that they took to their heels at sight of a school-boy; and we were generally much longer in chasing than we were in riding them. "Sunday approached, on which I projected an equestrian cx- page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 262 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. cursion on one of these long-eared steeds. As I knew the jacks would be in great demand on Sunday morning, I secured one over night, and conducted him home, to be ready for an early outset. But where was I to quarter him for the night? I could not put him in the stable; our old black groom George was as absolute in that domain as Barbara was within doors, and would have thought his stable, his horses, and himself disgraced, by the introduc- tion of a jackass. I recollected the smoke-house; an out-building appended to all Virginian establishments for the smoking of hams, and other kinds of meat. So I got the key, put master Jack in, locked the door, returned the key to its place, and went to bed, intending to release my prisoner at an early hour, before any of the family were awake. I was so tired, however, by the exertions I had made in catching the donkey, that I fell into a sound sleep, and the morning broke without my waking. "Not so with dame Barbara, the housekeeper. As usual, to use her own phrase, 'she was up before the crow put his shoes on,' and bustled about to get things in order for breakfast. ' Her first resort was to the smoke-house. Scarce had she opened the door, when master Jack, tired of his confinement, and glad to be released from darkness, gave a loud bray, and rushed forth. Down drop- ped old Barbara; the animal trampled over her, and made off for the common. Poor Barbara! She had never before seen a don- key, and having read in the Bible that the Devil went about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he might devour, she took it for granted that this was Beelzebub himself. The kitchen was soon in a hubbub; the servants hurried to the spot. There lay old Barbara in fits; as fast as she got out of one, the thoughts of the Devil came over her, and she fell into another, for the good soul was devoutly superstitious EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 253 'As ill luck would have it, among those attracted by the noise, was a little cursed fidgetty, crabbed uncle of mine; one of those uneasy spirits that cannot rest quietly in their beds in the morning, but must be up early, to bother the household. He was only a kind of half uncle, after all, for he had married my father's sister; yet he assumed great authority on the strength of this left- handed relationship, and was a universal intermeddler, and family pest. This prying little busy-body soon ferreted out the truth of the story, and discovered, by hook and by crook, that I was at the bottom of the affair, and had locked up the donkey in the smoke-house. He stopped to inquire no farther, for he was one of those testy curmudgeons, with whom unlucky boys are always in the wrong. Leaving old Barbara to wrestle in imagination with the Devil, he made for my bed-chamber, where I still lay wrap- ped in rosy slumbers, little dreaming of the mischief I had done, and the storm about to break over me. "In an instant, I was awakened by a shower of thwacks, and startedup in wild amazement. I demanded the meaning of this attack, but received no other reply than that I had murdered the housekeeper; while my uncle continued whacking away during my confusion. I seized a poker, and put myself on the defensive. I was a stout boy foi my years, while my uncle was a little wiffet of a man; one that in Kentucky we would not call even an ' individ- ual;' nothing more than a 'remote circumstance.' I soon, therefore, brought him to a parley, and learned the whole extent of the charge brought against me. I confessed to the donkey and the smoke-house, but pleaded not guilty of the murder of the house- keeper. I soon found out that old Barbara was still alive. She continued under the doctor's hands, however, for several days; page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. and whenever she had an ill turn, my uncle would seek to give me another flogging. I appealed to my father, but got no redress. H was considered an ' unlucky boy,' prone to all kinds of mischief; so that prepossessions were against me, in all cases of appeal. ( I felt stung to the soul at all this. I had been beaten, de- graded, and treated with slighting when I complained. I lost my usual good spirits and good humor; and, being out of temper with every body, fancied every body out of temper with me. A certain wild, roving spirit of freedom, which I believe is as inherent in me as it is in the partridge, was brought into sudden activity by the checks and restraints I suffered. 'I'll go from home, thought I, 'and shift for myself.' Perhaps this notion was quickened by the rage for emigrating to Kentucky, which was at that time pre- valent in Virginia. I had heard such stories of the romantic beauties of the country; of the abundance of game of all kinds, and of the glorious independent life of the hunters who ranged its noble forests, and lived by the rifle, that I was as much agoo to get there, as boys who live in sea-ports are to launch themselves among the wdnders and adventures of the ocean. "After a time, old Barbara got better in mind and body, and matters were explained to her; and she became gradually con- vinced that it was not the Devil she had encountered. When she heard how harshy I had been treated on her account, the good old soul was extremely grieved, and spoke warmly to my father in my behalf. He had himself remarked the change in my be- havior, and thought punishment might have been carried too far. He sought, therefore, to have some conversation with me, and to soothe my feelings; but it was too late. I frankly told him the course of mortification that I had experienced, and the fixed de- termination I had made to go from home. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 255 "'And where do you mean to go?' "' To Kentucky.' ' To Kentucky! Why, you know nobody there.' "No matter: I can soon make acquaintances.' "'And what will you do when you get there?' "Hunt! ' "My father gave a long, low whistle, and looked in my face with a serio-comic expression. I was not far in my teens, and to talk of setting off alone for Kentucky, to turn hunter, seemed doubtless the idle prattle of a boy. He was little aware of the dogged resolution of my character; and his smile of incredulity but fixed me more obstinately in my purpose. I assured him I was serious in what I said, and would certainly set off for Ken- tucky in the spring. "Month after month passed away. My father now and then adverted slightly to what had passed between us; doubtless for the purpose of sounding me. I always expressed the same grave and fixed determination. By degrees he spoke to me more directly on the subject; endeavoring earnestly but kindly to dissuade me. My only reply was, 'I had made up my mind.' A"Accordingly, as soon as the spring had fairly opened, I sought him one day in his study, and informed him I was about to set out for Kentucky, and had come to take my leave. He made no objection, for he had exhausted persuasion and remon- strance, and doubtless thought it best to give way to my humor, trusting that a little rough experience would soon bring me home again. I asked money for my journey. He went to a chest, took out a long green silk purse, well filled, and laid it on the table. I now asked for a horse and servant. page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] r .Ar AtrjjNut 0F R1ALPH RINGWOOD. "A horse!' said my father, sneeringly: ' why, you would not go a mile without racing him, and breaking your neck; and as to a servant, you cannot take care of yourself, much less of him.' "' How am I to travel, then?' "'Why, I suppose you are man enough to travel on foot.' "He spoke jestingly, little thinking I would take him at his word; but I was thoroughly piqued in respect to my enterprise; so I pocketed the purse; went to my room, tied up three or four shirts in a pocket-handkerchief, put a dirk in my bosom, girt a couple of pistols round my waist, and felt like a knight-errant armed cap-A-pie, and ready to rove the world in quest of ad- ventures. "My sister (I had but one) hung round me and wept, and en- treated me'to stay. I felt my heart swell in my throat: but I gulped it back to its place, and straightened myself up: I would not suffer myself to cry. I at length disengaged myself from her, and got to the door. "' When will you come back?' cried she. ' Never, by heavens!' cried I, 'until I come back a member of Congress from Kentucky. I am determined to show that I am not the tail-end of the family.' "Such was my first outset from home. .You may suppose what a green-horn I was, and how little I knew of the world I was launching into. "I do not recollect any incident of importance, until I reached the borders of Pennsylvania. I had stopped at an inn to get some refreshment; as I was eating in a back-room, I overheard two men in the bar-room conjecture who and what I could be. One determined, at length, that I was a runaway apprentice, and EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 256 ought to be stopped, to which the other assented. When I had finished my meal, and paid for it, I went out at the back door, lest I should be stopped by my supervisors. Scorning, however, to steal off like a culprit, I walked round to the front of the house. One of the men advanced to the front door. He wore his hat on one side, and had a consequential air that nettled me. "' Where are you going, youngster? ' demanded he. "' That's none of your business!' replied I, rather pertly. "Yes, but it is though! You have run away from home, and must give an account of yourself.' "He advanced to seize me, when I drew forth a pistol. 'If you advance another step, I'll shoot you!' "He sprang back as if he had trodden upon a rattlesnake, and his hat fell off in the movement. "'Let him alone!' cried his companion; 'he's a foolish, mad-headed boy, and don't know what he's about. He'll shoot you, you may rely on it.' "He did not need any caution in the matter; he was afraid even to pick up'his hat: so I pushed forward on my way, without molestation. This incident, however, had its effect upon me. I became fearful of sleeping in any house at night, lest I should be stopped. I took my meals in the houses, in the course of the day, but would turn aside at night, into some wood or ravine, make a fire, and sleep before it. This I considered was true hunter's style, and I wished to inure myself to it. "At length I arrived at Brownsville, leg-weary and way-worn, and in a shabby plight, as you may suppose, having been 'camp- ing out' for some nights past. I applied at some of the inferior inns, but could gain no admission. I was regarded for a moment page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. with a dubious eye, and then informed they did not receive foot- passengers. At last I went boldly to the principal inn. The landlord appeared as unwilling as the rest to receive a vagrant -boy beneath his roof; but his wife interfered, in the midst of his excuses, and half elbowing him aside: "' Where are you going, my lad?' said she. "'To Kentucky.' "'What are you going there for?' "'To hunt.' "She looked earnestly at me for a moment or two. 'Have you a mother living?' said she, at length. "'No, madam : she has been dead for some time.' "'I thought so!' cried she, warmly. I knew if you had a mother living, you would not be here.' From that moment the good woman treated me with a mother's kindness. I remained several days beneath her roof, recovering from the fatigue of my journey. While here, I purchased a rifle, and practised daily at a mark, to prepare myself for a hunter's life. When sufficiently recruited in strength, I took leave of my kind host and hostess, and resumed my journey. "At Wheeling I embarked in a flat-bottome family boat, technically called a broad-horn, a prime river co eyance in those days. In this ark for two weeks I floated down he Ohio. The river was as yet in all its wild beauty. Its lojest trees had not been thinned out. The forest overhung te ater's edge, and was occasionally skirted by immense canebrakes. Wild animals of all kinds abounded. We heard them rushing through the thickets, and plashing in the water. Deer and bears would fre- quently swim across the river; others would come down to the EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 259 bank, and gaze at the boat as it passed. I was incessantly on the alert with my rifle; but somehow or other, the game was never within shot. Sometimes I got a chance to land and try my skill on shore. I shot squirrels, and small birds, and even wild turkeys; but though I caught glimpses of deer bounding away through the woods, I never could get a fair shot at them. "In this way we glided in our broad-horn past Cincinnati, the 'Queen of the West,' as she is now called; then a mere group of log cabins; and the site of the bustling city of Louisville, then designated by a solitary house. As I said before, the Ohio was as yet a wild river; all was forest, forest, forest! Near the confluence of Green River with the Ohio, I landed, bade adieu to the broad-horn, and struck for the interior of Kentucky. I had no precise plan; my only idea was to make for one of the wildest parts of the country. I had relatives in Lexington, and other settled places, to whom I thought it probable my father would write concerning me: so as I was full of manhood and indepen- dence, and resolutely bent on making my way in the world without assistance or control, I resolved to keep clear of them all. "In the course of my first day's trudge, I shot a wild turkey, and slung it on my back for provisions. The forest was open and clear from underwood. I saw deer in abundance, but always run- ning, running. It seemed to me as if these animals never stood still. "At length I came to where a' gang of half-starved wolves were feasting on the carcass of a deer which they had run down; and snarling and snapping, and fighting like so many dogs. They were all so ravenous and intent upon their prey, that they did not notice me, and I had time to make my observations. One, larger and fiercer than the rest, seemed to claim the larger share, and page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] Ou -EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. to keep the others in awe. If any one came too near him while eating, he would fly off, seize and shake him, and then return to his repast. 'This,' thought I, ' must be the captain; if I can kill him, I shall defeat the whole army.' I accordingly took aim, fired, and down dropped the old fellow. He might be only sham- ming dead; so I loaded and put a second ball through him. He never budged; all the rest ran off, and my victory was complete. "It would not be easy to describe my triumphant feelings on this great achievement. I marched on with renovated spirit; re- garding myself as absolute lord of the forest. As night drew near, I prepared for camping. My first care was to collect dry wood and make a roaring fire to nook and sleep by, and to frighten off wolves, and bears, and panthers. I then began to pluck my turkey for supper. I had camped out several times in the early part of my expedition i* but that was in comparatively more set- tled and civilized regions; where there were tno wild animals of consequence in the forest. This was my first camping out in the real wilderness; and I was soon made sensible of the loneliness and wildness of my situation. "In a little while, a concert of wolves commenced: there might have been a dozen or two, but it seemed to me as if there were thousands. I never heard such howling and whining. Having prepaWsd my turkey, I divided it into two parts, thrust two sticks into one of the halves, and planted them on end before the fire, the hunter's mode of roasting. The smell of roast meat quickened the appetites of the wolves, and their concert became truly infernal. They seemed to be all around me, but I could only now and then get a glimpse of one of them, as he came with- in the glare of the light. EXPERIE kNCE-S OF' RAALP H KlNiWUL. 261 "I did not much care for the wolves, who I knew to be a cowardly race, but I had heard terrible stories of panthers, and began to fear their stealthy prowlings in the surrounding dark- ness. I was thirsty, and heard a brook bubbling and tinkling along at no great distance, but absolutely daied not go there, lest some panther might lie in wait, and spring upon me. By and by a deer whistled. I had never heard one before, and thought it must be a panther. I now felt uneasy lest he might climb the trees, crawl along the branches over head, and plump down upon me; so I kept my eyes fixed on the branches, until my head ached. I more than once thought I saw fiery eyes glaring down from among the leaves. At length I thought of my supper, and turned to see if my half turkey was cooked. In crowding so near the fire, I had pressed the meat into the flames, and it was consumed. I had nothing to do but toast the other half, and take better care of it. On that half I made my supper, without salt or bread. I was still so possessed with the dread of pan- thers, that I could not close my eyes all night, but lay watching the trees until daybreak, when all my fears were dispelled with the darkness; and as I saw the morning sun sparkling down through the branches of the trees, I smiled to think how I suf- fered myself to be dismayed by sounds and shadows: but I was a young woodsman, and a stranger in Kentucky. "Having breakfasted on the remairder of my turkey, and slaked my thirst at the bubbling stream, without farther dread of panthers, I resumed my wayfaring witL buoyant feelings. I again saw deer, but as usual running, running! I tried in vain to get a shot at them, and began to fear I never should. I was gazing with vexation after a herd in full scamper, when I was page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. startled by a human voice. Turning round, I saw a man at a short distance from me, in a hunting-dress. "'What are you after, my lad?' cried he. "'Those deer;' replied I, pettishy; 'but it seems as if they never stand still.' "Upon that he burst out laughing. Where are you from?' said he. "'From Richmond.' "'What! In old Virginny?' "'The same.' "? And how on earth did you get here?' "'I landed at Green River from a broad-horn.' "'And where are your companions?' "'I have none." "'What?-all alone!' "' Yes.' "'Where are you going?' "' Any where.' "'And what have you come here for?' "' To hunt.' "'Well,' said he, laughingly, 'you'll make a real hunter; there's no mistaking that!' "' Have you killed any thing?' "'Nothing but a turkey; I can't get within shot of a deer: they are always running.' "'Oh, I'll tell you the secret of that. You're always push- ing forward, and starting the deer at a distance, and gazing at those that are scampering; but you must step as slow, and silent, and cautious as a cat, and keep your eyes close around you, and EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 263 lurk from tree to tree, if you wish to get a chance at deer. But come, go home with me. My name is Bill Smithers; .I live not far off: stay with me a little while, and I'll teach you how to hunt.' "I gladly accepted the invitation of honest Bill Smithers. We soon reached his habitation; a mere log hut, with a square hole for a window, and a chimney made of sticks and clay. Here he lived, with a wife and child. He had 'girdled' the trees for an acre or two around, preparatory to clearing a space for corn and potatoes. In the mean time he maintained his family entire- ly by his rifle, and I soon found him to be a first-rate huntsman. Under his tutelage I received my first effective lessons in' wood- craft.' "The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more. I relished it. The country, too, which had been the promised land of my boy- hood, did not, like most promised lands, disappoint me. No wilderness could be more beautiful than this part of Kentucky, in those times. The forests were open and spacious, with noble trees, some of which looked as if they had stood for centuries. There were beautiful prairies, too, diversified with groves and clumps of trees, which looked like vast parks, and in which you could see the deer running, at a great distance. In the proper season, these prairies would be covered in many places with wild strawherries, where your horse's hoofs would be dyed to the fet- lock. I thought there could not be another place in the world equal to Kentucky-and I think so still. After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smithers, I thought it time to shift my quarters, for his house was scarce large enough for his own family, and I had no idea of being an page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. encumbrance to any one. I accordingly made up my bundle, shouldered my rifle, took a friendly leave of Smithers and his wife, and set out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, one John Miller, who lived alone, nearly forty miles off, and who' I hoped would be well pleased to have a hunting companion. "I soon found out that one of the most important items in woodcraft, in a new country, was the skill to find one's way in the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests, but they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading in all directions. Some of these were made by the cattle of the settlers, and were called 'stock-tracks,' but others had been made by the immense droves of buffaloes which roamed about the country, from the flood until recent times. These were called buffalo-tracks, and traversed Kentucky from end to end, like highways. Traces of them may still be seen in uncultivated parts, or deeply worn in 'the rocks where they crossed the mountains. I was a young woodsman, and sorely puzzled to distinguish one kind of track from the other, or to make out my course through this tangled labyrinth. While thus perplexed, I heard a' distant roaring and rushing sound; a gloom stole over the forest: on looking up, when I could catch a stray glimpse of the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls, the lower part as black as ink. There was now and then an ex- plosion, like a burst of cannonry afar off, and the crash of a fall- ing tree. I had heard of hurricanes in the woods, and surmised that one was at hand. It soon came crashing its way; the forest writhing, and twisting, and groaning before it. The hurricane did not extend far on either side, but in a manner ploughed a fur- row through the woodland; snapping off or uprooting trees that had stood for centuries, and filling the air with whirling branches. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 26Q I was directly in its course, and took my stand behind an immense poplar, six feet in diameter. It bore for a time the full fury of the blast, but at length began to yield. Seeing it falling, I scrambled nimbly round the trunk like a squirrel. Down it went, bearing down another tree with it. I crept under the trunk as a shelter, and was protected from other trees which fell around me, but was sore all over, from the twigs and branches driven against me by the blast. "This was the only incident of consequence that occurred on my way to John Miller's, where I arrived on the following day, and was received by the veteran with the rough kindness of a back- woodsman. He was a grayhalred man, hardy and weather-beaten, with a blue wart, like a great bead, over one eye, whence he was nicknamed by the hunters, Blue-bead Miller.' He had been in these parts from the earliest settlements, and had signalized him- self in the hard conflicts with the Indians, which gained Kentucky the appellation of 'the Bloody Ground.' In one of these fights he had had an arm broken; in another he had narrowly escaped, when hotly pursued, by jumping from a precipice thirty feet high into a river. "Miller willingly received me into his house as an inmate, and seemed pleased with the idea of making a hunter of me. His dwelling was a small log-house, with a loft or garret of boards, so that there was ample room for both of us. Under his instruc- tion, I soon made a tolerable proficiency in hunting. My first exploit of any consequence was killing a bear. I was hunting in company with two brothers, when we came upon the track of Bruin, in a wood where there was an undergrowth of canes and grape-vines. He was scrambling up a tree, when I shot him 12 page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. through the breast: he fell to the ground, and lay motionless. The brothers sent in their dog, who seized the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one arm, and gave the dog a hug that crushed his ribs. One yell, and all was over. I don't know which was first dead, the dog or the bear. The two brothers sat down and cried like children over their unfortunate dog. Yet they were mere rough huntsmen almost as wild and untamable as Indians: but they were fine fellows. "IBy degrees I became known, and somewhat of a favorite among the hunters of the neighborhood; that is to say, men who lived within a circle of thirty or forty miles, and came occasional- ly to see John Miller, whho was a patriarch among them. They lived widely apart, in log-huts and wigwams, almost with the simplicity of Indians, and well-nigh as destitute of the comforts and inventions of civilized life. They seldom saw each other; weeks, and even months would elapse, without their visiting. When they did meet, it was very much after the manner of Indians; loitering about all day, withouthaving much to say, but becoming communicative as evening advanced, and sitting up half the night before the fire, telling hunting stories, and terrible tales of the fights of the Bloody Ground. "Sometimes several would join in a distant hunting expedi, tion or rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from November until April; during which we laid up our stock of sum; mer provisions. We shifted our hunting camps from place to place, according as we found the game. They were generally pitched near a run of water, and close by a canebrake, to screen us from the wind. One side of our lodge was open towards the fire. Our horses were hoppled and turned loose in the canebrakes, with EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 26' bells round their necks. One of the party staid at home-to watch the camp, prepare the meals, and keep off the wolves; the others hunted. When a hunter killed a deer at a distance from the camp, he would open it and take out the entrails; then climbing a sap- ling, he would bend it down, tie the deer to the top, and let it spring up again so as to suspend the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night he would return to the camp, and give an ac- count of his luck. The next morning early he would get a horse out of the canebrake and bring home his game. That day he would stay at home to cut up the carcass, while the others hunted. "Our days were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. It was ofly at night that we would gather together before the fire, and be sociable. I was a novice, and used to listen with open eyes and ears to the strange and wild stories told by the old hunters, and believed every thing I heard. Some of their stories bordered upon the supernatural. They believed that their rifles might be spellbound, so as not to be able to kill a buffalo, even' at arm's length. This superstition they had derived from the In- dians, who often think the white hunters have laid a spell upon their rifles. Miller partook of this superstition, and used to tell of his rifle's having a spell upon it; but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling way of accounting for a bad shot. If a hunter grossly missed his aim, he would ask, 'Who shot last with his rifle? '-and hint that he must have charmed it. The sure mode to disenchant the gun was to shoot a silver bullet out of it. "By the opening of spring we would generally have quantities of bear's meat and venison salted, dried, and smoked, and numer- ous packs of skins. We would then make the best of our way home from our distant hunting-grounds; transporting our spoils, page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. sometimes in canoes along the rivers, sometimes on horseback over land, and our return would often be celebrated by feasting and dancing, in true backwoods style. I have given you some idea of our hunting; let me now give you a sketch of our frolicking. "It was on our return from a winter's hunting in the neigh- borhood of Green River, when we received notice that there was to be a grand frolic at Bob Mosely's, to greet the hunters. This Bob Mosely was a prime fellow throughout the country. He was an indifferent hunter, it is true, and rather lazy, to boot; but then he could play the fiddle, and that was enough to make him of consequence. There was no other man within a hundred miles that could play the fiddle, so there was no having a regular frolic without Bob Mosely. The hunters, therefore, were always ready to give him a share of their game in exchange for his music, and Bob was always ready to get up a carousal, whenever there was a party returning from a hunting expedition. The present frolic was to take place at Bob Mosely's own house, which was on the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy, which is a branch of Rough Creek, which is a branch of Green River. ( Every body was agog for the revel at Bob Mosely's; and as all the fashion of the neighborhood was to be there, I thought I must brush up for the occasion. My leathern hunting-dress, which was the only one I had, was somewhat the worse for wear, it is true, and considerably japanned with blood and grease; but I was up to hunting expedients. Getting into a periogue, I paddled off to a part of the Green River where there was sand and clay, that might serv for soap; then taking off my dress, I scrubbed and scoured/ , until I thought it looked very well. I then put EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 269 it on the end of a stick, and hung it out of the periogue to dry, while I stretched myself very comfortably on the green bank of the river. Unluckily a flaw struck the periogue, and tipped over the stick: down went my dress to the bottom of the river, and I never saw it more. Here was I, left almost in a state of nature. I managed to make a kind of Robinson Crusoe garb of undressed skins, with the hair on, which enabled me to get home with de- cency; but my dream of gayety and fashion was at an end; for how could I think of figuring in high life at the Pigeon-Roost, equipped like a mere Orson? "Old Miller, who really began to take some pride in me, was confounded when he understood that I did not intend to go to Bob Mosely's; but when I told him my misfortune, and that I had no dress: 'By the powers,' cried he, but you shall go, and you shall be the best dressed and the best mounted lad there!' "He immediately set to work to cut out and make up a hunting-shirt, of dressed deer-skin, gaily fringed at the shoul- ders, and leggins of the same, fringed from hip to heel. Ile then made me a rakish raccoon-cap, with a flaunting tail to it; mounted me on his best horse; and I may say, without vanity, that I was one of the smartest fellows that figured on that occa- sion, at the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy. "It was no small occasion, either, let me tell you. Bob Mosely's house was a tolerably large bark shanty, with a clap- board roof; and there were assembled all the young hunters and pretty girls of the country, for many a mile round. The young men were in their best hunting-dresses, but not one could com- pare with mine; and my raccoon-cap, with its flowing tail, was the admiration of every body. The girls were mostly in doe- page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. skin dresses; for there was no spinning and weaving as yet in the woods; nor any need of it. I never saw girls that seemed to me better dressed; and I was somewhat of a judge, having seen fashions at Richmond. We had a hearty dinner, and a merry one; for there was Jemmy Kiel, famous for raccoon-hunt- ing, and Bob Tarleton, and Wesley Pigman, and Joe Taylor, and several other prime fellows for a frolic, that made all ring again, and laughed that you might have heard them a mile. "After dinner, we began dancing, and were hard at it, when, about three o'clock in the afternoon, there was a new arrival- the two daughters of old Simon Schultz; two young ladies that affected fashion and late hours. Their arrival had nearly put an end to all our merriment. I must go a little round about in my story, to explain to you how that happened. "As old Schultz, the father, was one day looking in the cane- brakes for his cattle, he came upon the track of horses. He knew they were none of his, and that none of his neighbors had horses about that place. They must be stray horses ; or must be- long to some traveller who had lost his way, as the track led no- where. He accordingly followed it up, until he camne to an unlucky peddler, with two or three packhorses, who had been bewildered among the cattle-tracks, and had wandered for two or three days among woods and canebrakes, until he was almost famished. "Old Schultz brought him to his house; fed him on veni; son, bear's meat, and hominy, and at the end of a week put him in prime condition. The peddler could not sufficiently express his thankfulness; and when about to depart, inquired what he had to pay? Old Schultz stepped back, with surprise. 'Stran- ger,' said he, 'you have been welcome under my roof. I've EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 271 given you nothing but wild meat and hominy, because I had no better, but have been glad of your company. You are welcome to stay as long as you please; but by Zounds! if any one offers to pay Simon Schultz for food, he affronts him!' So saying, he walked out in a huff. "The peddler admired the hospitality of his host, but could not reconcile it to his conscience to go away without making some recompense. There were honest Simon's two daughters, two strapping, red-haired girls. He opened his packs and dis- played riches before them of which they had no conception; for in those' days there were no country stores in those parts, with their artificial finery and trinketry ; and this was the first peddler that had wandered into that part of the wilderness. The girls were for a time completely dazzled, and knew not what to choose: but what caught their eyes most, were two looking-glasses, about the size of a dollar, set in gilt tin. They had never seen the like before, having used no other mirror than a pail of water. The peddler presented them these jewels, without the least hesi- tation: nay, he gallantly hung them round their necks by red ribbons, almost as fine as the glasses themselves. This done, he took his departure, leaving them as much astonished as two princesses in a fairy tale, that have received a magic gift from an enchanter. "t was with these looking-glasses, hung round their necks as lockets, by red ribbons, that old Schultz's daughters made their appearance at three o'clock in the afternoon, at the frolic at Bob Mosely's, on the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy. "By the powers, but it was an event I Such a thing had never before been seen in Kentucky. Bob Tarleton, a strapping page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] --*- - HW A. AILLX LXT TV UJl/. fellow, with a head like a chestnut-burr, and a look like a boar in an apple orchard, stepped up, caught hold of the looking-glass of one of the girls, and gazing at it for a moment, cried out: 'Joe Taylor, come here! come here! I'll be darn'd if Patty Schultz aint got a locket that you can see your face in, as clear as in a spring of water!' "In a twinkling all the young hunters gathered round old Schultz's daughters. I, who knew what looking-glasses -were, did not budge. Some of the girls who sat near me were exces- sively mortified at finding themselves thus deserted. I heard Peggy Pugh say to Sally Pigman, Goodness knows, it's well Schultz's daughters is got them things round their necks, for it's the first time the young men crowded round them!' "I saw immediately the danger of the case. We were a small community, and could not afford to be split up by feuds. So I stepped up to the girls, and whispered to them: 'Polly,' said I, I those lockets are powerful fine, and become you amaz- ingly; but you don't consider that the country is not advanced enough in these parts for such things. You and I understand these matters, but these people don't. Fine things like these may do very well in the old settlements, but they won't answer at the Pigeon-Roost Fork of the Muddy. You had better lay them aside for the present, or we shall have no peace.' "Polly and her sister luckily saw their error; they took off the lockets, laid them aside, and harmony was restored: other- wise, I verily believe there would have been an end of our com- munity. Indeed, notwithstanding the great sacrifice they made on this occasion, I do not think old Schultz's daughters were ever much liked afterwards among the young women. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 273 "This was the first time that looking-glasses were ever seen in the Green River part of Kentucky. "I had now lived some time with old Miller, and had become a tolerably expert hunter. Game, however, began to grow scarce. The buffalo had gathered together,tas if by universal understand- ing, and had crossed the Mississippi never to return. Strangers kept pouring into the country, clearing away the forests, and building in all directions. The hunters began to grow restive. Jemmy Kiel, the same of whom I have already spoken, for his skill in raccoon catching, came to me one day: 'I can't stand this any longer.' said he; 'we're getting too thick here. Simon Schultz crowds me so, that I have no comfort of my life.' "'Why, how you talk!' said I; 'Simon Schultz lives twelve miles off.' "' No matter; his cattle run with mine, and I've no idea of living where another man's cattle can run with mine. That's too close neighborhood; I want elbow-room. This country, too, is growing too poor to live in; there's no game: so two or three of us have made up our minds to follow the buffalo to the Missouri, and we should like to have you of the party.' Other hunters of my acquaintance talked in the same manner. This set me think- ing: but the more I thought, the more I was perplexed. I had no one to advise with: old Miller and his associates knew of but one mode of life, and I had no experience in any other: but I had a wider scope of thought. When out hunting alone, I used to forget the sport, and sit for hours together on the trunk of a tree, with rifle in hand, buried in thought, and debating with myself: 'Shall I go with Jemmy Kiel and his company, or shall I remain here? If I remain here, there will soon be nothing left to hunt. 12* I page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 274 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. But am I to be a hunter all my life? Have not I something more in me, than to be carrying a rifle on my shoulder, day after day, and dodging about after bears, and deer, and other brute beasts?' My vanity told me I had; and I called to mind my boyish boast to my sister, that I would never return home, until I returned a member of Congress from Kentucky; but was this the way to fit myself for such a station? "Various plans passed through my mind, but they were aban- doned almost as soon as formed. At length I determined on .be- coming a lawyer. True it is, I knew almost nothing. I had left school before I had learnt beyond the 'rule of three.' 'Never mind,' said I to myself, resolutely; 'I am a terrible fellow for hanging on to any thing, when I've once made up my mind; and if a man has but ordinary capacity, and will set to work with heart and soul, and stick to it, he can do almost any thing.' With this maxim,'which has been. pretty much my main stay through- out life, I fortified myself in my determination to attempt the law. But how was I to set about it? I must quit this forest life, and go to one or other of the towns, where I might be able to study, and to attend the courts. This too required funds. I examined into the state of my finances. The purse given me by my father had remained untouched, in the bottom of an old chest up in the loft, for money was scarcely needed in these parts. I had bargained away the skins acquired in hunting, for a horse and various other matters on which, in case of need, I could raise funds. I therefore thought I could make shift to maintain myself until I was fitted for the bar. "I informed my worthy host and patron, old Miller, of my plan. He shook his head at my turning my back upon the EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 2'76 woods, when I was in a fair way of making a first-rate hunter; but he made no effort to dissuade me. I accordingly set off in September, on horseback, intending to visit Lexington, Frank- fort, and other of the principal towns, in search of a favorable place to prosecute my studies. My choice was made sooner than I expected. I had put up one night at Bardstown, and found, on inquiry that I could get comfortable board and accommoda- tion in a private family for a dollar and a half a week. I liked the place, and resolved to look no farther. So the next morn- ing I prepared to turn my face homeward, and take my final leave of forest life. "I had taken my breakfast, and was waiting for my horse, when, in pacing up and down the piazza, I saw a young girl seated near a window, evidently a visitor. She was very pretty; with auburn hair, and blue eyes, and was dressed in white. I had seen nothing of the kind since I had left Richmond; and at that time I was too much of a boy to be much struck by female charms. She was so delicate and dainty-looking, so different from the hale, buxom, brown girls of the woods; and then her white dress!-it was perfectly dazzling! Never was poor youth more taken by surprise, and suddenly bewitched. My heart yearned to know her; but how was I to accost her? I had grown wild in the woods, and had none of the habitudes of polite life. Had she been like Peggy Pugh, or Sally Pigman, or any other of my leathern-dressed belles of the Pigeon-Roost, I should have approached her without dread; nay, had she been as fair as Schultz's daughters, with their looking-glass lockets, I should not have hesitated: but that white dress, and those auburn ring- lets, and blue eyes, and delicate looks, quite daunted, while they page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 276 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. fascinated me. I don't know what put it into my head, but I thought, all at once, that I would kiss her! It would take a long acquaintance to arrive at such a boon, but I might seize upon it by sheer robbery. Nobody knew me here. I would just step in, snatch a kiss, mount my horse, and ride off. She would not be the worse for it; and that kiss--oh! I should die if I did not get it! "I gave no time for the thought to cool, but entered the house, and stepped lightly into the room. She was seated with her back to the door, looking out at the window, and did not hear my approach. I tapped her chair, and as she turned and looked up, I snatched as sweet a kiss as ever was stolen, and vanished in a twinkling. The next moment I was on horseback, galloping homeward; my very ears tingling at what I had done. "On my return home, I sold my horse, and turned every thing to cash, and found, with the remains of the paternal purse, that I had nearly four hundred dollars; a little capital, which I resolved to manage with' the strictest economy. "It was hard parting with old Miller, who had been like a father to me: it cost me, too, something of a struggle to give up the free, independent wild-wood life I had hitherto led; but I had marked out my course, and have never been one to flinch or turn back. "I footed it sturdily to Bardstown; took possession of the quarters for which I had bargained, shut myself up, and set to work with might and main, to study. But what a task I had before me! I had every thing to learn; not merely law, but all the elementary branches of knowledge. I read and read, for sixteen hours out of the four-and-twenty; but the more I read, EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 2" the more I became aware of my own ignorance, and shed bitter tears over my deficiency. It seemed as if the wilderness of know- ledge expanded and grew more perplexed as I advanced. Every height gained, only revealed a wider region to be traversed, and yearly filled me with despair. I grew moody, silent, and unso- cial, but studied on doggedly and incessantly. The only person with whom I held any conversation, was the worthy man in whose house I was quartered. Hie was honest and well-meaning, but perfectly ignorant, and I believe would have liked me much better, if I had not been so much addicted to reading. He con- sidered all books filled with lies and impositions, and seldom could look into one, without finding something to rouse his spleen. Nothing puthim into a greater passion, than the asser- tion that theworld turned on its own axis every four-and-twenty hours. He swore it was an outrage upon common sense. 'Why, if it did,' said he, 'there would not be a drop of water in the well, by morning, and all the milk and cream in the dairy would be turned topsy-turvy!' And then to talk of the earth going round the sun! ' How do they know it? I've seen the sun rise every morning, and set every evening for more than thirty years. They must not talk to me about the earth's going round the sun! "At another time he was in a perfect fret at/ being told the distance between the sun and moon. 'How can any one tell the distance?' cried he. ' Who surveyed it? who carried the chain? By Jupiter! they only talk this way before me to annoy me. But then there's some people of 'sense who give in to this cursed humbug! There's Judge Broadnax, now, one of the best law- yers we have; isn't it surprising he should believe in such stuff? page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. Why, sir, the other day I heard him talk of the distance from a star he called Mars to the sun! He must have got it out of one or other of those confounded books he's so fond of reading; a book some impudent fellow has written, who knew nobody could swear the distance was more or less.' "For my own part, feeling my own deficiency in scientific lore, I never ventured to unsettle his conviction that the sun made his daily circuit round the earth; and for aught I said to the contrary, he lived and died in that belief. "I had been about a year at Bardstown, living thus stu- diously and reclusely, when, as I was one day walking the street, I met two young girls, in one of whom I immediately recalled the little beauty whom I had kissed so impudently. She blushed up to the eyes, and so did I; but we both passed on without far- ther sign of recognition. This second glimpse of her, however, caused an odd fluttering about my heart. I could not get her out of my thoughts for days. She quite interfered with my studies. I tried to think of her as a mere child, but it would not do: she had improved in beauty, and was tending toward womanhood; and then I myself was but little better than a stripling. However, I did not attempt to seek after her, or even to ,find out who she was, but returned doggedly to my books. By degrees she faded from my thoughts, or if she did cross them occasionally, it was only to increase my despondency; for I feared that with all my exertions, I should never be able to fit myself for the bar, or enable myself to support a wife. "One cold stormy evening I was seated, in dumpish mood, in the bar-room of the inn, looking into the fire, and turning over uncomfortable thoughts, when I was accosted by some one EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 279 who had entered the room without my perceiving it. I looked up, and saw before me a tall and, as I thought, pompous-looking man, arrayed in small-clothes and knee-buckles, with powdered head, and shoes nicely blacked and polished; a style of dress unparalleled in those days, in that rough country. I took a pique against him from the very portliness of his appearance, and stateliness of his manner, and bristled up as he accosted me. He demanded if my name was not Ringwood. "I was startled, for I supposed myself perfectly incog.; but I answered in the affirmative. "-Your family, I believe, lives in Richmond.' "My gorge began to rise. 'Yes, sir,' replied I, sulkily, 'my family does live in Richmond.' "'And what, may I ask, has brought you into this part of the country?' "' Zounds, sir!' cried I, starting on my feet, ' what business is it of yours? How dare you to question me in this manner?' "The entrance of some persons prevented a reply; but I walked up and down the bar-room, fuming with conscious inde- pendence and insulted dignity, while the pompous-looking per- sonage, who had thus trespassed upon my spleen, retired without, proffering another Word. "The next day, while seated in my room, some one tapped at the door, and, on being bid to enter, the stranger in the pow- dered head, small-clothes, and shining shoes and buckles, walked in with ceremonious courtesy. "My boyish pride was again in arms; but he subdued me. He was formal, but kind and friendly. He knew my family, and understood my situation, and the dogged struggle I was page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. ! making. A little conversation, when my jealous pride was once put to rest, drew every thing from me. He was a lawyer of ex- perience, and of extensive practice, and offered at once to take me with him, and direct my studies. The offer was too advan- tageous and gratifying not to be imimediately accepted. From that time I began to look up. I was put into a proper track, and was enabled to study to a proper purpose. I made ac- quaintance, too, with some of the young men of the place, who were in the same pursuit, and was encouraged at finding that I could 'hold my own' in argument with them. We instituted a debating club, in which I soon became prominent and popular. Men of talents, engaged in other pursuits, joined it, and this diversified our subjects, and put me on various tracks of inquiry. Ladies, too, attended some of our discussions, and this gave them a polite tone, and had an influence on the manners of the debaters. My legal patron also may have had a favorable effect in correcting any roughness contracted in my hunter's life. He was calculated to bend me in an opposite direction, for he was of the old school; quoted Chesterfield on all occasions, and talked of Sir Charles Grandison, wl1 was his beau-ideal. It was Sir Charles Grandison, however, Kentuckyized. "I had always been fond of female society. My experience, however, had hitherto been among the rough daughters of the back- woodsmen; and I felt an awe of young ladies in 'store clothes,' and delicately brought up. Two or three ofL4e married ladies of Bardstown, who had heard me at the debating club, deter- mined that I was a genius, and undertook to bring me out. I believe I really improved under their hands; became quiet where I had been shy or sulky, and easy where I had been impudent. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 281 "I called to take tea one evening with one of these ladies, when to my surprise, and somewhat to my confusion, I found with her the identical blue-eyed little beauty whom I had so audaciously kissed. I was formally introduced to her, but neither of us betrayed any sign of previous acquaintance, except by blushing to the eyes. While tea was getting ready, the lady of the house went out of the room to give some directions, and left us alone. "Heavens and earth, what a situation! I would have given all the pittance I was worth, to have been in the deepest dell of the forest. I felt the necessity of saying something in excuse of my former rudeness, but I could not conjure up an idea, nor utter a word. Every moment matters were growing worse I felt at one time tempted to do as I had done when I robbed her of the kiss: bolt from the room, and take to flight; but I was chained to the spot, for I really longed to gain her good will. "At length I plucked up courage, on seeing that she was equally confused with myself, and walking desperately up to her, I exclaimed: "' I have been trying to muster up something to say to you, but I cannot. I feel that I am in a horrible scrape. Do have pity on me, and help me out of it ' "A smile dimpled about her mouth, and played among the blushes of her cheek. She looked up with a shy but arch glance of the eye, that expressed a volume of comic recollection; we both broke into a laugh, and from that moment all went on well. "A few evenings afterward, I met her at a dance, and prose. cuted the acquaintance. I soon became deeply attached to her; paid my court regularly; and before I was nineteen years of page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. age, had engaged myself to marry her. I spoke to her mother, a widow lady, to ask her consent. She seemed to demur; upon which, with my customary haste, I told her there would be no use in opposing the match, for if her daughter chose to have me, I would take her, in defiance of her family, and the whole world. "She laughed, and told me I need not give myself any unea- siness; there would be no unreasonable opposition. She knew my family, and all about me. The only obstacle was, that I had no means of supporting a wife, and she had nothing to give with her daughter. "No matter; at that moment every thing was bright before me. I was in one of my sanguine moods. I feared nothing, doubted nothing. So it was agreed that I should prosecute my studies, obtain a license, and as soon as I should be fairly launched in business, we would be married. "I now prosecuted my studies with redoubled ardor, and was up to my ears in law, when I received a letter from my father, who had heard of me and my whereabouts. He applauded the coirse I had taken, but advised me to lay a foundation of general knowledge, and offered to defray my expenses,-if I would go to college. I felt the want of a general education, and was staggered with this offer. It militated somewhat against the self-dependent course I had so proudly, or rather conceitedly, marked out for myself, but it would enable me to enter more advantageously upon my legal career.' I talked'over the matter,/wth the lovely girl to whom I was engaged. She sided in opinion with my father, and talked so disinterestedly, yet tenderly, that if possible, I loved her more than ever. I reluctantly, therefore, agreed to go to college for a couple of years, though it must necessarily postpone our union. Y EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 288 "Scarcely had I formed this resolution, when her mother was taken ill, and died, leaving her without a protector. This again altered all my plans. I felt as if I could protect her. I gave up all idea of collegiate studies; persuaded myself that by dint of industry and application I might overcome the deficiencies of education, and resolved to take out a license as soon as possible. "That very autumn I was admitted to the bar, and within a month afterward, was married. We were a young couple; she not much above sixteen, I not quite twenty; and both almost *ith- out a dollar in the world. The establishment which we set up was suited to our circumstances: a log-house, with two small rooms; a bed, a table, a half dozen chairs, a half dozen knives and forks, a half dozen spoons; every thing by half dozens; a little delft ware; every thing in a small way: we were so poor, but then so happy! "We had not been married many days, when court was held at a county town, about twenty-five miles distant. It was neces- sary for me to go there, and put myself in the way of business: but how was I to go? I had expended all my means on our establishment ; and then, it was hard parting with my wife so soon after marriage. However, go I must. Money must be made, or we should soon have the wolf at the door. I accordingly bor- rowed a horse, and borrowed a little cash, and rode off from my door, leaving my wife standing at it, and waving her hand after me. Her last look, so sweet and beaming, went to my heart. I felt as if I could go through fire and water for her. "I arrived at the county town, on a cool October evening. The inn was crowded, for the court was to commence on the fol- lowing day. I knew no one, and wondered how I, a stranger, and page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. a mere youngster, was to make my way in such a crowd, and to get business. The public room was thronged with the idlers of the country, who gather together on such occasions. There was some drinking going forward, with much noise, and a little alter- cation. Just as I entered the room, I saw a rough bully of a fel- low, who was partly intoxicated, strike an old man. He came swaggering by me, and elbowed me as he passed. I immediately knocked him down, and kicked him into the street. I needed no better introduction. In a moment I had a dozen rough shakes of the hand, and invitations to drink, and found myself quite a personage in this rough assembly. ( The next morning the court opened. I took my seat among the lawyers, but felt as a mere spectator, not having a suit in pro- gress or prospect, nor having any idea where business was to come from. In the course of the morning, a man was put at the bar charged with passing counterfeit money, and was asked if he was ready for trial. He answered in the negative. He had been confined in a place where there were no lawyers, and had not had an opportunity of consilting any. He was told to choose coun- sel from the lawyers present, and to be ready for trial on the follow- ing day. He looked round the court, and selected me. I was thunderstruck. I could not tell why he should make such a choice. I, a beardless youngster; :unpractised at the bar; per- fectly unknown. I felt diffident yet delighted, and could have hugged the rascal. "Before leaving the court, he gave me one hundred dollars in a bag, as a retaining fee. I could scarcely believe my senses; it seemed like a dream. The heaviness of the fee spoke but lightly in favor of his innocence, but that was no affair of mine. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 285 I was to be advocate, not judge, nor jury. I followed him to jail, and learned from him all the particulars of his case: thence I went to the clerk's office, and took minutes of the in- dictment. I then examined the law on the subject, and pre- pared my brief in my room. All this occupied me until mid- night, when I went to bed, and tried to sleep. It was all in vain. Never in my life was I more wide awake. A host of thoughts and fancies kept rushing through my mind: the shower of gold that had so unexpectedly fallen into my lap; the idea of my poor little wife at home, that I was to astonish with my good fortune! But then the awful responsibility I had under- taken!-to speak for the first time in a strange court; the ex- pectations the culprit had evidently formed of my talents; all these, and a crowd of similar notions, kept whirling through my mind. I tossed about all night, fearing the morning would find me exhausted and incompetent; in a word, the day dawned on me, a miserable fellow! "I got up feverish and nervous. I walked out before break- fast, striving to collect my thoughts, and tranquillize my feelings. It was a bright morning; the air was pure and frosty. I bathed my forehead and my hands in a beautiful running stream; but I could not allay the fever heat that raged within. I returned to breakfast, but could not eat. A single cup of coffee formed my repast. It was time to go to court, and I went there with a throbbing heart. I believe if it had not been for the thoughts of my little wife, in her lonely log-house, I should have given back to the man his hundred dollars, and relinquished the cause. I took my seat, looking, I am convinced, more like a culprit than the rogue I was to defend. page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. "When the time came for me to speak, my heart died within o me. I rose embarrassed and dismayed, and stammered in open- ing my cause. I went on from bad to worse, and felt as if I was going down hill. Just then the public prosecutor, a man of tal- ents, but somewhat rough in his practice) made a sarcastic re- mark on something I had said. It was like an electric spark; and ran tingling through every vein in my body. In an instant my diffidence was gone. My whole spirit was in arms. I an- swered with promptness and bitterness, for I felt the cruelty of such an attack upon a novice in my situation. The public prose- cutor made a kind of apology; this, from a man of his redoubted powers, was a vast concession. I renewed my argument with a fearless glow; carried the case through triumphantly, and the man was acquitted. "This was the making of me. Every body was curious to know who this new lawyer was, that had thus suddenly risen among them, and bearded the attorney-general at the very outset. The story of my debut at the inn, on the preceding evening, when I had knocked down a bully, and kicked him out of doors, for striking an old man, was circulated, with favorable exaggerations. Even my very beardless chin and juvenile countenance were in my favor, for people gave me far more credit than I really deserved. The chance business which occurs in our country courts came thronging upon me. I was repeatedly employed in other causes; and by Saturday night, when the court closed, and I had paid my bill at the inn, I found myself with a hundred and fifty dollars in silver, three hundred dollars in notes, and a horse that I after- ward sold for two hundred dollars more. "Never did miser gloat on his money with more delight. I *. EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. 287 locked the door of my room; piled the money in a heap upon the table; walked round it; sat with my elbows on the table, and my chin upon my hands, and gazed upon it. Was I thinking of the money? No! I was thinking of my little wife at home. Another sleepless night ensued; but what a jight of golden fan- cies, and splendid air castles! As soon as morning dawned, I was up, mounted the borrowed horse with which I had come to court, and led the other, which I had received as a fee. All the way I was delighting myself with the thoughts of the surprise I had in store for my little wife; for both of us had expected nothing but that I should spend all the money I had borrowed, and should return in debt. "Our meeting was joyous, as you may suppose: but I played the part of the Indian hunter, who, when he returns from the chase, never for a time speaks of his success. She had prepared a snug little rustic meal for me, and while it was getting ready, I seated myself at an old-fashioned desk in one corner, and began to count over my money, and put it away. She came to me before I had finished, and asked who I had collected the money for, "'For myself, to be sure,' replied I, with affected coolness; I made it at court.' "She looked me for a moment in the face, incredulously. I tried to keep my countenance, and to play Indian, but it would not do. My muscles began to twitch; my feelings all at once gave way. I caught her in my arms; 4aughed, cried, and danced about the room, like a crazy man. From that time forward, we never wanted for money. "I had not been long in successful practice, when I was sur. page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD. prised one day by a visit from my woodland patron, old Miller. The tidings of my prosperity had reached him in the wilderness, and he had walked one hundred and fifty miles on foot to see me. By that time I had improved my domestic establishment, and had all things comfortable about me. He looked around him with a wondering eye, at what he considered .luxuries and superfluities; but supposed they were all right, in my altered circumstances. He said he did not know, upon the whole, but that I had acted for the best. It is true, if game had continued plenty, it would have been a folly for me to quit a hunter's life; but hunting was pretty nigh done up in Kentucky. The buffalo had gone to Mis- souri; the elk were nearly gone also; deer, too, were growing scarce; they might last out his time, as he was growing old, but they were not worth setting up life upon. He had once lived on the borders of Virginia. Game grew scarce there; he followed it up across Kentucky, and now it was again giving him the slip; but he was too old to follow it farther. "He remained with us three days. My wife did every thing in her power to make him comfortable; but at the end of that time, he said he must be off again to the woods. He was tired of the village, and of having so many people about him. He ac- cordingly returned to the wilderness, and to hunting life. But I fear he did not make a good end of it; for I understand that a few years before his death, he married Sukey Thomas, who lived at the White Oak Run." THE SEMNOLES. FROM the time of the chimerical cruisings of Old Ponce de Leon in search of the Fountain of Youth; the avaricious expedition of Pamphilo de Narvaez in quest of gold; and the chivalrous enter- prise of Hernando de Soto, to discover and conquer a second Mexi. co, the natives of Florida have been continually subjected to the in- vasions and encroachments of white men. They have resisted them pergeveringly but fruitlessly, and are now battling amidst swamps and morasses, for the last foothold of their native soil, with all the ferocity of despair. Can we wonder at the bitterness of a hostility that has been handed down from father to son, for up- ward of three centuries, and exasperated by the wrongs and mis- eries of each succeeding generation! The very name of the savages with whom we are fighting, betokens their fallen and homeless condition. Formed of the wrecks of once powerful tribes, and driven from their ancient seats of prosperity and do- minion, they are known by the name of the Seminoles, or "Wan- derers." Bartram, who travelled through Florida in the latter part of the last century, speaks of passing through a great extent of 13 page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 THE SEMNOLES. ancient Indian fields, now silent and deserted, overgrown with forests, orange groves, and rank vegetation, the site of the ancient Alachua, the capital of a famous and powerful tribe, who in days of old could assemble thousands at bull-play and other athletic exercises " over these then happy fields and green plains." "Al- most every step we take," adds he, "over these fertile heights, dis- covers the remains and traces of ancient human habitations and cultivation." We are told that about the year 1763, when Florida was ced- ed by the Spaniards to the English, the Indians generally re- tired from the towns and the neighborhood of the whites, and burying themselves in the deep forests, intricate swamps and hommocks, anm vast savannahs of the interior, devoted themselves to a pastoral life, and the rearing of horses and cattle. These are the people that received the name of the Seminoles, or Wan- derers, which they still retain. Bartram gives a pleasing picture of them at the time he visit- ed them in their wilderness; where their distance from the abodes of the white man gave them a transient quiet and security. "This handful of people," says he, "possesses a vast territory, all East and the greatest part of West Florida, which being natu- rally cut and divided into thousands of islets, knolls, and eminen- ces, by the innumerable rivers, lakes, swamps, vast savannahs, and ponds, form so many secure retreats and temporary dwelling. places that effectually guard them from any sudden invasions or attacks from their enemies; and being such a swampy, hommocky country, furnishes such a plenty and variety of supplies for the nourishment of varieties of aninmals, that I can venture to assert, that no part of the globe so abounds with wild game, or creatures fit for the food of man. THE SEMNOLES. 291 "Thus they enjoy a superabundance of the necessaries and conveniences of life, with the security of person and property, the two great concerns of mankind. The hides of deer, bears, tigers, and wolves, together with honey, wax, and other produc- tions of the country, purchase their clothing equipage, and domes- tic utensils from the whites. They seem to be free from want or desires. No cruel enemy to dread; nothing to give them dis- qui tude, but the gradual encroachments of the white people. Thu contented and undisturbed, they appear as blithe and free as the irds of the air, and like them as volatile and active, tuneful and vociferous. The visage, action, and deportment of the Semi- noles form the most striking picture of happiness in this life; joy, contentment, love, and friendship, without guile or affecta- tion, seem inherent in them, or predominant in their vital princi- ple, for it leaves them with but the last breath of life.... They are fond of games and gambling, and amuse themselves like children, in relating extravagant stories, to cause surprise and mirth.'" The same writer gives an engaging picture of his treatment by these savages: "Soon after entering the forests, we were met in the path by a small company of Indians, smiling and beckoning to us long before we joined them. This was a family of Talahasochte, who had been out on a hunt and were returning home loaded with barbacued meat, hides, and honey. Their company consisted of the man, his wife and children, well mounted on fine horses, with a number of pack-horses. The man offered us a fawn skin of honey, * Bartram's Travels in North America. page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 THE SEMNOLES. which I accepted, and at parting presented him with some fish. hooks, sewing-needles, etc. "On our return to camp in the evening, we were saluted by a party of young Indian warriors, who had pitched their tents on a green eminence near the lake, at a small distance from our camp, under a little grove of oaks and palms. This company consisted of seven young Seminoles, ander the conduct of a young prince or chief of Talahasochte, a town southward in the Isthmus. They were all dressed and painted with singular elegance, and richly ornamented With silver plates, chains, etc., after the Semi- nole mode, with waving plumes of feathers on their crests. On our coming up to them, they arose and shook hands; we alight- ed and sat a while with then by their cheerful fire. ' The young prince informed our chief that he was in pursuit of a young fellow who had ed om the town, carrying off with him one of his favorite young wives. He said, merrily, he would have the ears of both of them before he returned. He was rather above the middle stature, and the most perfect human figure I ever saw; of an amiable, engaging countenance, air, and deport- ment; free and familiar in conversation, yet retaining a becom- ing gracefulness and dignity. We arose, took leave of them, and crossed a little vale, covered with a charming green turf, already illuminated by the soft light of the full moon. "Soon after joining our companions at camp, our neighb6rs, the prince and his associates, paid us a vit . We treated them with the best fare we had,thaving till this time preserved our spirituous liquors. They left us with perfect cordiality and cheer- fulness, wishing us a good repose, and retired to their own camp. Having a band of music with them, consisting of a drum, flutes, , THE SEMNOLES. 293 and a rattle-gourd, they entertained us during the night with their music vocal and instrumental. "' There is a languishingsoftness and melancholy air in the In- dian convivial songs, especially of the amorous class, irresistibly moving attention, and exquisitely pleasing, especially in their solitary recesses, when all nature is silent." Travellers who have been among them, in more recent times, before they had embarked in their present desperate struggle, represent them in much the same light; as leading a pleasant, indolent life, in a climate that required little shelter or clothing, and where the spontaneous fruits of the earth furnished subsist. ence without toil. A cleanly race, delighting in bathing, pass- ing much of their time under the shade of their trees, with heaps of oranges and other fine fruits for their refreshment; talking, laughing, dancing and sleeping. Every chief had a fan hanging to his side, made of feathers of the wild turkey, the beautiful pink-colored crane, or the scarlet flamingo. With this he would sit and fan himself with great stateliness, while the young peo- ple danced before him. The women joined in the dances with the men, excepting the war-dances. They wore strings of tor- toise-shells and pebbles round their legs, which rattled in ca- dence to the music. They were treated with more attention among the Seminoles than among most Indian tribes. page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 294 THE SEMNOLES. ORIGIN OF THE WHTE, THE RED, AND THE BLACK MEN. A SEMNOLE TRADITION. When the Floridas were erected into a territory of the Uni- ted States, one of the earliest cares of the Governor, WILLIAM P. DUVAL, wa's directed to the instruction and civilization of the natives. For this purpose he called a meeting of the chiefs, in which he informed them of the wish of their Great Father at Washington that they should have schools and teachers among them, and that their children should be instructed like the chil- dren of white men. The chiefs listened with their customary silence and decorum to a long speech, setting forth the advanta- ges that would accrue to them from this measure, and when he had concluded, begged the interval of a'day to deliberate on it. On the following day, a solemn convocation was held, at which one of the chiefs addressed the governor in the name of all the rest. "My brother," said he, " we have been thinking over the proposition of our Great Father at Washington, to send teachers and set up schools among us. We are very thank- ful for the interest he takes in our welfare; but after much de- liberation, have concluded to decline his offer. What will do very well for white men, will not do for red men. I know you white men say we all come from the same father and mother, but you are mistaken. We have a tradition handed down from our forefathers, and we believe it, that the Great Spirit, when he un- dertook to make men, made the black man; it was his first at- tempt, and pretty well for a beginning; but he soon saw he had WHTE, RED, AND BLACK MEN. 295 bungled; so he determined to try his hand again. He did so, and made the red man. He liked him much better than the black man, but still he was not exactly what he wanted. So he tried once more, and made the white man; and then he was sat- isfied. You see, therefore, that you were made last, and that is the reason I call you my youngest brother. "When. the Great Spirit had made the three men, he called them together and showed them three boxes. The first was filled with books, and maps, and papers; the second with bows and arrows, knives and tomahawks; the third with spades, axes, hoes, and hammers. L These, my sons,' said he, are the means by which you are to live; choose among them according to your fancy.' ' The white man, being the favorite, had the first choice. He passed by the box of working-tools without notice; but when he came to the weapons for war and hunting, he stopped and looked hard at them. The red man trembled, for he had set his heart upon that box. The white man, however, after looking upon it for a moment, passed on, and chose the box of books and papers. The red man's turn came next; and you may be sure he seized with joy upon the bows and arrows, and tomahawks. As to the black man, he had no choice left, but to put up with the-box of tools. "From this it is clear that the Great Spirit intended the white man should learn to read and write; to understand all about the moon and stars; and to make every thing, even rum and whiskey. That the red man should be a first-rate hunter, and a mighty warrior, but he was not to learn any thing from books, as the Great Spirit had not given him any: nor was he to page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] II 296 THE SEMNOLES. make rum and whiskey, lest he should kill himself with drink- ing. As to the black man, as he had nothing but working-tools, it was clear he was to work for the white and red man, which he has continued to do. "We must go according to the wishes of the Great Spirit, or we shall get into trouble. To know how to read and write, is very good for white men, but very bad for red men. It makes white men better, but red men worse. Some of the Creeks and Cherokees learnt to read and write, and they are the greatest ras- cals among all the Indians. They went on to Washington, and said they were going to see their Great Father, to talk about the good of the nation. And when they got there, they all wrote upon a little piece of paper, without the nation at home know- ing any thing about it. And the first thing the nation at home knew of the matter, they were called together by the Indian agent, who showed them a little piece of paper, which he told them was a treaty, which. their brethren had made in their name, with their Great Father at Washington. And as they knew not what a treaty was, he held up the little piece of paper, and they looked under it, and lo! it covered a great extent of country, and they found that their brethren, by knowing how to read and write, had sold their houses, and their lands, and the graves kof their fathers; and that the white man, by knowing how to read and write, had gained them. Tell our Great Father at Wash- ington, therefore, that we are very sorry we cannot receive teach- ers among us; for reading and writing, though very good for white men, is very bad for Indians a CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATIILA. 297 THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMAT I LA. AN AUTHENTIC SKETCH. In the autumn of 1823, Governor DUVAL, and other commis- sioners on the part of the IJnited States, concluded a treaty with the chiefs and warriors of the Florida Indians, by which the lat- ter, for certain considerations, ceded all claims to the whole ter- ritory, excepting a district in the eastern part, to which they were to remove, and within which they were to reside for twenty years. Several of the chiefs signed the treaty with great reluc- tance; but none opposed it imore strongly than NEAMATHLA, prin- cipal chief of the Mickasookies, a fierce and warlike people, many of them Creeks by origin, who lived about the Mickasookie lake. ' Neamathla had always been active in those depredations on the frontiers of Georgia, which had brought vengeance and ruin on the Seminoles. He was a remarkable man; upward of sixty years of age, about six feet high, with a fine eye, and a strongly-marked countenance, over which he possessed great command. His hatred of the white men appeared to be mixed with contempt: on the common people he looked down with infi- nite scorn. He seemed unwilling to acknowledge any superiority of rank or dignity in Governor Duval, claiming to associate with him on terms of equality, as two great chieftains. Though he had been prevailed upon to sign the treaty, his heart revolted at it. In one of his frank conversations with Governor Duval, he observed: "This country belongs to the red man; and if I had the number of warriors at my command that this nation once 13. page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 THE SEMNOLES. had, I would not leave a white man on my lands. I would ex- terminate the whole. I can say this to you, for you can under- stand me: you are a man; but I would not say it to your peo- ple. They'd cry out I was a savage, and would take my life. They cannot appreciate the feelings of a man that loves his country." As Florida had but recently been erected into a territory, every thing as yet was in rude and simple style. The Governor, to make himself acquainted with the Indians, and to be near at hand to keep an eye upon them, fixed his residence at Tallahassee, near the Fowel towns, inhabited by the Mickasookies. His gov- ernment palace for a time was a mere log-house, and he lived on hunters' fare. The village of Neamathla was but about three miles off, and thither the governor occasionally rode, to visit the old chieftain. In one of these visits, he found Neamathla seated in his wigwam, in the centre of the village, surrounded by his warriors. The governor had brought him some liquor as a pres- ent, but it mounted ki'ily into his brain, and rendered him quite boastful and belligerent. The theme ever uppermost in his mind, was the treaty with the whites. "It was true," he said, " the red men had made such a treaty, but the white men had not acted up to it. 'The red men had received none of the money and the cattle that had been promised them; the treaty, therefore, was at an end, and they did not mean to be bound by it." Governor Duval calmly represented to him that the time ap- pointed in the treaty for the payment and delivery of the money and the cattle had not yet arrived. This the old chieftain knew full well, but he chose, for the moment, to pretend ignorance. p g CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATIILA 299 He kept on drinking and talking, his voice growing louder and louder, until it resounded all over the village. He held in his hand a long knife, with whh he had been rasping tobacco; this he kept flourishing backward and forward, as he talked, by way of giving -effect to his words, brandishing it at times within an inch ofthe governor's throat. He concluded his tirade by re- peating, that the country belonged to the red men, and that sooner than give it up, his bones and the bones of his people should bleach upon i:s soil. Duval knew that the object of all this bluster was to see whether he could be intimidated. He kept his eye, therefore, fixed steadily on the chief, and the moment he concluded with his menace, seized him by the bosom of his hunting-shirt, and a clinching his other fist: "I've heard what you have said," replied he. You have made a treaty, yet you say your bones shall bleach before you comply with it. As sure as there is a sun in heaven, your bones shallt bleach, if you do not fulfil every article of that treaty! I'll let you know that I am first here, and will see that you do your duty!" Upon this the old chieftain threw himself back, burst into a fit of laughing, and declared that all he had said was in joke. The governor suspected, however, that there was a grave mean- ing at the bottom of this jocularity. For two months, every thing went on smoothly: the Indians repaired daily to the log-cabin palace of the governor, at Talla- hassee, and appeared perfectly contented. All at once they ceased their visits, and for three or four days not one was to be seen. Governor Duval began to apprehend that some mischief page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 THE SEMNOLES. was brewing. On the evening of the fourth day, a chief named Yellow-Hair, a resolute, intelligent fellow, who had always evinced an attachment for the governor, entered his cabin, about twelve o'clock at night, and informed him, that between four and five hundred warriors, painted and decorated, were assembled to hold a secret war-talk at Nearathla's town. He had slipped off to give intelligence, at the risk of his life, and hastened back lest his absence should be discovered. Governor Duval passed an anxious night after this intelli- gence. He knew the talent and the daring character of Nea- mathla; he recollected the threats he had thrown out; he reflected that about eighty white families were scattered widely apart, over a great extent of country, and might be swept away at once, should the Indians, as he feared, determine to clear the country. That he did not exaggerate the dangers of the case, has been proved by the horrid scenes of Indian warfare which have since desolated that devoted region. After a night of sleepless cogi- tation Duval determined on a measure suited to his prompt and resolute character. Knowing the admiration of the savages for personal courage, he determined, by a sudden surprise, to en- deavor to overawe and check them. It was hazarding much; but where so many lives were in jeopardy, he felt bound to incui the hazard. Accordingly, on the next morning, he set off on horseback, attended merely by a white man, who had been reared among the Seminoles, and understood their language and manners, and who acted as interpreter. They struck into an Indian "trail," leading to Neamathla's vilage. After proceeding about half a mile, Governor Duval informed the interpreter of the object of CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA. 301 his expedition. The latter, though a bold man, paused and re- monstrated. The Indians among whom they were going were among the most desperate and discontented of the nation. Many of them were veteran warriors, impoverished and exasperated by defeat, and ready to set their lives at any hazard. He said that if they were holding a war council, it must be with desperate intent, and it would be certain death to intrude among them. Duval made light of his apprehensions: he said he was per- fectly well acquainted with the Indian character, and should certainly proceed. So saying, he rode on. When within half a mile of the village, the interpreter addressed him again, in such a tremulous tone, that Duval turned and looked him in the face. He was deadly pale, and once more urged the governor to return, as they would certainly be massacred if they proceeded. Duval repeated his determination to go on, but advised the other to return, lest his pale face should betray fear to the In- dians, and they might take advantage of it. The interpreter replied that he would rather die a thousand deaths, than have it said he had deserted his leader when in peril. Duval then told him he must translate faithfully all he should say to the Indians, without softening a word. The interpreter promised faithfully to do so, adding that he well knew, when they were once in the town, nothing but boldness could save them. They now rode into the village and advanced to the council- house. This was rather a group of four houses, forming a square, in the centre of which was a great council-fire. The houses were open in front, toward the fire, and closed in the rear. At each corner-of the square, there was an interval between the houses, for ingress and egress. In these houses sat the old men and the page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 302 THE SEMNOLES. chiefs; the young men were gathered round the fire. Neamathla presided at the council, elevated on a higher seat than the rest. Governor Duval entered by one of the corner intervals, and rode boldly into the centre of the square. The young men made way for him; an old man who was speaking, paused in the midst of his harangue. In an instant thirty or forty rifles were cocked and levelled. Never had Duval heard so loud a click of triggers; it seemed to strike to his heart. He gave one glance at the In- dians, and turned off with an air of contempt. He did not dare, he says, to look again, lest it might affect his nerves, and on the firmness of his nerves every thing depended. The chief threw up his arm. The rifles were lowered. Duval breathed more freely; he felt disposed to leap from his horse, but restrained himself, and dismounted leisurely. He then walked deliberately up to Neamathla, and demanded, in an authoritative tone, what were his motives for holding that council. The moment he made this demand, the orator sat down. The chief made no reply, but hung his head in apparent confusion. After a moment's pause, Duval proceeded: "I am well aware of the meaning of this war-council; and deem it my duty to warn you against prosecuting the schemes you have been devising. If a single hair of a white man in this country falls to the ground, I will hang you and your chiefs on the trees around your council-house! You cannot pretend to withstand the power of the white men. You are in the palm of the hand of your Great Father at Washington, who can crush you like an egg-shell! You may kill me; I am but one man; but recollect, white men are numerous as the leaves on the trees. Remember the fate of your warriors whose bones are whitening in battle-fields. Remember your wives and children who perished CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA. 303 in swamps. Do you want to provoke more hostilities? Another war with the white men, and there will not be a Seminole left to tell the story of his race." Seeing the effect of his words, he concluded by appointing a day for the Indians to meet him at St. Marks, and give an ac- count of their conduct. He then rode off, without giving them time to recover from their surprise. That night he rode forty miles to Apalachicola River, to the tribe of the same name, who were in feud with the Seminoles, They promptly put two hun- dred and fifty warriors at his disposal, whom he ordered to be at St. Marks at the appointed day. He sent out runners, also, and mustered one hundred of the militia to repair to the same place, together with a number of regulars from the army. All his ar- rangements were successful. Having taken these measures, he returned to Tallahassee, to the neighborhood of the conspirators, to show them that he was not afraid. Here he ascertained, through Yellow-Hair, that nine towns were disaffected, and had been concerned in the con- spiracy. He was careful to inform himself, from the same source, of the names of the warriors in each of those towns who were most popular, though poor, and destitute of rank and command. When the appointed day was at hand for the meeting at St. Marks, Governor Duval set off with Neamathla, who was at the head of eight or nine hundred warriors, but who feared to venture into the fort without him. As they entered the fort, and saw troops and militia drawn up there, and a force of Apalachicola soldiers stationed on the opposite bank of the river, they thought they were betrayed, and were about to fly; but Duval assured page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] 804 THEE SEMNOLES. them they were safe, and that when the talk was over, they might go home unmolested. A grand talk was now held, in which the late conspiracy was discussed. As he had foreseen. Neamathla and the other old chiefs threw all the blame upon the young men. "Well," replied Duval, "with us white men, when we find a man incom- petent to govern those under him, we put him down, and appoint another in his place. Now, as you all acknowledge you cannot manage your young men, we must put chiefs over them who can." So saying, he deposed Neainathla first; appointing another in his place; and so on with all the rest; taking care to sub- stitute the warriors who had been pointed out to him as poor and popular; putting medals round their necks, and investing them with great' ceremony. The Indians were surprised and delighted at finding the appointments fall upon the very men they would themselves have chosen, and hailed them with ac- clamations. The warriors thus unexpectedly elevated to com- mand, and clothed with dignity, were secured to the interests of the governor, and sure to keep an eye on the disaffected. As to the great chief Neamathla, he left the country in disgust, and returned to the Creek Nation, who elected him a chief of one of their towns. Thus by the resolute spirit and prompt sagacity of one man, a dangerous conspiracy was completely defeated. Governor Duval was afterwards enabled to remove the whole nation, through his own personal influence, without the aid of the General Government. NOTE.--The foregoing anecdotes concerning the Seminoles, were gathered in conversation with Governor Duval (the'original of Ralph Ringwood). THE COUNT VAN IIORN. DURING the minority of Louis XV., while the Duke of Orleans was Regent of France, i young Flemish nobleman, the Count Antoine Joseph Van Horn, made his sudden appearance in Paris, and by his clta racter, conduct, and the subsequent disas- ters in which he became involved, created a great sensation in the high circles of the proud aristocracy. He was about twenty- two years of age, tall, finely formed, with a pale, romantic coun- tenance, and eyes of remarkable brilliancy and wildness. He was one of the most ancient and highly-esteemed families of European nobility, being of the line of the Princes of IIorn and Overique, sovereign Counts of Hautekerke, and hereditary Grand Veneurs of the empire. The family took its name from the little town and seigneurie of Horn, inh Brabant; and was known as early as the eleventh century among the little dynasties of the Netherlands, and since that time, by a long line of illustrious generations. At the peace of Utrecht, when the Netherlands passed under subjection to Austria, the house of Van Horn came under the domination of the emperor. At the time we treat of, two of the branches page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 THE COUNT VAN HORN of this ancient house were extinct; the third and only surviving branch was represented by the reigning prince, Maximilian Emanuel Van Horn, twenty-four years of age, who resided in honorable and courtly style on his hereditary domains at Baus- signy, in the Netherlands, and his brother the Count Antoine Joseph, who is the subject of this memoir. The ancient house of Van Horn, by the intermarriage of its various branches with the noble families of the continent, had become widely connected and interwoven with the high aristoc- racy of Europe. The Count Antoine, therefore, could claim re- lationship to many of the proudest names in Paris. In fact, he was grandson, by the mother's side, of the Prince de Ligne, and even might boast of affinity to the Regent (the, Duke of Orleans) himself. There were circumstances, however, connected with his sudden appearance in Paris, and his previous story, that placed him in what is termed "-a false position; " a word of bale- ful significance in the fashionable vocabulary of France. The young Count had been a: captain in the service of Aus- tria, but had been cashiered for irregular conduct, and for disre- spect to Prince Louis of Baden, commander-in-chief. To check him in his wild career, and bring him to sober reflection, his brother the Prince caused him to be arrested, and sent to the old castle of Van Wert, in the domains of Horn. This was the same castle in which, in former times, John Van Horn, Stadt- holder of Gueldres, had imprisoned his father; a circumstance which has furnished Rembrandt with the subject of an admirable painting. The governor of the castle was one Van Wert, grand- son of the famous John Van Wert, the hero of many a popular song and legend. It was the intention of the Prince that his THE COUNT VAN HORN. 307 brother should be held in honorable durance, for his object was to sober and improve, not to punish and afflict him. Van Wert, however, was a stern, harsh man, of violent passions. He treated the youth in a manner that prisoners and offenders were treated in the strongholds of the robber counts of Germany, in old times; confined him in a dungeon, and inflicted on him sucli hardships and indignities, that the irritable temperament of the young count was roused to continual fury, which ended in in- sanity. For six months was the unforturnate youth kept in this horrible state, without his brother the Prince being informed of his melancholy condition, or of the cruel treatment to which he was subjected. At length, one day, in a paroxysm of frenzy, the Count knocked down two of his gaolers with a beetle, escaped from the castle of Van Wert, and eluded all pursuit; and after roving about in a state of distraction, made his way to Baus- signy, and appeared like a spectre before his brother. The Prince was shocked at his wretched, emaciated appear. ance, and his lamentable state of mental alienation. He re- ceived him with the most compassionate tenderness; lodged him in his own room; appointed three servants to attend and watch over him day and night; and endeavored, by the most soothing and affectionate assiduity, to atone for the past act of rigor with which he reproached himself. W'hen he learned, however, the manner in which his unfortunate brother had been treated in confinement, and the course of brutalities that had led to his mental malady, he was' aroused to indignation. His first step was to cashier Van Wert from his command. That violent man set the Prince at defiance, and attempted to maintain himself in his government and his castle, by instigating the peasants, for page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 THE COUNT VAN HORN. several leagues round, to revolt. His insurrection might have been formidable against the power of a petty prince; but he was put under the ban of the empire, and seized as a state prisoner. The memory of his grandfather, the oft-sung John Van Wert, alone saved him from a gibbet; but he was imprisoned in the strong tower of Horn-op-Zee. There he remained until he was eighty-two years of age, savage, violent, and unconquered to the last; for we are told that he never chased fighting and thump- ing, as long as he could close a fist or wield a cudgel. In the mean time, a course of kind and gentle treatment and wholesome regimen, and above all, the tender and affectionate assiduity of his brother, the Prince, produced the most salutary effects upon Count Antoine. He gradually recovered his rea- son; but a degree of violence seemed always lurking at the bot- tom of his character, and he required to be treated with the greatest caution and mildness, for the least contradiction exas- perated him. In this state of mental convalescence, he began to find the supervision and restraints of brotherly affection insupportable; so he left the Netherlands furtively, and repaired to Paris, whither, in fact, it is said he was called by motives of interest, to make arrangements concerning a valuable estate which he in- herited from his relative the Princess d'Epinay. On his arrival in Paris, he called upon the Marquis of Cre- qui, and other of the high nobility with whom he was connected. He was received with great courtesy; but, as he brought no let- ters from his elder brother, the Prince, and as various circunm- stances of his previous history had transpired, they did not re- ceive him into their families, nor introduce him to their ladies. i THE COUNT VAN HORN. 809 Still they feted him in bachelor style, gave him gay and elegant suppers at their separate apartments, and took hilm to their boxes at the theatres. He was often noticed, too, at the doors of the most fashionable churches, taking his stand among the young men of fashion ; and at such times, his tall, elegant figure, his pale but handsome countenance, and his flashing eyes, distin- guished him from among the crowd; and the ladies declared that it was almost impossible to support his ardent gaze. The Count did not afflict himself much at his limited circu- lation in the fastidious circles of the high aristocracy. He relished society of a wilder and less deremonious cast; and meeting with loose companions to his taste, soon ran into all the excesses of the capital, in that most licentious period. It is said that, in the course of his wild career, he had an intrigue with a lady of quality, a favorite of the Regent; that he was surprised by that prince in one of his interviews; that sharp words passed between them; and that the jealousy and ven- geance thus awakened, ended only with his life. About this time, the famous Mississippi scheme of Law was at its-height, or rather it began to threaten that disastrous ca- tastrophe which convulsed the whole financial world. Every effort was making to keep the bubble inflated. The vagrant population of France was swept off from the streets at night, and conveyed to Havre de Grace, to be shipped to the projected colonies; even laboring people and mechanics were thus crimped and spirited away. As Count Antoine was in the habit of sally- ing forth at night, in disguise, in pursuit of his pleasures, he came near being carried off by a gang of crimps; it seemed, in fact, as if they had been lying in wait for him, ps he had expe. page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 THE COUNT VAN HORN. rienced very rough treatment at their hands. Complaint was made of his case by his relation, the Marquis de Crequi, who took much interest in the youth; but the Marquis received mys- terious intimations not to interfere in the matter, but to advise the Count to quit Paris immediately: "If he lingers, he is 'lost!" . This has been cited as a proof that vengeance was dog- ging at the heels of the unfortunate youth, and- only watching for an opportunity to destroy him. Such opportunity occurred but too soon. Among the loose companions with whom the Count had become intimate, were two who lodged in the same hotel with him. One was a youth only twenty years of age, who passed himself off as the Cheva- lier d'Etampes, but whose real name was Lestang, the prodigal son of a Flemish banker. The other, named Laurent de Mille, a Piedmontese, was a cashiered captain, and at the time an esquire in the service of the dissolute Princess de Carignan, who kept gambling-tables in her palace. It is probable that gam- bling propensities had brought these young nmen together, and that their losses had driven them to desperate measures; cer- tain it is, that all Paris was suddenly astounded by a murder which they were said to have committed. What made the crime more startling, was, that it seemed connected with the great Mississippi scheme, at that time the fruitful source of all kinds of panics and agitations. A Jew, a stock-broker, who dealt largely in shares of the bank of Law, founded on the Mississippi scheme, was the victim. The story of his death is variously re- lated. The darkest account states, that the Jew was decoyed by these young men into an obscure tavern, under pretext of ne- gotiating with him for bank shares, to the amount of one hundred THE COUNT VAN HORN. 8" thousand crowns, which he had with him in his pocket-book. Lestang kept watch upon the stairs. The Count and De Mille entered with the Jew into a chamber. In a little while there were heard cries and struggles from within. A waiter passing by the room, looked in, and seeing the Jew weltering in his blood, shut the door again, double-locked it, and alarmed the house. Lestang rushed down stairs, made his way to the hotel, secured his most portable effects, and fled the country. The Count and De Mille endeavored to escape by the window, but were both taken, and conducted to prison. A circumstance which occurs in this part of the Count's story, seems to point him out as a fated man. His mother, and his brother, the Prince Van Horn, had received intelligence some time before at Baussigny, of the dissolute life the Count was leading at Paris, and of his losses at play. They despatched a gentleman of the Prince's household to Paris, to pay the debts of the Count, and persuade him to return to Flanders; or, if he should refuse, to obtain an order from the Regent for him to quit the capital. Unfortunately the gentleman did not arrive at Paris until the day after the murder. The news of the Count's arrest and imprisonment, on a charge of murder, caused a violent sensation among the high aristocracy. All those connected with him, who had treated him hitherto with indifference, found their dignity deeply in- volved in the question of his guilt or innocence. A general con- vocation was held at the hotel of the Marquis de Crequi, of all the relatives and allies of the house of Horn. It was an assem- blage of the most proud and aristocratic personages of Paris. Inquiries were made into the circumstances of the affair. It ; \ , l page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] 812 THE COUNT VAN HORN. was ascertained, beyond a doubt, that the Jew was dead, and that he had been killed by several stabs of a poniard. In escap- ing by the window, it was said that the Count had fallen, and been immediately taken; but that De Mille had fled through the streets, pursued by the populace, and had been arrested at some distance from the scene-of the murder; that the Count had declared himself innocent of the death of the Jew, and that he had risked his own life in endeavoring to protect him; but that De Mille on being brought back to the tavern, confessed to a plot to murder the broker, and rob him of his pocket-book, and inculpated the Count in the crime. Another version of the story was, that the Count Van Horn had deposited with the broker bank shares to the amount of eighty-eight thousand livres; that he had sought him in this tavern, which was one of his resorts, and had demanded the shares; that the Jew had denied the deposit; that a quarrel had ensued, in the course of which the Jew struck the Count in the face; that the latter, transported with rage, had snatched up a knife from a table, and wounded the Jew in the shoulder; and that thereupon De Mille, who was present, and who had likewise been defrauded by the broker, fell on him, and despatched him with blows of a poniard, and seized upon his pocket-book: that he had offered to divide the conents of the latter with the Count, pro rata, of what the usurer had defrauded them; that the latter had refused the proposition with disdain, and that, at a noise of persons approaching, both had attempted to escape from the pre- mises, but had been taken. Regard the story in any way they might, appearances were terribly against the Count, and the noble assemblage was in great 1THE COUNT VAN HORN. 318 consternation. What was to be done to ward off so foul a dis- grace and to save their illustrious escutcheons from this murder- ous stain of blood? Their first attempt was to prevent the affair from going to trial, and their relative from being dragged before a criminal tribunal, on so horrible and degrading a charge. They applied, therefore, to the Regent, to intervene his power; to treat the Count as having acted under an access of his mental malady; and to shut him up in i madhouse. The Regent was deaf to their solicitations. He replied, coldly, that if the Count was a madman, one could not get rid too quickly of madmen who were furious in their insanity. The crime was too public and atro- cious to be hushed up, or slurred over, justice must take its course. Seeing there was no avoiding the humiliating scene of a public trial, the noble relatives of the Count endeavored to predispose the minds of the magistrates before whom he was to be arraigned. They accordingly made urgent and eloquent representations of the high descent, and noble and powerful connections of the Count; set forth the circumstances of his early history; his mental mal- ady; the nervous irritability to which he was subject, and his ex- treme sensitiveness to insult or contradiction. By these means, they sought to prepare the judges to interpret every thing in favor of the Count, and, even if it should prove that he had inflicted the mortal blow on the usurer, to attribute it to access of insanity, provoked by insult. To give full effect to these representations, the noble conclave determined to bring upon the judges the dazzling rays of the whole assembled aristocracy. Accordingly, on the day that the trial took place, the relations of the Count, to the number of fifty-seven per- " page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 314 TEE COUNT VAN HORN. sons, of both sexes, and of the highest rank, repaired in a body to the Palace of Justice, and too]l their stations in a long corridor which led to the court-room. Here, as the judges entered, they had to pass in review this array of lofty and noble personages, who saluted them mournfully and significantly, as they passed. Any one conversant with the stately pride and jealous dignity of the French noblesse of that day, may imagine the extreme state of sensitiveness that produced this self-abasement. It was confi- dently presumed, however, by the noble suppliants, that having once brought themselves to this measure, their influence over the tribunal would be irresistible. There was one lady present, how- 'ever, Madame de Beauffremont, who was affected with the Scot- tish gift of second sight, and related such dismal and sinister ap- paritions as passing before her eyes, that many of her female companions were-filled with doleful presentiments. Unfortunately for the Count, there was another interest at work, more powerful even than the high aristocracy. The infa- mous but all-potent Abbe Dubois, the grand favorite and bosom counsellor of the Regent, was deeply interested in the scheme of Law, and the prosperity of his bank, and of course in the security of the stock-brokers. Indeed, the Regent himself is said to have dipped deep in the Mississippi scheme. Dubois and Law, there- fore, exerted their influence to the utmost to have the tragic affair pushed to the extremity of the law, and the murder of the broker punished in the most signal and appalling manner. Certain it is, the trial was neither long nor intricate. The Count and his fel- low-prisoner were equally inculpated in the crime, and both were condemned to a death the most horrible and ignominious-to be broken alive on the wheel! THE COUNT VAN HORN. 318 As soon as the sentence of the court was made public, all the nobility, in any degree related to the house of Van Horn, went into mourning. Another grand aristocratical assemblage was held, and a petition to the Regent, on behalf of the Count, was drawn out and left with the Marquis de COrequi for signature. This petition set forth the previous insanity of the Count, and showed that it was an hereditary malady in hisfamily. It stated various circumstances in mitigation of his offence, and implored that his sentence might be commuted to perpetual imprisonment. Upward of fifty names of the highest nobility, beginning with the Prince de, Ligne, and including cardinals, archbishops, dukes, marquises, etc. together with ladies of equal rank, were signed to this petition. By one of the caprices of human pride and vanity, it became an object of ambition to get enrolled among the illus- trious suppliants; a kind of testimonial of noble blood, to prove relationship to a murderer! The Marquis de Crequi was abso- lutely besieged by applicants to sign, and had to refer their claims to this singular honor, to the Prince de Ligne, the grand- father of the Count. Many who were excluded were highly in- censed, and numerous feuds took place. Nay, the affronts thus given to the morbid pride of some aristocratical families, passed from generation to generation; for, fifty years afterward, the Duchess of Mazarin complained of a slight which her father had received from the Marquis de Crequi; which proved to be some- thing connected with the signature of this petition. This important document being completed, the illustrious body of petitioners, male and female, on Saturday evening, the eve of Palm Sunday, repaired to the Palais Royal, the residence of the Regent, and were ushered, with great ceremony, but profound si- page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] 816 THE COUNT VAN HORN. lence, into his hall of council. They had appointed four of their number as deputies, to present the petition, viz.: the Cardinal de Rohan, the Duke de Havre, the Prince de Ligne, and the Marquis de Crequi. After a little while, the deputies were summoned to the cabinet of the Regent. They entered, leaving the assembled petitioners in a state of the greatest anxiety. As time slowly wore away, and the evening advanced, the gloom of the company increased. Several of the ladies prayed devoutly; the good Prin- cess of Armagnac told her beads. The petition was received by the Regent with a most unpro- pitious aspect. "' In asking the pardon of the criminal," said he, "you display more zeal for the house of Van Horni than fdr the service of the king." The noble deputies enforced the petition by every argument in their power. They supplicated the Regent to consider that the infamous punishment in question would reach not merely the person of the condemned, not merely the house of Van Horn, but also the genealogies of princely and illustrious families, in whose armorial bearings might be found quarterings of this dishonored name. "Gentlemen," replied the Regent, "it appears to me tl e dis- grace consists in the crime, rather than in the punishment.' The Prince de Ligne spoke with warmth: "I have in my genealogical standard," said he, " four escutcheons of Van Horn. and of course have four ancestors of that house. I must have them erased and effaced, and there would be so many blank spaces, like holes, in my heraldic ensigns. There is not a sovereign family which would not suffer, through the rigor of your Royal Highness; nay, all the world knows, that in the thirty-two quarterifgs of Madame, your Mother, there is an escutcheon of Van Horn." THE COUNT VAN I][ORN. 317 "Very well,"' replied the Regent, "I will share the disgrace with you, gentlemen." Seeing that a pardon could not be obtained, the Cardinal de Rohan and the Marquis de Cre'qui left the cabinet; but the Prince de Ligne and the Duke de Havre remained behind. The honor of their houses, more than the life of the unhappy Count, was the great object of their solicitude. They now endeavored to obtain a minor grace. They represented, that in the Nether- lands, and in Germany, there was an important difference in the public mind as to the mode of inflicting the punishment of death upon persons of quality. That decapitation had no influence on the fortunes of the family of the executed, but that the punish- ment of the wheel was such an infamy, that the uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters, of the criminal, and his whole family, for three succeeding generations, were excluded from all noble chap- ters, princely abbeys, sovereign bishoprics, and even Teutonic commanderies of the Order of Malta. They showed how this would operate immediately upon the fortunes of a sister of the Count, who was on the point of being received as a canoness into one of the noble chapters. While this scene was going on in the cabinet of the Regent, the illustrious assemblage of petitioners remained in the hall of council, in the most gloomy state of suspense. The reentrance from the cabinet of the -Cardinal de Rohan and the Marquis de Crequi, with pale downcast countenances, had struck a chill into every heart. Still they lingered until near midnight, to learn the result of the after application. At length the cabinet conference was at an end. The Regent came forth, and saluted the high personages of the assemblage in a courtly manner. One old lady I page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] 318 THE COUNT VAN HORN. of quality, Madame de Guyon, whom he had known in his infancy, he kissed on the cheek, calling her his " good aunt." He made a most ceremonious salutation to the stately Marchioness de Crlequi, telling her he was charmed to see her at the Palais Royal' a compliment very ill-timed," said the Marchioness, "considEring the circumstance which brought me there." He then conducted the ladies to the door of the second saloon, and there dismissed them, with the most ceremonious politeness. The application of the Prince de Ligne and the Duke de Havre, for a change of the mode of punishment, had, after much difficulty, been successful. The Regent had promised solemnly to send a letter of commutation to the attorney-general on Holy Monday the 25th of March, at five o'clock in the morning. Ac- cording to the same promise, a scaffold would be arranged in the cloister of the Conciergerie, or prison, where the Count would be beheaded on the same morning, immediately after having received absolution. This mitigation of the form of punishment gave but little consolation to the great body of petitioners, who had been anxious for the pardon of the youth: it was looked upon as all- important, however, by the Prince de Ligne, who, as has been before observed, was exquisitely alive to the dignity of his family. The Bishop of Bayeux and the Marquis de Crequi visited the unfortunate youth in prison. He had just received the communion in the chapel of the Conciergerie, and was kneeling before the altar, listening to a mass for the dead, which was performed at his request. He protested his innocence of any intention to mur- der the Jew, but did not deign to allude to the accusation of rob- bery. He made the Bishop and the Marquis promise to see his brother the Prince, and inform him of this his dying asseveration. THE COUNT VAN HORN. 319 Two other of his relations, the Prince Rebecq Montmorency and the Marshal Van Isenghien, visited him secretly, and offered him poison, as a means of evading the disgrace of a public execution. On his refusing to take it,*they left him with high indignation. "Miserable man!" said they, "you are fit only to perish by the hand of the executioner!" The Marquis de Crequi sought the executioner of Paris, to bespeak an easy and decent death for the unfortunate youth. "Do not make him suffer,: said he; " uncover no part of him but the neck; and have his body placed in a coffin before you deliver it to his family." The executioner promised all that was re- quested, but declined a rouleau of a hundred louis-d'ors which the Marquis would have put into his hand. "I am paid by the King for fulfilling my office," said he; and added, that he had already refused a like sum, offered by another relation of the Marquis. The Marquis de Crequi returned home in a state of deep af- fliction. There he found a letter from the Duke de St. Simon, the familiar friend of the Regent, repeating the promise of that Prince, that the punishment of the wheel should be commuted to decapitation. "Imagine," says, the Marchioness de Crequi, who in her memoirs gives a detailed account of this affair, " imagine what we experienced, and what was our astonishment, our grief, and indig- nation, when, on Tuesday the 26th of March, an hour after mid- day, word was brought us that the Count Van Horn had been exposed on the wheel, in the Place de Greve, since half-past six in the morning, on the same scaffold with the Piedmontese, De Mille, and that lbe had been tortured previous to execution!" One more scene of aristocratic pride closed this tragic story. page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] 320 THE COUNT VAN HORN. The Marquis de Crequi, on receiving this astounding news, imme- diately arrayed himself in the uniform of a general officer, with his cordon of nobility on the coat. He ordered six valets to at- tend him in grand livery, and two of his carriages, each with six horses, to be brought forth. In this sumptuous state, he set off for the Palace de Greve, where he had been preceded by the Princes de Ligne, de Rohan, de Croiy, and the Duke de Havre. The Count Van Horn was already dead, and it was believed that the executioner had had the charity to give him the coup de grace, or " death blow," at eight o'clock in the morning. At five o'clock in the evening, when the Judge Commissary left his post at the Hotel de Ville, these noblemen, with their own hands, aid- ed to detach the mutilated remains of their relation; the Marquis de Cr6qui placed them in one of his carriages, and bore them off to his hotel, to receive the last sad obsequies. The conduct of the Regent in this affair excited general indig. nation. His needless severity was attributed by some to vindic tive jealousy; by others to the persevering machinations of Law and the Abbe Dubois. The house of Van Horn, and the high nobility of Flanders and Germany, considered themselves flagrantly outraged; many schemes of vengeance were talked of, and a hatred engendered against the Regent, that followed him through life, and was wreaked with bitterness upon his memory after his death. The following letter is said to have been written to the Re. gent by the Prince Van Horn, to whom the former had adjudged the confiscated effects of the Count: "I do not complain, sir, of the death of my brother, but I complain that your Royal Highness has violated in his person the THE COUNT VAN HORN. 321 rights of the kingdom, the nobility, and the nation. I thank you for the confiscation of his effects; but I should think myself as much disgraced as he, should I accept any favor at your hands. I hope that God and the King may render to you as strict justice as you have rendered to my unfortunate brother." "* page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. "I have heard of spirits walking with aerial bodies, and have been wondered at by others; but I must only Wonder at myself, for, if they be not mad, I'me come to my own burialL" SHLE;Y'S "WITTY FAIRIE ONE." EVERY body has heard of the fate of DON JUAN, the famous liber- tine of Seville, who for his sins against the fair sex, and other minor peccadilloes, was hurried away to the infernal regions. His story has been illustrated in play, in pantomime, and farce, on every stage in Christendom, until at length it has been render- ed the theme of the opera of operas, and embalmed to endless duration in the glorious music of Mozart. I well recollect the effect of this story upon my feelings in my boyish days, though represented in grotesque pantomime; the awe with which I con- templated the monumental statue on horseback of the murdered commander, gleaming by pale moonlight in the convent cemetery: how my heart quaked as he bowed his marble head, and accepted the impious invitation of Don Juan: how each foot-fall of the statue smote upon my heart, as I heard it approach, step by step, through the echoing corridor, and beheld it enter, and advance, a moving figure of stone, to the supper table! But then the con- vivial scene in the charnel house, where Don Juan returned the visit of the statue; was offered a banquet of sculls and bones, DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. 323 and on refusing to partake, was hurled into a yawning gulf, under a tremendous shower of fire! These were accumulated horrors enough to shake the nerves of the most pantomime-loving school- boy. Many have supposed the story of Don Juan a mere fable. I myself thought so once; but " seeing is believing." I have since beheld the very scene where it took place, and now to in- dulge any doubt on the subject, would be preposterous. I was one night perambulating the streets of Seville, in com- pany with a Spanish friend, a curious investigator of the popular traditions and other good-for-nothing lore of the city, and who was kind enough to imagine he had met, in me, with a congenial spirit. In the course of our rambles, we were passing by a heavy dark gateway, opening into the court-yard of a convent, when he laid his hand upon my arm: "Stop!" said he; this is the con- vent of San Francisco; there is a story connected with it, which I am sure must be known to you. You cannot but have heard of Don Juan and the marble statue." "Undoubtedly," replied I; "it has been familiar to me from childhood." "Well, then, it was in the cemetery of this very convent that the events took place." "Why, you do not mean to say that the story is founded on fact?" "Undoubtedly it is. The circumstances of the case are said to have occurred during the reign of Alfonso XI. Don Juan was of the noble family of Tenorio, one of the most illustrious houses of Andalusia. His father, Don Di6go Tenorio, was a favorite of the king, and his family ranked among the veintecua- tros, or magistrates, of the city. Presuming on his high descent page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] 824 DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. and powerful connections, Don Juan set no bounds to his exces- ses: no female, high or low, was sacred from his pursuit; and he soon became the scandal of Seville. One of his most daring out- rages was, to penetrate by night into the palace of Don Gonzalo de Ulloa, Commander of the Order of Calatrava, and attempt to car- ry off his daughter. The household was alarmed; a scuffle in the dark took place; Don Juan escaped, but the unfortunate command- er was found weltering in his blood, and expired without being able to name his murderer. Suspicions attached to Don Juan; he did not stop to meet the investigations of justice and the ven- geance of the powerful family of Ulloa, but fled from Seville, and took refuge with his uncle, Don Pedro Tenorio, at that time am- bassador at the court of Naples. Here he remained until the agitation occasioned by the murder of Don Gonzalo had time to subside; and the scandal which the affair might cause to both the families of Ulloa and Tenorio had induced them to hush it up. Don Juan, however, continued his libertine career at Naples, until at length his excesses forfeited the protection of his uncle the ambassador, and obliged him again to flee. He had made his way back to Seville, trusting that his past misdeeds were for- gotten, or rather trusting to his dare-devil spirit and the power of his family, to carry him through all difficulties. "It was shortly after his return, and while in the height of his arrogance, that on visiting this very convent of Francisco, he beheld on a monument the equestrian statue of the murdered commander, who had been buried within the walls of this sacred edifice, where the family of Ulloa had a chapel. It was on this occasion that Don Juan, in a moment of impious levity, invited the statue to the banquet, the awful catastrophe of which has given such celebrity to his story." DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH .325 "And pray how much of this story," said I, " is believed in Seville?" ' The whole of it by the populace; with whom it has been a favorite tradition since time immemorial, and who crowd to the theatres to see it represented in dramas written long since by Tyrso de Molina, and another of our popular writers. Many in our higher ranks also, accustomed from childhood to this story, would feel somewhat indignant at hearing it treated with con- tempt. An attempt has been made to explain the whole, by as- serting that, to put an end to the extravagances of Don Juan, and to pacify the family of Ulloa, without exposing the delin- quent to the degrading penalties of justice, he was decoyed into this convent under false pretext, and either plunged into a per- petual dungeon, or privately hurried out of existence; while the story of the statue was circulated by the monks, to account for his sudden disappearance. The populace, however, are not to be cajoled out of a ghost story by any of these plausible explana- tions; and the marble statue still strides the stage, and Don Juan is still plunged into the infernal regions, as an awful warn- ing to all rake-helly youngsters, in like case offending." While my companion was relating these anecdotes, we had traversed the exterior court-yard of the convent, and made our way into a great interior court; partly surrounded by cloisters and dormitories, partly by chapels, and having a large fountain in the centre. The pile had evidently once been extensive and magnificent; but it was for the greater part in ruins. By the light of the stars, and of twinkling lamps placed here and there in the chapels and corridors, I could see that many of the columns and arches were broken; the walls were page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 826 DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. rent and riven; while burnt beams and rafters showed the de- structive effects of fire. The whole place had a desolate air; the night breeze rustled through grass and weeds flaunting out of the crevices of the walls, or from the shattered columns; the bat flitted about the vaulted passages, and the owl hooted from the ruined belfry. Never was any scene more completely fitted for a ghost story. While I was indulging in picturings of the fancy, proper to such a place, the deep chant of the monks from the convent church came swelling upon the ear. "It is the vesper service," said my companion; " follow me." Leading the way across the court of the cloisters, and through one or two ruined passages, he reached the portal of the church, and pushing open a wicket, cut in the folding-doors, we found ourselves in the deep arched vestibule of the sacred edifice. To our left was the choir, forming one end of the church, and having a low vaulted ceiling, which gave it the look of a cavern. About this were ranged the monks, seated on stools, and chanting from immense books placed on music stands, and having the notes scored in such gigantic characters as to be legible from every part of the choir. A few lights on these music stands dimly illumined the choir, gleamed on the shaven heads of the monks, and threw their shadows on the walls. -They were gross, blue-bearded. bul- let-headed men, with bass voices, of deep metallic tone, that rever- berated out of the cavernous choir. To our right extended the great body of the church. It was spacious and lofty; some of the side chapels had gilded grates, and were decorated with images and paintings, representing the sufferings of our Saviour. Aloft was a great painting by Murillo, DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCIL 827 but too much in the dark to be distinguished. The gloom of the whole church was but faintly relieved by the reflected light from the choir, and the glimmering here and there of a votive lamp before the shrine of the saint. As my eye roamed about the shadowy pile, it was struck with the dimly seen figure of a man on horseback, near a distant altar. I touched my companion, and pointed to it: "The spectre statue!" said I. "No," replied he; "it is the statue of the blessed St. Iago; the statue of the commander was in the cemetery of the convent, and was destroyed at the time of the conflagration. -But," added he, "as I see you take a proper interest in these kind of stories, come with me to the other end of the church, where our whisper- ings will not disturb these holy fathers at their devotions, and I will tell you another story, that has been current for some gener- ations in our city, by which you will find that Don Juan is not the only libertine that has been the object of supernatural casti- gation in Seville." I accordingly followed him with noiseless tread to the farther part of the church, where we took our seats on the steps of an altar opposite to the suspicious-looking figure on horseback, and there, in a low mysterious voice, he related to me the following narrative:- "There was once in Seville a gay young fellow, Don Manuel de Manara by name, who having come to a great estate by the death of his father, gave the reins to his passions, and plunged into all kinds of dissipation. Like Don Juan, whom ho seemed to have taken for a model, he became famous for his enterprises page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] 328 DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. among the fair sex, and was the cause of doors being barred and windows grated with more than usual strictness. All in vain. No balcony was too high for him to scale: no bolt nor bar was proof against his efforts: and his very name was a word of terror to all the jealous husbands and cautious fathers of Seville. His exploits extended to country as well as city; and in the village dependent on his castle, scarce a rural beauty was safe from his I arts and enterprises. "As he was one day ranging the streets of Seville, with sever- al of his dissolute companions, he beheld a procession, about to enter the gate of a convent. In the centre was a young female, arrayed in the dress of a bride; it was a novice, who, having ac- complished her year of probation, was about to take the black veil, and consecrate herself to heaven. The companions of Don Man- uel drew back, out of respect to the sacred pageant; but he pressed forward, with his usual impetuosity, to gain a near view of the novice. He almost jostled her, in passing through the portal of the church, when, on her turning round, he beheld the counte- nance of a beautiful village girl, who had been the object of his ardent pursuit, but who had been spirited secretly out of his reach by her relatives. She recognized him at the same moment, and fainted: but was borne within the grate of the chapel. It was supposed the agitation of the ceremony and the heat of the throng had overcome her. After some time, the curtain which hung within the grate was drawn up: there stood the novice, pale and trembling, surrounded by the abbess and the nuns. The ceremony proceeded; the crown of flowers was taken from her head; she was shorn of her silken tresses, received the black veil, and went passively through the remainder of the ceremony. DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH 329 "Don Manuel de Manara, on the contrary, was roused to fury at the sight of this sacrifice. His passion, which had almost faded away in the absence of the object, now glowed with tenfold ardor, being inflamed by the difficulties placed in his way, and piqued by the measures which had been taken to defeat him. Never had the object of his pursuit appeared so lovely and desirable as when within the grate of the convent; and he swore to have her, in de- fiance of heaven and earth. By dint of bribing a female servant of the convent, he contrived to convey letters to her, pleading his passion in the most eloquent and seductive terms. How success- ful they were, is only matter of conjecture; certain it is, he under- took one night to scale the garden wall of the convent, either to carry off the nun, or gain admission to her cell. Just as he was mounting the wall, he was suddenly plucked back, and a stranger, muffled in a cloak, stood before him. "'Rash man, forbear! ' cried he: is it not enough to have violated all human ties? Wouldst thou steal a bride from heaven I "The sword of Don Manuel had been drawn on the instant, and furious at this interruption, he passed it through the body of the stranger, who fell dead at his feet. Hearing approaching foot- steps, he fled the fatal spot, and mounting his horse, which was at hand, retreated to his estate in the country, at no great distance from Seville. Here he remained throughout the next day, full of horror and remorse; dreading lest he should be known as the murderer of the deceased, and fearing each moment the arrival of the officers of justice. "The day passed, however, without molestation; and, as the evening advanced, unable any longer to endure this state of uncer- page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 830 DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. tainty and apprehension, he ventured back to Seville. Irresisti- bly his footsteps took the direction of the convent; but he paused and hovered at a distance from the scene of blood. Several persons were gathered round the place, one of whom was busy nailing something against the convent wall. After a while they dispers- ed, and one passed near to Don Manuel. The latter addressed him, with hesitating voice. "' Senor,' said he, 'may I ask the reason of yonder throng?' "'A cavalier,' replied the other, 'has been murdered.' "' Murdered!' echoed Don Manuel; ' and can you tell me his name?' "' Don Manuel de Manara,' replied the stranger, and passed on. "Don Manuel was startled at this mention of his own name; especially when applied to the murdered man. He ventured, when it was entirely deserted, to approach the fatal spot. A small cross had been nailed against the wall, as is customary in Spain, to mark the place where a murder has been committed; and just below it he read, by the twinkling light of a lamp; 'Here was murdered Don Manuel de Manara. Pray to God for his soul! "Still more confounded and perplexed by this inscription, he wandered about the-streets until the night was far advanced, and all was still and lonely. As he entered the principal square, the light of torches suddenly broke on him, and he beheld a grand funeral procession moving across it. There was a great train of priests, and many persons of dignified appearance, in ancient Spanish dresses, attending as mourners, none of whom he knew. Accosting a servant who followed in the train, he demanded the name of the defunct. "'Don Manuel de Manara,' was the reply; and it went cold DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. 331 to his heart. He looked, and indeed beheld the armoriaj bearings of his family emblazoned on the funeral escutcheons. Yet not one of his family was to be seen among the mourners. The mystery was more and more incomprehensible. "He followed the procession as it moved on to the cathedral. The bier was deposited before the high altar; the funeral service was commenced, and the grand organ began to peal through the vaulted aisles. "Again the youth ventured to question this awful pageant. ' Father,' said he, with trembling voice, to one of the priests, 'who is this you are about to inter?' "'Don Manuel de Manara! ' replied the priest. ' Father,' cried Don Manuel, impatiently, 'you are deceived. This is some imposture. Know that Don Manuel de Manara is alive and well, and now stands before you. I am Don Manuel de Manara!' "'Avaunt, rash youth!' cried the priest; 'know that Don Manuel de Manara is dead!-is dead!-is dead! and we are all souls from purgatory, his deceased relatives and ancestors, and others that have been aided by masses from his family, who are permitted to come here and pray for the repose of his soul! ' "Don Manuel cast round a fearful glance upon the assemblage, in antiquated Spanish garbs, and recognized in their pale and ghastly countenances the portraits of many an ancestor that hung in the family picture-gallery. He now lost all self command, rushed up to the bier, and beheld the counterpart of himself, but in the fixed and livid lineaments of death. Just at that moment the whole choir burst forth with a ' Requiescat in pace,' that shook the vaults of the cathedral. Don Manuel sank senseless on the pavement. He was found there early the next morning by the page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] 332 DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. sacristan, and conveyed to his home. When sufficiently recovered, he sent for a friar, and made a full confession of all that had happened. "'My son,' said the friar, 'all this is a miracle and a mystery, intended for thy conversion and salvation. The corpse thou hast seen was a token that thou hadst died to sin and the world; take warning by it, and henceforth live to righteousness and heaven! ' "Don Manuel did take warning by it. Guided by the councils of the worthy friar, he disposed of all his temporal affairs; dedi- cated the greater part of his Walth to pious uses, especially to the performance of masses for souls in purgatory; and finally, enter- ing a convent, became one of the most zealous and exemplary monks in Seville. While my companion was relating this story, my eyes wander- ed, from time to time, about the dusky church. Methought the burly countenances of the monks in the distant choir assumed a pallid, ghastly hue, and their deep metallic voices a sepulchral sound. By the time the story was ended, they had ended their chant; and, extinguishing their lights, glided one by one, like shadows, through a small door in the side of the choir. A deeper gloom prevailed over the church; the figure opposite me on horse- back grew more and more spectral; and I almost expected-to see it bow its head. It is time to be off," said my companion, unless we intend to sup with the statue." "I have no relish for such fare nor such company," replied I; and following my companion, we groped our way through the mouldering cloisters. As we passed by the ruined ct netery, DON JUAN: A SPECTRAL RESEARCH. 333 keeping up a casual conversation, by way of dispelling the loneli- ness of the scene, I called to mind the words of the poet: "The tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart! Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; Nay, speak-and let me hear thy voice; Mine own affrights me-with its echoes." There wanted nothing but the marble statue of the commander, striding along the echoing cloisters, to complete the haunted scene. Since that time, I never fail to attend the theatre' whenever the story of Don Juan is represented, whether in pantomime or opera. In the sepulchral scene, I feel myself quite at home; and when the statue makes his appearance, I greet him as an old acquaintance. When the audience applaud, I look round upon them with a egree of compassion; "Poor souls!"I say to myself, "they thin they are pleased; they think they enjoy this piece, and yet they consider the whole as a fiction! How much more would they enjoy it, if, like me, they knew it to be true-and had seen the very place / " / page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] "EGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT. AT the dark and melancholy period when Don Roderick the Goth and his chivalry were overthrown on the banks of the Gua- dalete, and all Spain was overrun by the Moors, great was the devastation of churches and convents throughout that pious king- dom. The miraculous fate of one of those holy piles is thus re- corded in an authentic legend of those days. On the summit of a hill, not very distant from the capital city of Toledo, stood an ancient convent and chapel, dedicated to the invocation of Saint Benedict, and inhabited by a sisterhood of Benedictine nuns. This holy asylum was confined to females of noble lineage. The younger sisters of the highest families were here given in religious marriage to their Saviour, in order that the portions of their elder sisters might be increased, and they enabled to make suitable matches on earth; or that the family wealth might go undivided to elder brothers, and the dignity of their ancient houses be protected from decay. The convent was renowned, therefore, for enshrining within its walls a sisterhood of the purest blood, the most immaculate virtue, and most re- splendent beauty, of all Gothic Spain. "EGEND OF THE ENGJUPHED CONVENT. 335 When the Moors overran the kingdom, there was nothing that more excited their hostility, than these virgin asylums. The very sight of a convent-spire was sufficient to set their Moslem blood in a foment, and they sacked it with as fierce a zeal as though the sacking of a nunnery were a sure passport to Elysium. Tidings of such outrages, committed in various parts of the kingdom, reached this noble sanctuary, and filled it with dismay. The danger came nearer and nearer; the infidel hosts were spread- ing all over the country; Toledo itself was captured; there was no flying from the convent, and no security within its walls. In the midst of this agitation, the alarm was given one day, that a great band of Saracens were spurring across the plain. In an instant the whole conveqt was a scene of confusion. Some of the nuns wrung their fair hands at the windows; others waved their veils, and uttered shrieks, from the tops of the towers, vainly hoping to draw relief from a country overrun by the foe. The sight of these innocent doves thus fluttering about their dove-cote, but increased the zealot fury of the whiskered Moors. They thun- dered at the portal, and at every blow the ponderous gates trem- bled on their hinges. The nuns now crowded round the abbess. They had been ac- customed to look up to her as all-powerful, and they now implored her protection. The mother abbess looked with a rueful eye upon the treasures of beauty and vestal virtue exposed to such immi- nent peril. Alas! how was she to protect them from the spoiler! She had, it is true, experienced many signal interpositions of Providence in her individual favor. Her early days had been passed amid the temptations of a court, where her virtue had been purified by repeated trials, from none of which had she es- page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] 836 LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT. caped but by miracle. But were miracles never to cease? Could she hope that the marvellous protection shown to herself, would be extended to a whole sisterhood? There was no other resource. The Moors were at the threshold; a few moments more, and the convent would be at their mercy. Summoning her nuns to follow her, she hurried into the chapel, and throwing herself on her knees before the image of the blessed Mary, ' Oh, holy Lady!" exclaimed she, "oh, most pure and immaculate of virgins 'thou seest our extremity. The ravager is at the gate, and there is none on earth to help us! Look down with pity, and grant that the earth may gape and swallow us, rather than that our cloister vows should suffer violation!" The Moors redoubled their assault upon the portal; the gates gave way, with a tremendous crash; a savage yell of exultation arose; when of a sudden the earth yawned; down sank the con- vent, with its cloisters, its dormitories, and all its nuns. The chapel tower was the last that sank, the bell ringing forth a peal of triumph in the very teeth of the infidels. Forty years had passed and gone, since the period of this miracle. The subjugation of Spain was complete. The Moors lorded it over city and country; and such of the Christian popu- lation as remained, and were permitted to exercise their religion, did it in humble resignation to the Moslem sway. At this time, a Christian cavalier, of Cordova, hearing that a patriotic band of his countrymen had raised the standard of the cross in the mountains of the Asturias, resolved to join them, and unite in breaking the yoke of bondage. Secretly "EGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT. 337 arming himself, and caparisoning his steed, he set forth from Cordova, and pursued his course by unfrequented mule-paths, and along the dry channels made by winter torrents. His spirit burned with indignation, whenever, on commanding a view over a long sweeping plain, he beheld the mosque swelling in the dis- tance, and the Arab horsemen careering about, as if the rightful lords of the soil. Many a deep-drawn sigh, and heavy groan, also, aid the good cavalier utter, on passing the ruins of churches and convents desolated by the conquerors. It was on a sultry midsummer evening, that this wandering cavalier, in skirting a hill thickly covered with forest, heard the faint tones of a vesper bell sounding melodiously in the air, and seeming to come from the summit of the hill. The cavalier crossed himself with wonder, at this unwonted and Christian sound. He supposed it to proceed from one of those humble chapels and hermitages permitted to exist through the indul- gence of the Moslem conquerors. Turning his steed up a nar. row path of the forest, he sought this sanctuary, in hopes of finding a hospitable shelter for the night. As he. advanced, the trees threw a deep gloom around him, and the. bat flitted across his path. The bell ceased to toll, and all was silence. Presently a choir of female voices came stealing sweetly through the forest, chanting the evening service, to the solemn accompaniment of an organ. The heart of the good cavalier melted at the sound, for it recalled the happier days of his coun- try. Urging forward his weary steed, he at length arrived at a broad grassy area, on the summit of the hill, surrounded by the forest. Here the melodious voices rose in full chorus, like the swelling of the breeze ; but whence they came, he could not tell. 15 page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] 388 LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT. Sometimes they were before, sometimes behind him; sometimes in the air, sometimes as if from within the bosom of the earth. At length they died away, and a holy stillness settled on the place. The cavalier gazed around with bewildered eye. There was neither chapel nor convent, nor humble hermitage, to be seen; nothing but a moss-grown stone pinnacle, rising out of the cen- tre of the area, surmounted by a cross. The green sward ap. peared to have been sacred from the tread of man or beast, and the surrounding trees bent toward the cross, as if in adoration. The cavalier felt a sensation of holy awe. He alighted, and tethered his steed on the skirts of the forest, where he might crop the tender herbage; then approaching the cross, he -knelt and poured forth his evening prayers before this relic of the Christian days of Spain. His orisons being concluded, he laid himself down at the foot of the pinnacle, and reclining his head against one of its stones, fell into a deep sleep. About midnight, he was awakened by the tolling of a bell, and found himself lying before the gate of an ancient convent. A train of nuns passed by, each bearing a taper. He rose and followed them into the chapel; in the centre was a bier, on which lay the corpse of an aged nun. The organ performed a solemn requiem: the nuns joining in chorus. When the funeral service was finished, a melodious voice chanted, "Requiescat in pace!" -- May she rest in peace!" The lights immediately vanished; the whole passed away as a dream; and the cavalier found him- self at the foot of the cross, and beheld, by the faint rays of the rising moon, his steed quietly grazing near him. When the day dawned, he descended the hill, and following "EGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT. 339 the course of a small brook, came to a cave, at the entrance of which was seated an ancient man, in hermit's garb, with rosary and cross, and a beard that descended to his girdle. He was one of those holy anchorites permitted by the Moors to live un- molested in the dens and caves, and humble hermitages, and even to practise the rites of their religion. The cavalier, dismount- ing, knelt and craved a benediction. He then related all that had befallen him in the night, and besought the hermit to explain the mystery. i What thou hast heard and seen, my son," replied the other, "is but a type and shadow of the woes of Spain." He then related the foregoing story of the miraculous deliv- erance of the convent. Forty years," added the holy man, "have elapsed since this event, yet the bells of that sacred edifice are still heard, from time to time, sounding from underground, together with the pealing of the organ, and the chanting of the choir. The Moors avoid this neighborhood, as haunted ground, and the whole place, as thou mayest perceive, has become covered with a thick and lonely forest." The cavalier listened with wonder to the story. For three days and nights did he keep vigils with the holy man beside the cross; but nothing more was to be seen of nun or convent. It is supposed that, forty years having elapsed, the natural lives of all the nuns were finished, and the cavalier had beheld the obse- quies of the last. Certain it is, that from that time, bell, and organ, and choral chant, have never more been heard. The mouldering pinnacle, surmounted by the cross, remains an object of pious pilgrimage. Some say that it anciently stood page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 340 LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHiD CONVENT. in front of the convent, but others that it was the spire which remained above ground, when the main body of the building sank, like the topmast of some tall ship that has foundered. These pious believers maintain, that the convent is miraculously pre- served entire in the centre of the mountain, where, if proper ex- cavations were made, it would be found, with all its treasures, and monuments, and shrines, and relics, and the tombs of its virgin nuns. Should any one doubt the truth' of this marvellous interposi- tion of the Virgin, to protect the vestal purity of her votaries, let him read the excellent work entitled "Espafa Triumphante," written by Fray Antonio de Sancta Maria, a barefoot friar of the Carmelite order, and he will doubt no longer. THE PHANTOM ISLAND. Break, Phantsie, from thy cave of cloud, And wave thy purple wings, Now all thy figures are allowed, And various shapes of things. Create of airy forms a stream; It must ha*e blood and naught of phlegm; And though it be a walking dream, Yet let it like an odor rise To all the senses here, And fall like sleep upon their eyes, Or music on their ear.-BEN JONSON. "THERE are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy," and among these may be placed that mar- vel and mystery of the seas, the Island of St. Brandan. Those who have read the history of the Canaries, the fortunate islands of the ancients, may remember the wonders told of this enigmati- cal island. Occasionally it would be visible from their shores, stretching away in the clear bright west, to all appearance sub- stantial like themselves, and still more beautiful. Expeditions would launch forth from the Canaries to explore this land of promise. For a time its sun-gilt peaks and long, shadowy prom- ontories would remain distinctly visible, but in proportion as the voyagers approached, peak and promontory would gradually fade page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] 342 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. away until nothing would remain but blue sky above, and deep blue water below. Hence this mysterious isle was stigmatized by ancient cosmographers with the name of Aprositus or the In- accessible. The failure of numerous expeditions sent in quest of it, both in ancient and modern days, have at length caused its very existence to be called in question, and it has been rashy pronounced a mere optical illusion, like the Fata Morgana of the Straits of Messina, or has been classed with those unsubstantial regions known to mariners as Cape Fly Away and the coast of Cloud Land. Let us not permit, however, the doubts of worldly-wise skep- tics to rob us of all the glorious realms owned by happy credu- lity in days of yore. Be assured, O0reader of easy faith!-thou for whom it is my delight to labor--be assured that such an island actually exists, and has from time to time, been revealed to the gaze, and trodden by the feet, of favored mortals. Histo- rians and philosophers may have their doubts, but its existence has been fully attested by that inspired race, the poets; who, being gifted with a kind of second sight, are enabled to discern those mysteries of nature hidden from the eyes of ordinary men. To this gifted race it has ever been a kind of wonder-land. Here once bloomed, and perhaps still blooms, the famous gar- den of the Hesperides, with its golden fruit. Here, too, the sorceress Armida had her enchanted garden, in which she held the Christian paladin, Rinaldo, in delicious but inglorious thral- dom, as set forth in the immortal lay of Tasso. It was in this island that Sycorax the witch held sway, when the good Pros- pero and his infant daughter Miranda, were wafted to its shores. Who does not know the tale as told in the magic page of Shakes- peare? The isle was then THE PIANTOM ISLANI. 343 -- " full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not." The island, in fact at different times, has been under the sway of different powers, genii of earth, and air, and ocean, who have made it their shadowy abode. Hither have retired many classic but broken-down deities, shorn of almost all their attributes, but who once ruled the poetic world. Here Neptune and Amphi- trite hold a diminished court; sovereigns in exile. Their ocean chariot, almost a wreck, lies bottom upward in some sea-beaten cavern; their pursy Tritons and haggard Nereids bask listlessly like seals about the rocks. Sometimes those deities assume, it is said, a shadow of their ancient pomp, and glide in state about a summer sea; and then, as some tall Indiaman lies becalmed with idly flapping sail, her drowsy crew may hear the mellow note of the Triton's shell swelling upon the ear as the invisible pageant sweeps by. On the shores of this wondrous isle the kraken heaves its unwieldy bulk and wallows many a rood. Here the sea-ser- pent, that mighty but much contested reptile, lies coiled up during the intervals of its revelations to the eyes of true believers. Here even the Flying Dutchman finds a port, and casts his anchor, and furls his shadowy sail, and takes a brief repose from his eternal cruisings. In the deep bays and harbors of the island lies many a spell- bound ship, long since given up as lost by the ruined merchant, Here too its crew, long, long bewailed in vain, lie sleeping from age to age, in mossy grottoes, or wander about in pleasing oblivion of all things. Here in caverns are garnered up the priceless trea- page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] 844 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. sures lost in the ocean. Here sparkles in vain the diamond and flames the carbuncle. Here are piled up rich bales of Oriental silks, boxes of pearls, and piles of golden ingots. Such are some of the marvels related of this island, which may serve to throw light upon the following legend, of unques- tionable truth, which I recommend to the implicit belief of the reader. THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. A LEGEND OF ST. BRANDAN. In the early part of the fifteenth century, when Prince Henry of Portugal, of worthy melnory, was pushing the career of dis- covery along the western coast of Africa, and the world was resounding with reports of golden regions on the mainland, and X new-found islands in the ocean, there arrived at Lisbon an old bewildered pilot of the seas, who had been driven by tempests, he knew not whither, and raved about an island far in the deep, upon which he had landed, and which he had found peopled with Christians, and adorned with noble cities. The inhabitants, he said, having never before been visited by a ship, gathered round, and regarded him with surprise. They told him they were descendants of a band of Christians, who fled from Spain when that country was conquered by the Moslems. They were curious about the state 'of their fatherland, and grieved to hear that the Moslems still held possession of the kingdom of Granada. They would have taken the old navigator THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 346 to church, to convince him of their orthodoxy; but, either through lack of devotion, or lack of faith in their words, he de-- clined their invitation, and preferred to return on board of his ship. He was properly punished. A furious storm arose, drove hiln from his anchorage, hurried him out to sea, and he saw no more of the unknown island. This strange story caused great marvel in Lisbon and else- where. Those versed in history, remembered to have read, in an ancient chronicle, that, at the time of the conquest of Spain, in the eighth century, when the blessed cross was cast down, and the crescent erected in its place, and when Christian churches were turned into Moslem mosques, seven bishops, at the head of seven bands of pious exiles; had fled from the peninsula, and embarked in quest of some ocean island, or distant land, where they might found seven Christian cities, and enjoy their faith unmolested. The fate of these saints errant had hitherto remained a mys- tery, and their story had faded from memory; the report of the old tempest-tossed pilot, however, revived this long-forgotten theme; and it was determined by the pious and enthusiastic, that the island thus accidentally discovered, was the identical place of refuge, whither the wandering bishops had been guided by a protecting Providence, and where they had folded their flocks. This most excitable of worlds has always some darling object of chimerical enterprise; the "Island of the Seven Cities" now awakened as much interest and longing among zealous Christians, as has the renowned city of Timbuctoo among adventurous travel- lers, or the Northeast passage among hardy navigators, and it t15 page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] 346 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. was a frequent prayer of the devout, that these scattered and lost -portions of the Christian family might be discovered, and reunited to the great body of Christendom. No one, however, entered into the matter with half the zeal of Don Fernando de UJlmo, a young cavalier, of high standing in the Portuguese court, and of most sanguine and romantic temper- ament. He had recently come to his estate, and had run the round of all kinds of pleasures and excitements, when this new theme of popular talk and wonder presented itself. The Island of the Seven Cities became now the constant subject of his thoughts by day, and his dreams by night: it even rivalled his passion for a beautiful girl, one of the greatest belles of Lisbon, to whom he was betrothed. At length, his imagination became so inflamed on the subject, that he determined to fit out an expedition, at his own expense, and set sail in quest of this sainted island. It could not be a cruise of any great extent; for, according to the calculations of the tempest-tossed pilot, it must be' somewhere in the latitude-of the Canaries; which at that time, when the new world was as yet undiscovered, formed the frontier of ocean en- terprise. Don Fernando applied to the crown for countenance and protection. As he was a favorite at court, the usual patron- age was readily extended to him; that is to say, he received a commission from the king, Don Ioam II., constituting him Ada- lantado, or military governor, of any country he might discover, with the single proviso, that he should bear all the expenses of the discovery, and pay a tenth of the profits to the crown. Don Fernando now set to work in the true- spirit'of a pro- jector. He sold acre after acre of solid land, and invested the proceeds in ships, guns, ammunition, and sea-stores. 'Even his THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 347 old family mansion, in Lisbon, was mortgaged without scruple, for he looked forward to a palace in one of the Seven Cities, of which he was to be Adalantado. This was the age of nautical romance, when the thoughts of all speculative dreamers were turned, to the ocean. The scheme of Don Fernando, therefore, drew adventurers of every kind. The merchant promised him- self new marts of opulent traffic; the soldier hoped to sack and plunder some onq or other of those Seven Cities; even the fat monk shook off the sleep and sloth of the cloister, to join in a crusade which promised such increase to the possessions of the church. One person alone regarded the whole project with sovereign contempt and growling hostility. This was Don Ramiro Alvarez, the father of the beautiful Serafina, to whom Don Fernando was betrothed. Ite was one of those perverse, matter-of-fact old men, who are prone to oppose every thing speculative and ro- mantic. He had no faith in the Island of the Seven Cities; regarded the projected cruise as a crack-brained freak; looked with angry eye and internal heart-burning on the conduct of his intended son-in-law, chaffering away solid lands for lands in the moon; and scoffingly dubbed him Adalantado of Cloud Land. In fact, he had never really relished the intended match, to which his consent had been slowly extorted, by the tears and entreaties of his daughter. It is true he could have no reasonable objections to the youth, for Don Fernando was the very flower of Portu. guese chivalry. No one could excel him at the tilting match, or the riding at the ring; none was more bold and dexterous in the bull fight; none composed more gallant madigrals in praise of his lady's charms; or sang them with sweeter tones to the acconl- page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] 848 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. paniment of her guitar; nor could any one handle the castanets and dance the bolero with more captivating grace. All these admirable qualities and endowments, however, though they had been sufficient to win the heart of Serafina, were nothing in the eyes of her unreasonable father. Oh Cupid, god of Love! why will fathers always be so unreasonable? The engagement to Serafina had threatened at first to throw an obstacle in the way of the expedition of Don Fernando, and for a time perplexed him in the extreme. He was passionately attached to the young lady; but he was also passionately bent on this romantic enterprise. How should he reconcile the two passionate inclinations? A simple and obvious arrangement at length presented itself: marry Serafina, enjoy a portion of the honeymoon at once, and defer the rest until his return from the discovery of the Seven Cities! He hastened to make known this most excellent arrangement to Don Ramiro, when the long-smothered wrath of the old cava- lier burst forth. He reproached him with being the dupe of wan- dering vagabonds and wild schemers, and with squandering all his real possessions, in pursuit of empty bubbles. Don Fernando was too sanguine a projector, and too young a man, to listen tamely to such language. He acted with what is technically called " becoming spirit." A high quarrel ensued; Don Ramiro pronounced him a madman, and forbade all farther intercourse with his daughter, until he should give proof of returning sanity, by abandoning this madcap enterprise; while Don Fernando flung out of the house, more bent than ever on the expedition, from the idea of triumphing over the incredulity of the gray- beard, when he shoAld return successful. Don Ramiro's heart THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 349 misgave him. Who knows, thought he, but th s crack-brained visionary may persuade my daughter to elope with him, and share his throne in this unknown paradise of fools? If I could only keep her safe until his ships are fairly out at sea! He repaired to her apartment, represented to her the san- guine, unsteady character of her lover and the chimerical value of his schemes, and urged the propriety of suspending all inter- course with him until he should recover from his present halluci- nation. She bowed her head as if in filial acquiescence, whereupon he folded her to his bosom with parental fondness and kissed away a tear that was stealing over her cheek, but as he left the chamber quietly turned the key on the lock; for though he was a fond fa- ther and had a high opinion of the submissive temper of his child, he had a still higher opinion of the conservative virtues of lock and key, and determined to trust to them until the caravels should sail. Whether the damsel had been in any wise shaken in her faith as to the schemes of her lover by her father's eloquence, tradition does not say; but certain it is, that, the moment she heard the key turn in the lock, she became a firm believer in the Island of the Seven Cities. The door was locked; but her will was unconfined. A window of the chamber opened into one of those stofie balconies, secured by iron bars, which project like huge cages from Portuguese and Spanish houses. Within this balcony the beautiful Serafina had her birds and flowers, and here she was accustomed to sit on moon- light nights as in a bower, and touch her guitar and sing like a wakeful nightingale. From this balcony an intercourse was now maintained between the lovers, against which the lock and key of Don Ramiro were of no avail. All day would Fernando be occu- page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] 830 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. pied hurrying the equipments of his ships, but evening found him in sweet discourse beneath his lady's window. At length the preparations were completed. Two gallant ca- ravels lay at anchor in the Tagus ready to sail at sunrise. Late at night by the pale light of a waning moon the lover' had his last interview. The beautiful Serafina was sad at heart and full of dark forebodings; her lover full of hope and confidence "A few short months," said he, "and I shall return in triumph. Thy father will then blush at his incredulity, and hasten to welcome to his house the Adalantado of the Seven Cities." The gentle lady shook her head. It was not on this point she felt distrust. She was a thorough believer in the Island of the Seven Cities, and so sure of the success of the enterprise that she might have been tempted to join it had not the balcony been high and the grating strong. Other considerations induced that dubious shaking of the head. She had heard of the inconstancy of the seas, and the inconstancy of those who roam them. Might not Fernando meet with other loves in foreign ports? Might not some peerless beauty in one or other of those Seven Cities efface the image of Serafina from his mind? Now let the truth be spoken, the beautiful Serafina had reason for her disquiet. If Don Fernan- do had any fault in the world, it was that of being rather inflam- mable and apt to take fire from every sparkling eye. H-e had been somewhat of a rover among the sex on shore, what might he be on sea? She ventured to express her doubt, but he spurned at the very idea. "What! he false to Serafina! He bow at the shrine of another beauty? Never! never!" Repeatedly did he bend his knee, and smite his breast, and. call upon the silver moon to witness his sincerity and truth. THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 351 He retorted the doubt, "Might not Serafina herself forget her plighted faith? Might not some wealthier rival present him- self while he was tossing on the sea; and, backed by her father's wishes, win the treasure of her hand!" The beautiful Serafina raised her white arms between the iron bars of the balcony, and, like her lover, invoked the moon to testify her vows. Alas! how little did Fernando know her heart. The more her father should oppose, the more would she be fixed in faith. Though years should intervene, Fernando on his return would find her true. Even should the salt sea swal- low him up (and her eyes shed salt tears at the very thought), never would she be the wife of another! Never, never, NEVER! She drew from her finger a ring gemmed with a ruby heart, and dropped it from the balcony, a parting pledge of constancy. Thus the lovers parted with many a tender word and plighted vow. But will they keep those vows? Perish the doubt! Have they not called the constant moon to witness? With the morning dawn the caravels dropped down the Ta- gus, and put to sea. They steered for the Canaries, in those days the regions of nautical discovery and romance, and the out- posts of the known world, for as yet Columbus had not steered his daring barks across the ocean. Scarce had they reached those latitudes when they were separated by a violent tempest. For many days was the caravel of Don Fernando driven about at the mercy of the elements; all seamanship was baffled, de. struction seemed inevitable and the crew were in despair. All at once the storm subsided; the ocean sank into a calm; the clouds which had veiled the face of heaven were suddenly with- drawn, and the tempest-tossed mariners beheld a fair and moun- page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] 352 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. tainous island, emerging as if by enchantment from the murky gloom. They rubbed their eyes and gazed for a time almost in- credulously, yet there lay the island spread out in lovely land- scapes, with the late stormy sea laving its shores with peaceful billows. The pilot of the caravel consulted his maps and charts; no island like the one before him was laid down as existing in those parts; it is true he had lost his reckoning in the late storm, but, according to his calculations, he could not be far from the Canaries; and this was not one of that group of islands. The caravel now lay perfectly becalmed off the mouth of a river, on the banks of which, about a league from the sea, was descried a noble city, with lofty walls and towers, and a protecting castle. After a time, a stately barge with sixteen oars was seen emerging from the river, and approaching the caravel. It was quaintly carved and gilt; the oarsmen were clad in antique garb, their oars painted of a bright crimson, and they came slowly and solemnly, keeping time as they rowed to the cadence of an old Spanish ditty. Under a silken canopy in the stern, sat a cava- lier richly clad, and over his head was a banner bearing the sa- cred emblem of the cross. When the barge reached the caravel, the cavalier stepped on board. He was tall and gaunt; with a long Spanish visage, moustaches that curled up to his eyes, and a forked beard. He wore gauntlets reaching to his elbows, a Toledo blade strutting out behind, with a basket hilt, in which he carried his handker- chief. His air was lofty and precise, and bespoke indisputably the hidalgo. Thrusting out a long spindle leg, he took off a huge sombrero, and swaying it until the feather swept the THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 353 ground, accosted Don Fernando in the old Castilian language and with the old Castilian courtesy, welcoming him to the Island of the Seven Cities. Don Fernando was overwhelmed with astonishment. Could this be true? Had he really been tempest-driven to the very land of which he was in quest? It was even so. That very day the inhabitants were holding high festival in commemoration of the escape of their ancestors from the Moors. The arrival of the caravel at such a juncture was considered a good omen, the accomplishment of an ancient prophecy through which the island was to be restored to the great community of Christendom. The cavalier before him was grand-chamberlain, sent by the alcayde to invite him to the fes- tivities of the capital. Don Fernando could scarce believe that this was not all a dream. He made known his name, and the object of his voyage. The grand chamberlain declared that all was in perfect ac- cordance with the ancient prophecy, and that the moment his credentials were presented, he would be acknowledged as the Adalantado of the Seven Cities. In the mean time the day was waning; the barge was ready to convey him to the land, alid would as assuredly bring him back. Don Fernando's pilot, a veteran of the seas, drew him aside and expostulated against his venturing, on the mere word of a stranger, to land in a strange barge on an unknown shore. "Who knows, Senior, what land this is, or what people in- habit it?" Don Fernando was not to be dissuaded. Had he not be- lieved in this island when all the world doubted Had he not page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] 354 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. sought it in defiance of storm and tempest, and was he now to shrink from its shores when they lay before him in calm weather? In a word, was not faith the very corner-stone of his enterprise? Having arrayed himself, therefore, in gala dress befitting the occasion, he took his seat in the barge. The grand chamberlain seated himself opposite. The rowers plied their oars, and re- newed the mournful old ditty, and the gorgeous but unwieldy barge moved slowly through the water. The night closed in before they entered the river, and swept along past rock and promontory, each guarded by its tower. At every post they were challenged by the sentinel. "Who goes there?" "The Adalantado of the Seven Cities." "Welcome, Senior Adalantado. Pass on." Entering the harbor they rowed close by an armed galley of ancient form. Soldiers with crossbows patrolled the deck. "Who goes there?" "The Adalantado of the Seven Cities." "Welcome, Senior Adalantado. Pass on." They landed at a broad flight of stone steps, leading up be- tween two massive towers, and knocked at the water-gate. A sentinel, in ancient steel casque, looked from the barbecan. "Who is there " "The Adalantado of the Seven Cities." "Welcome, Senor Adalantado." The gate swung open, grating upon rusty hinges. They en- tered between two row sof warriors in Gothic armor, with cross- bows, maces, battle-axes, and faces old-fashioned as their armor. THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 355 There were processions through the streets, in commemoration of the landing of the seven Bishops and their followers, and bon- fires, at which effigies of losel Moors expiated their invasion of Christendom by a kind of auto-da-fe. The groups round the fires, uncouth in their attire, looked like the fantastic figures that roam the streets in Carnival time. Even the dames who gazed down from Gothic balconies hung with antique tapestry, re- sembled effigies dressed up in Christmas mummeries. Every thing, in short, bore the stamp of former ages, as if the world had suddenly rolled back for several centuries. Nor was this to be wondered at. Had not the Island of the Seven Cities been cut off from the rest of the world for several hundred years; and were not these the modes and customs of Gothic Spain before it was conquered by the Moors? Arrived at the palace of the alcayde, the grand chamberlain knocked at the portal. The porter looked through a wicket, and demanded who was there. "The Adalantado of the Seven Cities." The portal was thrown wide open. The grand chamberlain led the way up a vast, heavily-moulded, marble staircase, and into a hall of ceremony, where was the alcayde with several of the principal dignitaries of the city, who had a marvellous re- semblance, in form and feature, to the quaint figures in old illu- minated manuscripts. The grand chamberlain stepped forward and announced the name and title of the stranger guest, and the extraordinary nature of his mission. The announcement appeared to create no extraordinary emotion or surprise, but to be received as the an- ticipated fulfilment of a prophecy. page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] 356 TTHE PHANTOM ISLAND. The reception of Don Fernando, however, was profoundly gracious, though in the same style of stately courtesy which every where prevailed. He would have produced his credentials, but this was courteously declined. The evening was devoted to high festivity; the following day, when he should enter the port with his caravel, would be devoted to business, when the creden- tials would be received in due form, and he inducted into office as Adalantado of the Seven Cities. Don Fernando was now conducted through one of those inter- minable suites of apartments, the pride of Spanish palaces, all furnished in a style of obsolete magnificence. In a vast saloon blazing with tapers was assembled all the aristocracy and fashion of the city; stately dames and cavaliers, the very counterpart of the figures in the tapestry which decorated the walls. Fernando gazed in silent marvel. It was a reflex of the proud aristocracy of Spain in the time of Roderick the Goth. The festivities of the evening were all in the style of solemn i and antiquated ceremonial. There was a dance, but it was as if the old tapestry were put in motion, and all the figures moving in stately measure about the floor. There was one exception, and one that told powerfully upon the susceptible Adalantado. The alcayde's daughter-such a ripe, melting beauty! Her dress, it is true, like the dresses of her neighbors, might have been worn before the flood, but she had the black Andalusian eye, a glance of which, through its long dark lashes, is irresistible. Her voice, too, her manner, her undulating movements, all smacked of Andalusia, and showed how female charms may be transmitted from age to age, and clime to clime, without ever going out of fa- shion. -Those who know the witchery of the sex, in that most THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 357 amorous part of amorous old spain, may judge of the fascination to which Don Fernando was exposed, as he joined in the dance with one of its most captivating descendants. He sat beside her at the banquet! such an old world feast! such obsolete dainties! At the head of the table the peacock, that bird of state and ceremony, was served up in full plumage on a golden dish. As Don Fernando cast his eyes down the glittering board, what a vista presented itself of odd heads and head-dresses; of formal bearded dignitaries and stately dames, with castellated locks and' towering plumes! Is it to be won- dered at that he should turn with delight from these antiquated figures to the alcayde's daughter, all smiles and dimples, and melting looks and melting accents? Beside, for I wish to give him every excuse in my power, he was in a particularly excitable mood from the novelty of the scene before him, from this realiza tion of all his hopes and fancies, and from frequent draughts of the wine cup presented to him at every moment by officious pages during the banquet. In a word-there is no concealing the matter-before the even- ing was over, Don Fernando was making love outright to the alcayde's daughter. They had wandered together to a moon-lit balcony of the palace, and he was charming her ear with one of those love ditties with which, in a like balcony, he had serenaded the beautiful Serafina.. The damsel hung her head coyly. "Ah! Sefnor, these are flattering words; but you cavaliers, who roam the seas, are un- steady as its waves. To-morrow you will be throned in state, Adalantado of the Seven Cities; and will think no more of the alcayde's daughter." page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] 368 THE PHEANTOM ISLAND. Don Fernando in the intoxication of the moment called the moon to witness his sincerity. As he raised his hand in adjura. tion, the chaste moon cast a ray upon the ring that sparkled on his finger. It caught the damsel's eye. "Signor Adalantado," said she archly, "I have no great faith in the moon, but give me that ring upon your finger in pledge of the truth of what you profess.1" The gallant Adalantado was taken by surprise; there was no parrying this sudden appeal: before he had time to reflect, the ring of the beautiful Serafina glittered on the finger of the alcayde's daughter. At this eventful moment the chamberlain approached with -- y -fty demeanor, and announced that the barge was waiting to bear ;a&Tnnck to the caravel. I forbear to relate the ceremonious partings with the alcayde and his dgn--^^ and-Athe-tender farewell of the alcayde's 'daughter; -Ie-:tok his seat 3an the barge opposite the grand chamberlain. The rowers plied their crimson-oars in the same slow and stately manner to the cadence of the same mournful old ditty. His brain was in a whirl with all that he had seen, and his heart -now and then gave him a twinge as he thought of his temporary infidelity to the beautiful Serafina. The barge sallied out into-the sea, but no caravel was to be seen; doubtless she had -been carried to a distance by the current of the river., JThe oarsmen rowed on; their monoto- -ous chant had a lullimg effect. A drowsy influence crept over - Don Fernando. Objects swam before his eyes. The oarsmen assumed odd shapes as in a dream. The grand chamberlain grew :larger and larger, and taller and taller. He took off his huge sombrero, and held it over the head of lon Fernando, like an ex- - * ' ' THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 359 tinguisher over a candle. The latter cowered beneath it; he felt himself sinking in the socket. "Good night! Seiior Adalantado of the Seven Cities i " said the grand chamberlain. The sombrero slowly descended-Don Fernando was extin- guished! How long he remained extinct no mortal man can tell. When he returned to consciousness, he found himself in a strange cabin, surrounded by strangers. He rubbed his eyes, and looked round him wildly. Where was he?-On board of a Portuguese ship, bound to Lisbon. How came he there?--He had been taken senseless from a wreck drifting about the ocean. Don Fernando was more and more confounded and perplexed. He recalled, one by one, every thing that had happened to him in the Island of the Seven Cities, until he had been extin- guished by the sombrero of the grand chamberlain. But what had happened to him since? What had become of his caravel? Was it the wreck of her on which he had been found floating? The people about him could give no information on the subject. He entreated them to take him to the Island of the Seven Cities, which could not be far off. Told them all that had befallen him there. That he had but to land to be received as Adalantado; when he would reward them magnificently for their services. They regarded his words as the ravings of delirium, and in their honest solicitude for the restoration of his reason, adminis- tered such rough remedies that he was fain to drop the subject and observe a cautious taciturnity. At length they arrived in the Tagus, and anchored before page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. the famous city of Lisbon. Don Fernando sprang joyfully on shore, and hastened to his ancestral mansion. A strange porter opened the door, who knew nothing of him or of his family; no people of the name had inhabited the house for many a year. He sought the mansion of Don Ramiro. He approached the balcony beneath which he had bidden farewell to Serafina. Did his eyes deceive him? No! There was Serafina herself among the flowers in the balcony. He raised his arms toward her with an exclamation of rapture. She cast upon him a look of indig- nation, and, hastily retiring, closed -the casement with a slam that testified her displeasure. Could she have heard of his flirtation with the alcayde's daughter? But that was mere transient gallantry. A mo- ment's interview would dispel every doubt of his constancy. He rang at the door; as it was opened by the porter he rushed up stairs; sought the well-known chamber, and threw himself at the feet of Serafina. She started back with affright, and took refuge in the arms of a youthful cavalier. "What mean you, Seior," cried the latter, "by this intrusion?" What right have you to ask the question?" demanded Don Fernando fiercely. "The right of an affianced suitor!" Don Fernando started and turned pale. "Oh, Serafina! Serafina!" cried he, in a tone of agony; "is this thy plighted constancy?" "Serafina? What mean you by Serafina, Seior? If this be the lady you intend, her name is Maria." ' May I not believe my senses? May I not believe my heart?" cried Don Fernando. "Is not this Serafina Alvarez, THE ADAILATADO OE THE SEVEN CITIES. 361 the original of yon portrait, which, less fickle than herself, still smiles on me from the wall?" "Holy Virgin!" cried the young lady, casting her eyes upon the portrait. "He is talking of my great-grandmother!" An explanation ensued, if that could be called an explana. tion, which plunged the unfortunate Fernando into tenfold per- plexity. If he might believe his eyes, he saw before him his beloved Serafina; if he might believe his ears, it was merely her hereditary form and features, perpetuated in the person of her great-granddaughter. His brain began to spin. He sought the office of the Minis- ter of Marine, and made a report of his expedition, and of the Island of the Seven Cities, which he had so fortunately discov- ered. Nobody knew any thing of such an expedition, or such an island. He declared that he had undertaken the enterprise under a formal contract with the crown, and had received a regu- lar commission, constituting him Adalantado. This must be matter of record, and he insisted loudly, that the books of the department should be consulted. The wordy strife at length attracted the attention of an old gray-headed clerk, who sat perched on a high stool, at a high desk, with iron-rimmed spec- tacles on the top of a thin, pinched nose, copying records into an enormous folio. He had wintered and summered in the depart- ment for a great part of a century, until he had almost grown to be a piece of the desk at which he sat; his memory was a mere index of official facts and documents, and his brain was little better than red tape and parchment. After peering down for a time from his lofty perch, and ascertaining the matter in contro- versy, he put his pen behind his ear, and descended. He re- 16 page: 362-363[View Page 362-363] 362 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. membered to have heard something from his predecessor about an expedition of the kind in question, but then it had sailed dur- ing the reign of Dom Ioam II., and he had been dead at least a hundred years. To put the matter beyond dispute, however, the archives of the Torre do Tombo,\that sepulchre of old Portu- guese documents, were diligently searched, and a record was found of a contract between the crown and one Fernando de Ulmo, for the discovery of the Island of the Seven Cities, and of a commission secured to him as Adalantado of the country he might discover. "There!" cried Don Fernando, triumphantly, "there you have proof, before your own eyes, of what I have said. I am the Fernando de Ulmo specified in that record. I have discovered the Island of the Seven Cities, and am entitled to be Adalan- tado, according to contract." The story of Don Fernando had certainly, what is pronounced the best of historical foundation, documentary evidence; but when a man, in the bloom of youth, talked of events that had taken place above a century previously, as having happened to himself, it is no wonder that he was set down for a madman. The old clerk looked at him from above and below his spec- tacles, shrugged his shoulders, stroked his chin, reascended his lofty stool, took the pen from behind hiear and resumed his daily and eternal task, copying records into the fiftieth volume of a series of gigantic folios. The other clerks winked at each other shrewdly, and dispersed to their several places, and poor Don Fernando, thus left to himself, flung out of the office, almost driven wild by these repeated perplexities. In the confusion of his mind, he instinctively repaired to the THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 363 mansion of Alvarez, but it was barred against him. To break the delusion under which the youth apparently labored, and to convince him that the Serafina about whom he raved was really dead, he was conducted to her tomb. There she lay, a stately matron, cut out in alabaster; and there lay her husband beside her; a portly cavalier, in armor; and there knelt, on each side; the effigies of a numerous progeny, proving that she had been a fruitful vine. Even the very monument gave evidence of the lapse of time; the hands of her husband, folded as if in prayer, had lost their fingers, and the face of the once lovely Serafina was without a nose. Don Fernando felt a transient glow of indignation at behold- ing this monumental proof of the inconstancy of his mistress; but who could expect a mistress to remain constant during a whole century of absence? And what right had he to rail about con- stancy, after what had passed between himself and the alcayde's daughter? The unfortunate cavalier performed one pious act of tender devotion; he had the alabaster nose of Serafina re- stored by a skilful statuary, and then tore himself from the tomb. He could now no longer doubt the fact that, somehow or other, he had skipped over a whole century, during the night he had spent at the Island of the Seven Cities; and he was now as complete a stranger in his native city, as if he had never been there. A thousand times did he wish himself back to that won- derful- island, with its antiquated banquet halls, where he had been so courteously received; and now that the once young and beautiful Serafina was nothing but a great-grandmother in mar- ble, with generations of descendants, a thousand times would he page: 364-365[View Page 364-365] 364 THE PHANTOM ISLAND. recall the melting black eyes of the alcayde's daughter, who doubtless, like himself, was still flourishing in fresh juvenility, and breathe a secret wish that he were seated by her side. He would at once have set on foot another expedition, at his own expense, to cruise in search of the sainted island, but his means were exhausted. He endeavored to rouse others to the enterprise, setting forth the certainty of profitable results, of which his own experience furnished such unquestionable proof. Alas ! no one would give faith to his tale; but looked upon it as the feverish dream of a shipwrecked man. He persisted in his efforts; holding forth in all places and all companies, until he became an object of jest and jeer to the light-minded, who mis- took his earnest enthusiasm for a proof of insanity; and the very children in the streets bantered him with the title of " The Adalantado of the Seven Cities." Finding a~l efforts in vain, in his native city of Lisbon, he took shipping for the Canaries, as being nearer the latitude of his former cruise, and inhabited by people given to nautical ad- venture. Here he found ready listeners to his story; for the old pilots and mariners of those parts were notorious island- hunters, and devout believers in all the wonders of the seas. Indeed. one and all treated his adventure as a common occur- rence, and turning to each other, with a sagacious nod of the head, observed, " He has been at the Island of St. Brandan." They then went on to inform him of that great marvel and enigma of the ocean; of its repeated appearance to the inhabit- ants of their islands; and of the many but ineffectual expeditions that had been made in search of it. They took him to a prom- ontory of the island of Palma, whence the shadowy St. Brandan THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES. 365 had oftenest been descried, and they pointed out the very tract in the west where its mountains had been seen. Don Fernando listened with rapt attention. He had no lon- ger a doubt that this mysterious and fugacious island must be the same with that of the Seven Cities; and that some super- natural influence connected with it had operated- upon himself, and made the events of a night occupy the space of a century. He endeavored, but in vain, to rouse the islanders to another attempt at discovery; they had given up the phantom island as indeed inaccessible. Fernando, however, was not to be discour- aged. The idea wore itself deeper and deeper in his mind, until it became the engrossing subject of his thoughts and object of his being. Every morning he would repair to the promontory of Palma, and sit there throughout the livelong day, in hopes of seeing the fairy mountains of St. Brandan peering above the horizon; every evening he returned to his home, a disappointed man, but ready to resume his post on the following morning. His assiduity was all in vain. He grew gray in his ineffect- ual attempt: and was at length found dead at his post. His grave is still shown in the island of Palma, and a cross is erected on the spot where he used to sit and look out upon the sea, in hopes of the reappearance of the phantom island. NOTE.--For various particulars concerning the Island of St. Brandan and the Island of the Seven Cities, those ancient problems of the ocean, the curious reader is referred to articles under those heads in the Appendix to the Life of Columbus. page: 366-367[View Page 366-367] II RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. I HAVE already given to the world some anecdotes of a summer's residence in the old Moorish palace of the Alhambra. It was a dreamy sojourn, during which I lived, as it-were, in the midst of an Arabian tale, and shut my eyes as much as possible to every thing that should call me back to every day life. If there is any country in Europe where one can do so, it is among these magnificent but semi-barbaric ruins of poor, wild, legendary, ro- mantic Spain. In the silent and deserted halls of the Alham- 1 bra, surrounded with the insignia of regal sway, and the vivid, though dilapidated traces of Oriental luxury, I was in the strong- hold of Moorish story, where every thing spoke of the palmy days of Granada when under the dominion of the crescent. Much of the literature of Spain turns upon the wars of the Moors and Christians, and consists of traditional ballads and tales or romances, about the " buenas andanzas," and 1" grandes hechos," the " lucky adventures," and " great exploits" of the warriors of yore. It is worthy of remark, that many of these lays which sing of prowess and magnanimity in war, and tender- ness and fidelity in love, relate as well to Moorish as to Spanish RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 367 cavaliers. The lapse of peaceful centuries has extinguished the rancor of ancient hostility; and the warriors of Granada, once the objects of bigot detestation, are now often held up by Span. ish poets as mirrors of chivalric virtue. None have been the theme of higher eulogy than the illus- trious line of the Abencerrages, who in the proud days of Mos- lem domination were the soul of every thing noble and chival- ric. The veterans of the family sat in the royal council, and were foremost in devising heroic enterprises to carry dismay into the Christian territories; and what the veterans devised the young men of the name were foremost to execute. In all ad- ventures, enterprises, and hair-breadth hazards, the Abencerrages were sure to win the brightest laurels. In the tilt and tourney, in the riding at the ring, the daring bull-fight, and all other rec- reations which bore an affinity to war, the Abencerrages carried off the palh. None equalled them for splendor of array, for noble bearing, and glorious' horsemanship. Their open-handed munificence made them the idols of the people; their magna- nimity and perfect faith gained the admiration of the high- minded. Never did they decry the merits of a rival, nor betray the confidings of a friend; and the word of an Abencerrage was a guarantee never to be doubted. And then their devotion to the fair! Never did Moorish beauty consider the fame of her charms established, until she had an Abencerrage for a lover; and never did an Abencerrage prove recreant to his vows. Lovely Granada! City of delights! Who ever bore the favors of thy dames more proudly on their casques, or championed them more gallantly in the chivalrous tilts of the Vivarambla? Or who ever made thy moon-lit bal- page: 368-369[View Page 368-369] 368 RECOLLECTIOINS OF THE ALHAMBRAI conies, thy gardens of myrtles and roses, of oranges, citrons, and pomegranates, respond to more tender serenades? Such were the fancies I used to conjure up as I sat in the beautiful hall of the Abencerrages, celebrated in the tragic story of that devoted race, where thirty-six of its bravest cavaliers were treacherously sacrificed to appease the jealous fears of a tyrant. The fountain which once ran red with their blood, throws up a sparkling jet, and spreads a dewy freshness through the hall; but a deep stain on the marble pavement is still pointed out as a sanguinary record of the massacre. The truth of the record has been called in question, but I regarded it with the same determined faith with which I contemplated the stains of Rizzio's blood on the floor of the palace of Holyrood. I thank no one for enlightening my credulity on points of poetical belief. It is like robbing the statue of Memnon of its mysterious music. Dispel historical illusions, and there is an end to half the charms of travelling. The hall of the Abencerrages is connected moreover with the recollection of one of the sweetest evenings and sweetest scenes I ever enjoyed in Spain. It was a beautiful summer evening, when the moon shone down into the Court of Lions, lighting up its sparkling fountain. I was seated with a few companions in the hall in question, listening to those traditional ballads and romances in which the Spaniards delight. They were sung to the accompaniment of the guitar, by one of the most gifted and fascinating beings that I ever met with even among the fas- cinating daughters of Spain. She was young and beautiful; and light and ethereal; full of fire, and spirit, and pure enthusiasm. She wore the fanciful Andalusian dress; touched the guitar with RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 369 speaking eloquence; improvised with wonderful facility; and, as she became excited by her theme, or by the rapt attention of her auditors, would pour, forth, in the richest and most melodious strains, a succession of couplets, full of striking. description, or stirring narrative, and composed, as I was assured, at the mo- ment. Most of these were suggested by the place, and related to the ancient glories of Granada, and the prowess of her chiv- alry. The Abencerrages were her favorite heroes; she felt a woman's admiration of their gallant courtesy, and high-souled honor; and it was touching and inspiring to hear the praises of that generous but devoted race, chanted in this fated hall of their calamity, by the lips of Spanish beauty. Among the subjects of which she treated, was a tale of Mos- lem honor, and- old-fashioned Spanish courtesy, which made a strong impression on me. She disclaimed all merit of inven- tion, however, and said she had merely dilated into verse a popu- lar tradition; and, indeed, I have since found the main facts in- serted at the end of Conde's History of the Domination of the Arabs, and the story itself embodied in the form of an episode in the Diana of Montemayor. From these sources I have drawn it forth, and endeavored to shape it according to my recollection of the version of the beautiful minstrel; but alas! what can supply the want of that voice, that look, that form, that action, which gave magical effect to her chant, and held every one rapt in breathless admiration! Should this mere travestie of her in- spired numbers ever meet her eye, in her stately abode at Gra- nada, may it meet with that indulgence which belongs to her be- nignant nature. Happy should I be, if it could awaken in her bosom one kind recollection of the stranger, for whose gratifica- 16* page: 370-371[View Page 370-371] 380 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. tion she did not think it beneath her to exert those fascinating powers, in the moon-lit halls of the Alhambra. THE ABENCERRAGE. On the summit of a craggy hill, a spur of the mountains of Ronda; stands the castle of Allora; now a mere ruin, infested by bats and owlets; but in old times, a strong border-hold which kept watch upon the warlike kingdom of Granada, and held the Moors in check. It was a post always confided to some well-tried commander, and at the time of which we treat, was held by Roderigo de Narvaez, alcayde, or military governor of Anti- quera. It was a frontier post of his command; but he passed most of his time there, because its situation on the borders gave frequent opportunity for those adventurous exploits in which the Spanish chivalry delighted. He was a veteran, famed among both Moors and Christians, not only for deeds of arms, but for that magnanimous courtesy which should ever be entwined with the stern virtues of the soldier. His garrison consisted of fifty chosen men, well appointed and well-mounted, with which he maintained such vigilant watch that nothing could escape his eye. While some remained on guard in the castle, he would sally forth with others, prowling about the high- ways, the paths and defiles of the mountains by day and night, and now and then making a daring foray into the very Vega of Granada, THE ABENCERRAGE. 871 On a fair and beautiful night in summer, when the moon was in the full, and the freshness of the evening breeze had tempered the heat of day, the alcayde, with nine of his cavaliers, was going the rounds of the mountains in quest of adventures. They rode silently and cautiously, for it was a night to tempt others abroad, and they might be overheard by Moorish scout or traveller; they kept along ravines and hollow ways, moreover, lest they should be betrayed by-fthe glittering of the moon upon their armor. Coming to a fork in the road, the alcayde ordered five of his cavaliers to take one of the branches, while he, with the remaining four, would take the other. Should either party be in danger, the blast of a horn was to be the signal for succor. The party of five had not proceeded far, when, in passing through a defile, they heard the voice of a man singing. Concealing themselves among trees, they awaited his approach. The moon, which left the grove in shadow, shone full upon his person, as he slowly ad- vanced, mounted on a dapple gray steed of powerful frame and generous spirit, and magnificently caparisoned. He was a Moor- ish cavalier of noble demeanor and graceful carriage, arrayed in a marlota, or tunic, and an albornoz of crimson damask fringed with gold. His Tunisian turban, of many folds, was of striped silk and cotton, bordered with a golden fringe; at his girdle hung a Damascus scimitar, with loops and tassels of silk and gold. On his left arm he bore an ample target, and his right hand grasped a long double-pointed lance. Apparently dreaming of no danger, he sat negligently on his steed, gazing on the moon, and singing, with a sweet and manly voice, a Moorish love ditty. Just opposite the grove where the cavaliers were concealed, the horse turned aside to drink at a small fountain in a rock be- page: 372-373[View Page 372-373] 872 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. side the road. His rider threw the reins on his neck to let him drink at his ease, and continued his song. The cavaliers whispered with each other. Charmed with the gallant and gentle appearance of the Moor, they determined not to harm, but capture him; an easy task, as they supposed, in his negligent mood. Riuhing forth, therefore, they thought to sur- round, and take him by surprise. Never were men more mis- taken. To gather up his reins, wheel round his steed, brace his buckler, and couch his lance, was the work of an instant, and there he sat, fixed like i castle in his saddle. The cavaliers checked their steeds, and reconnoitred him warily, loth to come to an encounter which must prove fatal to him. The Moor now held a parley. "If ye be true knights, and seek for honorable fame, come on singly, and I will meet each in succession; if ye be mere lurkers of the road, intent on spoil, come all at once, and do your worst." The cavaliers communed together for a moment, when one parting from the others, advanced. "Although no law of chivalry," said he, obliges us to risk the loss of a prize, when fairly in our power, yet we willingly grant as a courtesy what we might refuse as a right. Valiant Moor, defend thyself!" So saying, he wheeled, took proper distance, couched his lance and putting spurs to his horse, made at the stranger. The latter met him in mid career, transpierced him with his lance, and threw him from his saddle. A second and a third succeeded, but were unhorsed with equal facility, and thrown to the earth, severely wounded. The remaining two, seeing their comrades thus rough- ly treated, forgot all compact of courtesy, and charged both at THE ABENCERRAGE. 373 once upon the Moor. He parried the thrust of one, but was wounded by the other in the thigh, and in the shock and confusion dropped his lance. Thus disarmed, and closely pressed, he pre- tended to fly, and was hotly pursued. Having drawn the two cavaliers some distance from the spot, he wheeled short about, with one of those dexterous movements for which the Moorish hors emen were renowned; passed swiftly between them, swung himself down from his saddle, so as to catch up his lance, then, lightly replacing himself, turned to renew the combat. Seeing him thus fresh for the encounter, as if just issued from his tent, one of the cavaliers put his lips to his horn, and blew a blast, that soon brought the Aicayde and his four compan- ions to the spot. Narvaez, seeing three of his cavaliers extended on the earth, and two others hotly engaged with the Moor, was struck with ad- miration, and coveted a contest with so accomplished a warrior. Interfering in the fight, he called upon his followers to desist, and with courteous words invited the Moor to a more equal combat. The challenge was readily accepted. For some time the contest was doubtful, and the Alcayde had need of all his skill and strength to ward off the blows of his antagonist. The Moor, however, ex- hausted by previous fighting, and by loss of blood, no longer sat his horse firmly, nor managed him with his wonted skill. Collect- ing all his strength for a last assault, he rose in his stirrups, and made a violent thrust with his lance; the Alcayde received it upon his shield, and at the same time wounded the Moor in the right arm; then closing, in the shock, grasped him in his arms, dragged him from his saddle, and fell with him to the earth: when putting his knee upon his breast, and his dagger to his throat, "Cavalier," ex- page: 374-375[View Page 374-375] 3X4 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHA BR A. claimed he, "render thyself my prisoner, for thy life is in my hands!" J Kill me, rather," replied the Moor, "for death would be less grievous than loss of liberty." The Alcayde, however, with the clemency of the truly brave, assisted him to rise, ministered to his wounds with his own hands, and had him conveyed with great care to the castle of Allora. His wounds in a few days were nearly cured; but the deepest had been inflicted on his spirit. He was constantly buried in a pro- found melancholy. The Alcayde, who had conceived a great regard for him, treat- a-.him more as a friend than a captive, and tried in every way to cheer him, but in vain; he was always sad and moodvy, and, when on the battlements of the castle, would keep higes turned to .the south, with a fixed and wistful gaze. "How is this?" exclaimed the Alcayde, reproachfully, "that you, who were so hardy and fearless in the field, should lose all spirit when a captive. If any secret grief preys on your heart, confide it to me, as to a friend, and I promise on the faith of a - cavalier, that you shall have no cause to repent the disclosure." The Moorish knight kissed the hand of the Alcayde. "Noble cavalier," said he, "that I am cast down in spirit, is not from my wounds, which are slight, nor from my captivity, for your kind- ness has robbed it of all gloom; nor from my defeat, for to be conquered by so accomplished and renowned a cavalier, is no dis- grace. But to explain the cause of my grief, it is necessary to give some particulars of my story; and this I am moved to do, by the sympathy you have manifested toward me, and the mag- nanimity that shines through all your actions. THE ABENCERRAGE. 37 ' Know, then, that my name is Abendaraez, and that I am of the noble but unfortunate line of the Abencerrages. You have doubtless heard of the destruction thatj fell upon our race. Charged with treasonable designs, of which they were entirely in- nocent, many of them were beheaded, the rest banished; so that not an Abencerrage was permitted to remain in Granada, excepting my father and my uncle, whose innocence was proved, even to the satisfaction of their persecutors. It was decreed, however, that, should they have children, the sons should be educated-at a dis- tance from Granada, and the daughters should be married out of the kingdom. "Conformably to this decree, I was sent, while yet an infant, to be reared in the fortress of Cartama, the Alcayde of which was an ancient friend of my father. He had no children, and received me into his family as his own child, treating me with the kind- ness and affection of a father; and I grew up in the belief that he really was such. A few years afterward, his wife gave birth to a daughter, but his tenderness toward me continued undiminished. I thus grew up with Xarisa, for so the infant daughter of the Alcayde was called, as her own brother. I beheld her charms unfolding, as it were, leaf by leaf, like the morning rose, each moment disclosing fresh sweetness and beauty, and thought the growing passion which I felt for her was mere fraternal affection. "At length one day I accidentally overheard a conversation between the Alcayde and his confidential domestic, of which I found myself the subject. "In this I learnt the secret of my real parentage, which the Al- cayde had withheld from me as long as possible, through reluc. tance to inform me of my being of a proscribed and unlucky race. page: 376-377[View Page 376-377] 876 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. It was time now, he thought, to apprise me of the truth, that I might adopt a career in life. "I retired without letting it be perceived that I had over- heard the conversation. The intelligence it conveyed, would have overwhelmed me at an earlier period; but now the intima- tion that Xarisa was not my sister, operated like magic. In an instant the brotherly affection with which my heart at times had throbbed almost to excess, was transformed into ardent love. "I sought Xarisa in the garden, where I found her in a bower of jessamines, arranging her beautiful hair in the mirror of a crystal fountain. I ran to her with open arms, and was received with a sister's embraces; upbraiding me for leaving her so long alone. "We seated ourselves by the fountain, and I hastened to reveal the secret conversation I had overheard. "'Alas!" cried she, 'then our happiness is at an end!' "'How!' cried I, 'wilt thou cease to love me because I am not thy brother?' "'Alas, no!' replied she, gently withdrawing from my em- brace, 'but when it is once made known we are not brother and sister, we shall no longer be permitted to be thus always to- gether.' "In fact, from that moment our intercourse took a new cha- ratter. We met often at the fountain among the jessamines, but Xarisa no longer advanced with open arms to meet me. She became reserved and silent, and would blush, and cast down her eyes, when I seated myself beside her. My heart became a prey to the thousand doubts and fears that ever attend upon true love. Restless and uneasy, I looked back with regret to our unreserved THE ABENCERRAGE. 37 intercourse when we supposed ourselves brother and sister; yet I would not have had the relationship true, for the world. "While matters were in this state between us, an order came from the King of Granada for the Alcayde to take command of the fortress of Coyn, on the Christian frontier. He prepared to remove, with all his family, but signified that I should remain at Cartama. I declared that I could not be parted from Xarisa. 'That is the very cause,' said he, 'why I leave thee behind. It is time, Abendaraez, thou shouldst know the secret of thy birth. Thou art no son of mine, neither is Xarisa thy sister.' 'I know it all,' exclaimed I, 'and I love her with tenfold the affection of a brother. You have brought us up together; you have made us necessary to each other's happiness; our hearts have entwined themselves with our growth; do not now tear them asunder. Fill up the measure of your kindness; be indeed a father to me, by giving me Xarisa for my wife.' "The brow of the Alcayde darkened as I spoke. 'Have I then been deceived?' said he. ' Have those nurtured in my very bosom, been conspiring against me? Is this your return for my paternal tenderness?-to beguile the affections of my child, and teach her to deceive her father? It would have been cause enough to refuse thee the hand of. my daughter, that thou wert of a pro- scribed race, who can never approach the walls of Granada; this, however, I might have passed over; but never will I give my daughter to a man who has endeavored to win her from me by de. ception.' "All my attempts to vindicate myself and Xarisa were una- vailing. I retired in anguish from his presence, and seeking Xa- risa, told her of this blow, which was worse than death to me. page: 378-379[View Page 378-379] 378 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. ' Xarisa,' said I, 'we part for ever! I shall never see thee more! Thy father will guard thee rigidly. Thy beauty and his wealth will soon attract some happier rival, and I shall be forgotten! ' "Xarisa reproached my want of faith, and promised eternal constancy. I still doubted and desponded, until, moved by my anguish and despair, she agreed to a secret union. Our espousals made, we parted, with a promise on her part to send me word from Coyn, should her father absent himself from the fortress. The very day after our secret nuptials, I beheld the whole train of the Alcayde depart from Cartama, nor would he admit me to his presence, nor permit me-to bid farewell to Xarisa. I remained at Cartama, somewhat pacified in spirit by our secret bond of union; but every thing around fed my passion, and reminded me of Xarisa. I saw the window at which I had so often beheld her. I wandered through the apartment she had inhabited; the cham- ber in which she had slept. I visited the bower of jessamines, and lingered beside the fountain in which she had delighted. Every thing recalled her to my imagination, and filled my heart, with melancholy. "At length, a confidential servant arrived with a letter from her, informing me, that her father was to depart that day for Granada, on a short absence, inviting me to hasten to Coyn, de- scribing a secret portal at which I should apply, and the signal by which I would obtain admittance. "If ever you have loved, most valiant Alcayde, you may judge of my trransport. That very night I arrayed myself in gallant attire, to pay due honor to my bride; and arming myself against any casual attack, issued forth privately from Cartama. You know the rest, and by what sad fortune of war I find nyself, THE ABENCERRAGE. 379 instead of a happy bridegroom in the nuptial bower of Coyn, van- quished, wounded, and a prisoner within the walls of Allora. I The term of absence of the father of Xarisa is nearly expired. With- in three days he will return to Coyn, and our meeting will no longer be possible. Judge, then, whether I grieve without cause, and whether I may not well be excused for showing impatience under confinement." Don Rodrigo was greatly moved by this recital; for, though more used to rugged war than scenes of amorous softness, he was of a kind and generous nature. "Abendaraez," said he, "I did not seek thy confidence to gra- tify an idle curiosity. It grieves me much that the good fortune which delivered thee into my hands, should have marred so fair an enterprise. Give me thy faith, as a true knight, to return pri- soner to my castle, within, three days, and I will grant thee per- mission to accomplish thy nuptials." The Abencerrage, in a transport of gratitude, would have thrown himself at his feet, but the Alcayde prevented him. Call- ing in his cavaliers, he took Abendaraez by the right hand, in their presence, exclaiming solemnly, "You promise, on the faith of a cavalier, to return to my castle of Allora within three days, and render yourself my prisoner?"And the Abencerrage said, "I promise." Then said the Alcayde, "Go! and may good fortune attend you. If you require any safeguard, I and my cavaliers are ready to be your companions." The Abencerrage kissed the hand of the Alcayde, in grateful acknowledgment. "Give me," said he, " my own armor, and my steed, and I require no guard. It is not likely that I shall again meet with so valorous a foe." page: 380-381[View Page 380-381] 880 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALIAMBRA. The shades of night had fallen, when the tramp of the dapple gray steed resounded over the drawhridge, and immediately after- wards, the light clatter of hoofs along the road bespoke the fleet- ness with which the youthful lover hastened to his bride. It was deep night when the Moor arrived at the castle of Coyn. He silently and cautiously walked his panting steed under its dark walls, and having nearly passed round them, came to the portal denoted by Xarisa. He paused, looked round to see that he was not observed, and knocked three times with the butt of his lance. In a little while the portal was timidly unclosed by the duenna of Xarisa. "Alas! Senor," said she, " what has detained you thus long? Every night have I watched for you; and my lady is sick at heart with doubt and anxiety." The Abencerrage hung his lance, and shield, and scimitar against the wall, and followed the duenna, with silent steps, up a winding staircase, to the apartment of Xarisa. Vain would be the attempt to describe the raptures of that meeting. Time flew too swiftly, and the Abencerrage had nearly forgotten, until too late, his promise to return a prisoner to the Alcayde of Allora. The recollection of it came to him with a pang, and woke him from his dream of bliss. Xarisa saw his altered looks, and heard with alarm his stifled sighs ; but her countenance brightened when she heard the cause. "Let not thy spirit be cast down," said she, throwing her white arms around him. "I have the keys of my father's treasures; send ransom more than enough to satisfy the Christian, and remain with me." "No," said Abendaraez, "I have given my word to return in person, and like a true knight, must fulfil my promise. After that, fortune must do with me as it pleases." THE ABENCERRAGE. 381 "Then," said .Xarisa, "I will accompany thee. Never shalt thou return a prisoner, and I remain at liberty." The Abencerrage was transported with joy at this new proof of devotion in his beautiful bride. All preparations were speed- ily made for their departure. Xarisa mounted behind the Moor, on his powerful steed; they left the castle walls before day- break, nor did they pause, until they arrived at the gate of the castle of Allora. Alighting in the court, the Abencerrage supported the steps of his trembling bride, Iwho remained closely veiled, into the presence of Rodrigo de Narvaez. "Behold, valiant Alcayde!" said he, " the way in which an Abencerrage keeps his word. I promised to return to thee a prisoner, but I deliver two captives into thy power. Behold Xarisa, and judge whether I grieved without reason, over the loss of such a treasure. Receive us as thine own, for'I confide-my life and her honor to thy hands." The Alcayde was lost in admiration of the beauty of the lady, and the noble spirit of the Moor. "I know not," said he, "s which of you surpasses the other; but I know that my castle is graced and honored by your presence. Consider it your own, while you deign to reside with me." For several days, the lovers remained at Allora, happy in each other's love, and in the friendship of the Alcayde. The latter wrote a letter to the Moorish king of Granada, relating the whole event, extolling the valor and good faith of the Aben. cerrage, and craving for him the royal countenance. The king was moved by the story, and pleased with an oppor- tunity of showing attention to the wishes of a gallant and chival. rous enemy; for though he had often suffered from the prowess page: 382-383[View Page 382-383] 382 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMMRA, of Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, he admired his heroic character. Calling the Alcayde of Coyn into'his presence, he gave him the letter to read. The Alcayde turned pale, and trembled with rage, on the perusal. "Restrain thine anger," said the king; "there is nothing that the Alcayde of Allora could ask, that I would not grant, if in my power. Go thou to Allora; pardon thy children; take them to thy home. I receive this Abencer rage into my favor, and it will be my delight to heap benefits upon you all." The kindling ire of the Alcayde was suddenly appeased. He hastened to Allora; and folded his children to his bosom, who would have fallen at his feet. Rodrigo de Narvaez gave liberty to his prisoner without ransom, demanding merely a promise of his friendship. He accompanied the youthful couple and their father to Coyn, where their nuptials were celebrated with great rejoicings. When the festivities were over, Don Rodrigo re- turned to his fortress of Allora. After his departure, the Alcayde of Coyn addressed his chil- dren: "To your hands," said he, "I confide the disposition of my wealth. One of the first things I charge you, is not to for- get the ransom you owe to the Alcayde of Allora. His mag- nanimity you can never repay, but you can prevent it from wronging him of his just dues. Give him, moreover, your entire friendship, for he merits it fully, though of a different faith." The Abencerrage thanked him for his proposition, which so truly accorded with his own wishes. He took a large sum of gold, and inclosed it in a rich coffer; and, on his own part, sent six beautiful horses, superbly caparisoned; with six shields and lances, mounted and embossed with gold. The beautiful Xarisa, THE ABENCERRAGE. 383 at the same time, wrote a letter to the Alcayde, filled with ex- pressions of gratitude and friendship, and sent him a box of fra- grant cypress wood, containing linen, of the finest quality, for his person. The Alcayde disposed of the present in a characteris- tic manner. The horses and armoi he shared among the cava- liers who had accompanied him on the night of the skirmish. The box of cypress wood and its contents he retained, for the sake of the beautiful Xarisa; and sent her, by the hands of the messenger, the sum of gold paid as a ransom, entreating her to receive it as a wedding present. 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