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diff --git a/39132-h/39132-h.htm b/39132-h/39132-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc072ea --- /dev/null +++ b/39132-h/39132-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8219 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mathieu Ropars: et cetera, by William Young</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:70%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em -6em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mathieu Ropars: et cetera, by William Young</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Mathieu Ropars: et cetera</p> +<p>Author: William Young</p> +<p>Release Date: March 13, 2012 [eBook #39132]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATHIEU ROPARS: ET CETERA***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by<br /> + Charlene Taylor, Katie Hernandez, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by the<br /> + Wright American Fiction Project<br /> + (<a href="http://www.letrs.indiana.edu/web/w/wright2/">http://www.letrs.indiana.edu/web/w/wright2/</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through the + Wright American Fiction Project. See + <a href="http://www.letrs.indiana.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?idno=Wright2-2831<;view=toc;sid=075f68e4235f00ec8548d9f9e813ee33;c=wright2"> + http://www.letrs.indiana.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?idno=Wright2-2831<;view=toc;sid=075f68e4235f00ec8548d9f9e813ee33;c=wright2</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1><span class="smcap">Mathieu Ropars:</span></h1> + +<h3>ET CETERA.</h3> + +<h2><i>BY AN EX-EDITOR.</i></h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK: <br /> +<span class="smcap">G. P. Putnam & Son, 661 Broadway.</span><br /> +1868. +</p> +<br /> +<p class="center">1868.<br /> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by<br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM YOUNG,<br /> +<br /> +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the<br /> +Southern District of New York.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">Page.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mathieu Ropars</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Thrice Only</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tossing up for a Husband</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Missing Mariners</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mandragora—by the Dozen</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Dr. Pablo's Prediction</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The New Hampshire Alps</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sliding Scale of the Inconsolables</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rambling Records:</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="left">The Gentle Arlesians</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="left">At Nuremburg</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="left">Roman Nomenclature</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="left">Brigands, Beggars, and Souvenirs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="left">Livres des Voyageurs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Singular Anagram</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Well Known Document</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bel Piede</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Who is He?</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">To Ninon</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Last of the Roman Gladiators</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Prudent Bride</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Tramper's Bed and the King's</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Occasion</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Mournful Ballad of the Alabama</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Lines for the Guitar</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Three Men and a Woman</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Another Marble Faun</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Charades</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<blockquote><p>These literary chips from the workshop of +an arduous profession were, with few exceptions, +contributed to the "<i>Albion</i>" newspaper, +between the years 1848 and 1866.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +New York, May 25, 1868.<br /> +</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MATHIEU ROPARS.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the French of Emile Souvestre.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>I.</h3> + + +<p>At the extremity of the roadstead of Brest, in the +open space that lies stretched out between the Ile Longue +and Point Kelerne, may be seen two rocks crowned +with massive granite buildings, and standing boldly +up. On the former, the lazaretto of Trébéron has +been established; the latter, which in other days was +used as a burial-ground and thence took its name of +the Ile des Morts, now contains the principal powder-magazine +of the naval arsenal. The two rocks separated +by an arm of the sea, are about six miles distant +from Brest. In appearance these little islands are not +unlike. Beyond the ground occupied by the buildings +upon them, they offer nothing to the eye save a succession +of stony slopes, dotted here and there with +coarse moss and prickly thorn-broom. Vainly there +might you look for any other shelter than that afforded +by the fissures of the rocks, for any other shade +than that of the walls, for any other walk than the +short terrace contrived in front of the buildings. Naked +and sterile, the two isles remind you of a couple of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +immense sentry-boxes in stone, placed there for the +purpose of keeping guard over the sea, which is roaring +beneath them. But if the foot that treads them +remains imprisoned within a narrow circle, the view +from their summit extends over an infinite space. +Here, you have the bay of Lanvoc, bordered by a dull-looking +and stunted vegetation; there, Roscanvel +with its shadows crossed by the graceful spire of its +church; there, Spanish Point bristling with batteries; +and lastly, close upon the horizon lies Brest, with its +dock-yards, its forts, and the hundred masts of its ships, +visible through a veil of mist. Midway opens out the +Goulet, the harbour of this marvellous lake, through +which arrive and depart unceasingly those wandering +sails, that issue forth to flaunt the ensign of France +upon the waters, or to bring it home again from far-away +lands.</p> + +<p>A cannon-shot, the echo of which was still booming +along the shores, had just announced one of these arrivals, +and a frigate, with a light breeze, was doubling +the Point under a cloud of canvas. From the esplanade +of Trébéron a man, wrapped in a pilot-cloth cape +and wearing a narrow-brimmed glazed hat, under +which it might be seen that his locks were turning +grey, was looking at the noble vessel as she glided +along in the distance, between the azure of the sea and +of the sky. It was obvious that the keeper of the +lazaretto (for he it was) gave but casual attention to +the sight, with which his long residence at Trébéron<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +had familiarized him. His look, for a moment resting +carelessly upon the frigate which had begun to brail +up her upper sails, soon reverted to his more immediate +neighbourhood, and settled itself at the foot of +the pathway, that led from the esplanade to the sea, +upon a group which appeared more decidedly to interest +him. And in truth the object of this rivetted +gaze was of that sort which might have attracted the +least attentive eye. A pupil of Phidias would have +traced in it the germ of one of those antique bas-reliefs, +of which the marble has become more precious +than gold.</p> + +<p>Two little girls and a goat were coming up the +winding path together. The elder of the two, who +might be eleven years old, was holding the freakish +animal by one of those long pieces of sea-weed that +resemble strips of Spanish leather. Her black hair +fell down upon a neck embrowned like a raven's wing, +and threw something of a wild hardihood into her expression, +tempered however by the velvety softness of +her eye. The younger, seated on the goat as though +it were her customary place, was of such rosy-white +complexion as you see in the flower of the eglantine. +A tuft of broom, mingling with her golden hair, fell +down upon her shoulder, and gave her an indescribably +coquettish grace. The two sisters compelled the +goat, which submitted most unwillingly, to moderate +its pace; but still, as they proceeded, they were obliged +to double the slender reins by which they kept it +within bounds, and anon to catch hold of the wreath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +of sea-flowers twisted about its horns. Then what +joyous shouts and peals of laughter were there without +end, broken in upon by the gentle bleatings of <i>Brunette</i> +as she pawed the ground with her foot, and shook +her saucy little head! Any other hands but those of +Josèphe and Francine would have tried in vain to +make her even so far submissive; but for the latter +the goat had been a foster-mother, a circumstance +evidently not forgotten.</p> + +<p>Mathieu Ropars had been watching for some time +this pleasant little contest between the fantastic <i>Brunette</i> +and his daughters, when he felt a hand laid upon +his arm; he turned round and encountered, so to say, +close against his shoulder the bronzed and smiling face +of their mother.</p> + +<p>—"Just look at those children," said he, nodding +his head in the direction of the merry group.</p> + +<p>—"Heavens! Francine will fall," exclaimed the +mother, stepping towards the path. He drew her +back.</p> + +<p>—"Let them be," said he; "don't you know that +there is nothing to fear when Josèphe has her eye +upon them? Besides, <i>Brunette</i> loves them better than +her own kids; nor are they behind-hand in returning +it. Heaven forgive me, if that creature isn't what +they think most of—after us!"</p> + +<p>—"And after Monsieur Gabriel," chimed in their +mother—"at least so far as Josèphe is concerned; for +although he scarcely stayed more than a week in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +lazaretto, and that's three years ago, the child never +lets a day pass by without speaking of him."</p> + +<p>—"To tell the truth, the Lieutenant is a sort of +man not easily to be forgotten," replied Ropars, "especially +by the little one yonder, to whom he was so +kind and made so many promises. Why, wasn't he to +bring her all manner of wonderful things from the +East? And by the bye, if nothing has happened to +him, I believe that we shall pretty soon see him again, +as well as the <i>Thetis</i>."</p> + +<p>—"In the meantime I must tell the children of +another visit, which will also be no small treat for +them."</p> + +<p>—"Whose?"</p> + +<p>—"Cousin's, and little Michael's."</p> + +<p>—"Dorot's coming?" inquired Mathieu, looking +towards the platform of the Ile des Morts. "How do +you know?"</p> + +<p>—"Can't we talk by signal just as well as his Majesty's +ships?" said Geneviève laughing. "Look, he +has hung out of his window three small red handkerchiefs; +that's to tell us that he's coming over. Besides, +I saw Michael going down to the Superintendent's."</p> + +<p>—"Bravo!" cried Ropars, his face lighting up; +"your cousin and the boy must sup with us—that is +to say, if your pantry is not quite so empty as your +hospital."</p> + +<p>Geneviève protested, and then enumerated with an +air of complacency all her culinary resources, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +had fortunately been replenished, two days before, by +the Superintendent, who supplied at the same time +the powder-magazine and the lazaretto. Mathieu promised +to complete the feast by broaching for the artillery-man +an old bottle of Rousillon wine, stowed +away for a long time under the sand of his cellar.</p> + +<p>The two little girls at this moment came up on to +the terrace.</p> + +<p>—"Quick, here!" cried Geneviève, "quick; there's +somebody coming."</p> + +<p>—"Monsieur Gabriel?" asked Josèphe, springing +forward with this exclamation.</p> + +<p>—"No, no, goose-cap—cousin Dorot and little +Michael."</p> + +<p>An involuntary gesture of disappointment escaped +from the child; but Francine clapped her hands and +broke out into shouts of joy. The goat, left to herself, +bounded along the precipitous slopes of the rocks, +where she set to work browsing on the tufts of brackish +herbage; the sisters took each other's hand to go +down towards the little landing-place; whilst their +mother went into the house with a view of getting +everything in readiness.</p> + +<p>As had been remarked by the last-named, the special +affection of Josèphe for Monsieur Gabriel was already +of several years standing. It dated from a quarantine +performed at Trébéron by the Lieutenant, +who, charmed by her grace, bordering though it was +upon the savage, had exhibited towards her a marked +regard, to which the child had responded with what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +amounted almost to a passion. Having entered the +navy against his inclination, Monsieur Gabriel had +adopted little of it but its uniform. In the midst of +a life of change, hardship, and adventure, he dreamed +unceasingly of the unchangeableness of the domestic +hearth, and of peaceful family enjoyments. He was +one of those lovers of solitude, who are born to live +amongst labourers, and women, and children. Confined +to the lazaretto of Trébéron, he had brought thither +a few favourite books, and his violin, on which he +played for hours at a time, with no other end than the +listening to its melodious vibrations. When he went +out, Josèphe ran to meet him, acted as his guide along +the rocks, and escorted him to their most secluded +recesses, in which, day by day, he discovered some unknown +plant, or moss that was new to him. In the +evening, be paid a visit to the old quarter-master +whose quiet enjoyment of life had attracted his notice. +Geneviève talked to him of her children; Josèphe +begged of him a story or a song; and when it was +time for him to retire for the night, he went back to +his cell, light hearted and with tranquil mind. A +fortnight thus slipped away as if it had been an hour; so +that when his quarantine was at length performed, and +it was necessary for him to leave Trébéron, his deliverance +did but awaken in him a feeling of regret. He +came back several times to pass whole days upon the +lonely islet; and when finally he was embarking for a +distant voyage of discovery, he promised the solitary +family that he would occasionally write to them. Ro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>pars +had in fact received some letters from him; and, +as we have seen, was expecting his speedy return. +For the moment, the visit announced by Geneviève exclusively +occupied the keeper of the lazaretto. He +remained alone upon the esplanade, whence he continued +to look towards the Ile des Morts. The distance +rendered visible everything done there; it was easy +to recognize persons and to distinguish their movements. +He could therefore see Dorot take his way +towards the skiff, set up the mast, and hoist the sail; +and the little Michael catching hold, with some difficulty, +of the tiller.</p> + +<p>Previously to the two families becoming allied by +marriage, the keepers of the powder-magazine and of +the lazaretto had known each other in the navy, wherein +one was a quarter-master and the other a sergeant +of artillery. Appointed to Trébéron, Mathieu Ropars +had rejoiced at the idea of meeting his old ship-mate +Dorot, already several years established at the Ile des +Morts, with his wife, his son, and a female orphan relative. +The lazaretto being almost always deserted, he +was left with ample leisure for frequent visits to the +powder-magazine, and for becoming well known there +and thoroughly appreciated. Geneviève, Dorot's cousin, +was particularly taken with such a character, so +straight-forward and yet so gentle. She had been +tried, until she was sixteen, by all the pains and penalties +of misery. Taken then, from charitable motives, +into the house of her cousin whose wife occasionally +made her pay dearly enough for his hospitality, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +poor orphan had accustomed herself to expecting nothing +at any one's hands, and to receiving as a favour +whatever was accorded her. Thus the frank cordiality +of Mathieu was more touching in her eyes than it +would have been in those of another. She welcomed +it with a gratitude half filial, to which insensibly became +added that shade of a more tender feeling, always +blended into the attachments of a woman whose heart +is disengaged. An intimacy between herself and Ropars +went on, strengthening from day to day, whilst +neither of them took account of their predilections. +As he marked the young girl in the bloom of her expanding +beauty, Mathieu, who already felt the weight +of years upon him, would never have dreamed of asking +her to share his existence; whilst Geneviève, happy +in seeing him daily and in the consciousness of his immediate +neighbourhood, thought not of desiring anything +further. It needed the offer of a situation for her at +Brest, and the consequent prospect of a separation, to +enlighten them as to their mutual dependence on each +other. Perceiving that Geneviève shed tears, Ropars, +who could not shut his eyes to his own distress of mind, +took courage and brought matters to a point. He told +her that she might dispense with this separation, if the +isle of Trébéron were no more irksome to her than the Ile +des Morts, and if his society were as agreeable to her +as that of her cousin. The poor girl, weeping, blushing +and overjoyed, could only reply by letting herself +fall into his arms. The old quarter-master forthwith +opened his mind to Dorot. The marriage took place;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +and he carried off Geneviève to his islet, of which +henceforth he mistrusted not the solitude.</p> + +<p>The difference in their respective ages did not seem +to mar the happiness of the keeper and the orphan girl. +Both were possessed of that which renders marriage a +blessing—the simple mind and the heart of kindly +impulse. Children came, to draw still closer these +ties, and to enliven their hearth. The younger was +just born, when Dorot lost his wife, and was left alone +with his son Michael, thirteen years of age. This +premature widowerhood had revived the friendship of +the two old shipmates. Their intercourse became more +frequent. The skiff that served both establishments +was stationed at the little haven of the Ile des Morts, +and was thus at the disposition of the artillery-man, +who missed no opportunity of coming to pass a few +hours with his neighbours. But notwithstanding their +proximity, and the ease with which the passage was +made, these visits could not be of daily occurrence. +Dorot was obliged to be constantly on the watch; his +official orders were equally sudden and unforeseen; +nor could he expose himself to the risk of too frequent +absence. His appearance therefore at the lazaretto +had not ceased to be a happy exception to the rule. +Father, mother, and children alike found in it a festal +occasion; and it was never without great rejoicing that +the signal was observed announcing the agreeable visit, +and the boat seen putting out from the little landing-place +and stretching over towards Trébéron.</p> + +<p>This time, so soon as Ropars saw her on the way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +he went down to meet her. Scarcely had she touched +the ground, when Michael jumped ashore, threw his +arms about the keeper, then about the two little girls, +and then ran off with the latter towards the house. +Dorot stepping out in turn, shook hands heartily with +Mathieu; and the pair, chatting, slowly began the ascent. +Having reached the summit of the cliff, they +faced about by force of habit, to take a look out to +sea. The artillery-man remarked that the frigate +had just clewed up her lower sails.</p> + +<p>—"God help us! she's going to anchor," said he; +"did you ever see, Mathieu, a homeward-bound ship +let go so far from land?"</p> + +<p>—"That depends," replied the old quarter-master; +"we hold off when we mistrust a fort, or are afraid of +reefs."</p> + +<p>—"But there's nothing of that sort here," remarked +Dorot; "the frigate has no need to fear the guns of +the Castle which are her very good friends, or the +roadstead which is as safe an anchorage as if she were +fast in the dry-dock. There must be something extraordinary."</p> + +<p>—"Perhaps the ship has to perform quarantine," +suggested Ropars; "the <i>Thetis</i> is expected."</p> + +<p>—"That's it; you've named her," cried the artillery-man, +winking his eye and shading his forehead +with one hand so as to look more fixedly at the distant +vessel; "it is the <i>Thetis</i>, or I'm a heathen. I had +her down yonder for a week, when she took her pow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>der +on board; I know her by the set of her masts and +by her bearing on the water."</p> + +<p>—"The <i>Thetis</i>!" echoed Mathieu; "then we +shall soon see Monsieur Gabriel. What delight for +Josèphe! Quick; let's tell her."</p> + +<p>He was hurrying off, but Dorot kept him back. +"No hurry," said he; "never reckon too surely on +what a ship brings home. Pick people out, and they're +just those that are missing when the roll's called. +Better wait till the Lieutenant brings his own news."</p> + +<p>—"You're right," replied the quarter-master; +"the more so since the frigate comes, if I don't mistake, +from the Havannah."</p> + +<p>—"Who knows whether she won't bring you some +lodgers for your lazaretto?"</p> + +<p>—"So be it; they'll be welcome. With Geneviève +and the children, one can't be dull; but once in a +while there's no harm in a little company. You fellows +at the Ile des Morts, you have the artillery despatch-carrier, +who keeps you up to all that goes on, +to say nothing of inspections and your convoys of powder; +whilst here—never a thing! Not one visitor in +a twelvemonth! At least, if you have to put people +sometimes into quarantine, you hear what's done on +land there, and that leaves you some thing to talk about +for months."</p> + +<p>The artillery-man shrugged his shoulders—"That's +all very well, when they don't bring disease with them; +but the old coasters still talk of a quarantine in which +the lazaretto ran short of both earth and rock for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +burying the dead, and when the bodies were of necessity +thrown into the sea with a shot attached to their +necks, as in vessels out on a voyage."</p> + +<p>—"Now may Christ spare us such a trial!" exclaimed +Ropars, respectfully touching his hat, as he +was used to do whenever he pronounced the Saviour's +name. "But you're speaking of a long time ago, +Dorot; please Heaven, we won't see such again. +There are no heathen here now; and I believe that +God's good will will take care of us."</p> + +<p>Dorot nodded his acquiescence. In fact this confidence, +springing from a simple faith, had up to that +time been justified by experience. During the thirteen +years that the keeper had spent at Trébéron, he had +only received healthy persons into quarantine, who +were complying with a formal regulation, and were +obliged to make proof of their good health by undergoing +this preventive sequestration. There were indeed +rare exceptions. Like all lazarettos, that of +Trébéron remained generally unoccupied; and the +keeper kept watch there alone, like an ever-living sentinel +posted in advance of the continent, for the purpose +of warding off contagion.</p> + +<p>As they chatted, Dorot and he had reached the +house. Geneviève was waiting for them at the doorway, +surrounded by the three children who laid hold +of and talked to her all at once. After an exchange +of their accustomed friendly greetings, she went in, +with the two keepers, whilst Michael drew off Francine +and Josèphe towards <i>Brunette</i>, who was waiting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +for them on a pinnacle of rock, eyeing them and bleating +at them. The youngster, accustomed to chase his +father's sheep upon the declivities of the Ile des Morts, +endeavored to get at her; but the capricious creature +sprung from point to point along the precipices, letting +herself at every moment almost be caught, and +at every moment bounding away from the hand that +just could touch her.</p> + +<p>Whilst the children kept up this chase, with a thousand +calls to one another and a thousand peals of +laughter, Ropars and Dorot entered the eating-room +in which Geneviève was already laying the cloth. It +was a room of middling size, furnished by the keeper +himself at the period of his marriage, and ornamented +with a few marine engravings. Amongst these was +particularly distinguished a portrait of Jean Bart, +that nautical Hercules on whom, as all the world +knows, his traditional celebrity has fastened all manner +of superhuman exploits and impossible adventures.</p> + +<p>Having made his guest sit down, Mathieu went off +to disinter his bottle of Rousillon wine; and brought +it back all whitened with the sand, and capped with a +green-waxed cork that bespoke its noble birth-place. +Dorot good-temperedly complained of such extravagance, +and hinted that he could not make his visit a +long one, inasmuch as the officer commanding the post +of the Ile des Morts had charged him to bring the skiff +back before sunset. Geneviève therefore hurried herself +to serve up the dinner, and called the children to +take their places at table.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>With persons whose entire life was contracted within +the narrow limits of two small islands, the conversation +could not be much varied. Mathieu talked of +his still-lines set between the headlands of Trébéron, +and Dorot of his small cherry-tree. The latter might +be regarded as the one stumbling block of pride, over +which the habitual modesty of the worthy sergeant +was sure to trip. No other keeper before his time had +succeeded in securing what he planted, from the +sea wind; this was the only tree that had ever been +seen in the two islands; and Lucullus might well have +been less proud of the first cherry-tree that he brought +from Persia, for the purpose of gracing his triumph. +Humble as regards everything else, Dorot drew himself +up proudly when there was any question of his +poor wild-stock; he only let it be seen by his friends +and his superiors, and then at their urgent solicitation. +Objects resemble human kind, and very often +assume the importance that is given them, in place of +that to which they are entitled. Thus overcharged +and carefully tended, the fame of the cherry-tree of +the Ile des Morts went abroad from Plougastel to +Camaret; it was everywhere talked of as a prodigy. +The pride of Dorot had increased in a corresponding +degree, and was just now swollen to the highest pitch +by an event no less extraordinary than unforseen. He +brought the news of it to Trébéron, but would not +make it known too abruptly. All supposable things +were first to be run over, as in the famous letter of +Madame de Sevigné on the marriage of Mademoi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>selle. +Finally, when every one had given it up, he +determined to enlighten them, and announced ... +that the cherry-tree was in blossom!</p> + +<p>Unanimous was the cry of astonishment and delight. +Prisoners in their island, it was several years since +Ropars and Geneviève had seen a tree in blossom; and +the two little girls could not recall to mind that they had +ever seen one. Loudly and both at once, they beset +Michael with questions. Was the cherry-tree flowering +in gold-colour like the thorn-broom, or in the colour +of blood like the sea-furze? How could the blossoms +ever become fruit? Must they wait a long time? +Would the tree bear the red cherries of the coast, or +the black-hearts of the upper country? Dorot cut all +these inquiries short, by declaring that he would come +over next day, for the whole of the family, that they +might see the wondrous tree and dine at the Ile des +Morts. The ecstacies of the sisters may be imagined. +Their mother could not check their laughing and their +clapping of hands. They continued their cry of "to-morrow, +to-morrow!" just as Æneas' look-out men +kept up their cry of "Italy, Italy!" when they saw +through the empurpled vapours that goal of so many +efforts and such longings.</p> + +<p>Remarking their impatience, the sergeant proposed +to carry them over, that very evening, with Michael. +There would be still day-light enough on their arrival, +for them to see the cherry-tree covered with its coat +of summer-snow, and their parents could fetch them, +next day. The children backed this offer with their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +entreaties; Ropars smiled, without replying; but +Geneviève entered her protest against it. What would +she do, if Francine and Josèphe were away? Many +a time ere this, on waking in the middle of the night, +she had fretted herself at not hearing their gentle +breathings; she had jumped up in agony, and had +crept on tip-toe to their bed, to touch them and to +listen to them; how would it be then, if they were +not there; how could she herself sleep quietly without +fancying some danger? She would dream that +the powder-magazine was on fire, or that the Ile des +Morts was going down like a vessel foundering—and +all this was said betwixt a laugh and a tear. The +little maidens, bent at first on setting off, were soon +hanging on their mother's shoulders, touched by her +contagious tenderness, and declaring that they preferred +to remain. The artillery-man insisted no longer. +He took with Mathieu the path that led down to the +sandy shore, and was followed by Geneviève and the +children, all silent for the moment.</p> + +<p>The sun declining to the horizon lit up the promontory +of Kelerne, and painted in the passage of Goulet +a stream of purple and gold. A breeze began to play +over the bay, and chequered it with undulating ripples. +The perfume exhaled from the saps was wafted +in puffs of wind from the main land, as were the tinklings +of the Angelus, and the lowing of the cattle +driven home. A consciousness of strength in repose +was perceivable, together with an indescribable air of +serenity, that stole from surrounding objects upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +senses, and found its way to the very depths of the +soul. The sky, the earth, and the water seemed by +mutual consent to have subdued their voices, in order +to mingle them in one harmonious murmur. Without +analyzing the soft but not enervating influence that +surrounded them, the two keepers with their families +were alive to its effects. Silently they went down +the foot-path, pausing upon their steps, as though to +lengthen out the sense of enjoyment, or to taste of it +drop by drop. Having, however, reached the boat, it +became necessary to part. Josèphe made the sergeant +promise to come for them early in the morning. The +sail at last was hoisted; and the skiff, launched out +upon the yielding waves, sped her way towards the +powder-magazine.</p> + +<p>At the moment when she reached the middle of the +channel that separates the two islands, a ship's long-boat, +unobserved hitherto in the excitement of leave-taking, +appeared to leeward of Trébéron. Her peculiar +build, her black color traversed only by a single +white ribbon at the water-line, and the perfect condition +of her spars and sails, would have sufficed to +show what she was, even if the costume of the double +row of sailors ranged along the thwarts had not betrayed +the man-of-war's men. On crossing the skiff +steered by the sergeant, she was sheered suddenly +off; and by the last glimpse of day-light might be discerned +the yellow flag of the Health Office.</p> + +<p>At this sight, Geneviève and the children uttered +an involuntary cry. All three at once comprehended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +that these were occupants coming to the lazaretto; +that they would put the island into quarantine, and +prevent all external intercourse. The next day's visit +must be indefinitely postponed, and the cherry-tree +would have finished blossoming before they could have +regained their liberty. This dashing down of a newly-raised +anticipation had in it something so abrupt and +so unexpected, that Francine and Josèphe could by no +means resign themselves to it. Desolate was the look +that they exchanged, and silently did they begin to +weep, as their mother took one of them in either hand, +and sorrowfully remounted the path. Geneviève herself +felt her heart oppressed; on reaching the platform, +she could not but pause for a moment. The skiff with +rose-coloured sail, that bore away the promise of another +meeting and of a festival, had disappeared; the +black long-boat was there at her feet—and with it had +come to shore, seclusion, melancholy, and disease. +Geneviève kissed her children; but scarcely could +she keep back a tear that had gathered beneath her eyelids, +as without the inclination to prolong her look she +hastily entered the house.</p> + +<p>Mathieu in the meantime had gone to receive the +persons placed in quarantine, and to open the lazaretto +for them. On returning, he looked somewhat pale, +and his face wore an expression with which Geneviève +was struck; but at the first question she asked him, +he abruptly interrupted her, to inquire where Francine +and Josèphe were.</p> + +<p>—"Don't you see them?" she replied, pointing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +the two little girls sitting down in a dark corner, still +sobbing, and with eyes still moist; "did you think +that they had gone with their cousin?"</p> + +<p>"Would to God, they had!" murmured Mathieu +in an agonized voice, but not overheard by the children.</p> + +<p>Geneviève looked at him, stupefied. "Why so?" +she asked; "what has happened? Tell me, Mathieu, +in the name of the Holy Trinity! what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>—"Well, then," answered the keeper, "there is +... there is ... death upon the island."</p> + +<p>—"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>—"I mean, my poor wife, just what I have seen! +The <i>Thetis's</i> long-boat has landed her hospital-mates +and doctors, with eight sick men; not one of whom +will ever touch the main-land again."</p> + +<p>—"Holy Virgin! what is it?"</p> + +<p>—"The yellow fever!"</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + + +<p>For him who dwells in-land, the yellow fever is but +a disease similar to a thousand others, of which he +knows nothing save the name. Family tradition and +personal experience can attach to it, for him, neither +terror or regret. But amongst our maritime population, +the word sounds like a knell; not only bringing +to mind a risk to be encountered, but reviving affliction, +of recent or of ancient date. There, where every +family has one at least of its loved members absent +in foreign countries, the terrible scourge is all too well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +identified with the number of widows and orphans that +it has made. It ranks with the storm and the reef of +rocks, as a deadly foe. Its name, let fall, produces the +same effect as the wind that whistles, or the surf that +roars. Looks are interchanged on hearing it; and +thought recurs to the absent, if not to the dead.</p> + +<p>Ropars, on this occasion, dwelt mainly on those +about him; and in truth, no one could have better +right than he to be ill at ease. Thrown in former days +upon a station where the yellow fever was epidemic, +he had seen the seamen of the fleet decimated around +him, and had himself barely escaped, as if by miracle. +The remembrance of that butchery, as he termed it, +was too vivid, and he had too often described it to Geneviève, +for their firmness not now to be shaken. +They troubled not themselves on their own account, +but on account of those whose existence was so dear to +them. Mathieu's first thought was of his wife and of his +children; the first impulse of Geneviève was to fold them +in her arms, and to declare that they must all go away. +Some trouble had the old sailor in making her comprehend +that, even if retreating were not dishonorable +for him, it had become impossible. The long-boat +had made sail for the frigate, and the yellow flag was +hoisted at the lazaretto. Quarantine had begun for +all who happened to be at Trébéron. Not a soul +could henceforth pass beyond its limits: and Ropars +pointed out to Geneviève the gun-boat sent by the +health officer, which had been brought to bear at half +cable's-length distance from the island, and cut off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +from it all intercourse by boats. They were in fact +definitively penned in with the epidemic, and condemned +to run its risk to the end.</p> + +<p>But the agitation of Mathieu, in which surprise had +worked its part, did not last long. The quarter-master +soon regained his original strength of mind, which +had been slightly unhinged in the tendernesses of his +domestic life; and, regardless of his own previous +words, he set himself seriously to soothing the terror of +Geneviève by underrating the danger that they incurred. +After all, they were not here in a state of things +that favoured the disease; they had not to contend +against the enervating sun of the Havannah or Brazil; +this was not one of those awful contagions that spread +from house to house like a fire, leaving behind it the +dead alone—it was a disorder partly spent, and from +which, with certain precautions, escape was easy. +The chief and the most indispensable of these precautions +was to avoid going near the apartments occupied +by those who had been brought into quarantine, +and never to stay to leeward of the lazaretto. Josèphe +and Francine were at once informed of this. Geneviève +explained to them every thing that they were +to do, with a minuteness of detail, that savoured alternately +of threatening and of endearment. At first, +as the punishment for any failure of obedience, she +pointed out to them the disease, or even death itself; +then seeing them turn pale with fear, she drew them +within her caressing arms and re-assured them by +her kisses. Mathieu added to her exhortations some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>thing +more definite and more secure. Next morning, +he marked out a space enclosed with stakes joined together +by a cord, as the children's permitted bounds. +By way of increased precaution, the goat herself was +brought within this enclosure, picketted to a stake, and +fed upon winter fodder. The keeper, on his part, held +aloof from habitual intercourse with the infirmary-men +and the doctors of the lazaretto. He would even have +been ignorant of the fate of those who were in quarantine +if, every evening, the descent of a few men towards +the sandy shore of the little isle, and the tinkling +of a bell that warned him to stand out of their +way, had not made it obvious that their errand was to +dig a grave. The vacancies, besides, were rapidly +filled by fresh invalids brought on shore by the frigate's +long-boat, for the epidemic did not seem as yet +to decrease or to relax its severity. No convalescent +inmate had yet appeared upon the terrace of the lazaretto. +The skiff belonging to the gun-boat, that enforced +the sanitary regulations, came near the landing place +every morning; but no one landed. Provisions and +medicines were put ashore by means of a travelling +pass-rope, set up in the creek; the Surgeon's report +was received at the end of a boat-hook; and then the +skiff sailed away in an apparent hurry, that bespoke +the fear of contagion.</p> + +<p>However, after the first few days were past, Ropars +and Geneviève felt somewhat re-assured. The blows +that death dealt around them were mute and hidden; +the edge of inquietude became insensibly blunted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +Seeing that it was possible to live in contact with the +formidable malady, they half forgot, both of them, +that is was also possible to die. It was with them as +with the inhabitants of a besieged city, who no longer +tremble at the roar of cannon. In vain did the bell +tinkle every evening, and the long-boat bring ashore +every morning a fresh batch of the death-stricken; the +continuance of the danger made it seem to be a matter +of course, and this feeling soon merged into a sense +of security. Once in a while even, Geneviève forgot +every thing and recommenced her singing; but abruptly +it was suspended at sight of the yellow flag, or as a +sudden recollection crossed her mind. Then the song +was stifled into a sigh.</p> + +<p>Ropars had made inquiries for Monsieur Gabriel, +on the first arrival of the sick. The epidemic had +not then attacked him; but his own breaking off from +all intercourse with the hospital-mates, and with the +crew, had prevented his seeking further information. +Several boat-loads had been brought ashore, without +any opportunity for his hearing of the Lieutenant, +when he received a note, cut through with scissors and +steeped in vinegar. It contained only these few +words, written in pencil:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I am come here.... If I live, we shall meet.... +If I die ... present this letter to the captain of the +<i>Thetis</i> ... and claim for Josèphe ... my large mahogany +chest.</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Gabriel</span>."<br /> +</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>The writing, scarcely legible, betrayed a hand that +shook with fever. Mathieu, grievously taken by surprise, +forgot this time all his precautions, and ran to +the lazaretto. But the Surgeon would not let him +see the Lieutenant, whose condition seemed to give +him grave concern. In the evening it was still worse, +and left little room for hope; on the following day +there was none at all.</p> + +<p>Josèphe, from whom they had concealed the name +of the frigate that was ravaged by the epidemic, had +no suspicion of the danger of her friend; still, her sister +and herself had none the less lost all their gaiety. +Prisoners within the narrow bounds marked out by +their father, they were both moodily seated near the +stake to which the goat was picketted; and she, lying +down at their feet, seemed to disdain the fodder that +was scattered before her. Josèphe, holding Francine +propped against her, proposed to her, one after +another, all the little games to which they were accustomed; +but the child shook her head, her eyes +fixed upon the sea.</p> + +<p>—"What will you do, then, Zine?" asked she, saddened +by her sister's sadness.</p> + +<p>There was no reply. The elder had one hand upon +the younger's head, and played for an instant with +the ringlets of her golden hair.</p> + +<p>—"You're longing to go across there to see Michael? +isn't that it?" she resumed, bending down over +the little one; "but it's too late; the cherry-tree has +shed its blossoms."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"Then you believe that the cherries are already +ripe?" interrupted Francine, turning up to Josèphe +her face that listlessness had robbed of a portion of +its roses, but with her large eyes full of curiosity.</p> + +<p>—"I don't know," said the elder "mother will +tell us. But let's think about something else; you +know that we cannot go to the powder-magazine."</p> + +<p>—"No, nor to the end of the island, nor any where," +added Francine, letting herself sink down again upon +Josèphe's knees.</p> + +<p>The latter, bent at all events on amusing the child, +then called her attention to the goat, that had just got +up. Starting suddenly from her doze, <i>Brunette</i> was +describing round her stake a series of such droll evolutions, +that the child's sadness could not hold out against +them, and she soon broke out into a laugh. Josèphe, +who at first had chimed in with her merriment, was +afraid that the mutinous creature's gambols would end +by her breaking the cord; she put her hand out to prevent +it.</p> + +<p>—"Let her be, let her be!" cried Francine in high +glee; "look how she rears up! see how she dances! +Well done, <i>Brunette</i>; higher, little one, higher!"</p> + +<p>The child, kneeling down upon the sand, clapped +her hands, with shouts of delight; and the goat, that +seemed excited by her voice and by the noise, redoubled +its capricious boundings. All at once, the +stake, loosened by such continued tuggings, was drawn +out of the ground: the animal jumped to one side;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +and finding itself no longer held back, started off for +the further extremity of the island.</p> + +<p>The two sisters gave utterance to a cry, and then, +from an irresistable impulse, sprang away together in +pursuit. The corded limits were passed, and they +were soon led off along the declivities, calling to <i>Brunette</i>, +who according to her old tricks would wait, +bleating, for them, and then caper away at their approach. +In the eagerness of their chase they thus +reached the summit of the island, followed the slopes +that went down to the sea, and finally arrived at the +foot of the ravine that was farthest removed from their +dwelling. It was there only that Josèphe bethought +her of their disobedience. She stopped, out of breath, +and held back her sister with her arms.</p> + +<p>—"Not a step further, Zine!" cried she; "we +ought not to have come so far; mother forbid it."</p> + +<p>The little one looked round about her, and remarked +in turn the spot in which they were. It was a large +fissure hollowed out in the stony soil of the island, and, +at the bottom of which broad ferns and flowering +brooms had sprung up in tufts. Right and left, +through the partition-walls of rock, peeped up the +stone-break, and the sea turf with its purple cats-tails, +and the fox glove that thrust its long stalk from the +crevices, loaded with rose-coloured bell flowers.</p> + +<p>At such a sight, Francine could not restrain a cry +of admiration. Here was the first verdure, here were +the first flowers she had seen, since strict orders had +confined her to the barren platform occupied by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +keeper's house. Neither could she resist the temptation; +slipping away from the hands of her sister, and +unwilling to hear a word, she disappeared in the thickest +of the flowering tufts.</p> + +<p>Having vainly called to her, Josèphe followed to +bring her back; but the child went on from shrub to +shrub, without any inclination to stop. At every fresh +handful of gathered flowers, uselessly did Josèphe cry, +"enough!" "More, more!" was Francine's answer, +as she piled up within her apron, upheld by the two +corners, all on which she could lay her hands. Want +of place alone could make her consent to suspend her +harvesting. Loaded with herbs and wild flowers, falling +in garlands down to her very feet, she at length +was disposed to take hold again of Josèphe's hand, +who set to work to find their way back, and cautiously +removed the prickly-broom from their path.</p> + +<p>The children were on the point of reaching a ridge +made up of heath and broom, when the warning bell +was heard above their heads. They stopped, and raised +their eyes. Four of the infirmary-men were coming +down towards the ravine, bearing their funereal burden. +They were following the only foot-path practicable on +the slope, and the little girls could not proceed on their +way, without meeting them. Terrified, they drew back +amongst the bushes that still concealed them, and +paused, leaning one against the other. The bell tinkled +by fits and starts, drawing nearer at every sound. At +length they could distinguish the heavy footstep of the +bearers ringing upon the rock, and could see their dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>ening +outlines marked out in the twilight. They were +advancing precisely to the little oasis wherein the children +had taken refuge. Arrived at the entrance, they +seemed to consult together for an instant; then resumed +their way through the thorny tufts, rounded the +mass of rock behind which the sisters had crouched, +and stopped, with the words, "Here it is."</p> + +<p>Francine, in dire alarm, had hidden her head upon +Josèphe's knees; she, less timid, gently put aside the +branches, and could then see a grave already dug in a +gravelly portion of the soil. The infirmary-men had +laid down the corpse upon the ground, wrapped-up in +a coarse linen cloth. Then they took a sack, hidden +under a projecting bit of rock, and emptied its contents +into the grave. The white dust, that rose up +from it as a cloud, was wafted to the children in a +sour odour of lime. This was carefully spread over +the bottom of the hole, so as to form a bed for the dead +body, and was then sprinkled with water drawn from +the sea. These preparatory measures had all been taken +in gloomy silence. Nought was heard but the scraping +of the spade upon the rocky soil, and the monotonous +bubbling of the tiny waves that rippled with the evening +breeze upon the shore. Josèphe, her neck out-stretched, +her large eyes dilated, and with a painful +sense of tightening at her heart-strings, continued on +the watch.</p> + +<p>At this moment, two of the bearers took up the body, +and brought it close to the hole dug for its reception. +They were separated from the children only by a tuft<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +of bushes. As they lightly grazed it with their burden, +a gust of wind unrolled one of the corners of the +covering cloth; a livid head was visible by the last +glimmering of light; and Josèphe uttered a stifled +cry. The fall of the body into the pit prevented her +being heard; but the moment's glance had sufficed—the +child thought she recognized the face of Monsieur +Gabriel. She threw herself back, in inexpressible +horror. It was the first time that death had come +before her eyes, and it appeared to her in a guise that +filled her with grief and terror. Clinging to Francine, +she began to tremble in every limb. The noise +of the earth and flint-stones, that were shovelled into +the grave, held her as one petrified. It was only +when the four grave-diggers had left the ravine and +disappeared in the pathway, that her agony found vent. +Francine raised her head and asked what had happened; +but receiving no reply, threw herself into Josèphe's +arms, and began in turn to sob.</p> + +<p>The distress of her little sister seemed to counteract +that of Josèphe, who forced herself to stifle her +own anguish, and began embracing and consoling +Francine.</p> + +<p>—"Don't cry" stammered she, choking in spite of +herself; "you mustn't be afraid, ... you mustn't +cry...."</p> + +<p>—"What is the matter with you, Josey; what is +it?" inquired the little one again, holding her sister's +head between her own two hands, and kissing her +moistened cheeks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"It's ... nothing, ... "returned Josèphe, her +accent belying her words, ... "I was taken by surprise...."</p> + +<p>—"Have the men gone?" asked Francine, looking +with frightened glance towards the grave.</p> + +<p>—"You see they have," answered Josèphe shuddering.</p> + +<p>—"What did they come here to do? They were +carrying something. It was a dead body, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>Her sister put her hand upon her lips.</p> + +<p>—"Don't talk of that, Zine!" murmured she, her +sobs again overpowering her.</p> + +<p>—"You saw it?" asked the child, frightened, yet +curious.</p> + +<p>—"Yes, O God!" faltered forth her sister in reply;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"... and ... I knew it again ... it was Monsieur</span><br /> +Gabriel!"</p> + +<p>—"Your good friend, Josey?" cried Francine; +"are you sure? And he's there ... there, under the +ground? ... Oh! let's go, let's go; I'm afraid ... I'm +afraid!"</p> + +<p>And again she threw herself into her sister's arms, +who exerted herself to the utmost to re-assure her, +and at the same time to control her own tears.</p> + +<p>—"There, stop, Zine!" said she, with broken voice; +"... we must be calm ... we must dry up our eyes ... +or mother will be uneasy." Then raising herself suddenly, +"Hark," she added, "I fancied I heard some +one calling us; quick, quick, let's go up!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>With these words the two little maidens rose from +the ground; quitting the ravine, they hastily regained +the platform, trembling and out of breath when they +reached it.</p> + +<p>Geneviève was waiting there for them; but it was +already dark, and this prevented her noticing their +trouble. She took them by the hand, to lead them in, +and made them repeat their joint prayers; both went +to bed, without speaking of the adventure at the ravine.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + + +<p>Josèphe slept badly; and the next morning, when +she got up, was pale and drooping. Geneviève, who +did not fail to notice it, questioned her with nervous +solicitude; but the child answered that nothing was +the matter. Only, at every inquiry, her eyes filled +with tears, and her voice trembled. Thus languidly +for her did the day wear away. In the evening she +was still more depressed, but still not suffering pain. +She passed a restless night; and on the following +morning Ropars went for the Surgeon of the lazaretto. +He examined the child, and put several questions that +darkened the brow of Mathieu. Geneviève, whose +looks went direct from the Surgeon to her husband, +perceived this; and she felt a blow stricken upon her +heart. At the moment when the two crossed the +thresh-hold, she followed, shut the door abruptly, and +stopped them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"It is the ... disease, ... is it not?" she asked +in anguish. She had not dared to name the yellow +fever; the Surgeon seemed to hesitate in his reply.</p> + +<p>—"Ah! I'm certain of it," she exclaimed, confirmed +by this very hesitation; "so, our precautions have all +been useless! The blow has come, and all is over!"</p> + +<p>She could not avoid sinking down upon the stone +bench, placed beside the door; and she covered her +face with her apron. The Surgeon taxed himself to +console her with vague assurances; but it was evident +that he himself had no longer confidence in his efforts. +Overcome by the implacable power of the contagion, +he persevered in struggling against it, without hope +and from a sense of duty, as soldiers, for the honour of +their flag, defend silently a post that has been abandoned. +So, perceiving that his words, far from soothing +the grief of Geneviève, did but redouble it, he turned +towards the keeper, and, having briefly repeated to +him some directions already given for the child, he went +his way.</p> + +<p>Ropars remained some moments on one spot, with +his arms crossed and his head upon his breast; but a +still deeper groan from Geneviève caused him to raise +his eyes. He took her hand.</p> + +<p>—"It isn't time for despair yet," said he, with +gentle firmness; "when God shall have decided against +us, your whole life-time will be left for grief. At +present, let us devote ourselves to our duty, and follow +strictly the injunctions of the doctor."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"And he has told us nothing at all!" said the +mother, who at heart felt half-incensed against the +Surgeon, for not having more vigorously combatted +her fears; "he has not given us any hope!"</p> + +<p>—"God is the master," replied Mathieu, in all simplicity, +"and so long as he has not declared his pleasure, +we may believe that all will work well; but if +the darling creature must be taken from our hands, +let us at least to the last moment show him, how keen +is our desire to keep her."</p> + +<p>Hereupon the feverish voice of the child reached +their ears.</p> + +<p>—"Hark, she's calling me!" cried Geneviève, rising +in urgent haste to go in. Ropars stopped her.</p> + +<p>—"Dry your eyes first," said he, passing his own +hand with fond compassion over the poor mother's +moistened eyelids; "Josèphe mustn't think that you +are anxious. Don't you know that her life may depend +on this?"</p> + +<p>—"Yes, yes," she answered, "fear not, Mathieu, +I will not cry any more;" and she forcibly restrained +the tears that were filling her eyes afresh... "Look, +no one would notice it now... And the doctors, besides, +may be mistaken, mayn't they?... And after +all, God will have pity on us."</p> + +<p>—"We must hope so," replied the keeper, much +moved; "but if it is his part to have pity, it is ours +to show resignation. Bear up, then, good heart; go +to the child with a smile; it will do her good; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +first of all ... kiss me ... that we may keep up each +other's resolution."</p> + +<p>Josèphe's mother threw her arms around her husband's +neck, and gave way to a new flood of tears. +But she checked them at the sound of the sick one's +voice calling her for the second time, and, by a supreme +effort thrusting down her despair into the very +depths of her heart, she rushed into the house with +calm brow and a smile upon her lips.</p> + +<p>Josèphe, nevertheless, grew rapidly worse. In the +evening the fever was doubly hot upon her. One after +another, she spoke of sister Francine, of Michael, of +the cherry-tree in blossom, and of her good friend +Monsieur Gabriel. At one moment she fancied that +she heard the last-named; she called him; she wished +to know if he had brought her the promised presents. +At another time, the scene in the ravine appeared to +be vividly in her recollection; she cried out that Monsieur +Gabriel was dead; and she heard the earth +grating over him in the pit. The Surgeon came to see +her repeatedly, and multiplied his prescriptions, without +power to arrest the onward march of the disease. +That night was an awful one for the hapless mother; +she kept her child clasped in her arms, the little one's +mind wandering more and more. At sunrise the turbulent +delirium was over, to give place to the torpor +that precedes death. At length, towards the middle +of the day, Josèphe opened her eyes, and uttered one +sigh—it was the last.</p> + +<p>The blow had been so decidedly expected, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +despair of Ropars and of Geneviève could scarcely be +violent. The bitterness of their loss had, so to say, +preceded it; both had tasted it, drop by drop, during +the protracted agony. And yet the mother's calmness +had in it a something haggard, that would have startled +a looker-on less troubled than Mathieu himself. +Bent upon rendering the last offices to her daughter, +she was long occupied in combing out her beautiful +black hair; she dressed the body in her best clothes, +and laid it out with the hands crossed over the breast, +as Josèphe had been used to carry them when asleep. +All this was done slowly, tranquilly, with a sort of +complacency even, and often intermingled with kisses. +It was but at intervals that a tear trickled over her +cheeks, that were marbled with glowing spots; it was +but a slight trembling that shook the hand, as it performed +its sorrowful duty. At length, when she who +had brought this child into the world, and who had +nourished it with her milk and with her affection, had +herself sewed it up in its shroud, she went to the window, +broke the stalk of a gilly-flower—the only one +that the sea-winds had spared—pulled off its leaves, +and scattered them over the winding sheet.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, night had fallen. Deposited at +the head of the darkened alcove, the dead form might +indistinctly be traced through its covering of linen, as +though it were sketched in marble. Higher up hung a +Christ, in ivory, the head bent forward, and the arms +extended. Geneviève knelt down near the bed, and +remained there for a long time, with her head leaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +upon her joined hands. Half-aloud she murmured a +prayer; but whilst her lips repeated faithfully every +word, their meaning was not taken in by her mind. +When she had finished it, she raised herself up +mechanically, and looked about her; her brain was a +gloomy chaos. Putting up both hands to her forehead, +she pressed it, with a stifled cry, as though she +sought to stay that whirlwind of confused and lacerating +thoughts. There was, for some few moments, a +struggle between her will and her despair; finally the +former gained the ascendant; she stepped towards the +door and opened it.</p> + +<p>Her husband had taken refuge on the platform with +Francine, to remove her from the harrowing sight of +placing the body in its shroud. Geneviève could see +him standing near the parapet; the little girl was at his +feet, with her head resting on his knees. Since the +death of her sister, she had not spoken a word. Fixed +in one place, with eyes dilated and lips compressed, she +seemed to be endeavouring to comprehend what had occurred. +Her two small hands hung down inactive, and +her naked feet appeared to be glued to the ground. +Seeing her thus, under the early rays of the moon that +were playing in her light-coloured tresses, Geneviève +was, as it were, brought back to herself. A flash passed +across the blankness of her expression; her nostrils +dilated; a flood of tears gushed from her eyes. Springing +towards the child, she seized it in her arms with a +sort of doleful passionateness, to which Francine at +once and amply responded, by an outburst of sobs and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +caresses. For a long time there was nothing but an +interchange of broken appeals and unfinished phrases. +The little girl would go on asking for her sister, while +the mother, whose despair was revived by such demands, +compelled herself to smother them beneath her +kisses. At last, her strength exhausted, she let her +arms, that upheld Francine, drop down, and felt that +she was gently withdrawn from her. It was Mathieu, +who placed the child upon the ground. He then led +the mother a little further apart, and obliged her to sit +down upon the stone-bench, leaning her back against +the parapet. She tried to raise herself up, as she +stretched out her hands.</p> + +<p>—"My child!" she stammered through her sobbings; +"I want my child!"</p> + +<p>—"In good time thou shalt see her," said Ropars, +who according to the custom of the Bretagne peasantry +only <i>thee'd</i> and <i>thou'd</i> Geneviève, when under the influence +of strong emotion; "but first thou must listen with +all attention, for what I have to tell thee is of the +deepest consequence."</p> + +<p>—"Ah! I would, I would!" was her reply, putting +both hands up to her head; "but don't be hurt, Mathieu, +if it be impossible. I hear yonder, look you, +something that hushes up all the rest; it is her death-rattle, +my good man!... And ... do you know?... +I like the anguish that it causes me, to hear it; +I can fancy that there still is breath in her. Oh! Jesus! +who would have told me, that I should yearn +after the dying breath of my child?" Ropars laid a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +hand upon the head of the miserable woman, whose +sobbings had recommenced.</p> + +<p>—"Be soothed at heart," he said to her with touching +firmness; "the good God wills that we should submit, +and not thus give way. The dead one is now in her +Paradise, where she has no more need of us; but +she leaves behind her a sister, whose life is in our +charge."</p> + +<p>—"How do you mean?" asked Geneviève, raising +towards him her eyes, in which alarm had arrested the +tears.</p> + +<p>—"Don't you understand?" returned the keeper, +lowering his voice; "the breath of the disease is like +the sea-wind; it spares no one; and it may send, at +any instant, the living to rejoin the dead."</p> + +<p>—"Heavenly Saviour! is this a warning?" demanded +Geneviève, clasping her hands. "Must this child +too, be struck down?... Have you remarked any +thing?... Ah! tell the truth, Mathieu, tell it at +once; I would rather be killed at one blow."</p> + +<p>—"So far, the child suffers from nothing but her +distress," rejoined Ropars; "but if she remains in this +deadly air, who can guarantee us that she will escape?"</p> + +<p>—"Evil upon us!" cried Geneviève, raising her joined +hands over her head; "why did you remind me of it, +Mathieu? I did not wish to think of it; and now I +shall see her dying, every hour. God forgive you for +thus turning the blade that is within my heart!"</p> + +<p>—"If I touch it, it is but to withdraw it," was the +quarter-master's answer. "It won't do now to shut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +one's eyes and let the squall overtake us; we must work +ship with all our might for the little one's safety.... +If she remains on the island, you have too many chances +of sewing up her winding-sheet, Geneviève; she +must leave it forthwith."</p> + +<p>—"But how?"</p> + +<p>Ropars threw his eyes around him, to satisfy himself +that he was not overheard.</p> + +<p>—"There is a way," he replied cautiously.</p> + +<p>—"The powder-magazine skiff?"</p> + +<p>—"No!"</p> + +<p>—"The gun-boat?"</p> + +<p>—"She's there, you know, to keep guard over the +island."</p> + +<p>—"But who then can help us?"</p> + +<p>—"The tide."</p> + +<p>Geneviève looked at her husband, but without understanding +what he meant.</p> + +<p>—"It is now high-water," continued Mathieu; "in +less than an hour the sea will have gone down enough +to leave only four feet of water upon the line of reefs +that runs from Trébéron to the Ile des Morts. With +courage, and by the help of God, the passage may be +tried. I am going to carry the child over to Dorot."</p> + +<p>And as the mother could not restrain a cry of terror;—"Speak +lower, unhappy one!" he added vehemently; +"are you desirous of betraying me? Except the +Superintendent of the powder-magazine and myself, no +one knows the way. We have often passed along it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +when we were fishing together, and always passed it +safely."</p> + +<p>—"But not at night," interrupted Geneviève; "not +burdened with a child."</p> + +<p>—"The child weighs scarcely anything, and the +moon is full," replied Ropars somewhat impatiently. +"Besides, I have been thinking of it all the evening; +and there is no other means. My mind is made up, +and I shall do what must be done, happen what may. +Your remarks may lessen my confidence, but cannot +hold me back. Try rather, then, to brace up my +nerves, as is the duty of a brave wife, and to prepare +the child to go. When the outer point of the high +rock is bare, it will be time for me to make the attempt, +and for you to pray God that he may open us a way of +safety in the sea."</p> + +<p>The quarter-master's tone was so determined, that +Geneviève saw at once the uselessness of resistance. +With little will of his own in the ordinary transactions +of life, Mathieu rarely formed a resolution; but, once +decided on, he maintained it immovably. Moreover, +when the first shock was passed, his explanations and +assurances somewhat tranquillized Francine's mother, +and indeed half convinced her. There remained the +child, whose opposition or fright was apprehended by +Ropars. Geneviève went and raised her up from the +ground, and the father and the mother seated her +upon their knees, which they purposely placed close +together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"You want to see the cherry-tree in blossom, +don't you?" said the former, embracing her.</p> + +<p>—"Not any more, now," was the low-toned reply.</p> + +<p>—"Nay, nay, it is just the time," added the poor +mother with an effort; "over there, you will be more +at liberty ... happier ... you'll have Michael for +a play-fellow."</p> + +<p>—"No," said the child with changing voice, "I +would rather stay with Josèphe."</p> + +<p>Geneviève clasped her hands and closed her eyes; +speech failed her. It was Ropars' turn. Drawing +Francine close up to his breast, and whispering in her +ear,</p> + +<p>—"Listen," said he; "we are in trouble. You +would not wish to make it worse, would you? You +love us too well for that."</p> + +<p>In place of answer, the child threw both her arms +about her father's neck, and pressed her little rosy +cheek against the wrinkled cheek of the mariner.</p> + +<p>—"Yes, yes, I was certain of it," continued Mathieu; +"and you will do whatever we ask you?"</p> + +<p>Francine made an affirmative sign.</p> + +<p>—"Well, then," Ropars went on, "you must go and +pass a few days with Uncle Dorot; and as we have +no boat, I am going to carry you over the passage. +Won't you be quiet in the middle of the sea, when +you have papa's shoulders for a skiff?"</p> + +<p>The child shuddered.—"I would rather stay," said +she, in hurried accents.</p> + +<p>—"But that's impossible," rejoined the father; "I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +want to carry you to the powder-magazine. It must +be so, and we are to set out directly. But if you are +not brave, if you think of calling out, the way will be +harder, and perhaps something serious may happen to +me. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>—"Yes ... yes ... I won't go," replied the +little girl, beginning to tremble.</p> + +<p>Geneviève drew her once more into her arms. +"Hush, hush!" said she, laying her lips upon Francine's +hair, and rocking her upon her breast, "children +ought to obey.... God has ordained it ... do +what you are bidden ... for your papa, ... for me +... for Josèphe.... If she could speak she would +tell you to be good and obedient.... Would you +make her sorrowful in Heaven?"</p> + +<p>—"Oh! no," cried the child, throwing herself again +into Mathieu's arms.</p> + +<p>—"Then you will come?" asked he.</p> + +<p>—"Yes," murmured the little girl.</p> + +<p>—"And you won't be afraid; you won't say a +word?"</p> + +<p>—"No."</p> + +<p>—"Let's be going then!" exclaimed the keeper, who +had got up and was looking over the parapet. "The +high rock is out of water; we mustn't wait any +longer."</p> + +<p>He took Francine in his arms and went rapidly +down one of the foot-paths leading to the shore of the +islet. Geneviève followed, in inexpressible anguish. +All three reached a rocky point that stretched far out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +into the waters. It was the extremity of the line of +reefs that connected the powder-magazine with Trébéron. +Ropars placed the child on the ground, in +order to take note of his direction. The passage, +under the rays of the moon, was tinged with pale +green, varied by small lines of white that were made +by the light fringe of foam upon the waves. So gentle +were their undulations, that one might have fancied a +field of green wheat chequered with white camomile +flowers. Beyond, the Ile des Morts in all its breadth +was illumined by the moonlight, with its yellowish +buildings, its long slated roofs, and its lightning-rods, +standing out against the sky. So calm was the night +that the sentry's step was heard, as he paced up and +down before the watch-box of granite, built at the +corner of the esplanade. At the forked head of the +two islands, and partially in shadow, lay the silent +gun-boat, balancing at anchor.</p> + +<p>Ropars examined every thing with scrupulous attention. +He pointed out to Geneviève the direction of +the submarine causeway, indicated by a faint shadow +on the surface of the water, as he threw aside his waistcoat +and hat; then taking both of his wife's hands, who +looked at him with haggard eyes,—"the time is come, +Geneviève," said he; "kiss me, and pray the good God +to be with us."</p> + +<p>The poor woman responded at first to his embrace, +without power to utter a word; but when she felt that +he had disengaged himself and was returning towards +the child, a cry escaped her; she was not mistress of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +herself. She forgot all that Mathieu had said to her, +all that she herself had promised, and encircled him +with her arms in all the desperation of terror.</p> + +<p>—"You shall not go," she stammered out, "you +shall not go!... It is rushing on to death ... in +the name of your marriage-vow, remain to be my succour, +my companion!... Would you then leave me +here alone with Josèphe?... Look, how broad the +sea is, and how deep! You and Francine, you will +be lost in it!... Ah! if it be God's will, let us all +die here; but at least let us die together! Mathieu, I +will not have you quit me; you shall not carry off my +child; you shall not go!"</p> + +<p>Ropars endeavoured to calm her, and struggled to +release himself from her hold; but she clung to him, +and refused to hear a word. And as he recalled to her +that she had, a minute before, induced Francine's +consent,</p> + +<p>—"I was wrong," she wildly interrupted him; "I +will no longer have it so. If you leave me, I will follow; +and you will be responsible before God for what +may happen. Mathieu, do not tempt me! Mathieu, +have pity on me!... What have I done to you, that +you should thus go voluntarily to destruction? Do +you no longer care for life with me?... Ah! if I +have failed in my duty, be not angry with me, dear +soul! If my too great anguish has offended you, forgive +me! I will not cry any more; I will be every thing +that you desire. Hold; look on me rather; forgive +me; but say that you will stay."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had sunk down upon her knees, and held Ropars' +hands pressed firmly against her lips. He exerted +himself to raise her up.</p> + +<p>—"Enough, Geneviève," said he, in a tone wherein +commiseration disputed with impatience; "I thought +that you were braver.... This is not what you promised +me. Think, think, unhappy woman, that the +time is passing away!"</p> + +<p>Geneviève groaned, and recommenced the same +entreaties. He cast an anxious look towards the sea, +and saw that the farthest jags of the high rock were +dry. Longer delay would increase the danger, and +might render the passage impossible. Mathieu seized +Geneviève sharply by the elbows, and raised her upon +her feet, with her face opposite his own.</p> + +<p>—"On your salvation, listen!" said he, in accent so +decided that she trembled at it; "this is the first time +that I have reminded you that I am your master, and, +if you be not wiser, it will perhaps be the last; but by +the God who saved us, you shall obey, and that without +further discussion! The child's life is to be preserved; +nothing can stay me now. Remain there, I +solemnly command you, and make not one step, nor +utter one single cry, or, so surely as I am my mother's +son, I will never forgive you, even until the day of +Judgment!"</p> + +<p>At these words, he seated Geneviève, petrified by +the shock, ran to his little daughter, whom he took +upon his shoulders, and dashed with her into the +waves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Geneviève turned round, at the noise made +by his plunge into the water, Ropars was on the causeway +of the submerged reefs, and the waves were rolling +against his breast. She tried to get up; but her +strength failed her, and she could but utter a feeble +cry. Mathieu heard it and looked back. He could +see through the moonlight the indistinct form of Geneviève +who, half-lying down upon the rock, was wringing +her joined hands as though towards him. He +found his heart, which he had steeled by an effort of +will, sinking within him in pity for her. Taking note +of the waters, green and deep, whose abysses were opening +around him, hearing over his head the breathings +of the child who panted with terror, and thinking that +the hapless creature from whom they had just parted +violently might perchance never see them more, there +came across him a feeling of commiseration so tender, +that tears almost filled his eyes; he paused, in spite of +himself, in the midst of the murmuring waves, turned +his head backwards towards the shore, and called to +her in a voice, restrained but full of gentleness—"Don't +cry Geneviève; and God bless you! all will +go well."</p> + +<p>Then, without waiting for an answer, which he feared +might unman him, he went on his way, his eyes fixed +upon the line along the water that marked the direction +of the reef. Soon, however, he ceased to distinguish +that particular appearance of the waves which +rendered it easy to trace this line from the shore. Immersed +in the sea, he no longer saw anything beyond<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +him, but a surface uniform and agitated, without any +distinctive movement or colour. He was therefore +compelled to shape his course direct for the rock on the +Ile des Morts whereon the causeway abutted, and which +with its pointed ridges was visible, far-away in the obscurity.</p> + +<p>Armed with a broken boat-hook, Mathieu sounded +at each step that he took; but notwithstanding all his +care, the difficulty of his course increased at every +moment. The unevenness of the rocks exposed him +to incessant stumbling. Lifted off his feet by the +waves, half-stunned by the deep rumbling noise that +was around him, groping along a path irregular and +strange to him and bounded on either side by an abyss, +he advanced with the greatest deliberation, his strong +will controlling his impatience, and his whole soul +rivetted upon his every movement. His fixed gaze +sought to pierce the liquid veil of the waters; his hands +glued to the boat-hook seemed to long to solder it to +the reef; his feet, in an agony of search, seemed to +force themselves to guess at their path, before they +would select it. Thus he reached the middle of the +passage, where he came into the neighbourhood of the +gun-boat. All there was silent; nothing stirred. The +cries of "Watch, Watch!" uttered at intervals by the +look-out at each cat-head, had for some time ceased to +be heard; their two shadows even were not perceptible, +for they had long been immovable at their post. +Certain that their look-out was altogether needless, +the sailors on watch were without doubt asleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mathieu, who was afraid that they might awake, was +anxious to avoid this danger by hurrying on; but +at the very moment when he came within the shadow +thrown, abaft the gun-boat, over the glittering waters, +his footing of rock failed him by suddenly shelving +downwards. Francine felt him sinking, as a vessel +that founders, and the waves washed up over her hair. +She could not restrain a piercing shriek.</p> + +<p>Her father, in extreme alarm, lowered her down against +his breast, and pressed one hand upon her lips. But +it was too late; the cry had undoubtedly been overheard, +for a shadow immediately rose up, forward, and +the noise of footsteps echoed along the deck. Ropars +had but time to throw himself under the taffrail of the +stationary vessel, and to grasp a boom, whereto he +remained suspended.</p> + +<p>One of the sailors on watch came aft, and was immediately +joined by his comrade.</p> + +<p>—"The devil take me, if I didn't hear a cry," said +the former.</p> + +<p>—"Pardieu! it half-woke me up," added the second.</p> + +<p>—"But I've looked about, and it's no use; I don't +see any thing."</p> + +<p>—"Nor I."</p> + +<p>The couple were leaning over the sea, which kept up +its gentle murmurings, and on which only light undulations +were visible, fringed with half-phosphorescent +foam. The second man of the watch seemed all at once +to be seized with inquietude, that caused his voice to +tremble.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"I say, Morvan," he cautiously began, "those +Roscanvel and Lanvoc barks haven't passed by, without +leaving some christian soul under water here—don't +you think so?"</p> + +<p>—"Why so?" asked Morvan.</p> + +<p>—"Why so?" returned the sailor, who seemed half-afraid +and half-ashamed; "why, parbleu! ... you +know what they say ... I didn't invent it ... there +are some people who tell you that shipwrecked men, +dying in mortal sin, leave their souls upon the waves +that drowned them: and that every year, on the day +and at the exact time of the accident, they utter a cry +of anguish, just by way of asking prayers for themselves."</p> + +<p>—"And you believe that, you, Lascar?" said Morvan +with a laugh more blustering than assured.</p> + +<p>—"It isn't I," rejoined the sailor, "it's our mess-mates.... +But, none the less, the voice wasn't like any +body else's; it was sharp and thin, as one might say +that of a child."</p> + +<p>—"Get out, nonsense!" interrupted the first seaman, +evidently disquieted by his comrade's explanation; +"you see there's nothing more to be heard, and there +is nothing afloat but the moonlight, and the night-chill +that will make us sneeze. It's well that we both kept +our allowance of wine. Come on, let's go and drink +it; that'll put your morality into trim again."</p> + +<p>The two sailors went off. After waiting a moment, +Mathieu replaced the child on his shoulders, enjoined +strict silence, at the same time cheering her up, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +let go the boom for the purpose of regaining the causeway; +but he had lost the direction, and his feet encountered +only empty space. Forced to swim with his +precious burden, he hoped that a few fathoms' distance +would bring him back to his pathway on the reefs; he +had already gone beyond it. Fresh attempts were not +more successful; and twenty times did he renew his +search, finding only, at each, deep water.</p> + +<p>Frightened and panting for breath, he swam about +without aim, endeavouring to touch ground, and no +longer able to distinguish the Ile des Morts from Trébéron. +After having long shifted his course, struggled +against the tide in which every moment he plunged +still deeper, been a thousand times brought back from +despair to hope, and run the full length of his endurance +and his courage, he felt at last that he was overcome. +His respiration grew painful, his eyes were +covered with a film; all things were to him but as a +revolving chaos; his mind wandered. A moment more, +and he and Francine had disappeared beneath the +waters. The gun-boat, which he had wished to avoid, +but which he could no longer perceive, was his sole +means of safety. He summoned all his remaining +strength to utter a cry for help; a surge, more powerful, +stifled it on his lips. Half-fainting and having +nothing left him but that instinctive self-defence which +survives the will, he struggled still an instant, buffeted +from wave to wave; then felt that he was going down. +But all at once, he was arrested; his feet had fallen +on to the reef; they were fastened on it, and steadied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +themselves thereon; his body straightened up; the +water that blinded him seemed to lower itself. He +took breath and looked before him, and could see at +the distance of a hundred steps the cleft rock of the +Ile des Morts. A few minutes sufficed for reaching it. +Touching the shore he fell down upon it, and called +Francine with expiring voice. The child, terrified, +could only reply by throwing herself upon his breast, +where he held her for some time in his embrace. His +first thought had been for her; his second carried him +back to Geneviève who was expecting his return, to +know that they were safe. Still tottering, he raised +himself up, took his little daughter by the hand, and +set himself to climbing the steep slope that led to the +terrace.</p> + +<p>It was necessary to make the tour of the powder +magazine, to avoid the sentinel placed at the angle +which commanded the main roadside; and also, on +reaching the magazine keeper's door, to knock gently, +for fear of being heard from without. Dorot fortunately +had the light sleep of old soldiers; he awoke at +the first knocking, and appeared at the window.</p> + +<p>—"Open the door!" said Mathieu to him in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>—"Ropars!" cried the sergeant, thunderstruck.</p> + +<p>—"Lower! and be quick!" returned the seaman +"our lives' safety is at stake."</p> + +<p>Dorot went down rapidly, drew back the bolt, and +made them enter the house. Mathieu paused, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +across the thresh-hold, with the child pressed against +his knees.</p> + +<p>—"Heaven protect us! whence come you, Ropars?" +inquired the sergeant.</p> + +<p>—"You see," replied the sailor, "we have come out +of the sea, and we have crossed over it, to come hither."</p> + +<p>Dorot drew back, exclaiming, "Can it be? in God's +name, what has happened, that you should thus expose +your life?"</p> + +<p>—"It has happened," rejoined Mathieu, "that Josèphe +died this morning of the contagion! ... that"—</p> + +<p>—"What's that you say?"</p> + +<p>—"'Tis just so, Dorot; and as Geneviève and I were +anxious to save the other one, I have brought her to +you."</p> + +<p>—"And Heaven reward you for the thought!" said +the sergeant; "the child is dearly welcome."</p> + +<p>He had offered his hand to Mathieu; but the latter +did not take it.</p> + +<p>—"Think well what it is I am asking you," said +he; "perhaps the child may be bringing here disease +and desolation upon you!"</p> + +<p>"I hope there will be nothing of the kind," returned +Dorot; "but God's will be done!"</p> + +<p>—"Bear in mind also," continued the quarter-master, +insisting, "that if the thing gets wind, you run a +risk of punishment for having violated the quarantine."</p> + +<p>—"Then the will of man be done!" was the sergeant's +simple observation.</p> + +<p>—"But still think."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"Of nothing further, Ropars," interrupted the +sergeant; "there! enough said—too much. No words +about the matter; you have brought me the little one; +I accept her."</p> + +<p>He had stooped down to Francine, whom he then +took up in his arms, and with her remounted to the +small chamber formerly occupied by Geneviève. He, +himself, stripped off from the child her dripping clothes, +and put her to sleep in an old cot of Michael's.</p> + +<p>The father, who had followed them, remained at the +door with his arms hanging down at his side, the very +picture of gratitude deeply felt, but unable to vent itself +in words. Only, when Dorot turned round towards +him, he seized one of his hands and held it silently +grasped. Dorot, who desired to avoid a scene, began +at once to talk of the means of concealing the little +girl's change of abode. It was sufficient that her absence +from Trébéron would not be remarked; as for +her being at the Ile des Morts, it could not give rise +to any suspicion, since the guard of artillery that did +duty at the magazine, and that might have been surprised +at this increase in the keeper's family, was to +be changed on the following day. Ropars arranged +certain signals for transmitting mutually the news between +the neighbour islands. These were to be renewed +several times a day, and thus relieve them +at least from the anguish of uncertainty. At length, +when all had been agreed upon, Mathieu drew near +the window and looked out. The breeze had freshened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +the sky appeared less starry, and a transparent vapour +was beginning to creep over the sea.</p> + +<p>—"It is time to start," said he, returning towards +the sergeant; "may God pay you for what you do, +Dorot! As for Geneviève and myself, we shall remain +your debtors to all eternity."</p> + +<p>—"We'll talk of that, by and by," replied the keeper; +"just now, the main thing, and that which troubles +me, is the passage over."</p> + +<p>—"Don't be uneasy about that," answered Ropars; +"now that the child is in safety, I shall cross the channel +just as easily as one goes to church. The limbs are +firm when the heart doesn't tremble. But I wish I +were already on the other side; I've stayed here too +long for Geneviève, who is looking for me."</p> + +<p>—"Away, then! if it must be," cried the sergeant; +"but for God's sake, Ropars, be careful, and don't +forget that you have two lives to save with your own."</p> + +<p>—"I'll do all that a man can do," returned the quarter-master; +"and believe me, cousin, I've no desire +to die this night!... But too much talk; the time +is slipping away; I mustn't wait for the change of tide."</p> + +<p>He went up to Francine's cot, to take leave of her; +but the child, wearied out by so many emotions, had +dropped off to sleep. One of her arms was doubled +beneath her head, and lost in the loosened tresses of +her golden hair; the other, folded on her breast, +pressed to it a little relic formerly given to Geneviève +who, in her superstitious motherly devotedness, had +deprived herself of it that it might be a safe-guard for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +her child. Although her breathing was equal and +easy, still was it broken at intervals by a long drawn +sigh; whilst her cheeks, that in her sleep were beginning +to re-assume their rosy tint, still showed some +traces of tears. Mathieu looked at her for some moments +in touching silence; then bending himself slowly +down, imprinted a light kiss upon Francine's tiny hand, +then one upon her hair, then one upon her cheek. +Without opening her eyes, the child made a gesture +of annoyance; he stood up.</p> + +<p>—"Yes, yes, there, sleep, poor creature of a merciful +God!" he half-muttered; "I will not wake you."</p> + +<p>Once more he seemed to enwrap her in a look overflowing +with tenderness; then returned to Dorot, and +took his hand.</p> + +<p>—"I bequeath her to you, cousin," said he, moved +in the extreme; "no one knows what may happen. +Only ... I can trust in your kindly heart, and if ever +the child should become an orphan...."</p> + +<p>—"Now God preserve her from it!" the sergeant +took him up; "but if such misfortune should occur to +her, Mathieu, you know well that she would become +Michael's sister."</p> + +<p>—"Thanks!" abruptly broke in the seaman; "that's +exactly what I was longing to hear.... And now I +set out calmly. I am prepared for every thing."</p> + +<p>—"But you shan't set out thus, shivering and pulled +down," objected the sergeant; "you must take something +to cheer up your spirits."</p> + +<p>—"Nothing," said Ropars, eagerly; "you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +given me all that can give me strength, in giving me +the assurance that the child will not remain unaided. +Providence will do the rest. Your hand! and good-bye +till we meet—here, or elsewhere!"</p> + +<p>They heartily embraced; then Mathieu went down +to the shore, and committed himself again to the waters. +Although the tide had begun to rise, the passage was +effected without overmuch danger. He reached, unharmed, +the high rock of Trébéron which the floodtide +had already encroached upon, and he ran to the +place where he had left Geneviève. She was there no +longer.</p> + +<p>Astonished that she should not have awaited his return, +he rapidly mounted the foot-path, reached his +door, and called aloud. There was no reply. The +darkness did not allow him to distinguish any thing. +He groped his way to the hearth, and threw around +him the trembling light of a lamp hurriedly lighted. +Attracted to the alcove, his glance soon made out, beside +the white form of the dead sewed up in its shroud, +the outline of another and a larger form, extended +without moving. Mathieu approached in agony. It +was Geneviève in a swoon.</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + + +<p>Thanks to the Surgeon's skill, Ropars' wife at length +regained her senses; but it was to fall into convulsive +spasms, followed by the annihilation of all her faculties. +The whole day passed without her shaking off the tor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>por +that belonged at once to sleep and to death. One +might have said that so many shocks had snapped asunder +her existence, and that the quiverings of life, still +flitting across her state of languor, were but the movements +of a machine on the point of stopping. However, +towards evening, the fever declared itself. The +patient passed insensibly from lethargy to delirious +agitation; she did but recognize Mathieu at intervals; +and falling back, with her senses, upon her sorrows, +she soon fell again into wandering.</p> + +<p>None of these symptoms seemed to belong to the +malady that ravaged the lazaretto; and the Surgeon, +disconcerted, let Mathieu divine his inability to make +it out. Accustomed to the coarse medicines required +by the robust patients of our ships, he was perforce a +stranger, as are all like him, to the ailments of more +delicate natures. Thus did he stand baffled before this +woman, dying of a disorder such as he vainly sought +to trace in his experiences. He could not conceal his +doubts, and his need of more enlightened advice. +Science, to which these mysterious and redoubtable +symptoms were familiarized, might find there an index, +where he perceived only confusion, and point out a +remedy, which he dared but essay at hap-hazard.</p> + +<p>This avowal, wrung from his loyal truth, was for +Mathieu a new source of torture. Shut up within +prescribed limits which forbid strangers to approach +Trébéron, he could not invoke that experience to which +Geneviève might perchance owe her safety. In vain +did he see, at his feet, boats for transporting him across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +the sea, and on the horizon a town whence aid might +be brought to him; an obstacle invincible and insurmountable +linked him to his source of trouble.</p> + +<p>Two whole days passed away for him, as one long +agony, in alternations of mute dejection and of furious +despair. After sitting for several hours at the bedside +of the dying woman, when he saw the fever that had +been lulled for an instant now returning with increased +force, he ran down to the edge of the reefs, gazed upon +the waters in the midst of which he found himself imprisoned, +upon the armed vessel that guarded the passage, +upon the ravines of the island dotted with graves recently +dug, and pressing his closed fists against his forehead +he cursed the day on which he had accepted this voluntary +imprisonment. Angrily did he call God to account +for the blows with which he was stricken; then, restored +to his religious faith, he joined his hands, and +with tears besought the Almighty to spare Geneviève.</p> + +<p>Towards the morning of the third day, he had cause +for believing that his prayers had been heard. The +fever abated, and the patient recovered all her clearness +of mind. But this change did not induce her to +share the delight or the hopes of Mathieu.</p> + +<p>—"Never believe that this is a cure, dear soul," +said she in tones scarcely audible, and alternating +every phrase with periods of silence; "the disease is +going ... but it carries all with it.... That evening, +when you went across the channel ... when I heard +the child's cry from out of the sea itself ... I thought +it was all over with you both ... and then ... I can't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +say what took place ... but it seemed to me ... that +within me ... the main string of life was snapped.... +So I feel now, that it's all over."</p> + +<p>Ropars combatted these fears, repeating that the +Surgeon was encouraged, and that all would go well. +Geneviève, whose eyes were closed, raised the lids with +difficulty and threw a glance upon him that was full of +melancholy sweetness.</p> + +<p>—"God is the master, Mathieu," said she; "he +knows whether I am happy in living with you.... +Only, ... believe me, poor husband, and don't rejoice +too much ... it were wiser to expect the worst."</p> + +<p>—"It were wiser," interrupted the quarter-master, +"to take rest, and have confidence. I, too, trust in +what I feel. This very night, I had a weight of lead +upon my heart; it is light now; I can breathe in one +single breath. In God's name, let your health be restored +to you, and be anxious for a continuance of life, +if it were but for my sake."</p> + +<p>Geneviève made an effort to lay her cold and moistened +hand upon that of Ropars.</p> + +<p>—"You are good, Mathieu," said she, letting fall +two little tears, the last that emotion could drain from +eyes already exhausted with weeping. "Ah me! my +chief regret now is at not having always thought of +this ... at not having shown myself sufficiently grateful.... +Heavens! how much worthier we should be +of those we love, if we did but remember that some +day we must leave them.... Since my mind has returned, +this idea has haunted me; I now perceive all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +my faults; ... I feel remorse for them.... Oh! tell +me in mercy, Mathieu, do you forgive me now ... +for never having been what I ought to have been?"</p> + +<p>—"Talk not so, Geneviève," said the seaman quickly, +and with deep feeling; "you know well that I +could not have asked from God a better wife. Since +you have been mine, I have wanted for nothing; it is +I who should be grateful to you."</p> + +<p>—"No, no," replied the sick woman with increasing +animation; "many a time have I lacked courage and +patience.... Not with you alone ... but with Francine +... with Josèphe! ... poor child of my heart, who +had so few years to live!... And to think, Mathieu, +that I have often made her cry! ... her, who is now +beneath the ground!... Ah! it is the tears of the +dead that weigh heavily here.... And other persons, +whom I may have injured ... and God against whom +I have sinned!... Cannot I then hope for mercy?"</p> + +<p>Then, as if this idea had awakened in her a sort of +terror:</p> + +<p>—"Ah! it is impossible!" added she, sitting up; +"Mathieu, Mathieu, I must see a confessor!"</p> + +<p>—"But how to get him here?" said the quarter-master +sorrowfully; "have you forgotten that the island +is in quarantine?"</p> + +<p>—"What! not to be able to save even one's soul?" +returned Geneviève, clasping her hands. "Alas! am +I then doomed to die without reconciliation? My God! +what is to be done? The most miserable sinner is +allowed to confess his sins, and to ask absolution for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +them; my God! must I alone remain without help?"</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly, putting up both hands to her +forehead.</p> + +<p>—"Ah! I remember now," she resumed; "have +you not told me that on board your ships, when at the +moment of death no priest was to be had, any Christian +might take his place? ... that God looked to the +intention?"</p> + +<p>—"I have said so," replied Ropars, "and all the +seamen hereabouts will tell you the same thing, upon +the assurance of their pastors."</p> + +<p>—"Then," replied the dying woman, turning towards +the seaman her eye lustrous with the fever, "I +desire to confess myself to you!"</p> + +<p>She raised herself upon her elbow, and crossed herself. +Mathieu seemed overwhelmed, but could make +no objection to her will. As we have remarked, he +belonged to that race almost extinct, even in Brittany, +in whom still existed the earnest and the simple faith +of other days. Often, on occasion of shipwreck, men +such as he might have been seen, after exhausting all +means of saving themselves, to kneel down in the expectation +of death, and confess themselves one to another, +as did the ancient cavaliers on the eve of combat. +Therefore was he more troubled than surprised +at the request of Geneviève; and when he heard her +murmur the prayer that precedes confession, he took +off his hat and made the sign of the cross, ready to +fulfill the holy office that necessity had entrusted to +him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>And something mournful and touching was it. The +early dawn of day light doubtfully illumined the alcove; +the dishevelled head of Geneviève was bent towards +the grizzled head of Mathieu; and one might have heard +the murmur of that supremest confidence carried on +in lowered voice, often interrupted by the failure of +the dying woman's strength, or by the seaman's entreaties +that she would curtail it. But she persisted +in resuming it, with the determination peculiar to those +severe consciences which are never satisfied with their +self-accusations. At length, when she had concluded, +Ropars detached the ivory crucifix from the head of +the bed; he approached it to the lips of Geneviève, +and placing his hand upon her brow with mournful +solemnity,</p> + +<p>—"May God pardon thee as I do to the utmost of my +power," said he; "and if it be not his will that thou +shouldst live for my happiness, may he provide for thee +a place in his Paradise!"</p> + +<p>Her face assumed an expression of ineffable serenity.</p> + +<p>—"Thanks," murmured she; "your absolution shall +prevail before the Trinity, Mathieu; now I feel at +peace."</p> + +<p>A ray of sunlight creeping in through the window-curtain +reached her bed; she turned round.</p> + +<p>—"It is day," continued she; "I did not hope to +see another.... God has given me a respite!... He +is willing that I should taste of the latest joy that I +looked for upon earth ... nor will you refuse it to +me, Mathieu?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>—"Ask it, Geneviève," said the mariner; "what +man can do, I will do."</p> + +<p>She took his hand and looked at him.</p> + +<p>—"You have told me, haven't you, that cousin +could see and make out your signals?"</p> + +<p>—"Yes, and it is true."</p> + +<p>—"Then by all the affection you bear me, Mathieu, +I beseech you to signalize him at once to bring +Francine out upon his terrace; when she is there, you +will take me in your arms, you will carry me to the +high rock, and if God grant me grace, I shall reach +it with still life enough left to see my child once more, +and to embrace her in spirit."</p> + +<p>—"It shall be done so as you desire, Geneviève," +said the quarter-master, who, impressed by the presentiments +of the dying one, had abandoned hope, and +had not strength to refuse her anything.</p> + +<p>—"Quickly, then, very quickly!... for I feel that +God is calling me."</p> + +<p>Ropars rushed out, as though he feared there would +scarcely be time; but he came in again almost in a +moment, exclaiming that Francine was already on the +terrace of the magazine with Dorot. Stretching out +her hands to him, the dying woman uttered a feeble +cry of joy. He wrapped her up in his winter-cape, +and carried her gently in his arms as far as the parapet +of their platform.</p> + +<p>—"Where is she?" inquired Geneviève, her eyes +blinded by the light of day, and trying in vain to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +steadily; "I can't make out anything, Mathieu! where +is the child: show me the child!"</p> + +<p>—"Look down there at our feet," replied the seaman; +"can you see the high rock?"</p> + +<p>—"Yes."</p> + +<p>—"Can you follow the bubbling of the sea along +the reef?"</p> + +<p>—"Yes, yes."</p> + +<p>—"And away, yonder, over the reefs, can you distinguish +the stone-work of the terrace?"</p> + +<p>—"Down there? ... no ... there's only a cloud! +I can see nothing.... Oh! if it be too late!... if she +be there under my very eyes, and I can no longer see +her!... My God, my God, once more, only once, let +me see my child!"</p> + +<p>These words, or rather these mother's cries, had been +so full of sadness, that Ropars could not restrain his +tears. He seated his sinking wife upon the parapet, +and himself kneeled down to support her.</p> + +<p>—"Courage, Geneviève!" he stammered out; +"look well to this side ... between the line of the sea +and the sky."</p> + +<p>—"I am looking," said Geneviève, appearing in the +effort to rally all the life left in her ".... Raise my +head, Mathieu ... screen me from the sun...."</p> + +<p>She checked herself with a stifled exclamation.</p> + +<p>—"Ah! there she is! there she is!... She sees +me ... she is lifting up her arms.... Francine ... +my daughter ... my child!"</p> + +<p>So impulsively did she lean forward, that but for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +Ropars, she would have thrown herself upon the rocks +that sloped down to the sea. A flitting ray of life had +lighted up her features; she sent kisses on her fingers +to the child, and talked to it as though it could hear +her; she raised her hands to Heaven, with rapid and +broken ejaculations; she smiled and wept at once. +Finally, her strength failed to endure so great emotion, +and her head fell upon the quarter-master's shoulder. +In alarm, he took her again in his arms, to carry +her back into the house; but she made signs to him +that she wished to remain out of-doors. He laid her +down upon the bench, whereon the family had been +used to sit together in the evening, in front of the sea, +which was now lighted up by the rising sun. After a +swoon that lasted some time, she opened her eyes, and +asked for her daughter. Mathieu looked towards the +powder magazine and said that Dorot had taken her +away. She bowed her head with sorrowing resignation.</p> + +<p>—"He has done right," she went on, in feeble accents; +... "besides, I feel ... that my sight grows +thick.... I couldn't see her any more ... and ... +I still have something to say to you.... Come closer, +Mathieu ... closer ... my voice is failing.... Give +me your hand.... I want to be sure that you hear +me."</p> + +<p>Ropars knelt upon the sand, with one hand in that +of his dying wife, and the other placed behind her, to +support her.</p> + +<p>—"You are going to stay alone," she continued.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +"Elsewhere, you could perhaps endure it; but here, +in the midst of the ocean, it is not the life of a man, +or of a Christian.... You are used to having some one +keep you company ... some one to love you.... When +I am gone ... another one must take my place."</p> + +<p>—"Never!" broke in Ropars.</p> + +<p>With her hand she silenced him.</p> + +<p>—"Hush!" said she gently; "you must needs think +this, so long as I am before your eyes ... but when +I am laid in the grave, you will then feel your want.... +Believe not that I would reproach you, my poor husband.... +I do not wish to carry away your happiness +with me in my winding sheet.... No ... no ... wherever +I may be, I shall need to know that you are well +cared for."</p> + +<p>—"Enough, Geneviève!" murmured the seaman, +choking with emotion.</p> + +<p>—"Let me go on to the end," she resumed; "I +have still one plea to urge.... When you take off the +crape from your arm, Mathieu ... promise me to +think of the dear creature who is our child ... the +child of both ... and who will remain with you, to +remind you of me ... choose a wife who may fill my +place towards her."</p> + +<p>—"What is it that you are asking me, and whom +could I give her for a mother, after yourself?" rejoined +Ropars.</p> + +<p>—"Some one" ... Geneviève went on ... "who would +not grudge me the having been chosen first ... some honest +heart that would take kindly to an orphan ... who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +would talk to her of me ... who would teach her to +love God ... and to obey you!... If you promise +me that this shall be so, Mathieu ... if you promise +it on your honour ... and on your salvation, I shall +fall asleep, at peace, and blessing you."</p> + +<p>Ropars made the promise, amidst sighs and groans; +but this was the dying woman's last effort. After +having thanked him by an embrace, she let herself +sink into her husband's arms. It almost seemed as +though the power of her will had slackened the steps +of Death, for the sake of this final compact. Scarcely +was it completed, when her sufferings recommenced. +Carried back to the alcove, she died there towards the +close of the day. Her last words were a prayer, in +which her husband's and her daughter's names were +intermingled.</p> + +<p>On the ensuing day, the grave in which Josèphe +already reposed was re-opened to receive Geneviève, +for, during the past month, Death had reaped so +abundantly that the barren island lacked space for his +doleful harvest. Informed of what had happened, by +means of the signals agreed upon, the keeper of the +powder-magazine brought Francine to the edge of his +rock, and the child, on her knees, uttered a prayer for +her mother's spirit, at the moment the funeral ceremony +was ended, across the water.</p> + +<p>This death was the last. Like those expiatory victims +who, in sacrificing themselves, were wont to appease +the anger of the Gods, Geneviève seemed, in +going down to the tomb, as though she closed its doors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +behind her. A fortnight later, and the yellow flag slid +down the flag staff that over-topped the lazaretto, and +those who had been quarantined, now cured, went away +in the frigate's long-boat. They only left behind them, +on the dreary island, a man whose hair had become +perfectly white, and a child in mourning clothes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THRICE_ONLY" id="THRICE_ONLY"></a>THRICE ONLY.</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + + +<p>Do not imagine that this is to be a love-story. Very +few experiences furnish material for such. Rarer still +is the ability to use the material, when it falls in one's +way. At any rate, I make no pretension thereto.</p> + +<p>But it sometimes happens during the earlier and more +tumultuous period of a man's life, that casual occurrences +take place, which do not indeed at the time immediately +influence his actions or his fortunes, but which +in later days may be recalled with interest. Of this +sort—if I mistake not, or if I do not mar them in the +telling—were my three meetings with Mary Verner. +I only met her thrice.</p> + +<p>The first time—many a year has sped away since; +but it seems, if I shut my mental eye to events and +feelings with which the interval has been crowded, and +my bodily eye to the library table before me, as if the +little scene were being enacted here, now, to-day.</p> + +<p>Whence this power of summoning up the ghosts of +long ago? Why should the comparatively recent refuse +to be stamped upon the memory, and the old impressions +refuse to fade? Let philosophers answer; I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +no more inclination to write an essay than to tell a +love-tale. My purpose I have already stated; though +I omitted to mention that I write my own veritable +experience—with a change of names, a studied obscurity +of dates, and a very slight change otherwise.</p> + +<p>The precise year I do not remember, nor, consequently, +my own exact age; but I must have been +about fourteen. George Verner, Mary's brother—poor +fellow! I saw his death registered, the other day, in +that odious corner of the <i>Times</i>—was my class-mate +and play-mate at a school some few miles from London. +He was a good-looking and good-tempered fellow, if +not remarkable for his abilities. It chanced that I +was—in the choice language of the time and place—"a +dab at Latin verses." I helped George once in a +while with his exercises; and once in a while with the +mince-pies, that his mother's a cook used to send him +on the sly. The first time that I saw her—Mary Verner +I mean, not the cook—was on a whole holiday; +George, who lived in the neighbourhood, had invited +me to pass it with him. The old family coach came +for us at ten o'clock, with the fat old horses and the +fat old family coachman, just for all the world as you +may often meet them in the story-books that are called +"exceedingly natural," and as you now-a-days +rarely find them in real life. Pony-phaetons, britzkas, +coupés, "Croydon-baskets," and nondescript vehicles +that, being neither close carriages nor open, are palmed +off as both—these have superseded the full-bodied of +my early recollections.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>I fancy that I see her now.... You perceive that +though I note the modern change in the carriage department, +I recognize none such in the phraseology of our +tongue. I fancy I see her now. You may, if you please, +alter the wording; but that's the plain English of it.</p> + +<p>As we drove up the sweep that led from the lodge +to the front entrance of a very beautiful suburban villa, +I leaned out of the window, with the curiosity natural +to a boy of fourteen, on strange ground.</p> + +<p>Mary Verner—I knew, by the family likeness, that +she was George's elder sister, the moment my eye lighted +on her—was trimming or watering her geraniums, +in one of the recesses on either side of the porch.</p> + +<p>"Here, Mary, here's Cuthbert <i>tertius</i>," said George, +running up the steps, and pushing me before him.</p> + +<p>"I know him; how d'ye do? I'm glad to see you," +was the frank reception, spoken in a clear, round-toned, +springy voice, that seemed to drop without effort out +of a rose-lipped mouth well-filled with well-knit teeth. +And as she spoke smilingly, she opened a pair of large +brown eyes that I have since thought—for boys don't +know much about the law of colours—were designed +to harmonize with what we call a clear brunette complexion. +Certainly, if the ballad of "The Nut Brown +Mayde" be a model imitation of the antique, Mary Verner +might have sat for the portrait.</p> + +<p>But it was not so much her eyes that took hold of +me, open though they did by degrees, wider and wider, +until I wondered when they would cease opening; nor +her coal-black hair, dressed as you may see it in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +likenesses by Sir Thomas Lawrence; nor her rosy +mouth; nor her even teeth; nor her figure full of grace, +<i>svelte</i> as the French call it, for which we have no answering +word. It was not these, or any of them. It +was the carolling of her few words, so free and unconcerned +in tone. If I had not met her subsequently, +I might have forgotten her looks; I doubt whether +her voice could have passed from me.</p> + +<p>I need not tax my memory or my invention about +the trifling though happy events of that day. It was +pretty evident who was mistress of the house, though +the fond and proud mother of Mary Verner had the +air of a dignified and well-bred woman. Silent or talking, +it was Mary who dispensed the honours, at least +so far as the stranger was concerned. Probably it was +the same with all comers; but this is only a surmise.</p> + +<p>Well; the whole holiday came to an end, and we +were driven back to the old school by the old coachman, +our pockets full of chestnuts, and our boyish +hearts full of a sense of supreme enjoyment, such we +believe as, in later life, women feel after the best ball +of the season, and men after a splendid whitebait dinner +at Blackwall. I recollect telling the fellows in +the dormitory what a jolly time we had been having, +and how capitally George's pony leaped the fence on the +common, round the corner, out of sight of the house. By +the way, it was partly owing to that pony having engrossed +so much of our time, that I had not regularly fallen +in love with Mary Verner. Partly, I say, because I +was further saved from this predicament by a standing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +devotion to my pretty cousin Rose, which the temptation +had been strong enough, but not long enough to +disturb. I never went to George's house again; and +ere long the image of his sister was stowed away on +one of the upper shelves of my memory. There it +might have been smothered in dust, or even converted +into it, if chance had not taken it down and given it +an airing.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + + +<p>Twenty-one—what a change from fourteen! How +the pulse of life beats and bounds! I was running a +tilt at the pastimes, and doffing aside the cares of early +manhood, when for the second time, I came across Mary +Verner. Plump upon her, I would say, if I thought +you would pardon the coarseness of the expression. +At any rate—and to be genteel—it was unexpectedly. +Twenty-one gives very few thoughts to fourteen. It +may be a much longer distance thither, when one starts +at seventy to go back; but it is surprising how much +more quickly you get over the intermediate ground. +Let that be; only I don't believe I had given a thought +to Mary Verner, since the week or two that followed +my first interview with her.</p> + +<p>"Do come and dine with us on Monday," said my +friend Mrs. F.; "there will be a very charming girl +here, whom you would like to see."</p> + +<p>"Positively?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Sans faute!</i>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then keep a place for me; I'll come."</p> + +<p>I went. It was a formal dinner-party. In the +drawing-room, before going to table, Mrs. F. came +across to me.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll introduce you to our belle of the evening. +You may escort her down to dinner. There she is, +half-hidden behind that drapery. You can't have noticed +her."</p> + +<p>"Miss Verner, let me present Mr. Cuthbert."</p> + +<p>I should have recognized Mary Verner, as she looked +up, with those widely-opening brown eyes of hers, +if her name had not been mentioned. As it was, it +was quite natural for me to remark that I believed I +had had the pleasure of seeing Miss Verner before.</p> + +<p>And so in a few moments we were gossipping cosily +about "old times," as we, not very old people, called +them.</p> + +<p>The beautiful child had expanded into a very lovely +woman, preserving still the same characteristics of +person and expression. The charm of her voice was +the same. You may be sure that when seated by her +side, with the becoming glow of lamp-light overhead +heightening, if possible, those attractions which I +rather hint than attempt to describe—you may be sure, +I say, that I found her very captivating.</p> + +<p>We talked of her brother George; of the pleasant +house wherein I first met her, and which was still her +home; of her amiable and lady-like mother who was +still living; of the old pony now gathered to his sires; +of the old chestnut-trees even—in short, of all those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +unimportant associations, out of which, under such +circumstances, one endeavours to establish a trivial +and flitting but very pleasant little bond of sympathy.</p> + +<p>I declare I was half ready to fall head over ears in +love with her. And she took it all with a simple unaffected +grace, that seemed to be her very nature.</p> + +<p>But we did not have all the talk to ourselves. I +had not the presumption to engross her entirely. Nor +would it have been possible. She was—there is no +need to go over it all again—she was Mary Verner.</p> + +<p>Nearly opposite to us at table sat a Mr. Easton, a +young barrister—young, that is professionally, for he +was apparently a man of thirty or thereabouts. He +would not have been singled out as a lady-killer, for +he was none of your regular Adonises, such as hang +by dozens, in portraiture, upon the walls of our Royal +Academy Exhibitions, and lounge complacently in our +Fop's Alley at the Opera. When, however, the excitement +of conversation—in which he took an active +and most intelligent part—developed the fine play of his +features, you would have pronounced him a man who +added, to a cultivated and superior mind, a look that +bespoke such gift. In fact there was a manly air about +him, that claimed respect, if it did not challenge attention.</p> + +<p>About the time when I made this notable discovery, +I recollected that at the moment of my introduction +to Miss Verner, Mr. Easton was gossipping with her +in the secluded corner half-hidden by the drapery,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +though he moved away, with perfect good breeding, to +give place to the new-comer.</p> + +<p>About this time, too, there began—at which end of +the table, I forget—an occasional play of badinage, +whereof Mr. Easton was the subject. For a grave +and earnest man, he seemed to receive it all in exceedingly +good part. To my surprise also—to say +nothing of annoyance—my fair neighbour was brought, +after a while, within its scope. Neither did she—I +was forced to acknowledge within myself—evince either +<i>mauvaise honte</i> or sensitiveness. The truth was +plain. They were engaged.</p> + +<p>As a child's card-built house tumbles down when +the table is shaken, so down went one of the prettiest +little castles-in-the-air, that ever simpleton built out +of cards of his own shaping.</p> + +<p>Down it went; though I flatter myself I was too +much a man of the world, to let a glimpse of its dislocated +plan be apparent. Indeed, in a few seconds, +I had rallied myself on my own absurdity; gulped +down my disappointment; and resigned myself again +to the charm that Mary Verner still shed around her, +if its tint was somewhat changed. Besides, I availed +myself of the sudden opportunity thus afforded, for +testing the practical value of one of my favourite theories, +when I was a young fellow and affected to bask +in the sunshine of human nature: to wit, that, apart +from serious love-making, when a woman in either married +or betrothed, she has therefrom an additional +feather in her social cap. So have I found it through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +life—always provided that the attractive and companionable +qualities were otherwise in abundance. And +this theory has at least given heartiness to my good +wishes for my fairer acquaintances and friends. Is it +not better to come to such a philosophical conclusion, +than to be always envying other people's good fortune?</p> + +<p>Shifting, therefore, my ground, I was rapidly possessed +by a strong interest in Miss Verner's future +welfare—much of which was undoubtedly genuine.</p> + +<p>Delicately, and by gently leading her on, I gathered +something of the story of her courtship, though I +must needs confess that I cannot now call to mind a +word of it. It may be of more interest to state that +she was to make Mr. Easton the happiest of men, +within six weeks or so of that time; and that the honey-moon +was to be spent in a ramble on the Continent. +Very emphatically and very sincerely did I wish her +a pleasant time of it.</p> + +<p>But the most agreeable evenings will come to a +close. This one—with its revival of a boy's casual +acquaintance, with its momentary castle-building, and +its subsequent benevolence of feeling—this one, like +all others, passed away. It did not die out, as the +fag-end of a dinner-party sometimes will; it was cut +short to me by the "good night!" of Mary Verner, +as she took her departure, leaning on Mr. Easton's +arm, in the train of an elderly female relative.</p> + +<p>When the drawing-room door closed upon her graceful +figure, I felt for a moment as though the gas had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +been suddenly turned off. I recollect, however, the +hostess's observation, dropped to the accompaniment +of a playfully malicious smile:</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you, you would like my friend Mary +Verner?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the reply, "and I have passed a most +delightful evening; but I don't think it quite fair, +Mrs. F."—here there was a terrible smash of the theory—"to +open the gates of Paradise, and then slam +them in a poor fellow's face?"</p> + +<p>I was to have gone, that night, to a ball in Devonshire +Place, expressly to meet—Never mind; I was +not in the humour for dancing or flirting. I went +straight home, and to bed. I tossed about a good +deal, and finally dreamed about George and the pony, +and that I was climbing the old chestnut-trees. As +for Mary Verner, I couldn't in my sleep conjure up +her image. When I thought I had it—as is the way +in dreams, you know, if you ever studied them—I +couldn't get nearer to her than the plaguy old family +coachman. It was only when broad awake, the next +morning, that I found myself strongly impressed by +this, my second meeting. But again—such is life +and such is youth—the impression was soon stowed +away on an upper shelf in memory's garret.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + + +<p>Two years later; two years and two months.</p> + +<p>Did you ever notice the marked difference between +youth and old age—aye, and middle age, too—in the +matter of reading newspapers? We—I speak of myself +now as the writer—who are in the vanguard of +the march through life, must have our <i>Times</i> or our +<i>Chronicle</i>, as regularly as our morning meal. Is it, as +some spitefully assert, that we grow more self-complacent +as we pore over the misfortunes or the errors of +our fellows; or is it, that we seek refuge from the +cares and disappointments of our own lot, in a close +scrutiny of that of all the world beside, with the minutiæ +of which the diligent, prying, gossipping press +so unceasingly plies our curiosity? It is folly, perhaps, +to raise the question, since this is not the place +to discuss it; though it were not far from the truth to +attribute much of the pettiness of our race, in these +days, to this habit of abandoning our thoughts and +impulses to the guidance of journalists who trade in +them.</p> + +<p>I only mean to say that being still youthful at +twenty-three, I "cared for none of these things," +As for heeding who was born, or buried, or married, +beyond the circle of one's own intimate connections—I +should as soon have set to work to trace the pedigree +of a New Zealander. Probably, I heard in due time +that Mary Verner had become Mrs. Easton. Certainly +I did not learn it from the usual printed record.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +In short, I then very seldom read newspapers at all; +and this I beg you to bear in mind. What a shocking +ignoramus I should be voted, if I were to say so of +this present time.</p> + +<p>That, too, was the season of darkness, ere Albert +Smith was the Lecturer <i>par excellence</i>; ere Oxford +and Cambridge men, returning from their "long-vacation" +rambles, disputed in the daily papers their respective +prowess in scaling the precipices of Monte +Rosa, or discovering new pathways up Mont Blanc. +How changed are we to-day! Save for the voluminous +records of the Crimean war, what Mamelons and +Malakoffs would the pedestrians, Smith and Jones, +be now fighting over, in the <i>Times</i>!</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, though they made less fuss about it, +Englishmen were then, as now, prone to scurrying off +to Switzerland in the Autumn—some in the true cockney +spirit—some because they found there the most +sublime of all spectacles, together with the most exhilarating +exercise for the body, and relaxation of +mind in its fullest sense. With myself it amounted +to a passion; "Cuthbert's hobby" it was dubbed by +acquaintances, who could eke out delight from Leamington +and Cheltenham.</p> + +<p>Profiting by the leisure afforded me during successive +seasons, I had become tolerably familiar with the +Alps; with what exquisite and inexhaustible enjoyment +I am not going here to trouble you. But August +had come round again. The knapsack was stitched, +where it wanted mending. The Alpenstock was drag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>ged +to light, from the lumber-room. The thick-soled +gaiter-boots were freshly studded with hobnails. The +well-worn Swiss map was conned over once more, and +a new route, leading over yet untrodden passes, was +set down in the Autumnal programme.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I changed my mind—under the influence +of an hour's talk with an enthusiastic mountaineer—who +had, during the previous season, explored the Pyrenees. +"You may not find," said he, "quite so much +grandeur; but the valleys are decidedly more picturesque, +the foliage more varied, the very tints of the +mountains glowing with warmer colours." Thereupon, +a change of plan and passport. Behold me at Cauterets +in France, instead of at Grindelwald in Switzerland!</p> + +<p>Were my object merely to fill a certain number of +pages, I might here descant at length upon the comparative +beauties of the Alps and the Pyrenees—the latter +having, at present, the advantage of not being done +to death by tourists. But I will abstain. I will speak +only of one day's adventure; the day whereon, for the +third and last time, I found myself associated with +Mary Verner.</p> + +<p>Cauterets may be a pleasant place enough to those +who bathe in, or imbibe for medicinal purposes, the +mineral waters that have made its fame. It is finely +placed too, pitched in, as it were, into a nook, with +lofty peaks and fringes of fir forests over-topping its +somewhat formal streets. It does not, however, offer +much attraction to the connoisseur in fine scenery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +One excursion alone is to be made. Its objects are +the Pont d'Espagne and the Lac de Gaube. The former +is a group of pine trunks bridging a cascade. The +latter is a tarn at the foot of the glaciers of the Vignemale, +which, you know, is one of the mountain-monarchs +hereabouts.</p> + +<p>Before proceeding further, I may mention that I +am enabled to set down my reminiscences of this particular +time and place, by reference to my rough notes +penned on the spot, journal-wise. The little memorandum +book lies under my hand, with its pages written +in ink of various tints, as hotel, or cabaret, or hut +furnished the material at the moment. I like to preserve +these records. Such <i>souvenirs</i> are the <i>bonnes +fortunes</i> of those whose travels are ended. You see +that I incline to be sentimental as I draw towards the +<i>dénouement</i> of my story.</p> + +<p>Heavens and earth, how it rains in the Pyrenees! +What a young deluge swept down the steep stone-guttered +pavements, on the morning of the 29th of August! +Still, I did not choose to devote more than one day to +the neighbourhood of Cauterets; and so, having made, +from my window, a few such profound observations as +the one just set down, I ordered a horse and guide. +The polite waiter was astonished, and protested, to the +extent of two or three "<i>Mais Monsieur!</i>" The guide +thought the storm would expend itself in twenty-four +hours; but on my hinting that the path would not be +difficult to find, without his aid, nor impracticable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +on foot, he subsided, with an air of conviction, into the +accustomed "<i>Bien, Monsieur!</i>"</p> + +<p>And so we started. I had borrowed one of the long, +thick, hooded Spanish cloaks, commonly used in that +region which borders on Spain; and a very effectual +protection it was against the steady down-pouring of the +rain. But what is perfect in this world? A German +counterpane, on a summer's night, is not more oppressive +than was this excellent protection from the wet.</p> + +<p>Handing, then, the heavy encumbrance to the guide, +I was drenched to the skin in about two minutes. This +was a comfort. It settled the point. I dislike uncertainty. +I could be at my ease, and look about. Remember +it was yet August.</p> + +<p>And the Val de Jéret, up which I was riding, was so +grandly gloomy; the state of the weather excluding +all but close views! My note-book thus speaks of it, the +writer never dreaming that his impressions would be +told to the readers of a newspaper, with many of whom +Niagara and Montmorenci are familiar sights: "The +valley presents a succession of splendid waterfalls; and, +singularly enough, as your route lies upwards, they increase +in size and beauty, from the Mahourat, the first, +to the Pont d'Espagne, the last and most celebrated. +The three intervening, that are dignified with names, +are the Cérizet, the Boussé, and the Pas de l'Ours. +Besides these, there are an infinity of smaller falls, the +whole course of the Gave (or torrent) de Marcadaou—along +which the path lies—boiling over broken masses +of rock. The eye is charmed by endless variety, amid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +perpetual repetition. The deluge of rain, which covered +the lofty rocks on each side of the defile with clouds, +had gloriously swollen the turbulent waters. I know +of nothing in natural scenery—thus the manuscript +rather enthusiastically proceeds—that impresses one so +forcibly as a cascade of large dimensions. By large I +mean broad, not lofty. The effect is apt to diminish, +with vast height. These, in the Val de Jéret, I found +absolutely bewitching; for is it not a sort of infatuation, +by which we are beguiled into drawing nearer and nearer, +until you almost touch the foaming sheets as they +flurry past, and are yourself driven back, for your pains, +half blind and breathless? One fine waterfall would +be enough to digest in a day. During these two or +three hours, I had a very feast of them."</p> + +<p>If I extract this somewhat rhapsodical passage, it is +to show that my inward man was not dampened, by the +dampening process externally applied. On the contrary, +I am disposed to be jubilant, almost defiant, in +proportion to the fury of the storm; that is to say +when no serious personal inconvenience is caused by +stress of weather. In a mountain region too, above all +others, clouds play so great a part in the combination +of fine effects, that I have many times fairly welcomed +a tempestuous spell.</p> + +<p>Thus from the Pont d'Espagne I continued my ride +an hour or so further, in order to reach the Lac de +Gaube, knowing perfectly well that the chances were +a hundred to one against my getting a glimpse of the +glaciers of the Vignemale, at whose feet this small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +sheet of water is imbedded. Small it may well be +termed, for it is not quite three miles in circumference, +though the largest lake in the Pyrenees.</p> + +<p>On the rocky shore where the rough pathway terminates, +stands, or stood at the period of which I write, +a solitary hut. There, during the short summer season, +might be found a family who earned a scanty +subsistence, by catching the lake trout and serving them +up to chance travellers; by rowing, in the solitary +punt, any one who cared to paddle about the dark +waters; or by escorting any still more adventurous +stranger desirous of exploring the glaciers above-named, +or ascending the lower heights of the Vignemale.</p> + +<p>Stepping up to the door of this cabin, I entered into +conversation with its chief occupant, who probably +combined in his own person the various offices of restaurateur, +fisherman, muleteer, guide, and smuggler. +Possibly I libel him in the last respect; but along that +frontier of France and Spain, it is rare to find a mountaineer +guiltless of the contraband trade.</p> + +<p>A visitor on such a day was a welcome sight to the +poor fellow, who was eloquent in regrets that <i>his</i> mountain +and <i>his</i> glaciers and <i>his</i> other local points of interest +were all wrapped in the impenetrable mist. He +seemed, I remember now, to care more about it than +I did; for I had revelled in the exhibition of cascades, +and was rather tickled at the notion of having come +up to this lone and savage spot, where nothing whatever +was to be seen.</p> + +<p>If a spirit had whispered me, that the moment of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +my third <i>rencontre</i> was close at hand, I should have +smiled incredulously.</p> + +<p>The fog lifted. I could see to a distance of half a +dozen yards.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"If Monsieur will give himself the trouble of walking +up to it, he will see."</p> + +<p>It was on a jutting promontory of rock, close at +hand. A small enclosure was railed in. It held what +was obviously a monumental tablet, in white marble, +but discoloured by exposure.</p> + +<p>"A favourite poodle, perhaps, of the Duchesse de +Berri—or one of our eccentric Englishmen doing honour +to a Pyrenean bear!" Such I thought it might +be, as I carelessly lounged up to it, and stooped to +read the inscription.</p> + +<p>It was in French and English. I took no copy of +the words. But it was placed there in memory of Mr. +and Mrs. Easton, drowned in the lake, within one +month of their marriage, on the 20th of September, +18—! The facts were simply stated. I wish the record +of them had been placed a little further off from +the rendezvous of the thoughtless and light-hearted.</p> + +<p>This was the last of my associations with her. But +it would not interest the reader, to be told with +what feelings of surprise and sorrow I thus learned the +close of a career, which bid so fair for happiness and +usefulness. Poor Mary Verner!</p> + +<p>Before setting-off on my return to Cauterets, I +heard, from the lips of the man with whom I had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +conversing, the sad particulars of this harrowing event. +Never could the common phrase, that speaks of "painful +curiosity," have been more applicable than it was +in my case, as I stood and listened to him. Poor +fellow; he had been an eye-witness. He saw my +emotion. "Monsieur knew the young couple?"—thus +did he break the thread of his little narrative, more +than once.</p> + +<p>I cannot pretend to set down his words. This is +the substance of what he told me.</p> + +<p>The season was nearly over. The weather was +splendidly fine, but very cold. Travellers were scarcely +expected; when on that brilliant September morning, +up rode the bride and bridegroom. After resting +awhile, they took the single skiff that was there, Mr. +Easton offering to row his wife across the lake, to +which she very reluctantly assented. I recollect the +narrator dwelling on this fact.</p> + +<p>The shore shelves off very rapidly. The water, in +some parts, reaches to the depth of three or four hundred +feet. At all times it is of marvellous clearness—as +I observed myself—and, except during the heats +of summer, so piercingly cold, as to be altogether unbearable +to the swimmer.</p> + +<p>My informant helped them into the boat. Mr. +Easton was evidently used to the handling of oars. +The tragedy was immediately—perhaps one should +say, ostensibly—caused by those two qualities of the +water of the Lac de Gaube, to which I have just alluded—its +clearness and its coldness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boat was at some considerable distance from +the shore. The boatman was watching them. Suddenly, +Mr. Easton paused in his rowing. He and his +wife looked over the side, as though guessing at the +depth. Mr. Easton then stood up, and plunged one +oar downwards into the water, with the confident action +of a man who is certain that he shall touch the +bottom. The transparency had deceived him. His +oar met no resistance; and he himself plunged heavily +overboard. Such at least was the impression of the +boatman on land; and he could scarcely be mistaken.</p> + +<p>So far as he could see, Mr. Easton did not rise to +the surface. The cold numbed him, and he sunk, not +to rise again. The bereaved wife stood upright for a +moment in the boat, gazing on the water that had +swallowed up her husband before her eyes. Then she +too was seen to be in it; but not one of the two or +three, who witnessed the fearful sight, could tell whether +she threw herself in, or whether she fell in, senseless. +That secret will never be solved; and what +matters it to us, though the manner of the widowed +wife's death was so remarkable, that I cannot refrain +from mentioning it? In talking it over, they agreed +that she did not sink at all. As she fell, the water +inflated her dress, and she was buoyed-up, floating; +though there was no sign of life or movement on her +part, observable to the agonized spectators. After a +time—I forget whether it was half an hour, or half a +day—the remains of what once was loved as Mary +Verner were wafted tranquilly to the shore. Assis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>tance +also having been procured, Mr. Easton's body +was dragged-up from the bottom of the lake. One +grave in a church-yard in Essex now holds the coffins +of the ill-fated pair.</p> + +<p>And was there no effort at rescue? Could nothing +be done? This idea will have crossed the reader's +mind. It suggested many questions to me, with which +I plied the boatman, who seemed to feel keenly in +them the bitterness of unintended reproach. But his +explanation—grievous as it was—was satisfactory. +There was no boat, no raft, no means of reaching the +spot. "Two of us," said he, "plunged up to our +necks into the water, in the irrepressible desire to +swim out to them; though we knew that it was certain +death to go beyond our depth. Besides, Monsieur," +he added with touching simplicity, "I can't +help fancying that the poor lady was dead before she +fell out of the boat. Monsieur knew her; doesn't he +think that her heart was already broken?"</p> + +<p>"God help her, and all of us, my brave friend; I +have not the smallest doubt of it!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TOSSING UP FOR A HUSBAND.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the French of Vicomte Ponson de Terrail.</i></p> + +<h3>I.</h3> + + +<p>The Marchioness was at her toilet. Florine and +Aspasia, her two ladies'-maids, were busy powdering, +as it were with hoar-frost, the bewitching widow.</p> + +<p>She was a widow, this Marchioness, a widow of +twenty-three; and wealthy, as very few persons were +any longer at the court of Louis XV., her godfather.</p> + +<p>Three-and-twenty years earlier, his Majesty had +held her at the baptismal font of the chapel at Marly, +and had settled upon her an income of a hundred thousand +livres, by way of proving to her father, the Baron +Fontevrault, who had saved his life in the battle of +Fontenoy, that kings can be grateful, whatever +people choose to say to the contrary.</p> + +<p>The Marchioness then was a widow. She resided +during the summer, in a charming little chateau, situated +half-way up the slope overhanging the water, on +the road from Bougival to Saint Germain. Madame +Dubarry's estate adjoined hers; and on opening her +eyes she could see, without rising, the white gable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>ends +and the white-spreading chestnut-trees of Luciennes, +perched upon the heights. On this particular +day—it was noon—the Marchioness, whilst her attendants +dressed her hair and arranged her head-dress +with the most exquisite taste, gravely employed herself +in tossing up, alternately, a couple of fine oranges, +which crossed each other in the air, and then dropped +into the white and delicate hand that caught them in +their fall.</p> + +<p>This sleight-of-hand—which the Marchioness interrupted +at times whilst she adjusted a beauty-spot on +her lip, or cast an impatient glance on the crystal +clock that told how time was running away with the +fair widow's precious moments—had lasted for ten +minutes, when the folding-doors were thrown open, +and a valet, such as one sees now only on the stage +announced with pompous voice—"The King!"</p> + +<p>Apparently, the Marchioness was accustomed to +such visits, for she but half rose from her seat, as she +saluted with her most gracious smile the personage +who entered.</p> + +<p>It was indeed Louis XV. himself—Louis XV. at +sixty-five; but robust, upright, with smiling lip and +beaming eye, and jauntily clad in a close-fitting, pearl-grey +hunting-suit, that became him to perfection. He +carried under his arm a handsome fowling-piece, inlaid +with mother-of-pearl; a small pouch, intended for +ammunition alone, hung over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The King had come from Luciennes, almost alone, +that is but with a Captain of the Guard, the old Mar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>shal +de Richelieu, and a single Equerry on foot. He +had been amusing himself with quail-shooting, loading +his own gun, as was the fashion with his ancestors, the +later Valois and the earlier Bourbons. His grandsire, +Henry IV., could not have been less ceremonious.</p> + +<p>But a shower of hail had surprised him; and his +Majesty had no relish for it. He pretended that the +fire of an enemy's battery was less disagreeable than +those drops of water, so small and so hard, that wet +him through, and reminded him of his twinges of rheumatism.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, he was but a few steps from the gateway +of the chateau, when the shower commenced. He +had come therefore to take shelter with his god-daughter, +having dismissed his suite, and only keeping with +him a magnificent pointer, whose genealogy was fully +established by the Duc de Richelieu, and traced +back, with a few slips in orthography, directly to Nisus, +that celebrated greyhound, given by Charles IX. to +his friend Ronsard, the poet.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Marchioness," said the King, as +he entered, putting down his fowling-piece in a corner. +"I have come to ask your hospitality. We were +caught in a shower at your gate—Richelieu and I. +I have packed off Richelieu."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Sire, that wasn't very kind of you."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" replied the King, in a good-humored tone. +"It's only mid-day; and if the Marshal had forced his +way in here at so early an hour, he would have bragged +of it every where, this very evening. He is very apt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +to compromise one, and he is a great coxcomb too, +the old Duke. But don't put yourself out of the way, +Marchioness. Let Aspasia finish this becoming pile +of your head-dress, and Florine spread out with her +silver knife the scented powder that blends so well +with the lilies and the roses of your bewitching face.... +Why, Marchioness, you are so pretty, one could eat +you up!"</p> + +<p>"You think me so, Sire?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you so every day. Oh, what fine oranges!"</p> + +<p>And the King seated himself upon the roomy sofa, +by the side of the Marchioness, whose rosy finger-tips +he kissed with an infinity of grace. Then taking up +one of the oranges that he had admired, he proceeded +leisurely to examine it.</p> + +<p>"But," said he at length, "what are oranges doing +by the side of your Chinese powder-box and your scent +bottles? Is there any connection between this fruit +and the maintenance—easy as it is, Marchioness—of +your charms?"</p> + +<p>"These oranges," replied the lady, gravely, "fulfilled +just now, Sire, the functions of destiny."</p> + +<p>The King opened wide his eyes, and stroked the +long ears of his dog, by way of giving the Marchioness +time to explain her meaning.</p> + +<p>"It was the Countess who gave them to me," she +continued.</p> + +<p>"Madame Dubarry?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly so, Sire."</p> + +<p>"A trumpery gift, it seems to me, Marchioness."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hold it, on the contrary, to be an important one; +since I repeat to your Majesty, that these oranges +decide my fate."</p> + +<p>"I give it up," said the King.</p> + +<p>"Imagine, Sire; yesterday I found the Countess +occupied in tossing her oranges up and down, in this +way." And the Marchioness recommenced her game +with a skill that cannot be described.</p> + +<p>"I see," said the King; "she accompanied this +singular amusement with the words, 'Up, Choiseul! +up, Praslin!' and, on my word, I can fancy how the +pair jumped."</p> + +<p>"Precisely so, Sire."</p> + +<p>"And do you dabble in politics, Marchioness? Have +you a fancy for uniting with the Countess, just to mortify +my poor ministers?"</p> + +<p>"By no means, Sire; for, in place of Monsieur de +Choiseul and the Duc de Praslin, I was saying to +myself, just now, 'Up, Menneval! up, Beaugency!'"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," returned the King; "and why the deuce +would you have them jumping, those two good-looking +gentlemen—Monsieur de Menneval, who is a Croesus, +and Monsieur de Beaugency, who is a statesman, and +dances the minuet to perfection?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," said the dame. "You know, Sire, +that Monsieur de Menneval is an accomplished gentleman, +a handsome man, a gallant cavalier, an indefatigable +dancer, witty as Monsieur Arouet, and longing +for nothing so much as to live in the country, on his +estate in Touraine, on the banks of the Loire, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +the woman whom he loves or will love, far from the +court, from grandeur, and from turmoil."</p> + +<p>"And, on my life, he's in the right of it," quoth +the King. "One does become so wearied at court."</p> + +<p>"Aye, and no," rejoined the widow as she put on +her last beauty-spot.... "Nor are you unaware, +Sire, that Monsieur de Beaugency is one of the most +brilliant courtiers of Marly and Versailles; ambitious, +burning with zeal for the service of your Majesty; as +brave as Monsieur de Menneval, and capable of going +to the end of the earth ... with the title of Ambassador +of the King of France."</p> + +<p>"I know that," chimed in Louis XV., with a laugh. +"But, alas, I have more ambassadors than embassies. +My ante-chambers overflow every morning."</p> + +<p>"Now," continued the Marchioness, "I have been +a widow ... these two years past."</p> + +<p>"A long time, there's no denying."</p> + +<p>"Ah," sighed she, "there's no need to tell me so, +Sire. But Monsieur de Menneval loves me ... at +least he says so, and I am easily persuaded."</p> + +<p>"Very well; then marry Monsieur de Menneval."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of it, Sire; and, in truth, I might +do much worse. I should like well enough to live in +the country, under the willow-trees, on the borders of +the river, with a husband, fond, yielding, loving, who +would detest the philosophers and set some little value +on the poets. When no external noises disturb the +honey-moon, that month, Sire, may be indefinitely pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>longed. +In the country, you know, one never hears a +noise."</p> + +<p>"Unless it be the north-wind moaning in the corridor, +and the rain pattering on the window-panes." +And the King shivered slightly on his sofa.</p> + +<p>"But," added the dame, "Monsieur de Beaugency +loves me equally well."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ah! the ambitious man!"</p> + +<p>"Ambition does not shut out love, Sire. Monsieur +de Beaugency is a Marquis; he is twenty-five; he is +ambitious—I should like a husband vastly who was +longing to reach high offices of state. Greatness has +its own particular merit."</p> + +<p>"Then marry Monsieur de Beaugency."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of that, also; but this poor Monsieur +de Menneval."...</p> + +<p>"Very good," exclaimed the King, laughing: "now +I see to what purpose the oranges are destined. Monsieur +de Menneval pleases you; Monsieur de Beaugency +would suit you just as well; and since one can't +have more than one husband, you make them each jump +in turn."</p> + +<p>"Just so, Sire. But observe what happens."</p> + +<p>"Ah, what does happen?"</p> + +<p>"That, unwilling and unable to play unfairly, I take +equal pains to catch the two oranges as they come +down; and that I catch them both, each time."</p> + +<p>"Well, are you willing that I should take part in +your game?"</p> + +<p>"You, Sire? Ah, what a joke that would be!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am very clumsy, Marchioness. To a certainty, +in less than three minutes Beaugency and Menneval, +will be rolling on the floor."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the lady; "and if you have any +preference for one or the other?"</p> + +<p>"No; we'll do better. Look, I take the two oranges ... you +mark them carefully—or, better still, +you stick into one of them one of these toilet pins, +making up your own mind which of the two is to represent +Monsieur de Beaugency, and leaving me, on that +point, entirely in the dark. If Monsieur de Beaugency +touches the floor, you shall marry his rival; if it +happen just otherwise, you shall resign yourself to become +an ambassadress."</p> + +<p>"Excellent! Now, Sire, let's see the result."</p> + +<p>The King took the two oranges and plied shuttle +with them above his head. But at the third pass, the +two rolled down upon the embroidered carpet, and the +Marchioness broke out into a merry fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"I foresaw as much," exclaimed his Majesty. +"What a clumsy fellow I am!"</p> + +<p>"And we more puzzled than ever, Sire?"</p> + +<p>"So we are, Marchioness; but the best thing we +can do, is to slice the oranges, sugar them well, and +season them with a dash of West India rum. Then +you can beg me to taste them, and offer me some of +those preserved cherries and peaches that you put up +just as nicely as my daughter Adelaide."</p> + +<p>"And Monsieur de Menneval? and Monsieur de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +Beaugency?" said the Marchioness, in piteous accents. +"How is the question to be settled?"</p> + +<p>Louis XV. began to cogitate.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure," said he, "that both of them +are in love with you?"</p> + +<p>"Probably so," returned she, with a little coquettish +smile, sent back to her from the mirror opposite.</p> + +<p>"And their love is equally strong?"</p> + +<p>"I trust so, Sire."</p> + +<p>"And I don't believe a word of it."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Marchioness, "but that is, in truth, +a most terrible supposition. Besides, Sire, they are +on their way hither."</p> + +<p>"Both of them?"</p> + +<p>"One after the other: the Marquis at one o'clock +precisely; the Baron at two. I promised them my +decision to-morrow, on condition that they would pay +me a final visit to-day."</p> + +<p>As the Marchioness finished, the valet, who had +announced the King, came to inform his mistress, +that Monsieur de Beaugency was in the drawing-room, +and solicited the favour of admission to pay his respects.</p> + +<p>"Capital!" said Louis XV., smiling as though he +were eighteen; "show Monsieur de Beaugency in. +Marchioness, you will receive him, and tell him the +price that you set upon your hand."</p> + +<p>"And what is the price, Sire?"</p> + +<p>"You must give him the choice—either to renounce +you, or to consent to send in to me his resignation of +his appointments, in order that he may go and bury<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +himself with his wife on his estate of Courlac, in Poitou, +there to live the life of a country gentleman."</p> + +<p>"And then, Sire?"</p> + +<p>"You will allow him a couple of hours for reflection, +and so dismiss him."</p> + +<p>"And in the end?"</p> + +<p>"The rest is my concern." And the King got up, +taking his dog and his gun, and concealed himself behind +a screen, drawing also a curtain, that he might +be completely hidden.</p> + +<p>"What is your intention, Sire?" asked the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"I conceal myself like the kings of Persia, from the +eyes of my subjects," replied Louis XV. "Hush, +Marchioness."</p> + +<p>A few moments later, and Monsieur de Beaugency +entered the room.</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + + +<p>The Marquis was a charming cavalier; tall, slight, +with a moustache black and curling upwards, an eye +sparkling and intelligent, a Roman nose, an Austrian +lip, a firm step, a noble and imposing presence.</p> + +<p>The Marchioness blushed slightly, at sight of him, +but offered him her hand to kiss; and as she begged +him by a gesture to be seated, thus inwardly took +counsel with herself.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly, I believe that the test is useless; it is +Monsieur de Beaugency whom I love. How proud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +shall I be to lean upon his arm at the court-fêtes! +With what delight shall I keep long watches in the +cabinet of his Excellency the Ambassador, whilst he +is busy with his Majesty's affairs!"</p> + +<p>But after this "aside," the Marchioness resumed +her gracious and coquettish air; as though the woman +comprehended the mission of refined gallantry which +was reserved for her seductive and delicate epoch by +an indulgent Providence, that laid by its anger and +its evil days for the subsequent reign.</p> + +<p>"Marchioness," said Monsieur de Beaugency, as he +held in his hands the rosy fingers of the lovely widow, +"it is fully a week since you received me!"</p> + +<p>"A week? why, you were here yesterday!"</p> + +<p>"Then I must have counted the hours for ages."</p> + +<p>"A compliment which may be found in one of the +younger Crebillon's books!"</p> + +<p>"You are hard upon me, Marchioness."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so, ... it comes naturally ... I am +tired."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Marchioness! Heaven knows that I would +make of your existence one never-ending fête!"</p> + +<p>"That would, at least, be wearisome."</p> + +<p>"Say a word, Madam, one single word, and my +fortune, my future prospects, my ambition!"—</p> + +<p>"You are still then as ambitious as ever?"</p> + +<p>"More than ever, since I have been in love with +you."</p> + +<p>"Is that necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Beyond a doubt. Ambition—what is it but hon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>ours, +wealth, the envious looks of impotent rivals, the +admiration of the crowd, the favour of monarchs?... +And is not one's love unanswerably and most triumphantly +proved, in laying all this at the feet of the +woman whom one adores?"</p> + +<p>"You may be right."</p> + +<p>"I may be right, Marchioness! Listen to me, my +fair lady-love."</p> + +<p>"I am all attention, sir."</p> + +<p>"Between us, who are well-born, and consort not +with plebeians, that vulgar and sentimental sort of +love, which is painted by those who write books for +your mantuamakers and chambermaids, would be in +exceedingly bad taste. It would be but slighting love +and making no account of its enjoyments, were we to +go and bury it in some obscure corner of the Provinces, +or of Paris—we, who belong to Versailles—living +away there with it, in monotonous solitude and unchanging +contemplation!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Marchioness, "you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, rather, of fêtes that dazzle one with +lights, with noise, with smiles, with wit, through +which one glides intoxicated, with the fair conquest +in triumph on one's arm ... why hide one's happiness, +in place of parading it? The jealousy of the world +does but increase, and cannot diminish it. My uncle, +the Cardinal, stands well at court. He has the King's +ear, and better still, the Countess's. He will, ere +long, procure me one of the Northern embassies. +Cannot you fancy yourself Madame the Ambassadress,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +treading the platform of a drawing-room, as royalty +with royalty, with the highest nobility of a kingdom—having +the men at your feet, and the women on lower +seats around you, whilst you yourself are occupant of +a throne, and wield a sceptre?"</p> + +<p>And as Monsieur de Beaugency warmed with his +own eloquence, he gently slid from his seat to the +knees of the Marchioness, whose hand he covered with +kisses.</p> + +<p>She listened to him, with a smile on her lips, and +then abruptly said to him:</p> + +<p>"Rise, sir, and hear me in turn. Are you in truth +sincerely attached to me?"</p> + +<p>"With my whole soul, Marchioness!"</p> + +<p>"Are you prepared to make every sacrifice?"</p> + +<p>"Every one, Madam."</p> + +<p>"That is fortunate indeed; for to be prepared for +all, is to accomplish one, without the slightest difficulty; +and it is but a single one that I require."</p> + +<p>"Oh, speak! Must a throne be conquered?"</p> + +<p>"By no means, sir. You must only call to mind +that you own a fine chateau in Poitou."</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" said Monsieur de Beaugency, "a shed."</p> + +<p>"Every man's house is his castle," replied the widow. +"And having called it to mind, you need only order +post-horses."</p> + +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"To carry me off to Courlac. It is there that your +almoner shall unite us, in the chapel, in presence of +your domestics and your vassals, our only witnesses."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A singular whim, Marchioness; but I submit to it."</p> + +<p>"Very well. We will set out this evening.... Ah! +I forgot."</p> + +<p>"What, further?"</p> + +<p>"Before starting, you will send in your resignation +to the King."</p> + +<p>Monsieur de Beaugency almost bounded from his +seat.</p> + +<p>"Do you dream of that, Marchioness?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly. You will not, at Courlac, be able to +perform your duties at court."</p> + +<p>"And on returning?"</p> + +<p>"We will not return."</p> + +<p>"We will—not—return!" slowly ejaculated Monsieur +de Beaugency. "Where then shall we proceed?"</p> + +<p>"Nowhere. We will remain at Courlac."</p> + +<p>"All the winter?"</p> + +<p>"And all the summer. I count upon settling myself +there, after our marriage. I have a horror of the +court. I do not like the turmoil. Grandeur wearies +me.... I look forward only to a simple and charming +country life, to the tranquil and happy existence of the +forgotten lady of the castle.... What matters it to you? +You were ambitious for my love's sake. I care but +little for ambition; you ought to care for it still less, +since you are in love with me."</p> + +<p>"But, Marchioness—"</p> + +<p>"Hush! it's a bargain.... Still, for form's sake, I +give you one hour to reflect. There, pass out that way; +go into the winter drawing-room that you will find at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +the end of the gallery, and send me your answer upon +a leaf of your tablets. I am about to complete my +toilet, which I left unfinished, to receive you."</p> + +<p>And the Marchioness opened a door, bowed Monsieur +de Beaugency into the corridor, and closed the door +upon him.</p> + +<p>"Marchioness," cried the King, from his hiding place +and through the screen, "you will offer Monsieur +de Menneval the embassy to Prussia, which I promise +you for him."</p> + +<p>"And you will not emerge from your retreat?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Madame; it is far more amusing to +remain behind the scenes. One hears all, laughs at +one's ease, and is not troubled with saying any thing."</p> + +<p>It struck two. Monsieur de Menneval was announced. +His Majesty remained snug, and shammed dead.</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + + +<p>Monsieur de Menneval was, at all points, a cavalier +who yielded nothing to his rival, Monsieur de Beaugency. +He was fair. He had a blue eye, a broad forehead, +a mouth that wore a dreamy expression, and that +somewhat pensive air which became so well the Troubadours +of France in the olden time.</p> + +<p>We cannot say whether Monsieur de Menneval had +perpetrated verse; but he loved the poets, the arts, the +quiet of the fields, the sunsets, the rosy dawn, the breeze +sighing through the foliage, the low and mysterious +tones of a harp, sounding at eve from the light bark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +shooting over the blue waters of the Loire—all things +in short that harmonize with that melodious concert of +the heart, which passes by the name of love.</p> + +<p>He was timid, but he passionately loved the beautiful +widow; and his dearest dream was of passing his +whole life at her feet, in well chosen retirement, far +from those envious lookers-on who are ever ready to +fling their sarcasms on quiet happiness, and who dissemble +their envy under cloak of a philosophic scepticism.</p> + +<p>He trembled, as he entered the Marchioness's boudoir. +He remained standing before her, and blushed as +he kissed her hand. At length, encouraged by a smile, +emboldened by the solemnity of this coveted interview, +he spoke to her of his love, with a poetic simplicity and +an unpremeditated warmth of heart—the genuine enthusiasm +of a priest, who has faith in the object of his +adoration.</p> + +<p>And as he spoke, the Marchioness sighed, and said +within herself:</p> + +<p>"He is right. Love is happiness. Love is to be +two indeed, but one at the same time; and to be free +from those importunate intermeddlers, the indifference +or the mocking attention of the world."</p> + +<p>She remembered, however, the advice of the King, +and thus addressed the Baron:</p> + +<p>"What will you indeed do, in order to convince me +of your affection?"</p> + +<p>"All that man can do."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Baron was less bold than Monsieur de Beaugency, +who had talked of conquering a throne. He +was probably more sincere.</p> + +<p>"I am ambitious," said the widow.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" replied Monsieur de Menneval, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"And I would that the man, whom I marry, should +aspire to every thing, and achieve every thing."</p> + +<p>"I will try so to do, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"Listen; I give you an hour to reflect. I am, you +know, the King's god-daughter. I have begged of him +an embassy for you."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Monsieur de Menneval, with indifference.</p> + +<p>"He has granted my request. If you love me, you +will accept the offer. We will be married this evening, +and your Excellency the Ambassador to Prussia will +set off for Berlin immediately after the nuptials. Reflect; +I grant you an hour."</p> + +<p>"It is useless," answered Monsieur de Menneval; +"I have no need of reflection, for I love you. Your +wishes are my orders: to obey you is my only desire. +I accept the embassy."</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" said she, trembling with joy and +blushing deeply. "Pass into the room, wherein you +were just now waiting. I must complete my toilet, +and I shall then be at your service. I will summon +you."</p> + +<p>The Marchioness handed out the Baron by the right-hand +door, as she had handed out the Marquis by the +left; and then said to herself:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I shall be prettily embarrassed, if Monsieur de +Beaugency should consent to end his days at Courlac!"</p> + +<p>Thereupon, the King removed the screen and reappeared.</p> + +<p>His Majesty stepped quietly to the round table, +whereupon he had replaced the oranges, and took up +one of them.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the Marchioness, "I perceive, +Sire, that you foresee the difficulty that is about to +spring up, and go back accordingly to the oranges, in +order to settle it."</p> + +<p>As his sole reply, Louis XV. took a small ivory handled +pen-knife from his waistcoat pocket, made an +incision in the rind of the orange, peeled it off very +neatly, divided the fruit into two parts, and offered +one to the astonished Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"But, Sire, what are you doing?" was her eager +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"You see that I am eating the orange."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"It was of no manner of use to us."</p> + +<p>"You have decided then?"</p> + +<p>"Unquestionably. Monsieur de Menneval loves +you better than Monsieur de Beaugency."</p> + +<p>"That is not quite certain yet; let us wait."</p> + +<p>"Look," said the King, pointing to the valet, who +entered with a note from the Marquis, "You'll soon +see."</p> + +<p>The widow opened the note, and read:</p> + +<p>"Madam, I love you—Heaven is my witness; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +to give you up is the most cruel of sacrifices. But I +am a gentleman. A gentleman belongs to the King. +My life, my blood are his. I cannot, without forfeit +of my loyalty, abandon his service——."</p> + +<p>"Et cetera," chimed in the King, "as was observed +by the Abbé Fleury, my tutor. Marchioness, call in +Monsieur de Menneval."</p> + +<p>Monsieur de Menneval entered, and was greatly +troubled to see the King in the widow's boudoir.</p> + +<p>"Baron," said his Majesty, "Monsieur de Beaugency +was deeply in love with the Marchioness; but +he was more deeply still in love—since he would not +renounce it, to please her—with the embassy to Prussia. +And you, you love the Marchioness so much better +than you love me, that you would only enter my service +for her sake. This leads me to believe that you +would be but a lukewarm public servant, and that +Monsieur de Beaugency will make an excellent ambassador. +He will start for Berlin this evening; and +you shall marry the Marchioness. I will be present +at the ceremony."</p> + +<p>"Marchioness," whispered Louis XV. in the ear of +his god-daughter, "true love is that which does not +shrink from a sacrifice."</p> + +<p>And the King peeled the second orange and eat +it, as he placed the hand of the widow in that of the +Baron.</p> + +<p>"I have been making three persons happy: the +Marchioness, whose indecision I have relieved; the +Baron, who shall marry her; and Monsieur do Beau<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>gency, +who will perchance prove a sorry ambassador. +In all this, I have only neglected my own interests, +for I have been eating the oranges without sugar.... +And yet they pretend to say that I am a selfish Monarch?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE MISSING MARINERS,</h2> + +<p class="center">A DREAM OF THE ARCTIC SEAS.</p> + +<blockquote><p class="center">This fanciful sketch was written and published, before the fate of Sir John +Franklin and his Discovery Ships was known.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>There was not a curtain of any kind over the window.</p> + +<p>Now, there are few things that I dislike more than +this total want of privacy in a bed-room. Opposite to +a dead wall at a foot's distance, so that none but bogies +could peer within, or looking out through a port-hole +over the lonely sea, I confess to an almost old-maidenish +particularity in this respect. Failing, therefore, in +sundry efforts to substitute a great coat for a curtain, +or even to delude myself into a sense of seclusion, by +planting an open umbrella upon a chair before the +window, I finally abandoned my efforts, determined to +brazen it out, blew out my light, and tumbled into +bed, not in the best of humours.</p> + +<p>You remember, perhaps, the bitter cold night and +the flurry of a snow storm, that came abruptly upon us, +a few weeks since. That was the time of which I +write—the place was a country village. And what +a freezing night it was! The east wind blew gustily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +and drearily. It was moonlight, but dull and grey; +and as I lay in bed, without raising my head from the +starveling bolster vainly eked out by a meagre carpet +bag, I could see a single pine tree, on a steep bank +right opposite my window, nodding, and bowing at me +by fits and by starts, as though the capricious spirit +of the night wind had bid it mock me. How I longed +for the sight of a chimney-pot!</p> + +<p>There was no snow yet; but I listened to the rush +of each driving blast, and shrunk, huddling under the +clothes, from the chill it sent through me, as its keen +edges forced their way through the crevices of the +roof over my head. At length, and after much tumbling +and tossing, I fell asleep—or believed that I did +so; and presently I awoke again—or so it seemed to +me. What was sleeping, and what was waking, I +scarcely knew, that night.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, there, between us—between myself, I +mean, and the white, shining hill-side—came an object, +undefined in form but palpable in substance, waving +gently to and fro, passing and repassing before the +window, and at last appearing almost to touch it. +Finally it became stationary there, yet still undulating +with that soft tremulous motion which you may have +noticed in the humming-bird, when, poised upon his +delicate wings, he darts his slender tongue into the +petals of a favourite flower. "What in the world is +it?" I exclaimed; and had just fancied that I could +see a few slight cords reaching from it upwards, above +the upper edge of the window, when I distinctly heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +a rap upon the pane, and sprung from my bed, in +wonderment, but not in fear. The glass melted away—frame-work +to the casement there was none—I +passed outwards, unconscious how or wherefore. I was +seated, warmly and comfortably seated, springing aloft +into the moonlit and starry sky.</p> + +<p>Then I knew that it was a balloon. It rose at the +instant, and sped rapidly through the air. The wind +was strong, but blowing a steady gale; not in gusts +now, as it had been. And I felt that it was from the +south, for it was soft and balmy; and I knew that I +was driving towards the Polar star, for I saw it; and +saw it growing larger and more luminous.</p> + +<p>Then my spirit yearned after the missing Mariners; +and I prayed Heaven that I might be on my way to +find them.</p> + +<p>On we sped; but I was conscious, though the southerly +gales were wafting me to the frozen regions of +the North, that there was a spirit beneath or behind +me, guiding the tiny car in which I was borne. I +felt that he was there, though I strove in vain to +detect his presence. Slily did I glance over my shoulder, +abruptly did I turn my head, cautiously did I +crane over the edge—I could not see him. I felt +him directing my looks to what I beheld, shaping my +thoughts whitherward they went; but it pleased him +to remain invisible.</p> + +<p>It was yet night. Many rivers did we cross in our +progress, some looking inky-black as they flowed between +snowy banks, others dimly made out, and lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +in the one unvaried tone. Lakes were there, too, +and cities sparcely scattered. The latter were mostly +slumbering in the same quiet as the former; but +ascending from one I heard the alarm of a bell, and +glanced downwards at a herd of figures who seemed +to be fussing and fuming around a fire.</p> + +<p>And now, for a moment, I knew that I was dreaming; +and oh, grievous disappointment, I half awoke +to a consciousness that the vision was slipping away +from me. How I clutched at it! how I hugged it, +and refused to have a word to say to my senses! Did +you never try this plan and succeed in it? If not, I +would not give a fig for your dreams.</p> + +<p>But I caught up the thread of mine. Bravo! It +was a narrow escape, though. They told me, next +day, that there had been a false alarm of fire in the +village, during the night. I would have been roasted +alive, rather than not have dreamed out my dream.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Day-light, and early summer, and we were hovering +over the icy land and icy sea, scarcely now distinguishable, +one from other. Nor can I, indeed, describe +much of what I saw; for methought, that we were +driving hither and thither, not only in the dreary realm +of the Frost-king, but up, and down, and athwart +the ordinary current of times and seasons. So was +there much confusion. Anon it was that awful +Winter, whose cold will eat, like red-hot iron, into the +unguarded flesh, or more fatal still, will palm off Death +upon his victim under the alluring disguise of Slum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>ber—Winter, +with his terrible silence, more fearful +than the roar of his fiercest hurricanes—Winter, with +his blinding mantle of unbroken white, and his snowdrifts +wherein cities might be engulphed—Winter, +with his one redeeming beauty, one attendant goddess, +one Aurora, the Borealis, whose coruscations +were so marvellous to behold, so changeful, so grand, +so brilliant, that I smiled in looking on them, to think +that ever human skill had fabricated fire-works, and +that their display could throw spectators into ecstacies.</p> + +<p>And anon it was the Arctic summer—and the blue +waters peeped at intervals between giant pyramids of +ice—pyramids, and pinnacles, and turrets, and all +shapely and all shapeless masses. And these were +floating in the sunlight—some majestically sailing +through the ever opening spaces, coming never in +contact with their fellows—others jarring, and crashing, +and splintering into a thousand fragments, as the +upheaving waves compelled them perilously to embrace +each other; and their greeting was as the +roar of thunder-storms. And uncouth walrusses +were playing their clumsy antics on detached fragments +of the ice, and the seal was basking in the +sun, and the huge whale was spouting, and the seagull +was skimming the surface of the loosened deep, +dipping therein the tips of his wings, as though to assure +himself that it was indeed liquid. Landward, +too—for there was land, also, beneath us—I seemed +to see the scanty blades of a dwarfish vegetation thrust<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>ing +themselves pertinaciously through the snow; and +anon the garb of the earth seemed changing from one +universal white, to varied hues of brown and green.</p> + +<p>Those things and other such, rare and beautiful, +were visible to the bodily eye; but the eye of my +mind was not therewith content. It strained its +utmost, but saw not what it longed for; and my voice +broke out in bitterness, "Oh, the ships and the men, +the men and the ships, the good Sir John and his +daring crews!"</p> + +<p>Then I was conscious that my attendant spirit impelled +the balloon in a direction hitherto unexplored, +and lo! there beneath us was a ship—a ship, one of +the objects of my search!</p> + +<p>A ship! and my heart bounded within me at the first +glimpse I caught of it. But ah! how the blood curdled +in my veins, when, at the next moment, I saw that +the ship had not, and could not have occupants. Poor, +ill-fated, ill-treated vessel; never surely did typhoon +or whirlwind so displace thee from thy proper bearings. +The troubled waters of the Atlantic or the Caribbean +Sea might indeed have reared thee upwards, and plunged +thee downwards, and made thee reel to and fro, +like a drunkard; but it was alone the frozen waters of +the Arctic, that could have forced thee into this unnatural +position, and then cruelly nailed thee there, to +rot into decay.</p> + +<p>Ay, stout ship <i>Erebus</i> or <i>Terror</i>—I wot not which—there +wert thou lying, or rather there didst thou +stand upright, thy bows grovelling in the ice, thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +stern uplifted high in air, thy keel propped up against +a sheer precipice of ice, thy bowsprit shivered into +splinters, thy masts and yards, and tackle, fallen all, +and tangled in most inextricable confusion. One stick +alone remained set out horizontally from the deck. +From it drooped the tattered remnant of a flag; it was +the blood-red standard of England!</p> + +<p>As the balloon glided downwards towards the wreck, I +could have peered into the after-cabin windows; but a +single glance had already satisfied me that no living +being would be found on board. I have said that my +blood curdled in my veins. Turning hastily with a +sudden movement of indignation, I obtained a moment's +glance at my guide—his form was shadowy; +but by his hideous features I recognized him as Despair, +and felt that he and I were one.</p> + +<p>But ho, a pleasant change! Down we floated, till +my tiny car was almost on a level with the vessel's +bows; and there—oh, joy of joys—were signs, palpable +and undoubted, that the crew had fared better +than their ship—that they had escaped, and were +gone, and had carried what they pleased away with +them. At one view I comprehended this—I read it +in the aperture sawn through the doubled planking, +and in the fragments of casks and cases with which the +ice was bestrewn around. There was a board, too, +with writing upon it, nailed up conspicuously; but I +tried in vain to decipher it. Under the impulse of +strong excitement, I again turned abruptly toward my +guide; this time, I could not obtain a glimpse of him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +Methought, however, that I heard a rustle like the +sound of wings, and that the inflated silk over my +head became suddenly tinted with the hues of the +rainbow. And so I knew that I was under the guidance +of Hope; and that Despair would trouble me no +more. Whither my countrymen were gone I could +not conjecture; but, at least, I deemed them safe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Away, and away, we soared upwards and sped onwards; +how far, and how long, I marked not. And +lo, another object! not a ship—it is a house, this time; +yes, a house in the lonely wilderness of that frozen +ocean, a hut upon the waves of that boundless <i>mer de +glace</i>. And it was fashioned in rude form; and the +material was rough blocks of ice; and snow seemed to +have been used as their cement. The roof was formed +by poles and spars; and across them yet hung a sailcloth +covering. Roundabout the hut was a lofty wall, +built apparently to shelter it from storms, and snowdrifts; +and the wall was built with the same material +as the house, for Nature's plentiful quarry fails not in +those Polar regions, if man's hand and man's axe be +brought there, to hew and shape. But for whom the +shelter, and whither had they gone, who tenanted it? +I knew well that the long lost had been here. None +but they—no miserable, wandering tribe of Esquimaux—could +have left such unmistakable marks of +forethought, and skill, and energy. Near by, too, was +plainly visible the icy cradle wherein a vessel had been +lying, and on an even keel. But ships and men were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +gone—gone, but how gone, and whither? Earnestly +did I gaze for some solution of this mystery; and at +length I solved it, ay, plain enough; a line along the +surface of the ice became distinctly visible, rugged and +indented indeed, but straight, and stretching far away +to the Westward. Then was I assured that Sir John +and his brave comrades had been here, that they had +cut out a channel for their barque, and that the ice +had closed in behind them, so soon as they had passed +on their way. Yes, I was on their track. And again +I heard the soft rustling of the wings of Hope; and +the rainbow-tinted hues of the balloon were three-fold +more brilliant than before.</p> + +<p>One other circumstance only could I note, ere we +sped away again upon the search—all who came hither +had not departed hence. Side by side, in a sheltered +nook, beneath a towering pinnacle of ice, two wooden +crosses, peering above the snow, told plainly that beneath +it two of the Mariners were sleeping in death. +And their names were rudely carved upon the crosses; +but again my sight, though in some respects preternaturally +sharpened, refused to satisfy my curiosity. +Never mind, thought I, 'tis a small proportion in so +large a company. We must all die once; and those +who rest here, rest as well as though they were laid +beneath the "long-drawn aisle;" and their bodies are +more enduringly embalmed by the servants of the great +Frost-King, than in olden days they could have been +by the hand of the cunning men of Egypt.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Upwards, and onwards, and steering ever a Westwardly +course. And lo, at length—oh, God be praised—yes +I found the men I sought! Yes—no more doubt—there +I saw them below me, although, with the caprice +incident to dreams, I was prevented from dropping +down in the midst of them, or rendering myself +either visible or audible.</p> + +<p>A strange scene it was, independent of its surpassing +interest. Rocky islands—vast packs and floes of +ice—a lone ship beset, impeded, entangled—a hundred +pairs of lusty arms at work with ice-saws and axes, +striving to extricate her, by cutting a channel in the +direction where open water was visible. A little apart +from the busy groups stood one whom I instantly recognised +as the Chief. Care had furrowed his brow, +and somewhat whitened his locks, and bowed his vigorous +form; but manly resolution was stamped upon his +features, and command was in every gesture. Bethink +you how I strove to shout—how I struggled even to +throw myself down into their arms; but the dream-spell +was on me; I was invisible, perforce, and my +tongue refused to give utterance.</p> + +<p>How I watched them! and look, the burly seaman +who is a few steps ahead of his comrades, tracking out +the pathway to be dug—look, he starts as though a +rattlesnake were issuing from the snow under his feet. +What is it? He stoops, and I see his big brown hand +tremble, as it assuredly would not have done, if picking +up a burning grenade. What is it, bold tar, that +moves thee thus? Ay, I see now, and know the cause,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +'tis yonder little slip of gay coloured silk on which are +printed a few short words. Jack could not read, it +was evident enough; but he held up his prize, and +called out something which I could not hear, and his +mess-mates bounded to the spot. Foremost in the race +was an athletic young man, in the threadbare uniform +of a Midshipman, who had left his father's halls, five +years ago, a beardless boy. Nor was the Chieftain +himself the last. How did it pass rapidly from hand +to hand, that little silken slip! How did its fall amongst +them seem to change the whole spirit of the scene! +But look again, a gesture from the Chief, not as one +of authority this time, but rather as one of suggestion. +It is obeyed, however, and a hundred heads are bared; +and by the movements of their lips, I could see that +every living man amongst them ejaculated a hearty +"amen" to the Chieftain's short but earnest thanksgiving +to Heaven, for the assistance now known to be +at hand. Then I remembered that the brave Sir John +was a pious and a God-fearing man; and that the +veriest infidel sneers not at religion in the mouth of +him, whose heart is fearless and true.</p> + +<p>Visible to me, if not audible, what extravagant demonstrations +of joy ensued! I felt my little car vibrating +to their force, as cheers, peal upon peal, came +rolling up into the welkin. Singular was it, too, that +though in my dream my ears were stopped, I could +read in the expressive features of those rejoicing Mariners +their varied emotions, as they vociferated their +glee. I could see in their honest countenances, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +cheer was for Old England—which for their Queen—which +for their homes—which for their wives and +little ones. Then they burst forth into grotesque dancing, +and slapping of each others' hands, and jumping +on to each others' backs, and a thousand merry antics, +as though they were children just let loose from school. +And anon, in their mirth, running races hither and +thither, one, an officer amongst them, picked up another +printed silken slip, in general aspect like the +former, but addressed, it seemed, to the Chieftain by +name. A second look would have been sufficient to +master its contents, but the young man looked not the +second time, he hurried with it straightway to Sir +John. Rare instance this, methought, of the working +of a high sense of honour!</p> + +<p>And the veteran, what did it convey to him? I +saw not; but I saw a tear course down his furrowed +cheek; and for the moment my ears were opened to +hear his half-smothered ejaculation, "Jane, Jane, God +bless thee—true wife, noble woman—we shall meet, +thank God, we shall meet!"</p> + +<p>So I watched the merry throng, and strove in vain +to catch portions of their earnest talk. Suddenly, all +eyes were turned upon the Captain; he was speaking, +and pointing to the West. A few words only seemed +to come from his lips; but those surely were words of +command. In a moment, every man, though half +delirious with delight, seized upon his axe or his saw. +Work recommenced; labour was distributed in gangs. +Every arm was vigorously plied. The watch, des<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>cended +from the mast-head to hear the wondrous +tidings, mounted lustily again to his look-out station. +Each man was busy at his post; and though there was +perchance some display of increased energy and activity, +you would not have surmised that these patient +labourers had just exchanged the gathering gloom of +Despair for the radiant smiles of Hope. O gallant +hearts of oak, thought I—resolute, unflinching, enduring, +in the prospect of the dreariest of fates—orderly, +obedient, loyal, in the thrill of unexpected deliverance.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The remainder of my dream came upon me in +snatches.</p> + +<p>Midway in a narrow strait, between lofty and sterile +banks, a battered and crippled barque was steering +South. I knew the place to be Behring's Straits, the +vessel the Discovery Ship that I had just left amidst +the ice. So bruised, however, was she, so rent, and +strained, and maltreated, that but for the friendly aid +of a consort's tow-rope, she could scarcely have adventured +even on this comparatively easy navigation. +At her peak floated the standard of England; but I +strove in vain to make out the colours of her welcome +escort. Once, I thought I saw plainly the Stars and +Stripes of America; but these either faded away, or +assumed the appearance of the double-headed eagle of +Russia. Be that as it may, my sense of hearing was +restored; and I could both hear and see signs of continuous +rejoicing and festivity. Sounds of mirth, and +song, and music, came upwards to me from those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +pleasant waters. Many a canoe, too, filled with outlandish +people, visited the ships; all was wonder, and +delight, and congratulation.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hitherto there had been some consistency in my +dream; for if my mode of seeing were dream-like and +fantastical, what I saw had the verisimilitude of reality. +But this was over, or at least was changed. In place +of being seated in the car of a balloon, I was now in +the maintop of Sir John's battered and leaky ship, a +witness to what could only have existence in the wild +imaginings of a vision. For, methought we were still +steering to the South, when on our larboard hand uprose +a range of lofty hills, upon which it seemed to me +that I could almost have jumped. Down their sides +rolled hundreds of little streams; and in the waters, +waist-deep, were myriads of human beings, delving, +and scraping, and washing, and picking up what seemed +to me to be gold. But they paused in their busy occupations, +when they saw the approach of the ships; +and, holding up shining masses of the golden ore, shouted +to the long missing mariners to come to the mines, +and gather a plentiful harvest after their toils. Yardarm +were we to the glittering hill-sides, and the miners +wore the air of men who rarely tempted in vain; but +the crew of the worn-out ship gaily shook their heads, +laughed a pleasant little laugh of defiance, and the +words, "home, home," came floating up to me from +her deck.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Another trial. The men had theirs, and were +staunch. It was the master's turn. Heading still to +the southwards, but almost becalmed, I saw a swift +steamer ranging fast up with us from astern. This +time the Stars and Stripes were plainly evident. She +came alongside. Her captain was on our deck in a +moment, and engaged in earnest conversation with the +good Sir John. By the wave of his hand and a word +caught here and there, I knew that the kindly American +was pressing the veteran to take passage in his +steamer. He drew a little almanac from his pocket, +and there seemed to be some comparison as to dates; +but Sir John finally, with a moistened eye, touched +the other on the shoulder, pointed upwards to the +British ensign, and firmly shook his head. Away +rushed the friendly steamer, and the crowding passengers +on her deck took leave of us with reiterated cheers.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>My dream was drawing to a close; but I yet was +housed snugly in my new position, when the look-out +at the mast-head announced a sail. It might have +been the same day, or the next, or a week later. But +he announced a sail—then another—and another—and +lastly a steamer under canvas. The squadron bore +down upon us. It consisted of two line-of-battle-ships, +a frigate, and a screw-propeller, under command of the +British Admiral in the Pacific. The greetings and +salutes were over, and official etiquette was somewhat +relaxed under the intense excitement of the moment, +when I heard in my dream, on the quarter-deck of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +flag ship, the Admiral thus addressed the carpenter, +with a certain meaning twinkle in his eye. "That +leaky old tub can never swim round Cape Horn, +Carpenter." "I think not, your Honour," discreetly +replied Mr. Chips. "Youngster," continued the +Admiral turning quickly to a little middy, "go to +Captain B. with my compliments, and tell him to call +an immediate survey on the Discovery Ship." The +little middy touched his cap respectfully, and off he +jumped with his message. "Mr. C.," cried the +Admiral to the other midshipman who stood by the +signal-locker, "signalize the propeller to light her +fires, and get up all steam." In thirty seconds four +bits of bunting flew out from the mizen royal-mast +head.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The last object that I saw in my vision was the +figure of a woman, walking the ramparts of an old +Spanish city on the Pacific coast of Central America. +Matronly, and dignified in her air and bearing, her +featured bore the impress of past anxiety, but across +them flitted at times the consciousness of approaching +joy. She gazed wistfully ever and anon seaward; +and my heart yearned to tell her all that I had so +lately seen. The herd of vulgar gold-hunters, who +thronged the battlements, respected her, for her +long-continued sorrows, her abiding faith, her matchless +perseverance. They pressed not on her steps.</p> + +<p>I, too, who knew more than they did, how I longed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +to see the meeting—but no, no, 'twere better that it +should be sacred.</p> + +<p>I had not the choice; at this moment, forced upon +my unwilling ears, through the key-hole came a tiny +voice, "Please, Sir, mother says won't you get up; +the stage will be here in ten minutes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WOMAN NEVER AT A LOSS.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>An Eastern Apologue—From the French.</i></p> + + +<p>----I read her my manuscript; I had been abusing +woman I must confess. Not a single good word could +I say for the sex; and long did my companion and I +battle the point. Many truisms, much that was strictly +veritable had I brought forward, and she had been +obliged to yield to the justice of almost all my remarks, +though disclaiming against my slander at the same +time. Finally—"You intend to marry, yourself?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," I replied; "to find a woman bold +enough to take me, after having convinced her that I +knew all the duplicity of the sex, will henceforward be +the dearest of my hopes."</p> + +<p>"Is this resignation or fatuity?"</p> + +<p>"That is my secret."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," she said, "most learned doctor of conjugal +arts and sciences, permit me to relate to you a +little Eastern apologue, that I read long ago in a small +volume that was offered to us every year in the shape +of an almanac." I bowed my delighted attention.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +The pretty creature threw herself back in her <i>chaise +longue</i>, rested her little feet upon the fender, and fixed +her arch dark eyes upon me.</p> + +<p>"At the commencement of the Empire," she began, +"the ladies brought into fashion a game which consisted +in accepting nothing from the person with whom one +agreed to play, without saying the word 'Iadeste.' +An affair of this kind lasted, as you may suppose, whole +weeks, and the height of cleverness was to surprise one +another into receiving a trifle without uttering the magic +word."</p> + +<p>"Even a kiss?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I have twenty times gained 'Iadeste' in that +way," said she, laughing. "It was, I believe, about +this time, apropos of this game of which the origin is +either Arabian or Chinese, that my apologue obtained +the honours of print."</p> + +<p>"But if I tell it to you," she interrupted, looking +doubtfully at me, and passing her taper finger slowly +across her lips, with a charmingly coquettish gesture, +"promise me to insert it at the end of your book!"</p> + +<p>"Will you not be bestowing a treasure? I owe you +already so many obligations, I do not hesitate to add +this; therefore, I accept it at once." She smiled maliciously, +and went on in these words.</p> + +<p>"A philosopher had compiled a very large collection +of all the tricks our sex can play; and so, to guard +himself against our wiles, he carried this constantly +about him. One day, in travelling, he found himself +near an Arabian encampment. A young woman, sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +under the shade of a palm-tree, got up suddenly, on the +approach of the stranger, and invited him so obligingly +to repose under her tent that he could not resist accepting. +The husband of this lady was then absent. The +philosopher had scarcely established himself upon the +soft carpets, when his graceful hostess presented him +with fresh dates and a vessel full of milk; he could not +help seeing the rare perfection of the hands which offered +the beverage and the fruit. But to recover from +the confusion into which the charms of the young Arabian +had thrown him, and whose snares he began to +dread, the wise man drew out his book and read! The +enchanting creature, piqued at this disdain, said to him +in the sweetest voice, 'That book must be very interesting, +since it seems to be the only thing you consider +worthy of notice. Would it be an indiscretion to ask +the name of the science of which it treats!' The philosopher +replied without raising his eyes, 'The subject +of this book is beyond the comprehension of woman.' +This refusal excited more and more the curiosity of +the young Arabian. She put forward the prettiest +little foot that ever left its transient trace upon the +fleeting sands of the desert. The sage began to waver; +his truant looks would wander toward those dainty feet +till his eyes, too powerfully tempted, finally mingled +the flame of their admiration with the fire that darted +from the ardent and black orbs of the young Asiatic. +Again, then, she asked in her soft low tones, 'what is +the book?' and the charmed philosopher replied, 'I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +am the author of this work. It contains a record of all +the tricks that woman ever invented!'</p> + +<p>"'What! all—absolutely all?' inquired the daughter +of the desert.</p> + +<p>"'Yes—all! And it is only in studying woman constantly, +that I have been able to overcome my fear of +them.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah!' said the Arabian, dropping the long lashes +of her snowy eyelids; and then throwing suddenly upon +the pretended sage the full lustre of her Eastern eyes +she made him forget in one instant his valuable book +and its invaluable contents. Behold my philosopher +the most impassioned of men!</p> + +<p>"Thinking that he perceived in the manner of his +young hostess a slight touch of coquetry, the stranger +hazarded an avowal of his adoration. How could he +have resisted? The sky was so blue, the sand shone in +the distance like a blade of gold; the wind brought +love upon its wings, and the wife of the absent Arab +seemed to reflect all the brilliancy with which she was +surrounded. Her bright eyes, too, became liquid; and +she seemed, by a slight movement of her graceful head, +to consent to listen to the honeyed words of the quondam +philosopher.</p> + +<p>"The wise man was in a full tide of eloquence when +the distant gallop of a horse was heard rapidly approaching.</p> + +<p>"'We are lost!' cried the alarmed Fatima; 'my +husband is coming. He is jealous as a tiger, and still +more fierce. In the name of the Prophet, and if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +love your life, hide yourself in this chest!' The frightened +author, seeing nothing else to do, rushed into the +chest; his hostess shut it down, locked it, and took the +key. She went to meet her spouse, and after several +caresses, which put him into the best of humour, 'I +must tell you,' said she, 'a very singular adventure.'</p> + +<p>"'I listen, my gazelle,' said the Arabian, seating +himself upon a cushion and crossing big legs after the +Oriental fashion.</p> + +<p>"'There came here to-day a kind of philosopher; +he pretended to have collected in a book all the treacheries +of which my sex is capable; and this false sage—spoke—to—me +of love!'</p> + +<p>"'Well?'</p> + +<p>"'I listened to him!' At these words the Arab +bounded like a lion, and drew his kangiar. The philosopher, +from the bottom of the chest, heard all, and +sent to the devil his book, woman, and all the men of +Arabia Petrea.</p> + +<p>"'Fatima!' cried the husband, if you wish to live, +answer! 'Where is the traitor?'</p> + +<p>"Horrified at the storm she had raised, Fatima threw +herself at the feet of her lord, and trembling under +the menacing steel of the poniard, she pointed out the +coffer, with a single look, as prompt as it was timid. +Then rising, ashamed, she drew the key from her girdle +and gave it to her jealous lord. But—as he turned +furiously from her, the malicious beauty burst into +a shout of laughter, and laying her white hand upon +his shoulder, 'Iadeste!' she exclaimed; 'at last, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +shall have my beautiful gold chain! Give it to me; +you have lost. Another time, Fazom, have a little better +memory!' The husband stupefied, let fall the key, +and presenting the golden chain, on his knees, offered +his dear Fatima to bring her all the jewels of all the +caravans that passed that year, if she would only give +up such cruel methods of gaining the 'Iadeste.' Then, +as he was an Arabian and did not like to lose his gold +chain, though it was to his wife, he remounted his steed +and went off, grumbling at his ease in the desert—for +he loved Fatima too much to show her his regrets.</p> + +<p>"At last, the young woman released the philosopher +more dead than alive from his prison, and said to him, +gravely,</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Philosopher, don't forgot to insert this trick +in your collection.'"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MANDRAGORA—BY THE DOZEN.</h2> + + +<p>And so you cannot coax yourself off to sleep? Why? +Were you beguiled by their exquisite flavour into rashly +smoking three or four of those potent Regalias, with +which your friend, the rich stock-broker, professes to +aid the digestion of his guests, after a lengthened sitting +at his luxurious table? Or did the rounded arm +and taper fingers of his fair wife, presiding over the +mysteries of the silver urn, tempt you to indulgence +in too frequent cups of Souchong? Perhaps you are +endeavouring, in spite of yourself, to solve some knotty +problem in politics, or love, or chess, or mathematics. +Perhaps you have a considerable bill to take up to-morrow, +with a very slim balance at your banker's. +Perhaps you have a heart-ache; perhaps a head-ache. +At any rate, your nerves and senses are painfully +strained; and you feel as though you would give the +world and all, for a lullaby that would serve its purpose. +My good Sir, compose your mind. If you can't +sleep and dream, as you desire—dream and sleep. Reverse, +I say, the common order. And do not sneer +at the suggestion, unless you prefer tossing about all +night in vain. The process is not only not impossible;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +it is not half so difficult as you might suppose, presuming—as +I have a right to presume, in regard to my +reader—that your imagination is not hopelessly inert.</p> + +<p>Some persons recommend to the restless and wide-awake +the repetition of scraps from books, in prose or +verse, just as though every one had a plenteous store +of "elegant extracts" garnered up in his memory, and +as though authors specially aimed at being somniferous. +There are indeed not a few among them, who +unavoidably achieve this distinction; and the advice +might not really be bad, if you could con over—once +would be sufficient—Mr. A.'s last pamphlet on political +economy, or the Rev. Mr. B.'s last sermon. On +the whole however, inasmuch as your favourite passages—should +you know any of them by heart—may +be the very opposite of soothing in their tendencies, +this mode of wooing slumber can scarcely be pronounced +successful.</p> + +<p>You must commence, I say, by dreaming, if you +would compel yourself gently to sleep; but before I +proceed to introduce to you my list of available prescriptions +in this line, I note one with which my readers +may possibly be familiar, having learned it in +their school-boy days. You will not now be told for +the first time, that a drowsy sensation may be induced +by musing upon—or dreaming of, which is the same +thing—a field of tall and ripe barley, swept by fresh +autumnal gales. The rise and fall of each bowed head, +with its feathery and graceful spikes, combines well +with the undulating motion of the whole and the varied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +play of light and shade. The idea is otherwise expressed +by the British Laureate in "The Poet's Song," +one of his minor pieces; "and waves of shadow," says +he, "went over the wheat." Nevertheless it is clear +that he missed the proper application of the thought, +for, in place of lulling the beholder to forgetful repose, +the sight seems to have made him break out into a +song so loud that wild swans paused to listen in their +flight, larks fluttered down to earth, swallows gave up +hunting bees, snakes slipped under sprays, wild hawks +stared over sparrows stricken under their claws, and +the very nightingales were set a-thinking. Truly a +sad perversion this of a golden opportunity! But +your rhymsters were ever a crazy race. When they +deal with their fellows generally, we all know how +they botch poor human nature. What, then, can be +expected, when poets undertake to figure out one of +themselves? Still, let us improve the occasion. Barley-fields +or wheat-fields are well enough in their way; +only, if you conjure up this image, I would advise you +to season it with an abundance of red poppies intermingled +with the legitimate crop, and a very careful +attempt on your part to number these interlopers one +by one, preparatory, if so it please you, to flipping off +their heads. With due allowance, therefore, for its +lack of novelty, this dream may be admitted into our +collection.</p> + +<p>And it may be proper to remark at the outset that, +though the dreams whereof I propose to treat are +sufficiently distinct in their kind, it is desirable, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +practical use of them, to run them one into another—to +fuse them unconsciously as it were, without being +over-nice as to the point at which one ends and another +begins. It is not requisite, however, for this reason, +that they should all be packed into one paragraph, +like a daily paper's report of one of Mr. Morrill's +speeches on the Tariff, or a Secretary of the Treasury's +Report. You shall have each dainty conceit served +up in its own dish, so that, furthermore by the way, +you can take them in such order as suits your own +good pleasure. This view of the matter relieves me +also from the necessity of formal arrangement. It is +altogether unimportant which fancy comes uppermost. +The main thing is to shut off all thought concerning +the actualities of life, eschewing reference to your +loves, your hates, your wrestlings with circumstance, +your mental cares, your bodily ailments. I repeat it: +you must dream, if you would sleep. Counting the +breezy barley-field above mentioned as one, I believe +I can supply you with a dozen subjects.</p> + +<p>Your physical eye is closed, of course—your mind's +eye being, on that account, all the more keenly alive +to impression, and the better able to compass an unembarrassed +range. Set it, then, upon a spiral stairway +endless so far as I can imagine it, though you may perchance +by looking earnestly upward discover whereto +it leads, or by peering intently downward find out its +base. But did I say a stairway? That was not what +I meant; and dreamers, of all men, are at liberty to +change or modify their views. I should have said an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +inclined plane. Let it be steep, smooth, slippery, broad +enough to admit the passage of several figures simultaneously, +and guarded by bannisters on either side. +When, fatigued with the vain attempt to satisfy your +doubts as to the safety of this strange structure, your +curiosity craves enlightenment as to its uses, I pray +you to observe how I would have it peopled. Sliding +tumultuously adown the balustrades, lo and behold an +innumerable throng of Cherubs in unbroken succession, +coming whence and going whither you know not, but +each the counterpart of his predecessors, and each flapping +his little wings to maintain his balance, rendered +precarious as it is by his inability to sit a-straddle. As +for the inclined plane itself thus fantastically flanked, +you soon perceive that it is the <i>via sacra</i> of many +an Ethardo, whom you have known in the flesh or in +the spirit—Ethardo, the marvellous gymnast, who +mounted and descended steep slopes at the Sydenham +Crystal Palace, by trundling inflated balls beneath +his feet. Up and down, down and up, some painfully +and some skilfully pediculating, your Ethardi pass +and repass each other, disorderly yet in order. Name +them and salute them as they go by. You have probably +more acquaintances among them than I; but I +recognise Robinson Crusoe and Count Bismarck, Tarquinius +Priscus and Horace Greeley, John Ruskin +and Lucrezia Borgia, Mrs. Fry and Edgar Poe, Mr. +Gladstone and Dion Boucicault, John Bright and Mrs. +Grundy, Ben. Wade and Victor Hugo, Pio Nono and +the Great Mogul. Note, too, the various material<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +moulded into circular form, and blown up by way of +ambulant footstool; now it is a crown, now a crozier, +now a bag of gold, now a wind-bag, now a woman's +heart, now a man's fame done up in a newspaper and +properly puffed. Ring the changes upon these Ethardi +and the motive power that each applies, O my wakeful +friend; and at least you may lose sight of your own +individuality. Or, take a slide down the banisters +with the young Cherubs, and perchance you may touch +bottom—in Lethe.</p> + +<p>Not so? Let us proceed. There's a man at our +Club, whose reputation is so solidly built up, though +on an ethereal basis, that I never knew any one presume +to question it. He is an absolute master of +one accomplishment; unrivalled, and—to the best of +my belief, though I can't vouch for the fact—unenvied. +Admiring spectators gather round him and applaud; +but, if he have ambitious imitators, they rehearse in +secret. So far, he does well—ay, with consummate +tact and unfailing certainty—what few men can do +at all, unless once in a while at dreary intervals, and +then by accident. Not to keep you in suspense, +which is antagonistic to repose and slumber, this young +paragon contrives to throw off his cigar-smoke from +his lips, at will, in an unerring series of the most lovely +rings or wreaths, which, as they float and rise in +tremulous succession, strangely fascinate the looker-on. +It may be that this feat is not much of an achievement, +morally or physically or intellectually considered. +It may be also that the Club does not do itself much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +honour, in setting so high a value on this performance. +But what will you? In the palmy days of Greece, a +man acquired a certain celebrity by his precision and +address in throwing peas through a needle's eye—the +peas being, I presume, much smaller or the needles +much larger, than any with which we sow or make +soup in these degenerate days. Still, so highly do I +appreciate perseverance in the acquirement of any +difficult art, that I purpose doing much more for my +proficient in smoke, than was done for his man of peas +by Philip of Macedon. That bushel of ammunition +was a scurvy reward. I confer immortality, by thus +registering a fact and hinting a name. And I do +this from a sense of gratitude, wherein I trust that +you will participate, so soon as you perceive the connection +that may surely be traced, between the smoke +thus artistically and gracefully jetted into air, and the +drowsiness by which you would fain be possessed. +Do but imagine a score of your acquaintances round +a table, each an adept in this way, and each filling the +atmosphere with coronet after coronet of vapour thrown +up from meerschaum or cheroot. Whose are the +most frequent, whose the most perfect, whose retain +their form the longest? Watch the little circlets as +they wave and tremble; and award the palm of merit +fairly. Nay, even if you tell me that you are innocent +of the weed and nauseated by its odour, none +the less shall this fantasy be available. I saw once a +ship-of-war firing a salute; and lo, from one of the guns +went up to the pure sky, in magnified proportions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +just such a wreath as those I have described, as delicate +yet as clearly defined, and touched withal with a +suspicion of prismatic colours as it caught the rays of +the sun. An enthusiastic painter might have deemed +it an invisible Fairy's aureole; a sentimental milliner +would have set it down as the flounce of her unseen +robe. Whether the gunner of this occasion had taken +a lesson from my friend at the Club, I cannot pretend +to decide; I only assure you that I witnessed the +phenomenon. You have, therefore, but to multiply +as well as magnify. Think of a squadron, a fleet, all +the navies of the world, sailing slowly and majestically +in unending circuit, as the custom is when they +bombard some hapless fort. The saluting is continuous; +the movement never ceases; but the big cannon +are noiseless now and harmless. Space is joyous with +the innumerable wreaths of bluish vapour; but the +red slaughter and the accursed tumult of the sea-fight +are not heard or seen. Ponder long and lazily, I +counsel you, over the evolutions of the ships and the +convolutions of the smoke. Those may lure you, possibly, +into the Waters of Oblivion; these may spirit +you away to the land of the Lotos-Eaters.</p> + +<p>Another dream invites you; but it must be sketched +with more reticence, and this for two reasons. In +the first place, the subject has become identified with +that portion of theatrical entertainments usually found +to be the least soporific. In the second place, if your +imagination were encouraged to free range hereupon, +you might be foolish enough to connect its poetic mo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>tion +and its charm with certain souvenirs of a certain +fair friend of yours, whom it were wiser to forget if +you desire to profit by this Mandragorean system. +Briefly, then, I commend a Ballet, as not altogether unworthy +of trial—but not, be it observed, that thing of gas +lamps, and pink tights, and leers, and <i>poses plastiques</i>, +over which young America goes into raptures. By +no means. Picture to yourself a smooth sward beneath +clustered pines, a tender moonlight, and Nymphs—not +semi-nude as is the fashion of our day, neither affecting +the contortions of the gymnast as in our modern +caricature of dancing—but robed in swansdown, with +nodding plumes and tasseled fuschias pendent, tripping +it, if you will, on "light fantastic toe," yet through +stately and solemn measures. You remember Giulio +Romano's dance of Apollo and the Muses in the Pitti +at Florence? Take that for your model; then place +the figures to your liking. Nor forget to add an orchestra +of Æolian harps. Let them hang among the +pine-branches, and sigh forth Weber's Last Waltz, just +to set the groups in motion. Then fail not in your +breathings, O soft night-wind; foot it daintily, ye wildwood +Nymphs—so may sleep steal gently upon the +restless one, while yet his ear and eye are unsated!</p> + +<p>Another dream: blue water again, though, this time, +with a golden beach. It is calm; but the surf rolls +in languidly, with low murmurous sound, as it will +roll, be the sea's surface never so smooth, beyond the +involuntary breakers. What graceful bends and curves +are marked, for an instant, with frothy pencil, upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +shining sands! How they sparkle with evanescent +light! How soon the tiny bubbles disappear! But +you have watched all this, many and many a time; +and stale indeed hereon were description and moralizing! +Why, then, this present allusion? What is +there in it, tending to lull the acuter sensibilities? +What offers it of gently-soothing exercise to the overwrought +and throbbing brain? This is the reply. +Popular belief gives to every ninth or tenth wave, +tumbling in upon the shore, supremacy over its fellows. +It swells up into fuller volume. It sweeps +landward with a more majestic force. This is the +story; but I would have you test its correctness. Is +it the ninth, or the tenth? So, lie down yonder upon +the mass of dry sea-weed piled against the rocks, and +count patiently a dozen, a score, a hundred, a thousand +waves as they come in. You shall tell me, to-morrow +morning, whether the ninth have it, or the +tenth—whether there be any regularity at all.</p> + +<p>Again: if we do not, like the Roman Augurs, watch +and interpret the flight of birds as of good or evil +omen, some of them—I mean some of the birds, not +of the Augurs—may help us to become, for a while, +independent of fate and fortune. Did you ever, for +instance, sit at a window on a summer's evening, and +take note how a flight of swallows skims the air? +They are not very numerous, perhaps; but as they +dart to and fro, and cross and recross before you, their +number appears indefinite, and the zigzag peculiarity +of their movements can only be verified by the closest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +possible scrutiny. I have satisfied myself that the +motion is regular, and that it describes an elongated +figure of 8, traced as I am sure you have often traced +it upon ice with the outer edge of your skates. Now, +though I tell you this on the faith of my own personal +observation, you are not bound to accept my word +for it. Dream therefore that, while you are blending +two ovals into one figure upon the frozen pond, swallows +overhead are keeping time to your gyrations. +The winter sport and the summer bird may be made +to harmonize, as it is only in a dream; and close +watching will enable you hereafter to support or disavow +my theory.</p> + +<p>Again: return, if you please, from air to water, for +you have by no means exhausted the resources of this +latter element, in the way of material for dreams. +Are you an angler? Did you never drowse and doze +over your rod, when "sitting in a pleasant shade," on +a sultry afternoon, not a nibble disturbed the equanimity +of your float? The mere thought were suggestive +of a nap—suggestive, that is, to the indolently disposed, +with whom however you may not be classed, +seeing that your mind is in a state of unwholesome +excitement, the which it is my business to allay. And +so, I pray you, look deeper into this matter; pry down +into the blue transparent depths, and mark the fish +that swarm about your hook. Is it paste thereon, or +a wriggling worm? Never mind; the bait is singularly +attractive. To say nothing of the float gently bobbing +ever and anon, and of the tell-tale ripples rising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +to the surface, you can see with your own eyes how +victims dally with temptation; how they course to +and fro, and round and round; how one eyes the bait, +and another smells it, and another mumbles it; how +one swims away, and presently returns, and with him +his mate in size and colour. Are they over-fed or +over-cautious, that they thus play round, but will +not gorge? Does one egg on his brother to try the +suspicious morsel, hoping himself to profit by his +brother's experience? Is there so much resemblance +to human foibles discernible down there, among these +poor little inhabitants of the waters under the Earth? +The question is worth studying out—especially by a +sleepless man, who, while contemplating the forms, +the motions, the manners, and the minds of fish, may +unconsciously swallow the bait that is thus dropped +before him.</p> + +<p>It was my intention to devote a long and distinct +paragraph to each of four other subjects, that appear +to me no less adapted for the consideration of waking +dreamers. These are, respectively, Ghosts, Labyrinths, +Regattas, and the Eleven Thousand Virgins +of Cologne. But it is well to leave something to the +reader's perspicacity and inventive powers. Indeed, +why should he not fancy—dream is the more appropriate +term—that he himself has undertaken to complete +these special paragraphs? Let his imaginary +pen glide, swift and effortless, over his imaginary +foolscap. Ten to one, he will fill in and elaborate my +outlines, far better than I could work them out my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>self. +For instance, I do but mention Ghosts; he +might summon to his presence, and bid troop before +him, hosts upon hosts of his friends or relatives, or +of his chosen heroes and heroines in romance and +history. He might clothe them in white or in grey; +he might attire them in their ordinary habiliments; +in short, he might parade them according to his own +taste, without reference to mine, which whould be a +clear point in his favour. Accidentally, I might call +up some spirit that had vexed and thwarted him +through life, for no man whose experience is worth +remembering hath not had his enemies, hidden or +revealed, and very few are the men, fewer the women, +who have never disposed of a rival. My reader of +the moment, invested with my functions, will of course +evoke none but his familiars, the well-bred and well-behaved. +Let me be grateful accordingly that, by +transferring the responsibility to him, I escape the +chance of bringing forward, innocently and inopportunely, +some social Banquo. And so I pass on, with +one single word of caution to my substitute in completing +this paragraph: let him not convert his pen +into a Pre-Raphaelitish paint-brush. Airy beings +must be rather hinted than described. The realism +of anatomical plates, applied to them, would spoil the +reader's dream <i>in toto</i>, and wake him up perhaps more +hopelessly than ever.—As to Labyrinths, the course +is obvious. Take a dozen of these quaint contrivances, +and place them side by side, as Paulsen or Paul Morphy +may place the sundry chess-boards whereat he is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +to play, simultaneously and blindfolded, an equivalent +number of games. Pop, over the hedges and into the +very core of each one, any personage against whom +you have a grudge, or any one of the Ghosts just convened +that may have been troublesome; and then +challenge the incarcerated individuals to find their +way out of limbo, by the gravelled pathways. Should +one of the whole number emerge, through extraordinary +good luck, quietly tip him back again over the +hedge, or defy him to retrace his steps and regain the +centre. You may enlarge this suggestion, I think, +into a paragraph reasonably long.—The same with +Regattas. I am almost sorry that I gave up to you +so felicitous a topic; for all ages and all waters may +be laid under contribution. From Noah's Ark shall +float the commodore's broad pendant. The ocean +shall be covered, so far as eye can range, with countless +craft of every build and rig. And all shall glide +about in quiet, inasmuch as oars shall be muffled, +and steamers, having learned to consume their own +smoke, shall be taught equally to swallow their hideous +noises. The marshalling of the competitors and +the order of the racing are left to your discretion; +but there need be no lack of interest. Caiques from +Stamboul and gondolas from Venice shall be frequent; +and pirogues from the Malayan peninsula shall over-haul +the three trim yacht-schooners that raced across +the Atlantic from New-York. Here Cleopatra's +barge shall be matched against an Esquimaux kayak; +there a catamaran from Coringa shall bump the Yale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +College eight. If you cannot make something out of +all this picturesque confusion, and if you cannot contrive +to lose therein both yourself and the reader of +your paragraph, the fault will be yours, not mine.—There +remain the Eleven Thousand Virgins of Cologne. +What are you to do with them? Simply this. +Endow each one of them with personal attributes; +let each have form and features, distinct from the +others of her sisterhood. Is the task difficult? So +much the better. After a cool thousand or so of these +individual portraitures, you may begin to fumble in +vain for separate identities. In fact, who knows +whether you may not be compelled to take refuge +hopelessly in sleep, the very mark at which both of +us are aiming?</p> + +<p>And now, the foregoing long and subdivided paragraph +being brought at last to an end, it were disingenuous +to shirk an admission, that the "who's who" +is not so plainly discernible therein as it might be. +You and I, and the reader and the writer, and the +giver and recipient of advice, will be accused by the +critic of being somewhat queerly mixed up. What, +then? Are not vagueness and uncertainty of style +specially appropriate to the circumstances? Who +would thank us for precision? No, no; carry clearness, +if you like, into your mathematical definitions; +but leave us our mistiness when we treat of the mysterious. +Nor, on the whole, am I otherwise than +content with my suggested assumption of temporary +and imaginary authorship, as one of the methods for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +quieting a fevered brain. How pleasant to dream +that rival Publishers are contending for your manuscript +poems; that rival Managers are waylaying you +for a sight of your unwritten comedy! Besides, by +adding authorship to the list that closed with the +damsels of Cologne, the number is brought up to +eleven, so that, when I wind up with my trump card, +the promised dozen of dreams will be complete, and I +shall be enabled to dispense with the "waves of +shadow" on the wheat-field, which I acknowledged +were not my original conception.</p> + +<p>But am I too late in bringing forward my last and +happiest idea?—though for that matter, when the tale +of Mazeppa was concluded, "the King had been an +hour asleep," and yet Mazeppa's story was told out +ne'ertheless. For your immediate purpose therefore, +or for use on your next sleepless night, I entrust you +with the crowning opiate. Recollect that you are +dreaming; and dream that all your intimates and +relatives, all of whom you have ever heard or read +with interest, men and women and children, people +of every age and clime—imagine them, I say, all seated +before you at a round table. How any table is to +accommodate so vast a multitude, is their affair, and +yours; the dreamer is never baulked by technical impediments. +Have your eye upon them all at once—another +little difficulty, to be overcome only by mortals +in the incipient stage of somnolency. Or, if +your mind's eye obstinately refuses to enlarge its +orbit in this direction, so as to embrace such a vast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +and heterogeneous assemblage, gather, I beseech you, +into one focus any such crowd as you habitually see. +The Sunday audience of the Reverend Henry Ward +Beecher will answer the purpose; or you may fancy +yourself at one of the old Tammany Hall Meetings; or +at the Opera, on a fashionable night; or in the Senate +at Washington during the impeachment of Mr. Johnson. +It matters not when and where; but the proceedings +strike you as insufferably dull, and you give +vent to your feelings in a yawn that may neither be suppressed +nor concealed. Suddenly, moved by the same +impulse and unable also to control or hide its effect, the +jaw of every soul present is dropped to the lowermost, +and all mouths are open in a universal yawn. It is +not catching; it is caught. Beecher gapes, and the +elect are gaping round him. Isaiah Rynders the +same, and the same with his "unterrified" hearers. +Parepa-Rosa stands open-mouthed in dumb show +of singing, while humming-birds perched on chignons +vibrate, as they vainly try to resist the irresistible. +Gape the Republicans, and gape the Democrats, in +response to the gaping Butler on his legs. There is, +in Shakespeare's words—though his ignorant editors +have transformed it into a "gap"—there is, I say, "a +gape in Nature." Will you alone hold out: I can't +believe it. You have yawned in concert, I am morally +certain. Indeed, if, as these long-drawn prescriptions +come to an end, you be not far on the road +to forgetfulness, I can give you but one parting counsel. +Nothing else can serve and save you—you must +incontinently take morphine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DOCTOR_PABLOS_PREDICTION" id="DOCTOR_PABLOS_PREDICTION"></a>DOCTOR PABLO'S PREDICTION.</h2> + +<blockquote><p class="center">Doctor Pablo went back a lonely man, to his old mother, in France, +after having passed twenty years in the Philippines.—<br /> +<i>English magazine.</i></p></blockquote> + + +<p>He did so. We can vouch thus much for the correctness +of <i>Household Words</i> of the 6th inst., whence +the above-named quotation is copied. And as the subject +of it is a remarkable personage, and this unexpected +meeting with him in print has revived in us not a few +pleasant recollections, we will take the liberty of informing +our readers how we came to have personal knowledge +of Don Pablo—for this, and not Doctor Pablo, +was his cognomen, at least amongst his friends.</p> + +<p>Embarking at Bombay, many a long year since, +in the East India Company's steamer <i>Atalanta</i>, for +passage up the Red Sea, we soon fell into acquaintance +with a party of foreigners, partially isolated as they +were from the crowd of Anglo-Indians—men, women, +and children—returning by the over-land route to their +native country. They (the foreigners) were five in +number, two Frenchmen, two Dutchmen, and a Spaniard. +Of the three last-mentioned we have small recollection. +Of the Frenchmen, one was Don Pablo.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>The other, who headed the whole party, was Monsieur +Adolphe Barrot, a brother of Odilon and Ferdinand +Barrot, whose names are familiar to those conversant +with recent French history. He was at the time bound +to Paris, on leave, from his post of Consul-General at +Manilla. At an early period of his career he had been +attached to the French Legation at Washington, or at +least had travelled through this country. Subsequently, +when Consul at Carthagena, he distinguished himself +by his resolute and humane interposition on occasion +of a certain revolutionary outbreak. After his +return from the East, he served as French Minister to +Naples and to Lisbon, and now, we believe, holds the +same appointment at Brussels. Between this man of +cultivated mind, polished manners, and companionable +qualities, and Don Pablo, whose exterior smacked but +little of intercourse with "the world," there was evidently +a bond of no common sort. Blunt, earnest, +truthful, with quick perceptions and impulses of the +kindest nature, there was something very fresh and irresistibly +attractive in the character of Don Pablo. +We did not wonder at the intimacy. Opposites are +drawn together. In friendly and social intercourse the +time sped away.</p> + +<p>At that period, the steamers bound from Bombay to +Suez touched at Cosseir, a port two days' sail South of +Suez, and about 150 miles East of Thebes on the Nile. +The object was to land passengers who cared to cross +the intervening Desert, as the quickest mode of gaining +Upper Egypt. To Cosseir we were ourselves destined;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +our new friends being on their way direct to France, +<i>viâ</i> Suez, Cairo, and the Mediterranean, and having +made none of the ordinary provision for the less-frequented +route. But we plied them strongly with argument +and entreaty, to divert them from their intended +limited course; not forgetting the threat of ridicule +in a Parisian drawing-room, where a man who had +missed such a chance would never be able to hold up +his head. Finally, they consented. After a voyage +of sixteen days, the coaling process at Aden included, +three groups of travellers landed at Cosseir. We had +dealings with two of them.</p> + +<p>For although we had persuaded Mr. Barrot, Don +Pablo and their associates, to take our route, we could +not precisely undertake to accompany them. We were +to travel over the same ground, but not together; for +we had engaged, ere we left Bombay, to join fortunes +with a small party of veterans and valetudinarians who +had made elaborate preparations for the journey, and +were not sorry to have the aid of one who did not belong +to either class, but who was perhaps for that very +reason more competent than they themselves to take +charge of their caravan. And then there was a lady, +and a lady's maid, and a valet, and the thousand and +one encumbrances that are incidental to such appendages. +What scenes we had with the camel-drivers! +What tons of baggage to be loaded! what irritations! +what drollery! what delay! Landing early in the +morning, the preparations for a start occupied us till +a late hour in the afternoon; nor had we ever a more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +laboursome time of it. Lightly cumbered, and with +only a twentieth part of the fuss, Don Pablo and the +others had preceded us; but as the same camping-places +in this five days' journey are generally frequented, +we hoped to see them from time to time. Fortune +kindly ordained that we should join them permanently.</p> + +<p>It was on a Saturday afternoon that we started from +Cosseir, with a train "too numerous to mention." +Night had fallen, ere we pitched our tents—the writer +sharing that of Sir C. M. At day-light on the following +morning, we strolled off to the French encampment; +were again pressed to join its occupants; were +again compelled reluctantly to refuse. Away they +went. We returned to our own quarters, where to our +horror, in place of hearing "boot and saddle" sounded, +the edict was issued from my lady's tent, that there +was to be no marching that day. Bah! how provoking! +we could not ask for an honourable discharge; but +how we longed to desert! Matters fell out, however, +more pleasantly then we had a right to expect. Breakfast +was served, with the elaborateness of a <i>fête champêtre</i>, +at eleven o'clock; and as the hostess gracefully +poured out the coffee, the talk turned upon those who +had sped onward. Presently, by a lucky chance, it +occured to her, or to the nominal head of the party, +that dawdling away a Sunday on a barren speck of +Mahommedan sand was not in itself the essential duty +of a plain Christian, nor specially agreeable to a man +whose thoughts were keenly set upon the marvels of +Luxor and Karnac. In short, it was mildly suggested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +to us that, as the organization and first move of the +caravan—the real and only difficulties—were accomplished, +there would be nothing ungallant in leaving +the party to its more orthodox or more leisurely progress. +Our coyness may be imagined; but we consented +at length to take this view of the matter, and at noon +called up our camels. Soon were our trunks and +slender stock of kettles and sauce-pans slung upon one; +ourselves astride of a second; and on a third, the Arab +driver, with whom there was no communicating but by +signs. A twelve hours' ride brought us at midnight +to the tent of our friends—they having luckily found +one available at Cosseir. We raised the canvas from +the pegs, and saluted Don Pablo with a "Here I am!" +Many years have elapsed since that night, but we can +fancy now that we hear his genial rejoinder, "I knew +you'd come!" In less time than it takes to tell it, we +had edged in our bedding upon the sand, and were +one of the Seven—no, six—Sleepers.</p> + +<p>Had not a <i>Howadji</i> of this Western hemisphere made +the Desert and the Nile so peculiarly his own, that it +is presumption for a common pen to follow in his track, +we might be tempted still further to ransack our memory +for pleasant recollections of Don Pablo. Let it +suffice to say, that with these pleasant companions we +roughed it across the camel-track, in a style of discomfort +and good humour rarely surpassed; explored the +wonders of Thebes and the Tombs of the Kings; floated +down to Cairo; clambered the Great Pyramid; smoked +pipes with Pashas; and finally embarked at Alexandria,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +on the blue waters of the Mediterranean. The farewell +was said at Syra, one of the islands of the Ægean. +The "five we supped with yesternight" were bound to +Malta and Marseilles—we to Athens and Constantinople. +As we shook hands at parting with Don Pablo, +he quietly remarked, with that cheerful gravity that +so well became him, and in allusion to a young lady +who had been our three days' acquaintance on board +the steamer—"<i>Adieu, mon cher; vous épouserez Mademoiselle.</i>"</p> + +<p>We never saw Don Pablo, but once afterwards. +Several months had elapsed. His prophecy had been +fulfilled. The lady in question was on our arm, as in +sauntering under the arcades of the Palais Royale +in Paris, we met our old associate. There was a +hearty greeting; but when we reminded him of his prediction +and formally introduced him, we remember that +he cut the colloquy abruptly short (as it then seemed +to us), and turned away with an expression of face for +which we were at a loss to account, being ignorant of +all the details of his history. Did the memory of the +Peninsula of Iala-Iala, and of the loving wife whom +he had buried there, fall too suddenly and too sadly +upon his sensitive and affectionate spirit?—We cannot +say; but this was the beginning and the ending of our +knowledge of Doctor Pablo, until we unexpectedly met +him in print.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE NEW HAMPSHIRE ALPS.</h2> + + +<p>It is not very much of a walk from the Glen House +up the Eastern face of Mount Washington—less than +three hours at a leisurely pace will accomplish it; and +on a fine day it would be next to impossible to lose +one's-self, if alone. Half the distance or thereabouts, +your track lies through a wood, acceptable enough as +offering shelter from a July sun, but curtailing your +views annoyingly. However, all things end; and if +your range of sight be somewhat "cabined, cribbed, +confined," at the start, you have no cause for complaint +on that score after once emerging from covert, +for the rocks, bleak, bare, and irregular, that are scattered +all around, though large enough to compel a +careful picking of the way between them by no means +limit the vision. But the approach has been a hundred +times described, and I will only say of it, at the +risk of repetition, that he who comes up from the Glen +House, and fails to turn his eye continually over his +right shoulder, to dwell lovingly upon the near and +noble outlines of Mounts Jefferson, Adams, and Madison, +has no appreciation of this sort of scenery.</p> + +<p>The morning had been superlatively fine, and troops<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +of mounted dames and damsels and cavaliers made the +various pathways lively with their glee. But caprice +is the rule of these high regions; and when I was +within ten minutes of the summit, clouds of misty +vapour came suddenly scudding up, whence I knew +not, but shutting out a peep here and a vista there, as +they caracolled in fantastic evolutions. Presently, to +these kaleidoscopic effects succeeded a slight hailstorm—it +was rain visibly beneath us, attended with thunder +and lightning—but anon all was comparatively clear +again, and from the congregated spectators went up +many a genuine burst of enthusiastic admiration, as +point after point opened out or was shut in by the +scud.</p> + +<p>The two rough stone buildings upon the small plateau +that crowns the mountain, built for the accommodation +of travellers, are called respectively the +"Summit" and the "Tip-top" House. Once rivals, +they now form a single establishment—one being used +as a restaurant, the other as a dormitory. On this +particular day, nearly a hundred persons must have +refreshed themselves in the former—a dozen or fifteen +in the latter; and I must own, it was not without a +sense of relief that I saw the last of the descending +parties set forth about 2 P. M., being myself of the +select few about to take the chance of sunset and sunrise.</p> + +<p>For the afternoon, then—for the interval of time +was to be occupied—a guide was summoned, to show +half-a-dozen of us the wonders of Tuckerman's Ravine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +a <i>cul-de-sac</i> between two great buttresses of Mount +Washington, that prop it up towards the South and +West. The sides of this ravine are very precipitous +the head of it being formed of layers of rock, at an +angle of about ninety-five degrees, over which a cascade +precipitates itself, fed by the springs and melted +snows above. In the bed of this hollow, to which the +descent is sufficiently sharp to gratify the keenest +amateur pedestrian, the accumulated snow of the winter, +blown over from the impending heights, lies packed +in such enormous masses that it seldom entirely +disappears until the latter part of August. At the +period of my visit, on Friday, the 29th of July, a huge +portion thereof remained, and the famous "Snow-Arch" +was not only visible but practicable. This natural +curiosity is a cave channelled out from the vast +snow bank as a passage for the descending waters, the +roof of which, gradually melting away, leaves height +and space for walking along this gallery as it were in +the very bed of the torrent. You enter perforce, be +it observed, where the stream emerges. The length +was certainly not less than two hundred feet, the +breadth of the tunnel perhaps forty or fifty. Of the +thickness of the roof I cannot speak, not having +essayed it; but the little knot of adventurers trusted +that it would not cave-in whilst they were groping +their difficult way, one after the other, wet-footed and +in semi-obscurity, up-stream, from end to end of the +arched way. The object of the exploration it would +be difficult to define. It certainly was not scientific;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +it offered no rare beauties; it might have been very +well imagined, without the trouble and subsequent +risk—but it was an adventure, and it had its charm. +Day-light appeared as we neared the waterfall—luckily +not very full—which, as I have already said, +comes down the head of the ravine and is the origin +of the "Arch" itself. What next? The snow had +separated bodily from the face of the rocks to the +width of two or three feet, as you see ice fields in a +thaw detach themselves from the land whereto they +have been joined. We could therefore emerge, and +clamber up the abrupt face of the rocks, though the +first start was not inviting, inasmuch as we had to +hoist ourselves up by unequal pressure upon soft +snow on one side and hard rock on the other. The +alternative was a return. This would have been inglorious; +up we went. It was a rough business. +The guide had been over the ground once before, this +season—so he said, at least—but he "harked back" +occasionally, as though not quite certain of his way. +It seemed impossible to diverge either to the right +or left, and so gain the comparatively easier slope. +We were doomed to mount, in the hope of finding +successive steps, inasmuch as a retracing of those +taken was not for a moment to be thought of; descent +in such cases is always far more dangerous and troublesome. +It was fortunate that in crossing twice or +thrice the waterfall itself, we were not pumped on to +any serious extent. I was moistened only, being garnished +with a Macintosh; and I have only two scars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +now left on my shins, the result of scraping too close +an acquaintance with sundry rocks. The whole affair +lasted between three and four hours. I cannot recommend +it, save to very enthusiastic mountaineers, +or to <i>ci-devant jeunes hommes</i> anxious to test the +effects of Time upon their powers of walking and of +endurance.</p> + +<p>Regaining the hurricane-deck of the Tip-top House—for +the roof is the principal promenade, and often times +assuredly deserves the name I give it, how +gratefully, as the sun went down, stole the sense of +ineffable grandeur over the somewhat wearied frame! +It was a superb evening; and though it would not +suit me to cull a leaf from the Guide-book, and tell +all that is therein narrated, I must mention one particular +wherein this locality is notable, if not quite +unique. I think I remember something of the kind, +but not so marked, at sunrise as seen from the +summit of Etna; but not thus, on the Righi and +Faulhorn in Switzerland, on the Pic du Midi de Bigorre +in the Pyrenees, or on other peaks that I have +climbed in the days of long ago, to salute the coming +or speed the parting day. The nearest approach to +it that I have seen, was at the Great Pyramid of +Ghizeh. I allude to the wonderful distinctness and +regularity with which the shadow of the great cone +itself is traced, at sunset, striding over heights and +lowlands, mound and lake—all the intervening surface, +in fact, between the spectator and the far distant +horizon—until it contracts almost to a point where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +earth and sky merge into one. The sharpness of +these converging parallel lines of shadow in that +luminous atmosphere absolutely astounded me. They +were as crisp, as clearly defined, as those that you +may see in antique pictures of Jacob's Dream, leading +ladder-wise from Heaven to the head of the slumbering +Patriarch. Sunrise, next morning—for I was +again favoured with clear weather and only sufficient +frost to render the roof of the restaurant slightly +slippery—sunrise, I say, reserved all this. The +narrow lines, now on the Western horizon, broadened +out and came upwards and forwards, as in the evening +they had elongated and gone down. It was in +truth a rare spectacle, not to be forgotten, and individualizes +this natural observatory.</p> + +<p>As for the view itself, it has been described <i>ad nauseam</i>, +and I have only a few words to say about it. +It happened, as it often does happen, that I fell in +with an untravelled admirer of the prospect spread +out before us, not charmed however with it more than +I was myself. But he would persist in drawing from +me an answer to the common question—"how does +this compare with some of the famous points of view +in the Swiss Alps?" Such tests I hold to be absurd, +thanking my stars that I can unreservedly enjoy all fair +things that are good of their kind. And so I told the +inquirer this simple fact. If, in a mountainous country, +varied, broken, studded with lakes, and rife with +all the elements of the picturesque, you ascend some +such superior elevation as this, you have, <i>looking down</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span><i>wards</i>, +a striking panoramic scene, like this in its general +features—more striking perhaps than beautiful, +though this is all matter of taste. The difference lies +herein. Here, you plunge your look downward, or +sweep it over surrounding objects—and that's the end +of it. In those other Alps, you add to the four or +five or six thousand feet, below you, as much above—and +it is that <i>upward</i> glance which takes in the marvels +of glacier and snow-field and inaccessible peaks. My +new acquaintance asked for no more comparisons, but +let me enjoy myself in my own quiet way.</p> + +<p>The walk down Mount Washington to Crawford's +at the Great Notch, as I believe it is called, is rather +a long affair. It must be ten miles, and parts of it +are of the roughest. It took me four hours, in company +with two intelligent and companionable young +students of Harvard College, travelling (in the true +way) a-foot, with knapsacks on their backs. But we +hurried it too much, especially as the ridge over and +along Mount Pleasant, and some of its fellows bearing +Presidential names, abound in points of view +worth dwelling on. Moreover I was foot-galled; and +this reminds me that, inasmuch as I cannot to-day +conclude my rambling reminiscences, I may as well +wind up with a touch of information and of advice. +The one is intended for the benefit of pedestrians who +make excursions of this sort; the other for stay-at-homes +in flat countries, who have no definite notion +whatever of the ups and downs of hilly regions.</p> + +<p>In the first place, then, you who walk are painfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +aware that a sore foot is almost a calamity, if it befall +you whilst <i>en route</i>. Remedy there is none; be thankful +that there is an infallible preventive, of whose unfailing +excellence I can speak with unreserved commendation. +On its simple merits I once averaged in +Switzerland twenty-five miles a day, for thirty successive +days; and this without gall or blister. Fool that +I was, to neglect it, two or three weeks ago. Nothing +is easier. Ere you start in the morning, soap or grease +the naked foot thoroughly, and then draw the stocking +over it. Wash off, with a dash of brandy in the +water, on finishing your day's work. The play of the +foot is the preservative against abrasion—a certain +one, I assure you.</p> + +<p>In the second place, if—passing your life amid prairies +or savannahs—you are sometimes puzzled to +comprehend allusions to buttresses, shoulders, ridges, +peaks, cones, ravines, and the various terms in use +among enthusiastic mountaineers, I think I can put +you on a very simple explanatory track. Next time +you lie in bed, with a few spare moments for reflection +upon this grave topic, just turn on to your back and +elevate one knee or both knees. The coverlid or sheet +will immediately assume—I am serious in saying—a +curiously correct semblance, I might almost term +it a model in relief, of the face of any mountainous +country. Laugh not, but try it. A slight movement +on your part varies the form and outline and relative +bearing of hill and vale, raises a pinnacle here, or +there sinks a gorge precipitously steep. If I had the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +misfortune to be confined to bed by sickness—excluding +gout, which might render the process impossible—I +could thus, with the aid of a map and some tables +of distances, design a passable fac-simile of the leading +White Mountains themselves. Why Yankee ingenuity +should not long ago have manufactured <i>papier-maché</i> +plans thereof, in relief, altogether passes my +comprehension. They would sell well as souvenirs +of travel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SLIDING SCALE OF THE INCONSOLABLES.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the French.</i></p> + + +<p>How rapid is the progress of oblivion, with respect +to those who are no more! How many a quadrille +shall we see, this winter, exclusively made up from +the ranks of inconsolable widows! Widows of this +order exist only in the literature of the tombstone. +In the world, and after the lapse of a certain period, +there is but one sort of widows inconsolable—those +who refuse to be comforted, because they can't get +married again!</p> + +<p>One of our most distinguished sculptors was summoned, +a short time since, to the house of a young +lady, connected by birth with a family of the highest +grade in the aristocracy of wealth, and united in marriage +to the heir of a title illustrious in the military +annals of the Empire.</p> + +<p>The union, formed under the happiest auspices, +had been, alas! of short duration. Death, unpitying +death, had ruptured it, by prematurely carrying off +the young husband. The sculptor was summoned by +the widow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>He traversed apartments silent and deserted, until +he was introduced into a bed-room, and found himself +in presence of a lady, young and beautiful, but habited +in the deepest mourning, and with a face furrowed by +tears.</p> + +<p>"You are aware," said she, with a painful effort +and a voice half choked by sobs, "You are aware of +the blow which I have received?"</p> + +<p>The artist bowed, with an air of respectful condolence.</p> + +<p>"Sir," continued the widow, "I am anxious to +have a funeral monument erected, in honour of the +husband whom I have lost."</p> + +<p>The artist bowed again.</p> + +<p>"I wish that the monument should be superb, worthy +of the man whose loss I weep, proportioned to +the unending grief into which his loss has plunged +me. I care not what it costs. I am rich, and I will +willingly sacrifice all my fortune to do honour to the +memory of an adored husband. I must have a temple—with +columns—in marble—and in the middle—on +a pedestal—his statue."</p> + +<p>"I will do my best to fulfill your wishes, Madam," +replied the artist; "but I had not the honour of acquaintance +with the deceased, and a likeness of him +is indispensable for the due execution of my work. +Without doubt, you have his portrait?"</p> + +<p>The widow raised her arm, and pointed despairingly +to a splendid likeness by Amaury Duval.</p> + +<p>"A most admirable picture!" observed the artist;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +"and the painter's name is sufficient guarantee for its +striking resemblance to the original."</p> + +<p>"Those are his very features, Sir; it is himself. +It wants but life. Ah! Would that I could restore it +to him at the cost of all my blood!"</p> + +<p>"I will have this portrait carried to my studio, +Madam, and I promise you that the marble shall reproduce +it exactly."</p> + +<p>The widow, at these words, sprung up, and at a single +bound throwing herself towards the picture, with +arms stretched out as though to defend it, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Take away this portrait! carry off my only consolation! +my sole remaining comfort! never! never!"</p> + +<p>"But Madam, you will only be deprived of it for a +short time, and—"</p> + +<p>"Not an hour! not a minute! could I exist without +his beloved image! Look you, Sir, I have had it +placed here, in my own room, that my eyes might be +fastened upon it, without ceasing, and through my +tears. His portrait shall never leave this spot one +single instant, and in contemplating that will I pass +the remainder of a miserable and sorrowful existence."</p> + +<p>"In that case, Madam, you will be compelled to +permit me to take a copy of it. But do not be uneasy—I +shall not have occasion to trouble your solitude +for any length of time; one sketch—one sitting +will suffice."</p> + +<p>The widow agreed to this arrangement; she only +insisted that the artist should come back the following +day. She wanted him to set to work on the in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>stant, +so great was her longing to see the mausoleum +erected. The sculptor, however, remarked that he +had another work to finish first. This difficulty she +sought to overcome by means of money.</p> + +<p>"Impossible," replied the artist, "I have given +my word; but do not distress yourself; I will apply +to it so diligently, that the monument shall be finished +in as short a time as any other sculptor would require, +who could apply himself to it forthwith."</p> + +<p>"You see my distress," said the widow; "you can +make allowance for my impatience. Be speedy, then, +and above all, be lavish of magnificence. Spare no +expense; only let me have a masterpiece."</p> + +<p>Several letters echoed these injunctions, during the +few days immediately following the interview.</p> + +<p>At the expiration of three months the artist called +again. He found the widow still in weeds, but a little +less pallid, and a little more coquettishly dressed in +her mourning garb.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said he, "I am entirely at your service."</p> + +<p>"Ah! at last; this is fortunate," replied the widow, +with a gracious smile.</p> + +<p>"I have made my design, but I still want one sitting, +for the likeness. Will you permit me to go into +your bed-room?"</p> + +<p>"Into my bed-room? For what?"</p> + +<p>"To look at the portrait again."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes; have the goodness to walk into the drawing-room; +you will find it there now."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it hangs better there; it is better lighted in +the drawing-room, than in my own room."</p> + +<p>"Would you like, Madam, to look at the design for +the monument?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. Oh! what a size! What profusion +of decorations! Why, it is a palace, Sir, this +tomb!"</p> + +<p>"Did you not tell me, Madam, that nothing could +be too magnificent? I have not considered the expense; +and by the way, here is a memorandum of +what the monument will cost you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Heavens!" exclaimed the widow, after having +cast an eye over the total adding-up. "Why, this is +enormous!"</p> + +<p>"You begged me to spare no expense."</p> + +<p>"Yes, no doubt, I desire to do things properly, but +not exactly to make a fool of myself."</p> + +<p>"This, at present, you see, is only a design; and +there is time yet to cut it down."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, suppose we were to leave out the temple, +and the columns, and all the architectural part, +and content ourselves with the statue? It seems to +me that would be very appropriate."</p> + +<p>"Certainly it would."</p> + +<p>"So let it be, then—just the statue alone."</p> + +<p>Shortly after this second visit, the sculptor fell desperately +ill. He was compelled to give up work; but, +on returning from a tour in Italy, prescribed by his +physician, he presented himself once more before the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +widow, who was then in the tenth month of her mourning. +He found, this time, a few roses among the cypress, +and some smiling colours playing over half-shaded +grounds.</p> + +<p>The artist brought with him a little model of his +statue, done in plaster, and offering in miniature the +idea of what his work was to be.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of the likeness?" he inquired +of the widow.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me a little flattered; my husband was +all very well, no doubt; but you are making him an +Apollo!"</p> + +<p>"Really? well, then, I can correct my work by the +portrait."</p> + +<p>"Don't take the trouble—a little more, or less like, +what does it matter?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but I am particular about likenesses."</p> + +<p>"If you absolutely must—"</p> + +<p>"It is in the drawing-room, yonder, is it not? I'll +go in there."</p> + +<p>"It is not there any longer," replied the widow, +ringing the bell.</p> + +<p>"Baptiste," said she to the servant who came in, +"bring down the portrait of your master."</p> + +<p>"The portrait that you sent up to the garret, last +week, Madam?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>At this moment the door opened, and a young man +of distinguished air entered; his manners were easy and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +familiar, he kissed the fair widow's hand, and tenderly +inquired after her health.</p> + +<p>"Who in the world is this good man in plaster?" +asked he, pointing with his finger to the statuette, +which the artist had placed upon the mantel-piece.</p> + +<p>"It is the model of a statue for my husband's +tomb."</p> + +<p>"You are having a statue of him made? The +devil! it's very majestic!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"It is only great men who are thus cut out of +marble, and at full length; it seems to me, too, that +the deceased was a very ordinary personage."</p> + +<p>"In fact, his bust would be sufficient."</p> + +<p>"Just as you please, Madam," said the sculptor.</p> + +<p>"Well, let it be a bust, that's—determined!"</p> + +<p>Two months later, the artist, carrying the bust, encountered +on the stairs a merry party. The widow, +giving her hand to the elegant dandy who had caused +the statue of the deceased to be cut down, was on his +way to the Mayor's office, where she was about to take +a second oath of conjugal fidelity.</p> + +<p>If the bust had not been completed, it would willingly +have been dispensed with. When, some time +later, the artist called for his money, there was an +outcry about the price; and it required very little less +than a threat of legal proceedings, before the widow, +consoled and remarried, concluded by resigning herself +to pay for this funeral homage, reduced as it was, +to the memory of her departed husband.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>RAMBLING RECORDS.</h2> + +<p class="center">THE GENTLE ARLESIANS.</p> + + +<p>**With one exception, however, I gleaned nothing of +information that is not already chronicled in the guide-books; +and that one piece of information I only set down, +because I think it contains a hint that may be made +practically useful in certain enterprising circles of New +York.</p> + +<p>We were in the Arena at Arles. It was a splendid +day—barring the Mistral, that windy nuisance, +which, as it eddied through the antique and ample Roman +corridors, brought to my recollection certain North-Westers +experienced on a fine March day in Union +Square. In fact, it was far too cold for sentimentalizing +or tracing measurements. But the guardian, it +seemed, had not latterly had much chance of exercising +his vocation, and his tongue was too nimble to be frozen. +And so at it he went. Only, being himself more interested +in certain proceedings that had lately taken +place within a boarded fence that now encloses the arena, +than in historical or legendary lore, his subject was by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +many centuries more fresh than the ruins whereon we +stood, sunning ourselves and crouching out of the wind's +way. Arles, it appeared, had been favoured with a +bull fight, real Spanish matadors doing the beastly +honours; but to the credit of the city, be it said, the +spectacle was received with intense disapprobation. +The gentle Provencals, whose tastes are more Italian +than Spanish, could not brook the sport dear to their +fair Empress who sets fashions in Paris. Indeed, the +beauteous Eugénie, I fear, will hold them to be the +merest milk-sops, for when the grand climax of a disembowelled +horse was exhibited before them, the Arlesians, +male and female—in place of shouts of triumphant +approval—gave vent to loud cries of shame and execration, +and in short hissed the Spanish heroes incontinently +from the scene of their performance.</p> + +<p>But what has all this to do with the future of New +York, it may be asked by any reader of these rambling +reminiscences. Stay, a moment; I am only at the +commencement. I, too inquired if this were all. "By +no means, Sir," was the reply. "We had then the +real <i>courses aux taureaux</i>, and excellent they were." +Now I must own that my notions of this branch of the +tauromachia were somewhat indistinct. I knew it was +not precisely the same thing as buffalo-hunting on the +prairies, or as a steeple-chase in Warwickshire or Yorkshire; +but I could not have defined it to save my life. +"Perhaps, Monsieur, has never seen one" was the next +appropriate suggestion, and it led very naturally to my +enlightenment. Briefly, then, after the torture of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +quadrupeds, and the indignant dismissal of the Spanish +matadors, the young gentlemen of the town took the +place of the latter, and began a diversion, which must +have been infinitely amusing, and which, I humbly submit, +might be adopted on a different soil. A lively +young bull was turned into the arena, and was followed +by a number of lively youths, armed only with light +staves whereon fluttered blood-red pennons. The fun +consists in provoking the excitable animal by the red +flags thrust before his face, and eluding the consequences +by a run, a dodge, or a jump. The fence, +which was a barrier for the bull, could easily be vaulted +by a nimble-footed youth—and none but such would +venture upon the field. There was just enough danger +to make the game piquant; scarcely enough to make +it objectionable. One indiscreet young fellow did indeed +narrowly escape a catastrophe on the occasion described +to me; but the fault was entirely his own. He had +been breakfasting at some Arlesian Delmonico's, and +had partially lost his wits before coming to the encounter, +while retaining all his courage. Therefore it +happened—and I only tell the story as it was told me—that +the youth, when pursued by the bull, tripped +and fell, and the horns of the brute were immediately +thrust into the fullest part of his peg-top trousers. A +great sensation among the spectators! The bull succeeded +in raising and throwing over his head the object +of his attack, but by no means in disentangling himself +therefrom. His frantic efforts to bring about a summary +toss were for some minutes unsuccessful; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +reader may conceive the mingled sense of the ludicrous +and the fearful, that pervaded the assembly. Finally—for +even French cassimere will give way in the end—he, +the bull that is, achieved his aim, and threw his +unconscious tormentor a summerset, being diverted +from ulterior measures of vengeance by fresh attacks +made upon him, while the crest-fallen hero of the adventure +was promptly bundled over the paling. To +sum up this sketch of the sport, in the humane and +pithy words of the guardian of the Amphitheatre—"it +does no harm whatever to the bull, and very little to +the young gentleman."</p> + +<p>Now then, Mr. Niblo; why should you not establish +a Tauro-drome in the centre of civilization? The leaning +of the day is toward athletic exercise. In England, +at present, there is a run upon rifle-corps; and the +boldest riders are all bent upon becoming the crackest +shots. In New York, I have read since my absence +in Europe, that the great English Eleven have begotten +a very rage for cricket. An excellent move this; +but then the climate is against it, and the summer is +short, and the game is utterly incomprehensible to +the gentler sex, who are always prompt to encourage +the manly prowess of their admirers. Besides, for lack +of a permanent Bude light of adequate strength, we +have not yet achieved the desideratum of playing cricket +during those special hours when the youth of a commercial +community finds itself prone to relaxation. +The <i>courses aux taureaux</i> might just as well take place +by gas-light and in a New York circus, as amid Roman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +ruins and under the blaze of sunshine. The dandies +of Broadway have the two main requisites for brilliant +success in this suggested entertainment. Their pluck +may not be doubted; and who that has seen them, +agile and unwearied in the German or the <i>valse à deux +temps</i>, could question their ability to outfoot the fleetest +bull that Andalusia itself could supply? I commend +the matter then to the serious consideration of +Managers in search of novelties, and to belles who +would discover what stuff their beaux are made of.</p> + + +<p class="center">AT NUREMBURG.</p> + + +<p>For these thirty-eight years past, the <i>Albion</i> hath +been protesting once a week, in the Latin tongue, +that they who skip over the water change only their +sky, not their mental existence. Nor did I ever doubt—indeed +I ought to have faith therein—the truth of +this motto, until I found myself yesterday in one of +the streets of this old city of Nuremburg, with no promenaders +at the moment save myself. There was not +a man in sight, tiled with a black beaver chimney-pot; +nor a woman redolent of the Rue de la Paix or Regent +Street. Then it was that I incontinently asked myself +if I were truly a Briton by birth and an Anglo-American +by local ties; or whether I were not in fact a German +burgher of the middle ages. I should scarcely +have been surprised at sight of grave Albert Durer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +himself coming round the corner, or at hearing Hans +Sachs, the cobbler poet, trolling one of his six thousand +ditties.</p> + +<p>To say this, is simply to add the testimony of another +witness to that which has set down Nuremburg as the +city of all Europe least changed with changing times. +The very little that has been done of late years in the +way of repairing and rebuilding, within the walls, has +been done in strict accordance with the prevalent mediæval +style. The result is that—whereas elsewhere, +when you stumble upon a private dwelling of moderate +proportions showing plainly that it was built some two +or three or four or five centuries ago, you congratulate +yourself upon having discovered a curiosity (as such a +one really would be in Paris, for instance)—here the +difficult search would be for a house, modern and spruce. +Not that a rectangularly-ornamented gable-end is the +quintessence of architectural beauty, or that a basement +front of low iron-barred windows suggests an +agreeable or hospitable interior. By no means. If +this were all, there would be considerable quaintness, +and nought beyond. But it is otherwise. Some of the +decorative bits that catch the eye right and left, are +absolute gems in their way—whether oriel windows, +or fantastic turrets, or figures and devices embossed +and sculptured. Taste, generally for the Gothic, but +diverging at a later date into the Renaissance style, +seems to have run riot here in wilful playfulness.</p> + +<p>Of the regular sights set down in the hand-books, +and explored by conscientious Englishmen with their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +Murrays under their arms, it would not be appropriate +to speak at length. I may however indulge in an allusion +to the different material, whereof are constructed +two of the most highly-laboured marvels, here exhibited. +Now the city itself is divided into two nearly +equal parts by the small river Pegnitz, these parts +bearing the names respectively of the principal church +that stands in either. The one is dedicated to St. Sebald, +the other to St. Lawrence. The former, as its +chief curiosity, contains the shrine of its patron Saint, +an elaborate and most exquisitely wrought fretwork +canopy, about fifteen feet in height, beneath which repose +his remains. The design is in a measure architectural, +and Gothic of course; but the ornamentation +is its great glory, though one is staggered somewhat +at the irreverent juxtaposition of the twelve Apostles +with Cupids and Mermaids, and at sundry Fathers of +the Church disporting themselves amid clusters of fruit +and bouquets of flowers. This monument of artistic +skill was the work of Peter Vischer, one of the worthies +of Nuremburg, and has been completed three hundred +and forty years. The able worker, having dispensed +with consistency in the admixture of Christian and +Pagan accessories, as I have mentioned, was at least +justified in introducing a figure of himself as one of the +human animals; and a very fine statuette he makes, +with chisel in hand and his working apron about him. +Now mark, if you please, O attentive reader, this shrine +of St. Sebald is entirely cast in bronze. To say that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +effect is beautiful, is too limited praise. It is harmonious; +thoroughly satisfying to the eye; perfect.</p> + +<p>Cross with me now, if you be not weary, one of the +dozen picturesque bridges over the Pegnitz, and let +us see what Adam Krafft, another great Nuremburger +of that same age, has done in the same line of Gothic +decoration for the Church of St. Lawrence. His work +is a shrine, or I should rather say a repository for the +sacramental wafer of the Roman Catholic rite. It is +an open-work spire, tapering to the height of sixty feet, +with an infinity of graceful detail, and rare sculptures +in high and low relief. One fantasy is, I think, unique +of its kind. The roof is a little too low to admit the +crowning summit fairly; and the top, therefore, has +been made to bend over. The effect—purposely designed, +I cannot doubt—is odd; nor can I agree with +the fantastic remark of Murray's Handbook, that it +"has the air of a plant which is chocked in its further +growth." Spires and plants are not endowed with +equal pliability, and the idea of one of the former waving +about, or nodding gracefully, suggests an immediate +"stand from under." And this all the more in +this instance, because—which brings me thus round-aboutedly +to my main point—the material hereon employed +is stone, a clean and white-toned stone, that +looks as though its excellent carvings and mouldings +had been completed only for the last Crystal Palace +Exhibition. The apparent newness is downright provoking; +and if Adam Krafft could peep at it from his +honoured grave, he would never dream that he has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +lain therein three centuries and a half. Let me say +further—having thus stumbled upon personalities—that +he too made himself as durable as his work. +And with more modesty than Master Peter Vischer +above named, who moulded for himself a niche in his +monument corresponding, in size and position, to the +one assigned to the patron Saint, though being at the +opposite end of the shrine, the glorifier and the glorified +could not be taken into one glance and a comparison +forced. There was more modesty, I say, in Adam +Krafft's mode of travelling down the stream of Time +as showman of his show, though he was not methinks +without a dash of <i>craft</i>, as befits the bearer of his name. +Down upon their marrow-bones (as the school boys +have it) with rounded backs grope Adam and his two apprentices, +the three backs forming a base of operations, +or in plainer words upholding the sixty-feet structure, +and doing for it that which is done beneath his rival's +shrine by a snail at each of the four corners. Perhaps, +after all, the sculptor-architect was wiser than the +bronze-caster, in his mode of identifying himself with +his work. Amid a multitude of figures and emblems, +Peter Vischer, as well as St. Sebald, may be overlooked, +for they are small in size; but you can scarcely +avoid asking "who are these three?" when you +note how lofty is the edifice that the large quasi-Atlases +bear.</p> + +<p>Enough, touching these minor differences. The essential +one, whereof I intended to speak, is the material +in which the pair wrought respectively. I have said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +that the bronze entirely satisfied my critical eye, which +is tantamount to saying that it charmed me. Not so +with the stone. It is obviously ill-adapted for detached +ornamentation, needing the solid adjunct of buttress, +window, wall, or pillar, just as ivy needs the oak, +or (may I utter such a term?) lace the woman. Indeed, +with all my admiration for sundry mediæval specimens +of Gothic architecture, wherein I scarcely yield +to John Ruskin himself, I confess that the famous +Eleanor's Crosses in England never quite pleased me, +because therein the tracery and dainty delicacies of the +design are not backed by anything massive. The +greater part of my readers will not agree with me. +I am sorry, but can't help it. Only, I don't want to +see any more open-work baskets in stone. Give me +the most fantastical of Gothic devices, as many as you +please, so long as they have something to cling to.</p> + +<p>Finally, I have fallen quite in love with this quaint, +irregular old place. Nor do I know how long I might +have loitered, had not the inevitable disillusion come, +as come it will over so many promising things and fair. +Otherwise I might have gone back—in imagination—to +those honest old times of Durer, Vischer, Krafft, and +Company, and imagined myself a free burgher of a +free city. But the spell was doubly broken. At the +old castle—whereof some small apartments are unpretendingly +fitted up for the King and Queen of Bavaria—there +comes upon one, in another part thereof, a vision +of certain instruments of torture, used undoubtedly +in those good old times to keep the burghers submiss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>ive +to their oligarchy of merchant princes. And +again at the Rath-haus, or Hotel de Ville; the maidenly +show-woman lighted us by lanthorn-light through +a set of subterranean dungeons, too numerous to have +been destined for offenders only against the criminal +laws, too horrible to be sanctioned under our creed of +comparative gentleness. And so, on the whole, I returned +back to actual existence, and to all the boredom +of Parliamentary conflicts and Presidential elections, +with a certain sense of relief.</p> + + +<p class="center">ROMAN NOMENCLATURE.</p> + + +<p>By dint of many rambles I am become fairly versed +in the topography of Rome; but its history, as elucidated +by monuments or relics, is a perpetual riddle +to the beholder. The Republic, the Empire, the Barbarian +Invasions, Free Lances, Barons, Kings, and +Popes—all are suggested; all come before you in confused +array; not unfrequently, three or four at once. +You shall go into a church to hear mass amid modern +tawdriness, entering through a mediæval porch, taking +your place between walls that were put up long before +the Christian era, and under a roof supported by pillars +whereon the sun of Phrygia has shone. Pagan and +Christian—all is jumbled; until finally, unless you +have the patience of Job and the zeal of an antiquarian, +you begin to doubt all legendary and historic lore, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +to measure what you see by its external attractiveness +alone. One thing, however, is clearly marked. You +are groping about, in a state of vexed uncertainty; +suddenly you come upon an inscription, conspicuous, +in large legible letters, often gilded. Now you are +grateful. You stride up; and lo, there stands, emblazoned +before you the interesting fact that such or +such a Pontifex Maximus, some Benedict, or Clemens, +or Pius, or Leo, or Gregory, restored, excavated, ornamented, +or built, as the case may have been, the object +upon which you have been pondering. Neither, +in the dearth of desirable information, are you compensated +by the opportunity of picking up chronological +knowledge in regard to the Papacy. These fulsome +records omit, not only all description that might be +useful; they fail to mention the year of the World, or +the year of Grace, altogether. In place thereof, you +learn that the digging or decoration in question took +place in a certain year of the reign of a certain Pope; +but as the chair of St. Peter has had one hundred and +sixteen occupants, between A.D. 1000 and A.D. 1860, +"Anno VI. of Innocent VI." or "Anno II. of Julius +II." does not materially aid the memory as to dates. +This petty craving after chiselled or painted immortality +is nowhere more contemptibly exhibited than in +Raphael's famous Loggie at the Vatican, where, over +each separate window, one reads in staring type, "Leo +X., Pontifex Maximus." Surely there is something +strangely inconsistent, in a power that boasts its re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>mote +origin and its endowment in perpetuity, thus taking +infinite pains to isolate its historical fragments.</p> + +<p>A smile only—not a grunt of indignation—is elicited +by another peculiarity of Rome, which comes under +the lounger's notice. Something of the same sort is +perhaps also observable in all large cities; but it never +struck me so strongly. I allude to the names of the +streets and squares and public places, which names by the +way are carefully and prominently labelled. The jumble +is curious, though one starts a little at times from what +to Protestant eyes seems irreverent. Take a sample, +dispensing with the titles in Italian. You may stroll +through the street of the Three Virgins, of the Three +Robbers, of Jesus, of the Tarpeian Rock, of the Two +Butchers' Shops, of the Baboon, of Divine Love, of the +New Benches, of the Prefects, of the House-tops, of +Jesus and Mary, of the Greeks, of the Tower of Blood, +of the Triton, of the Guardian Angel, of the Strumpet, +of the Soul, of the Scrofula, of the Eagle, of the Lion's +Mouth, of the Five Moons, of Minerva, of the Incurables, +of the Wind, of the Wolf, of St. John Beheaded. +You may halt in the square of the Mouth of Truth, in +that of the Field of Flowers, in that of the Satyrs, in +that of Consolation, in that of the Goose. It is evident +that no ruling mind or principle has regulated this public +nomenclature. <i>Tot homines, quot sententiæ.</i></p> + +<p>And is it not the same thing in private affairs? +What variety of tastes! Here is a specimen. Two +young men of my acquaintance, who have been campaigning +in India, arrived here, the other day, on their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +first visit. One of them had a relative here, of a scholastic +turn of mind, who was bringing a protracted sojourn +to a close; and to him the cavalry officers were +in a measure consigned. "Can you tell me what's to +be seen at Ostia and Veii?" said one of them to me, +forty-eight hours after their arrival. "Our friend, B., +is going to take us a day's excursion to each place, to-morrow +and the following day." I could scarcely keep +my countenance. The poor innocents were sold to an +antiquarian. Ostia is destitute of any objects that +would repay a half-hour's walk. As for Veii, the +learned have only agreed of late whereabouts that ancient +city stood.</p> + + +<p class="center">BRIGANDS, BEGGARS, AND SOUVENIRS.</p> + + +<p>My last communication was from Rome. It was +piquant, on the day of departure thence from Naples, +to dine at Terracina with a Prussian family, who had +been stopped and robbed by brigands, at eight o'clock +the previous morning, at a spot between Velletri and +Cisterna. There was however no <i>Fra Diavolo</i> in the +case. The respectable <i>père de famille</i>, who with his +sons and daughters had been laid under contribution, +informed us that the fellows were evidently peasants +unused to the trade; that they presented guns, in exacting +their demand for money; but that they were +nervous in their brief operation, and that they did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +ransack the trunks, nor even carry off the watches and +rings of the party. The chief sufferer was the vetturino, +whom fright and the loss of thirty-six dollars +had thrown into a fever, causing the detention which +brought us into contact with the narrators. We passed +on our way, without adventure; the safest period, there +as elsewhere, being that which immediately follows one. +I incline to think that extreme destitution induced +this recourse to a practice almost obsolete, as it probably +gave rise to the personal robberies, unattended +with violence, which have been recently rife in Rome +itself.</p> + +<p>And in connection with this point, I may swell the +laments of late travellers as to the chronic prevalence, +throughout Southern Italy, of those other unceasing +robberies of extortion and mendicancy, which are so +much more difficult of toleration. I declare that of all +the mythical personages of classic lore brought back +to one's memory by local association, whether in the +Elysian Fields or on the borders of Lake Avernus, the +Harpies are those who alone survive, and who obtrude +themselves always and everywhere, in season and out +of season. The foul brood have assumed human semblance, +and haunt you in all varieties. The unbidden +cicerone, or the sturdy beggar—it is hard to say +which is the worse.</p> + +<p>How I anathematized them both at Sorrento, where +there are certain souvenirs of Tasso, not so direct and +tangible as those preserved in the Convent of San +Onofrio at Rome, but which are worth the tracing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +You will remember that the hapless poet found a resting +place here in the house of his sister, after he escaped +from his seven years' imprisonment at Ferrara. +To be adjured, for charity, in the name of the Virgin +and every Saint in the calendar—to have a jackass and +a guide, or a jackass of a guide, thrust upon you, <i>nolens +volens</i> for an excursion that you have no mind to +take, or to be importuned to "put out, put out, put +out to sea," when you know that March winds and +waves make the azure grotto of Capri totally inaccessible—these +diversions, I say, do not assist one in gathering +up one's reminiscences of Tasso, however much +they may chasten and so improve the temper.</p> + +<p>And here I may observe also upon a peculiarity that +marks the research of certain travellers, somewhat +akin perhaps to the taste which induces certain readers +to trace history through personal memoirs, in place of +studying broader narrations. If truth were told, there +are a hundred who commune with Pepys and Horace +Walpole, to ten who find delight in Hume. So is it—though +by no means in the same proportion—with +sight-seers on ground that is rich in historical associations. +All their sympathies, or the larger portion of +them at least, are with individuals, as though there +were no grappling with a race, a nation, an age that +is past. Stories, wholly or in part fictitious, are their +hand-books. To them the Capitol of Rome is the scene +of Rienzi's rise and fall, as interpreted by Bulwer Lytton. +At Pompeii their chief care is to find out the +abode of Glaucus and Ione. Nor can it be denied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +that there is an additional charm in this mode of viewing +localities that are new to us, if it be not the most +philosophical. In my own case, without needless parading +of the degree in which I share this gentle weakness +or disapprove it, I must own that its exercise gives +at times an unexpected zest to a ramble. Whilst in +Rome, for instance, I do not think that one's serious +views of history or art are in any manner jarred upon, +because here and there one stumbles upon relics that +savour of individuality. At any rate I should not +like to have missed the old mansion of the Anviti family, +near the bridge of St. Angelo, mentioned by that +old gossip, Benvenuto Cellini, as the frequent rendezvous +of Michael Angelo, Raffaele, Cardinal Bembo, +and other choice spirits of his day. I should have +been sorry to have omitted a visit to the boudoir of +Lucrezia Borgia, in the Convent close beside the church +of St. Pietro in Vincolo, once the residence of Pope +Alexander VI., and now mainly converted into a barrack +for the troops of "the elder son of the Church." +The part however in which is placed this small apartment, +decorated with frescoes of the period, is still +applied to conventual purposes. There is no legend +about the matter, at least so far as regards the possession +of the Borgia family; and the room being small +in size, and unique in situation and style of ornament +within and without, it is not difficult to believe that it +was the chosen resort of a young lady in days when +there was less gadding about than now. Still, to be +candid, I must own that in musing here, as in looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +at the lock of the same amiable woman's hair preserved +in the Ambrosian Library of Milan, one is apt +to have one's recollections of mediæval depravity not +slightly tinctured by visions of Giulia Grisi in the prime +of her voice and beauty, to say nothing of Victor Hugo's +grand drama, and old Mademoiselle Georges' unrivalled +performance therein.</p> + +<p>Again, and lastly—lest the reader imagine that +when once I get back to Rome, I am spell-bound and +cannot leave it—what traveller has not cast a pleased +eye upwards towards the window whence the baker's +daughter, A. D. 1515, or thereabouts, ogled the young +prince of painters as he passed by on his way to, or +from his work, at the Farnesina Palace? You know +the precise spot, O Viator, in a small piazza very near +the Ponte Sisto? The house is white-washed or yellow-washed +now; but there is the old Ionic pilaster, yet +embedded in the wall, and the ornamental architectural +mouldings yet shut in the Fornarina's window. +And here it occurs to me to make one more digression, +for the purpose of suggesting a theory of my own +touching one of the many portraits of La Fornarina +that have come down to us, and that vary so much in +expression though all evidently intended for the same +person. Between the fine one in the Tribune at Florence, +and the filthy one in the Sciarra Palace at Rome, +there is the widest possible difference. The former is +evidently enough a woman unrefined, though beautiful; +but there is neither coarseness nor indelicacy in the +portraiture. The latter has both these characteristics,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +pushed to an extreme that is repulsive. It is said to +be a copy from Raffaele by Giulio Romano. Now my +belief is, that it was painted as a quiz upon his master's +grace and delicacy, by the scapegrace pupil who +ran counter to those special attributes. Meretricious, +ugly, and vulgar, this wretched creature bears emblasoned +in large letters on the bracelet upon her arm +the name of Raffaele Sanzio d'Urbino. This piece of +impudence seems to me the crowning touch. I can't +credit that such a Fornarina ever came from Raffaele's +easel. I do think that a coarse-minded and coarse-handed +young artist may have made fun of his superior +in oil—as modern literary wags have sometimes +done in ink—and that Raffaele therefore is in no way +answerable for that caricature in the Sciarra, which +affects to be a reproduction from himself.</p> + + +<p class="center">LIVRES DES VOYAGEURS.</p> + + +<p>Verily there is no lack of the plainer symbols of +humanity, to remind the wanderer that Childe Harold +was bitterly truthful, when he appended to his inimitable +descriptions of the Alps the assertion that they</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"serve to show,</span><br /> +How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below."<br /> +</p> + +<p>The impertinences and follies that are penned by +men and women in the various Livres des Voyageurs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +wherein they record their names, were alone sufficient +proof of this. It is true that enthusiasm and fine feeling +cannot endure for an indefinite period; and that +he would be a sorry companion who always brought his +stilts to the dinner-table. Still, one must regret that +a certain craving for notoriety seems to impel so many +a tourist to write himself down an ass, whilst no sense +of fairness restrains others from commenting, appropriately +or inappropriately, upon the names or remarks +of predecessors. There is a cowardice and cruelty +herein which has, I confess, sometimes made me angry, +when the identity, characters, and conduct of the individuals +concerned were alike unknown or indifferent to +me. In place, however, of prolonging this digression, +and without the least notion of proving anything whatever +by the citation, I beg to offer the reader a brace +of extracts from the visitors' record book at the Montanvert.</p> + +<p>The first tickled me exceedingly, as a genuine specimen +of the so-called Irish Bull. Mr. Somebody had +entered his name, and added thereto this valuable bit +of information: "Walked up from Chamouni in four +hours and a-half, <i>having lost the greater part of his +way</i>?" The italics are mine, of course; but is not +the <i>mot</i> worth its space in print?</p> + +<p>My other extract concerns some of my young countrywomen, +and I trust that their countrywomen who +may read it will forgive me for putting it into circulation. +They are very poor laughers, who never laugh +when the joke tells against themselves; in this instance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +it is we who pay the piper. A party of English school +girls had been lately at Montanvert with their governess, +and had set down their names one after another +in the big book, as is the custom there. A waggish +Frenchman, waiting of course until their backs were +turned, had bracketted the list, and written against the +conclave this pithy and caustic criticism: "<i>Teint rouge; +appétit géant; langage embarrassé.</i>" What an ungallant +scamp! Yet it must be owned that the same absurd +album is rich in provocatives. A running fire of +sarcasm, exchanged between English and French tourists, +marks almost every page.</p> + + +<p class="center">A SINGULAR ANAGRAM.</p> + + +<p>Among the curiosities—not of literature—but of letters, +the Anagram was wont to be a favourite in the +days of a by-gone generation. Who, for instance, has +not smiled blandly over that famous transposition, +which aptly converts "Horatio Nelson" into <i>Honor +est à Nilo</i>?</p> + +<p>The taste, however, for this sort of laborious trifling +has almost passed away; nor do we propose to re-open +the subject of cabalistic lettering. Our only purport +is to offer a new specimen of its eccentricities, which +came upon us recently during a vain attempt to solve +certain mysteries, that occupy just now many serious +minds. It is commended alike to snappers-up of un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>considered +trifles, and to readers who chance to be imbued +with a little tinge of superstitious sensitiveness. +We strive to hope that, though almost as curious, it is +not so unimpeachably appropriate as the one quoted +above. The name, so much in men's mouths, "Louis +Napoleon Bonaparte," may by this method be converted +into, <i>An open plot—arouse, Albion</i>!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A WELL KNOWN DOCUMENT,</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Very Slightly Paraphrased</i>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A comparison of the following lines, with the original American Declaration +of Independence, will show that the earnest and impassioned language +of real life is sometimes closely assimilated to blank verse.</p></blockquote> + + +<p> +When, in their course, human events compel<br /> +One people to dissolve the social bands<br /> +That linked them with another, and to take<br /> +Among the powers of the Earth that station,<br /> +Equal and separate, to which the laws<br /> +Of Nature and of Nature's God, by right,<br /> +Entitle them—respect to the opinions<br /> +Of fellow men calls on them to declare<br /> +The causes, which have rendered necessary<br /> +Such separation.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">We, then, hold these truths</span><br /> +To be self-evident: That all mankind<br /> +Are equal, and endowed by their Creator<br /> +With certain unalienable rights:<br /> +That amongst these are Life, and Liberty,<br /> +And the Pursuit of Happiness: That men,<br /> +To make these rights available and safe,<br /> +Have instituted Governments, deriving<br /> +Their lawful power from the free consent<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span><br /> +Of those they govern: That when any form<br /> +Of Government is proved to be destructive<br /> +Of these their ends, it is the People's right<br /> +To alter, or abolish it, and found<br /> +A Government anew, with principles<br /> +So laid for its foundation, and with powers<br /> +In such form organized, as shall to them<br /> +Seem most conducive to their happiness<br /> +And safety.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Prudence will, indeed, dictate</span><br /> +That long-established Governments should not<br /> +Be changed for any light or transient cause:<br /> +And all experience, accordingly,<br /> +Hath shown that men are more disposed to suffer,<br /> +So long as evils are endurable,<br /> +Than to assert their rights, and throw aside<br /> +Their customary forms. But when abuses<br /> +And usurpations, in a lengthened train,<br /> +Pursue an object steadfastly, evincing<br /> +A firm design to bow them down beneath<br /> +Absolute despotism, it is their right,<br /> +It is their bounden duty, to throw off<br /> +Such Government, and to provide new guards<br /> +For their security in future.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Such</span><br /> +Has been the patient sufferance of these<br /> +Our Colonies, and such is now the need,<br /> +That forces them to change their present systems<br /> +Of Government. Great Britain's present King<br /> +Hath made his history the history<br /> +Of usurpation, and of injuries<br /> +Often repeated, and directly tending<br /> +To the establishment of Tyranny<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span><br /> +Over these States: to prove this, let the World<br /> +In candour listen to undoubted facts.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He has refused to give assent to laws,</span><br /> +Wholesome, and needful for the public good.<br /> +He has denied his Governors the power<br /> +To sanction laws of pressing urgency,<br /> +Unless suspended in their operation,<br /> +Till his assent should be obtained; and when<br /> +Suspended thus, he has failed wilfully<br /> +To give them further thought. He has refused<br /> +To sanction other laws, deemed advantageous<br /> +To districts thickly peopled, unless they,<br /> +Who dwelt therein, would basely throw away<br /> +Their right to representatives—a right<br /> +Inestimable, to themselves and only<br /> +To Tyrants formidable. In the hope<br /> +To weary them into a weak compliance<br /> +With his obnoxious measures, he has summoned<br /> +The Legislative Bodies to assemble<br /> +At places inconvenient, and unusual,<br /> +And whence their public records were remote.<br /> +He has repeatedly dissolved the Houses<br /> +Of Representatives for interfering<br /> +With manly firmness, when he has invaded<br /> +The People's rights. Long time he has refused,<br /> +After such dissolutions, to convene<br /> +Others in lieu of them; whereby, the powers<br /> +Of Legislation, since they might not be<br /> +Annihilated, have for exercise<br /> +Been forced upon the body of the people;<br /> +Leaving, meanwhile, the unprotected State<br /> +To dangers of invasion from without,<br /> +And inward anarchy. He has endeavoured<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span><br /> +To check the population of these States,<br /> +Thwarting the laws for naturalization<br /> +Of foreigners, withholding his assent<br /> +From other laws, that might encourage them<br /> +In immigrating hither, and enhancing<br /> +The price of new allotments of the soil.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He has obstructed the administration</span><br /> +Of Justice, by his veto on the laws<br /> +Establishing judiciary powers<br /> +He has made Judges on his will alone<br /> +Dependent, for the tenure of their office,<br /> +For the amount, and for the proper payment<br /> +Of their emoluments. He has erected<br /> +New offices in multitudes, and sent<br /> +Swarms of his officers to harass us,<br /> +And to eat out our substance. He has kept,<br /> +In times of peace, among us, standing armies,<br /> +Without the sanction of our Legislatures.<br /> +His aim has been to place the military<br /> +Above the civil power, and beyond<br /> +Its just control. He has combined with others<br /> +To make us subject to a jurisdiction,<br /> +In spirit foreign to our Constitution,<br /> +And unacknowledged by our laws; assenting<br /> +To acts, that they have passed with semblance only<br /> +Of legislation: Acts for quartering<br /> +Among us bodies of armed troops: For shielding,<br /> +By a mock trial, those their instruments<br /> +From punishment for any murders done<br /> +On our inhabitants: For cutting off<br /> +Our trade with every quarter of the world—<br /> +For laying on us taxes not approved<br /> +By our consent: For oft-times robbing us<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span><br /> +Of any benefit that might attend<br /> +Trial by jury: For transporting us<br /> +Beyond the seas, to answer for offences,<br /> +Imputed to us: For abolishing,<br /> +Within a neighbouring province, the free system<br /> +Of English laws; establishing therein<br /> +An arbitrary power; and enlarging<br /> +Its boundaries, to render it at once<br /> +The fit example, and the instrument<br /> +For bringing into these our Colonies<br /> +The same despotic rule: For taking from us<br /> +Our Charters; and abolishing our laws<br /> +Most valued; changing thus, in principle,<br /> +Our forms of Government: And for suspending<br /> +Our Legislatures, with the declaration<br /> +That they, themselves, in each and every case,<br /> +Were vested with supreme authority<br /> +To legislate for us.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">He has laid down</span><br /> +His sway, by holding us without the pale<br /> +Of his protection, and by waging war<br /> +Against us. He has plundered on our seas;<br /> +Ravaged our coasts; our cities burnt; and taken<br /> +Our people's lives. He is transporting hither<br /> +Armies composed of foreign mercenaries,<br /> +To end the works of death, and desolation,<br /> +And tyranny, begun with circumstances<br /> +Of cruelty and perfidy unequalled<br /> +In the most barbarous ages, and unworthy<br /> +The Ruler of a nation civilized.<br /> +He has constrained our fellow-citizens,<br /> +On the high seas made captive, to bear arms<br /> +Against their country, and of friends and brothers<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span><br /> +To be the executioners, or fall<br /> +Beneath his creatures' hands. He has excited<br /> +Amongst ourselves domestic insurrection;<br /> +And sought to bring on the inhabitants<br /> +Of our frontier the savage Indian,<br /> +Whose code of warfare, merciless and sure,<br /> +Spares not, in undistinguished massacre,<br /> +Age, sex, condition.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">We, in every stage</span><br /> +Of these oppressions, have in humblest terms<br /> +Petitioned for redress. To our petitions,<br /> +Though oft repeated, there has been <i>one</i> answer—<br /> +Repeated injury.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">A prince, whose life</span><br /> +And conduct thus are marked by every act<br /> +That may define a Tyrant, is unfit<br /> +To rule o'er Freemen.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">Neither have we failed</span><br /> +In due attention to our British brethren.<br /> +From time to time, we have admonished them<br /> +Of efforts, by their Legislature made,<br /> +Unwarrantably to extend to us<br /> +Their jurisdiction. How we emigrated,<br /> +And settled here, we have reminded them.<br /> +We to their native justice have appealed<br /> +And magnanimity; and have conjured them,<br /> +By common kindred ties, to disavow<br /> +These usurpations, which, inevitably,<br /> +Would mar our intercourse and friendship. They<br /> +Have also turned a deaf ear to the voice<br /> +Of Justice and of Consanguinity.<br /> +So must we yield to the necessity<br /> +Which forces us to separate, and hold them—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span><br /> +As we do hold the rest of human kind—<br /> +Our enemies in War, in Peace our friends.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We, therefore, who are here to represent</span><br /> +The States United of America,<br /> +In General Congress met, for rectitude<br /> +Of our intentions to the Judge Supreme<br /> +Of all things here in confidence appealing,<br /> +Do, in the name, and by authority<br /> +Of the good people of these Colonies,<br /> +Solemnly publish and declare, that these<br /> +United Colonies are, and of right<br /> +Ought to be, Free and Independent States:<br /> +That from allegiance to the British Crown<br /> +They are absolved: That all connecting ties<br /> +Of policy between them and Great Britain<br /> +Are, as they should be, totally dissolved:<br /> +And that, as Free and Independent States,<br /> +They have full power to levy war, conclude<br /> +Peace, and contract alliances, establish<br /> +Commerce, and do all other acts and things<br /> +Which Independent States of right may do.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This is our Declaration: to support it,</span><br /> +With firm reliance on Divine protection,<br /> +We to each other mutually pledge<br /> +Our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honour.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BEL PIEDE.</h2> + + +<p> +Browning, whose household gods were planted<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beside the banks of classic Arno,</span><br /> +Once, in a dainty ballad, chanted<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lady of the <i>bella mano</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Pass from the Arno to the Tiber,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Tuscan to a Roman lady;</span><br /> +And let a humbler bard describe her—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This fair one of the <i>bel piede</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +To Roman dame, as I and you know,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is rarely given a foot symmetrical;</span><br /> +No Cinderellas—many a Juno—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the Pincian we can yet recall.</span><br /> +<br /> +Those were the days when bonnets did not<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Expose the face to every starer;</span><br /> +When skirts, worn short and airy, hid not<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The foot and ankle of the wearer.</span><br /> +<br /> +With high arched instep, narrow, tapering,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Divinely booted—none could beat hers—</span><br /> +The foot, that set my young heart capering,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came down the broad steps of St. Peter's.</span><br /> +<br /> +Her long black veil, the crowd around me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her swift landau, my swift emotion—</span><br /> +She came: her fairy foot spell-bound me;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She went: which way, I had no notion.</span><br /> +<br /> +Haunting all public haunts was fruitless,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mid solemn pomps, on festal hey-day;</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>Search for those glorious boots was bootless:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rome showed no more my <i>bel piede</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +In Paris next enchained it held me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through redowa, waltz, all sorts of dances;</span><br /> +But mask and domino repelled me—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She moved, but I made no advances.</span><br /> +<br /> +Again she passed—no trace behind her—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I sought, enquired, left nothing undone;</span><br /> +But all was vain: I could not find her,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, in despair, set off for London.</span><br /> +<br /> +The sea between Boulogne and Dover<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was, as it always is, terrific;</span><br /> +Against that awful passage over,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why not invent some smooth specific?</span><br /> +<br /> +Cloaked, muffled, shawled, a form was leaning<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Across the gunwale, keeping shady;</span><br /> +I recked not what might be its meaning—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I thought not, then, of <i>bel piede</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Sudden, a lurch, a shriek, a splashing!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I knew the shriek was from a lady;</span><br /> +But horror through my brain went crashing—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I saw, heels up, my <i>bel piede</i>!</span><br /> +<br /> +She sank. No more! But O ye mermaids,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of whose long tails we've had a surfeit,</span><br /> +If ye were worthy to be her maids,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You'd cut your tails, and copy her feet!</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WHO IS HE?</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>A Reply to Quevedo</i>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>These lines were suggested by some sprightly verses, entitled "Who is +She?" that had recently appeared in <i>Fraser's Magazine</i>.</p></blockquote> + + +<p> +A Spanish writer once decided,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In flippant song,</span><br /> +That woman's lip, or tongue, or eye did<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All that went wrong.</span><br /> +Nay, that the true mode of unmasking<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her wiles would be,</span><br /> +On all occasions simply asking—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pray, who is she?</span><br /> +<br /> +Now, why must woman's petticoats<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Aye be the blamables?</span><br /> +How is't Quevedo never quotes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mankind's unnamables?</span><br /> +He rates the sex, and certès for it he<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Makes a good plea;</span><br /> +But can't I, on as good authority,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ask, who is he?</span><br /> +<br /> +Quevedo swears that Eve and Helen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wrought dire mishaps:</span><br /> +That Adam and the Trojans fell in<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Their deep-laid traps.</span><br /> +Eve?—why Diabolus beguiled her;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">You know't, Quevedo!</span><br /> +Helen?—that rascal Paris wiled her:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That's Homer's <i>credo</i>!</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span><br /> +Trust me, man causes woman's failing;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, on my life,</span><br /> +He's always wantonly assailing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Maid, widow, wife.</span><br /> +Beneath the surface let the gazer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Look deep—he'll see</span><br /> +Some stronger vessel that betrays her:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Just ask—who's he?</span><br /> +<br /> +Is it a milk-maid drops her pailful?—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lubin's love-making:</span><br /> +Is her fate scandalous or baleful?—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lubin's been raking!</span><br /> +The school-girl loaths her bread and butter,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pouts o'er her tea,</span><br /> +Mumbles her lessons in a flutter—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ask, who is he?</span><br /> +<br /> +Despite experience, what can set<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The widow hoping?</span><br /> +Why are wives sometimes gadding met,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And sometimes moping?</span><br /> +Don't talk of widows' amorous bump,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of wives too free;</span><br /> +But pop the question to them, plump—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pray, who is he?</span><br /> +<br /> +We're mighty prompt to throw the blame on<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The weaker fair sex;</span><br /> +When justice ought to fix the shame on<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ours—not on their sex.</span><br /> +Ours the seduction and the fooling,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If such there be:</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>Come; your exception to this ruling—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pray, who is he?</span><br /> +<br /> +The old and hump-backed ply their battery<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of gold and jewels;</span><br /> +Well-knit young fellows deal in flattery,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dance, song, oaths, duels.</span><br /> +So, to conclude, I'll take my oath, sir,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Upon the Bible,</span><br /> +That to blame one—in place of both, sir,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is a gross libel!</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TO NINON.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the French of Alfred de Musset.</i></p> + + +<p> +Were I to tell thee, ne'ertheless, that, troth, I love thee well,<br /> +Blue-eyed brunette, blue-eyed brunette, thine answer who could tell?<br /> +Love is the cause of many a pang—their source thou well can'st guess;<br /> +No pity in him dwells, as thou must needs thyself confess:<br /> +And yet, ah! me, thou would'st perchance chastise me ne'ertheless!<br /> +<br /> +Were I to tell thee that, beneath six months of silence crushed,<br /> +Long-hidden torments I have borne, and vows insensate hushed;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>Ninon, despite thy careless air, thou hast a searching eye,<br /> +That, like a Fairy's, ere it come, what's coming can espy:<br /> +"I know it all, I know it all," thou would'st perchance reply.<br /> +<br /> +Were I to tell thee that I roam in sweet, delirious dream,<br /> +Haunting thy footsteps so that I thy very shadow seem;<br /> +A tinge of sadness on thy cheek, a quick, mistrustful glance,—<br /> +Ninon, thou knowest well that these thy loveliness enhance:<br /> +And thus, that thou believest not, thou would'st reply perchance.<br /> +<br /> +Were I to tell thee that my soul hoards up the lightest word,<br /> +That falling from thy lips at eve in our discourse I've heard;<br /> +Lady, thou know'st that, when aroused to anger or disdain,<br /> +Eyes, though of azure they may be, can still their lightnings rain:<br /> +And thine perchance would flashing say, "We must not meet again!"<br /> +<br /> +Were I to tell thee that by night I wake and think of thee,<br /> +And that by day for thee I pray, and weep on bended knee,<br /> +Ah! Ninon, when thou laugh'st, the bee, as well thou art aware,<br /> +In hovering round thy rosy mouth, that 'twas a flower might swear:<br /> +Were I to tell thee all, perchance the laugh would still be there<br /> +<br /> +But nothing shalt thou know of this. I venture, all untold,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>Calmly to sit beneath thy lamp, and converse with thee hold.<br /> +I hear the murmur of thy voice, thy balmy breath inhale;<br /> +And thou may'st doubt me, or surmise, or laugh, I shall not quail;<br /> +Thine eyes shall see no cause in me, their kindly look to veil.<br /> +<br /> +By stealth at times, in secret joy, mysterious flowers I glean,<br /> +When o'er thy harpsichord at eve enraptured I can lean,<br /> +And list from thy harmonious hands what fairy accents flow;<br /> +Or in voluptuous waltz, as round with flying feet we go,<br /> +I feel thee in mine arms, a reed, that's waving to and fro.<br /> +<br /> +When from thy side I have been kept by thronged saloons at night,<br /> +And in my chamber draw my bolt that shuts the world from sight,<br /> +A thousand reminiscences I seize upon, and hold<br /> +In jealous grasp; and there, alone, like miser o'er his gold,<br /> +To Heaven my heart, all full of thee, with greedy joy unfold.<br /> +<br /> +I love; and I have learned to speak in cool and careless tone.<br /> +I love; nought tells of it. I love; who knows it?—I alone!<br /> +Dear is my secret, dear the pain with which I am oppressed;<br /> +And I have sworn to love, without a hope on which to rest;<br /> +But not without a taste of joy—I see thee, and am blest.<br /> +<br /> +No! not for me! I was not born such bliss supreme to meet:<br /> +To die within thy arms, or live contented at thy feet.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>Alas! all proves it—e'en the grief that fain I would dispel.<br /> +Were I to tell thee, ne'ertheless, that, troth, I love thee well:<br /> +Blue-eyed brunette, blue-eyed brunette, thine answer who could tell?<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE LAST OF THE ROMAN GLADIATORS.</h2> + +<blockquote><p class="center">The incident, which the following stanzas attempt to describe, is historical. +It is related by Gibbon in his "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire."</p></blockquote> + + +<p> +Ye, who have the ruins seen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the Coliseum's walls,</span><br /> +Think ye, what the sight hath been<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Rome's highest festivals!</span><br /> +If your fancy can restore<br /> +Crumbled arch and corridor,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Call forth the dead;</span><br /> +Bid them fill again the seats,<br /> +Where now Echo only greets<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The stranger's tread.</span><br /> +<br /> +Fourteen hundred years are past,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rome hath fallen in her pride,</span><br /> +Since the gladiator last<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Coliseum died.</span><br /> +Fourteen hundred years ago,<br /> +Tens of thousands thronged the show,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">In joyous guise,</span><br /> +On the struggle and the strife,<br /> +And the pangs of parting life,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Feasting their eyes.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span><br /> +Then ye might have heard the roar<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the noble beasts of prey,</span><br /> +As they fought and bled, before<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Men less noble far than they.</span><br /> +Strength is useless, courage vain,<br /> +Beauty saves not—they are slain,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The forest race;</span><br /> +Whilst the still unsated crowd<br /> +For new victims shout aloud,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">To fill their place.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hark! the Prætor's stern command<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Costlier sacrifice proclaims;</span><br /> +Lo! the gladiatorial band,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glory of the Roman Games!</span><br /> +As they enter, man by man,<br /> +Shape and size the people scan<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">With eager glance;</span><br /> +And of each ill-fated pair,<br /> +That await the signal there,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Foretell the chance.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hark! the trumpet's sudden sound;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lo! the work of death begun:</span><br /> +Seas of blood shall drench the ground,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere that deadly work be done.</span><br /> +Ha! a moment of delay?<br /> +What the lifted hand can stay?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Is there a fear</span><br /> +Of Pompeii's fiery shower?<br /> +Or, doth Earthquake's giant power<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Make havoc here?</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span><br /> +No—for Nature with a smile<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Looks upon her outraged laws,</span><br /> +Man's indignant voice the while<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bidding man in pity pause.</span><br /> +See!—a monk, obscure, unknown,<br /> +Christ's disciple, treads alone<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The arena's sand,</span><br /> +Foe from foe intent to part,<br /> +Striving with a zealous heart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">But feeble hand.</span><br /> +<br /> +Would ye seek to know his fate?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Listen to that savage yell!</span><br /> +Scorn, derision, fury, hate,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doomed his death—the martyr fell.</span><br /> +Record there is none to show,<br /> +Whose the hand that dealt the blow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">That laid him there;</span><br /> +Men who gazed, and men who fought,<br /> +All alike to madness wrought,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The guilt must share.</span><br /> +<br /> +Whether stoned to death, or slain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the sword, or by the spear,</span><br /> +Little recks it—it were vain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through the mists of time to peer.</span><br /> +This we know—the martyr died;<br /> +Nor without success had plied<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">His work of peace,</span><br /> +Since, to expiate that deed,<br /> +Rome's Imperial Lord decreed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The Games should cease.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span><br /> +Rome obeyed her Lord's commands;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never were those Games renewed:</span><br /> +Now the priest of Jesus stands<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the gladiator stood.</span><br /> +Thanks, Telemachus, to thee,<br /> +Sainted martyr, now we see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Altars around;</span><br /> +And the spot, where thou of yore<br /> +Did'st thy life-blood nobly pour,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Is hallowed ground.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE PRUDENT BRIDE.</h2> + + +<p> +At Salem Meeting-House, one summer day,<br /> +Two lovers, Abby Purkis and John Cole,<br /> +Were joined in holy wedlock. Off they started<br /> +To spend the honey-moon, gregarious,<br /> +At Trenton, Saratoga, and the Falls.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reaching this last-named wonder of the world,</span><br /> +They went the usual round; mounted the tower<br /> +That overlooks the cataract; stood and watched<br /> +The eddying Rapids, and the whirling Pool;<br /> +Nor on thy deck, O daring "<i>Maid of the Mist</i>,"<br /> +Failed they to buffet the tumultuous roar,<br /> +The drenching spray, the seeming perilous plunge<br /> +Beneath the Horse-Shoe. Every where, throughout,<br /> +Abby was brave; nay, on John's stalwart arm<br /> +Leaning, was confident.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">At last they reached</span><br /> +The Cavern of the Winds. Then changed her bearing.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>Trembling, she paused. In truth, the howling blasts,<br /> +And gusty moans as of imprisoned spirits,<br /> +Struck the bride's soul with terror. All aghast,<br /> +She stood before the entrance, and refused,<br /> +Firmly refused to trust herself within.<br /> +John urged—she would not; coaxed—'twas all in vain;<br /> +Laughed at, and called her "little fool"—she would not.<br /> +Nay more, she prayed him by the love he bore her<br /> +Not to set foot himself within a place<br /> +So fraught with peril. John was ungallant,<br /> +And only laughed the more. Not he the man<br /> +To flinch from fisticuffs with Æolus!<br /> +Had he not harpooned whales in Arctic seas?<br /> +Were not typhoon, white squall, and hurricane<br /> +His some time playmates? It was her turn now<br /> +To coax, and urge, and crave—and be denied.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chafed that her will was not a law to John,</span><br /> +Abby was woman still, and sorely grieved<br /> +That he should run such risks. She kissed him fondly,<br /> +And bade him tread with care, and hasten back.<br /> +Her voice was choked with sobs. Her latest words<br /> +Were scarcely audible, though through them breathed<br /> +Salem's sound training. "John," she faltered forth,<br /> +"We know not what may happen: dear, dear John,<br /> +"Were it not well that you—should—leave—with—me—<br /> +"Your—watch—and—pocket-book?"<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TRAMPER'S BED—AND THE KING'S.</h2> + + +<p> +Down by the side of a sweet clover-stack,<br /> +On a summer night, I lie on my back.<br /> +Clear space is above me; and there, as I lie,<br /> +I look straight up to the stars in the sky.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once, when the King was dethroned by the mob,</span><br /> +They swarmed to his palace, to stare or to rob,<br /> +And the frightened lackies flung open the doors,<br /> +And clouted shoes scraped along polished floors.<br /> +Then it was I caught sight of his Majesty's bed,<br /> +With its canopy, gilded and carved, overhead;—<br /> +If his Majesty wishes the stars to behold,<br /> +And looks up, he can see but the carving and gold!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some night, should my soul be unbound as I sleep,</span><br /> +And downward an Angel in search of it sweep,<br /> +No bar, no obstruction, would hinder his flight;—<br /> +With a wave of his wings, by my corpse he would light.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But what, if the soul to be loosed were the King's?</span><br /> +Could an Angel reach that by the poise of his wings?<br /> +Could he easily cleave through a palace his way?<br /> +Through ceilings bedizened, through floors in decay—<br /> +Through gorgeous apartments and bare attic rooms,<br /> +For lords and for ladies, for valets and grooms—<br /> +Through a quaint peakèd roof rising high o'er the whole—<br /> +Could he enter, and tenderly waft off the soul?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Better, then, is the bed by the sweet clover-stack,</span><br /> +With the stars full in view, and the clear Angel's track!<br /> +And though much be not mine of this world's pleasant things,<br /> +I should care not to barter my couch for the King's!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>OCCASION.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the Italian of Ternaré</i></p> + + +<p> +"Say, who art thou, with more than mortal air,<br /> +Endowed by Heaven with gifts and graces rare,<br /> +Whom restless, wingèd feet for ever onward bear?"—<br /> +<br /> +"I am Occasion—known to few, at best;<br /> +And since one foot upon a wheel I rest,<br /> +Constant my movements are—they cannot be repressed.<br /> +<br /> +"Not the swift eagle in his swiftest flight<br /> +Can equal me in speed. My wings are bright;<br /> +And man, who sees them waved, is dazzled by the sight.<br /> +<br /> +"My thick and flowing locks, before me thrown,<br /> +Conceal my form—nor face, nor breast is shown,<br /> +That thus, as I approach, my coming be not known.<br /> +<br /> +"Behind my head, no single lock of hair<br /> +Invites the hand, that fain would it grasp there;<br /> +But he, who lets me pass, to seize me may despair."<br /> +<br /> +"Whom, then, so close behind thee do I see?"—<br /> +"Her name is Penitence; and Heaven's decree<br /> +Hath made all those her prey, who profit not by me.<br /> +<br /> +"And thou, O mortal, who dost vainly ply<br /> +These curious questions, thou dost not descry,<br /> +That now thy time is lost—for I am passing by."<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE MOURNFUL BALLAD OF THE "ALABAMA."</h2> + + +<p> +Captain Semmes is on a cruise<br /> +O'er the track that skippers use;<br /> +From the Western Isles, to those<br /> +Near Nantucket shoals, he goes.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +Letters to the merchants tell<br /> +Who into his clutches fell;<br /> +'Tis the talk of all the town;<br /> +News-boys call it up and down<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +Straight the sons of Commerce came<br /> +To their Chamber, crying shame<br /> +For the tidings they had learned,<br /> +For their ships and cargoes burned.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +Up and spake a merchant prince:<br /> +"Friends, our city well may wince,<br /> +For you have, alas! to know<br /> +Of a most disastrous blow!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +"All is sunk beneath the waves,<br /> +Breadstuffs, lard, tobacco, staves;<br /> +Chained have been our Captains bold<br /> +In the 'Alabama's' hold!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span><br /> +"Lawless, too, is Captain Semmes;<br /> +Neutral shipments he condemns.<br /> +Useless is it to appeal<br /> +To Consul's signature and seal.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +"But there's worse than this behind;<br /> +Treacherous friends this blow designed.<br /> +Great as is the corsair's guilt,<br /> +Greater theirs his ship who built!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Neutral money, neutral skill,<br /> +Wrought us this outrageous ill;<br /> +Neutral engines, neutral guns,<br /> +Aid him as he fights or runs.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Sons of Commerce, men of worth,<br /> +Let these words of mine go forth!<br /> +Let the British monarch know<br /> +That to her all this we owe!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +So the warning words went forth<br /> +To England, from the angered North,<br /> +Passed along from mouth to mouth,<br /> +"No more dealings with the South!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +"You may sell to this our land<br /> +All we want of contraband;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>But have a care that nothing goes,<br /> +From you, a neutral, to our foes!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Woe is me, Alabama!</span><br /> +<br /> +Now Heaven preserve us all in peace,<br /> +And let these ugly squabbles cease!<br /> +So fighters all, and standers-by,<br /> +Shall nevermore have cause to cry,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Woe is me, Alabama!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p> +November, 1862.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LINES FOR THE GUITAR.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>From the French of Victor Hugo.</i></p> + + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Man was saying: "How can we,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In our little boats at sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Pass the guarda-costas by?"—</span><br /> +"Row!" said Woman in reply.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Man was saying: "How forget</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Perils that our lives beset,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Strife, and Poverty's low cry?"—</span><br /> +"Sleep!" said Woman in reply.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Man was saying: "How be sure</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Beauty's favour to secure,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor the subtle philtre try?"—</span><br /> +"Love!" said Woman in reply.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THREE MEN AND A WOMAN.</h2> + + +<p> +A Summer's dawn and a tranquil sea;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But lurid all with smoke:</span><br /> +For a bark was burning furiously,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What time the morning broke.</span><br /> +<br /> +Terrible? ay, but risk there was none,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For stern the Captain's sway;</span><br /> +And when he spoke, each mother's son<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could not but choose obey.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Man the boats!"—the boats were manned,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In order, one by one;</span><br /> +To pull a hundred miles to land,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All under the Summer's sun.</span><br /> +<br /> +Four stalwart rowers bend to their oars:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Four sitters at the stern—</span><br /> +Three men and a woman—silent sit,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watching the vessel burn.</span><br /> +<br /> +They were no tremblers: each had known<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perils by land and deep;</span><br /> +But the woman alone would gently moan,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at times, perforce, would weep.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yet soon the sun was high in heaven,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the sea was a-glow: and then</span><br /> +The temper of those men peered out—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of those three fearless men.</span><br /> +<br /> +One thought his white hand by the sun would be tanned;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One felt they were wrong to risk it,</span><br /> +In sweltering heat, with nothing to eat<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But a bit of dry ship-biscuit.</span><br /> +<br /> +The third brooded over his handful of freight<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Going down, uninsured, to the deep:</span><br /> +But the woman alone would gently moan,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at times, perforce, would weep;</span><br /> +<br /> +Till a sense of shame the three o'ercame,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a curious wish to know</span><br /> +Why, still unfearing, she gave way<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To her uncomplaining woe.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Ah, Sirs!"—she faltered in reply—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The danger is easily braved:</span><br /> +But my husband may hear that the ship is burnt—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And not that we are saved!"</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ANOTHER MARBLE FAUN.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>A Translation of La Statue, by Victor Hugo.</i></p> + + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He seemed to shiver, for the wind was keen.</span><br /> +'Twas a poor statue underneath a mass<br /> +Of leafless branches, with a blackened back<br /> +And green foot—an old isolated Faun<br /> +In old deserted park, who, bending forward,<br /> +Half merged himself in the entangled boughs,<br /> +Half in his marble settings. He was there,<br /> +Pensive, and bound to the earth; and, as all things,<br /> +Devoid of movement, he was there—forgotten.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Trees were around him, whipped by the icy blasts—</span><br /> +Gigantic chestnuts, without leaf or bird,<br /> +And, like himself, grown old in that same place.<br /> +Through the dark network of their undergrowth,<br /> +Pallid his aspect; and the earth was brown.<br /> +Starless and moonless, a rough winter's night<br /> +Was letting down her lappets o'er the mist.<br /> +Trees more remote, with sombre shafts upreared,<br /> +Each other crossed; and trees remoter still,<br /> +By distance blurred, threw up to the grey sky<br /> +Their thousand twigs sharp-pointed, intricate;<br /> +And posed themselves around; and through the fog<br /> +Took, on the horizon's verge, the shadowy form<br /> +Of mighty porcupines in countless herd.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This—nothing more: old Faun, dull sky, dark wood.</span><br /> +<br /> +Piercing the mist, perchance there might be seen<br /> +A distant terrace—its long layers of stone<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>Tinted with slimy green; or group of Nymphs,<br /> +Dimly defined beside a wide-spread basin,<br /> +And shrinking—fitly in this desolate park—<br /> +As once from gazers, from neglect to-day.<br /> +The old Faun was laughing. In their dubious haze<br /> +Leaving the shamed Nymphs and their dreary basin—<br /> +The old Faun was laughing—'twas to him I came<br /> +Moved to compassion, for these sculptors all<br /> +Are pitiless ever, and, content with praise,<br /> +Doom Nymphs to shame, condemn the Fauns to laughter.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor helpless marble, how I've pitied it</span><br /> +Less often man—the harder of the two.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So then, without a word that might offend</span><br /> +His ear difformed—for well the marble hears<br /> +The voice of thought—I said to him: "You hail<br /> +From the gay amorous age; O Faun, what saw you,<br /> +When you were happy? Were you of the Court?<br /> +Did you take part in fêtes?—For your diversion<br /> +These Nymphs were fashioned. In this wood, for you,<br /> +Capable hands mingled the gods of Greece<br /> +With Roman Cæsars; made rare vases peer<br /> +Into clear waters; and this garden vext<br /> +With tortuous labyrinths. When you were happy,<br /> +O Faun, what saw you? All the secrets tell<br /> +Of that too vain yet captivating past,<br /> +Thick set with prudent love-makers, a past<br /> +In which great poets jostled mighty Kings.<br /> +How fresh your memory—you are laughing still!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Speak to me, comely Faun, as you would speak</span><br /> +To tree, or zephyr, or untrodden grass.<br /> +From end to end of this well-shaded alley,<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>When near you, with the handsome Lautrec, passed<br /> +The soft-eyed Marguerite, the Bearnaise Queen,<br /> +Have you, O Greek, O mocker of old days,<br /> +Have you not sometimes with that oblique eye<br /> +Winked at the Farnese Hercules?—Alone,<br /> +In cave as it were of foliage green and moist,<br /> +Have you, O Faun, considerately turned<br /> +From side to side when counsel-seekers came,<br /> +And now advised as shepherd; now as satyr?<br /> +Have you sometimes upon this very bench<br /> +Seen at mid-day, Vincent de Paul instilling<br /> +Grace into Gondi?—Have you ever thrown<br /> +That searching glance on Louis with Fontange,<br /> +On Anne with Buckingham; and did they not<br /> +Start, with flushed cheeks, to hear your laugh ring forth<br /> +From corner of the wood?—Was your advice<br /> +As to the thyrsis or the ivy asked,<br /> +When, the grand ballet of fantastic form,<br /> +God Phœbus, or god Pan, and all his court<br /> +Turned the fair head of the fair Montespan,<br /> +Calling her Amaryllis?—La Fontaine,<br /> +Flying the courtiers' ears of stone, came he,<br /> +Tears in his eyelids, to reveal to you<br /> +The sorrows of his Nymphs of Vaux?—What said<br /> +Boileau to you, to you, O lettered Faun,<br /> +Who once with Virgil, in the Eclogue, held<br /> +That charming dialogue, and deftly made—<br /> +Couched on the turf—the heavy spondee dance<br /> +To the light dactyl's step?—Say, have you seen<br /> +Young beauties sporting on the sward: Chevreuse<br /> +Of the swimming eyes, Thiange of airs superb?<br /> +Have they sometimes, in rosy-tinted group,<br /> +Girt you so fondly round, that all at once<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>A straggling sunbeam on a fluttering bosom<br /> +Marked your lascivious profile?—Has your tree<br /> +Received beneath the quiet of its shade<br /> +Pale Mazarin's scarlet winding sheet?—Have you<br /> +Been honoured with a sight of Molière<br /> +In dreamy mood? Has he perchance at times,<br /> +Dropping at random a melodious verse,<br /> +In tone familiar—as is the wont<br /> +'Twixt demi-gods—addressed you?—When at eve<br /> +Homeward hereby the thinker went, has he<br /> +Who—seeing souls all naked—could not fear<br /> +Your nudity, in his enquiring mind<br /> +Confronted you with Man? And did he deem<br /> +You, spectral cynic, the less sad, less cold,<br /> +Less wicked, less ironical—comparing<br /> +Your laugh in marble with our human laugh?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the thickly tangled branches, thus</span><br /> +Did I speak to him; he no answer gave—<br /> +Not even a murmur. On the pedestal<br /> +Leaning, I listened; but the past stirred not.<br /> +Dumb to my words and to my pity deaf,<br /> +The Satyr, motionless, was vaguely blanched<br /> +By the wan glimmer of the dying day.<br /> +To see him there, sinister, half drawn out<br /> +From his dark framing, and by damp discoloured,<br /> +Brought to one's mind the handle of a sword<br /> +In torso chiselled—an old rusty sword,<br /> +Left for long years neglected in its sheath.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I shook my head, and moved myself away.</span><br /> +Then, from the copses, from the dried up boughs<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>Pendent above him, from secret caves<br /> +Hid in the wood, methought a ghostly voice<br /> +Came forth and woke an echo in my soul,<br /> +As in the hollow of an amphora.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Imprudent poet," thus it seemed to say,</span><br /> +"What dost thou here? Leave the forsaken Fauns<br /> +In peace beneath their trees! Dost thou not know,<br /> +Poet, that ever it is impious deemed,<br /> +In desert spots where drowsy shades repose—<br /> +Though love itself might prompt thee—to shake down<br /> +The moss that hangs from ruined centuries,<br /> +And, with the vain noise of thine ill-timed words,<br /> +To mar the recollections of the dead?"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then to the gardens all enwrapped in mist</span><br /> +I hurried, dreaming of the vanished days.<br /> +And still the tree-tops were with mystery rife;<br /> +And still, behind me—hieroglyph obscure<br /> +Of antique alphabet—the lonely Faun<br /> +Held to his laughter, through the falling night.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I went my way; but yet—in saddened spirit</span><br /> +Pondering on all that had my vision crossed,<br /> +Floating in air or scattered under foot,<br /> +Confused and blent, beauty and spring and morn,<br /> +Leaves of old summers, fair ones of old time—<br /> +Through all, at distance would my fancy see,<br /> +In the woods, statues; shadows in the past!<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHARADES.</h2> + +<b> I.</b> + + +<p> +Look from the prow of thine anchored bark—<br /> +Anchored by classic shore—and mark,<br /> +Down fathoms-deep in the purple sea,<br /> +How Time and the waters have dealt on me<br /> +<br /> +Art lost in the moonless and starless night?<br /> +Far-away looming, a light! a light!<br /> +Fearlessly steer, for on me 'tis placed,<br /> +To guide thy bark o'er the trackless waste<br /> +<br /> +Earth knows me, too; and will heave and quake<br /> +Where my subterranean course I take:<br /> +And none so aghast at my ravages then,<br /> +As they whose type was the Sire of men.<br /> +<br /> +But not ever thus; at times I'm seen<br /> +On the cheek or the neck of Beauty's queen;<br /> +Or (to favoured mortal alone confest)<br /> +Tinging the snow upon Beauty's breast.<br /> +<br /> +So, whether above the waves, or below,<br /> +Or beneath the Earth, or on breast of snow,<br /> +Linked with the past, or alive to-day,<br /> +Tell who I am—if tell ye may.<br /> +</p> + + +<b> II.</b> + + +<p> +My lady calls; my First obeys—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor less his lord's behest:</span><br /> +In bower and hall, in olden days,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My First was in request.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span><br /> +Yet 'tis my First that tells us now<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What then my First was doing;</span><br /> +How he went forth to war, and how<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He prospered in his wooing.</span><br /> +<br /> +A wise King bade the lazy fool<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Observe my Second's ways,</span><br /> +And notice—as it were in school—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wisdom she displays.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yet hers is a devouring race,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And might—though strange it be—</span><br /> +Eat up, in given time and place,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My First, or you, or me.</span><br /> +<br /> +As for my whole—in every age<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mankind must have its show;</span><br /> +In actual life, on mimic stage,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In peace, war, joy, or woe.</span><br /> +<br /> +Now 'tis a wedding, now a death,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A gathering, or a play;</span><br /> +It comes, but, like a passing breath,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Full soon 'tis swept away.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<b> III.</b> + + +<p> +When Richard of the Lion Heart<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In arms the Paynim sought,</span><br /> +I of his panoply was part,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, wielding me, he fought.</span><br /> +<br /> +When ladies on a different field<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With men their skill essay,</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>I am the weapon that they wield<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If they would gain the day.</span><br /> +<br /> +When cooks in certain dishes show<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their culinary art,</span><br /> +I am on hand—the masters know<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What flavour I impart.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<b> IV.</b> + + +<p> +I'm a word of one syllable. Look you for me<br /> +Mid Niagara's roar; in the turbulent sea;<br /> +Where the winds and the waters are wildest at play,<br /> +And fling off their laughter in volumes of spray.<br /> +<br /> +I'm a noun of five letters; but throw one aside—<br /> +I'm a verb; with the noun I'm no longer allied.<br /> +I'm a grave, solemn verb; nay, I truly might say,<br /> +Those who follow my precept do nothing but pray.<br /> +<br /> +But again; let two letters be dropped—there's a change;<br /> +As a noun—and by no means a grave one—I range.<br /> +Now I'm here; now I'm there; seen by night and by day,<br /> +For in short, I'm a beam, or a flash, or a ray.<br /> +<br /> +Thus a verb and two nouns packed together you see,<br /> +In a word of one syllable.—What can it be?<br /> +</p> + + +<b> V.</b> + + +<p> +There are some words, that in a double sense<br /> +Must be interpreted; of these am I.<br /> +Your housemaid, thus, wilt know me literally<br /> +Better than you do; but, with all respect<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>For Betty's carefulness, she scarce can catch<br /> +My finer meaning. I'm, with her, a thing<br /> +For brush and duster; in me, you behold<br /> +A symbol. So much for me as I stand.<br /> +Now cut my head off—I'm another word<br /> +Of narrow and of wide significance,<br /> +Handful of dust, the very world itself.<br /> +Cut off my tail—the effect is still the same;<br /> +I'm yet another of those duplex words:<br /> +Mental and bodily, an essential part<br /> +Of all mankind, without which no one lives,<br /> +Nay, not an animal, though you may swear,<br /> +And truly too, that I have no existence,<br /> +And never had, in certain men and women.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Enough: it is not difficult to find</span><br /> +Three words, six meanings, in one syllable.<br /> +</p> + + +<b> VI.</b> + + +<p> +Well may I call myself cosmopolite,<br /> +Being of all lands and times. Barbaric tribes<br /> +Know me, and honour. In the gentler world,<br /> +Scholars have studied me, and poets sung,<br /> +And painters painted, and musicians hymned.<br /> +Nor from Religion have I held myself<br /> +Apart. In Pagan and in savage rites<br /> +Largely I mingle; and some Saints at least,<br /> +Worshipped among us, owe me much. In short,<br /> +Theme, inspiration, puzzle—I am all.<br /> +As to my form, it may not be defined;<br /> +Yet this is certain: were I rent in twain<br /> +And of one half bereft, I should not have<br /> +A leg to stand on—of the other half<br /> +Equally mulcted, I should endless be.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + + +<b> VII.</b> + + +<p> +In me, as the scholar saith,<br /> +Is exhaustion, wasting, death.<br /> +But—so close do grave and gay<br /> +Touch, in this our world—you may,<br /> +By a change of accent made,<br /> +Change the meaning I conveyed;<br /> +Change me so that I proclaim<br /> +Victory won, and spoils, and fame!<br /> +</p> + + +<b> VIII.</b> + + +<p> +My first's a French noun; and, without it, stands not<br /> +Church, palace, or hospital, villa, or cot.<br /> +My Second no feature distinctive can claim;<br /> +It but echoes my First—'t is precisely the same.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet my Whole to French parentage makes no pretence;</span><br /> +It is plain Anglo-Saxon, in sound as in sense;<br /> +Nor more widely asunder does pole lie from pole,<br /> +Than my Gallican parts and my Anglican whole.<br /> +Impalpable, it—solid, tangible, they;<br /> +They may last, for long ages—it passes away!<br /> +Now a sign of approval, a token of scorn;<br /> +Sometimes of the wind or the waves it is born;<br /> +Though its presence at intervals surely you'll trace<br /> +Where my First and my Second have stablished their place;<br /> +Where King hath his dwelling or Trade hath her marts—<br /> +A whole evanescent, material parts!<br /> +</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr /> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="center">Transcriber's note:</p> + The words "irresistible" and "irresistable" were left as they + were printed in the original. + </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATHIEU ROPARS: ET CETERA***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 39132-h.txt or 39132-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/9/1/3/39132">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/1/3/39132</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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